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hadriel2017-08-01 12:14 pm
nonscriptum) wrote in hadriel2017-08-01 12:14 pm
[text] there is water at the bottom of the ocean
[Originally, it started out as a well-meaning adventurous foray for personal edification, yadda, yadda, yadda. Time moves so slowly in Hadriel that Nate has been clawing at ways to occupy it, and since he's exhausted the library of any texts that aren't in gibberish it stands to reason he might seek personal fulfillment elsewhere. After waking up with the usual restlessness he considered the wide expanse of lakeside real estate out his window and thought, yeah, a swim sounds nice.
The swim was less than nice.
Several minor explosions and some (honestly) impressive spell-work later sees him soaked to the skin but otherwise unscathed outside of minor lacerations on one arm - there's really only so much you can do when trying to evade a shark with two fucking heads - scribbling quickly in a notebook with the sort of fervor reserved for the truly mad. Lake-adjacent, blessedly on the shore with a towel slung around bare shoulders, he quickly snaps a photograph of his work with his phone and hits SEND TO ALL.
The message is as follows:]
does anyone know what the hell this is
i found it at the bottom of the lake
Attachment: [monster.jpg]
p.s. don't go swimming in the lake
The swim was less than nice.
Several minor explosions and some (honestly) impressive spell-work later sees him soaked to the skin but otherwise unscathed outside of minor lacerations on one arm - there's really only so much you can do when trying to evade a shark with two fucking heads - scribbling quickly in a notebook with the sort of fervor reserved for the truly mad. Lake-adjacent, blessedly on the shore with a towel slung around bare shoulders, he quickly snaps a photograph of his work with his phone and hits SEND TO ALL.
The message is as follows:]
i found it at the bottom of the lake
Attachment: [monster.jpg]
p.s. don't go swimming in the lake
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At least not until Lance finishes his stitches.]
See, that's what I thought it might be!
[Nate suddenly swells with newfound enthusiasm, eager to avoid the discussion of potential danger in favor of theorizing. Lighting up not unlike a Christmas tree, he immediately barrels into it.]
Like a cenote. They're these sinkholes that access groundwater in Central and South America. The lake's got all the hallmarks: wide, shallow edge, steep drop-off - the Maya would use them as wells, or in ritual sacrifices. But they're not just a pit, they're connected to other subterranean systems. The ones in Mexico, they have this separated aquifer effect, where fresh rainwater sits on top of saltwater and forms this mirror layer that looks hazy, and the lake has that. I didn't see the sharks until I got to the high-density saline water, which makes sense, because every shark but a bull shark requires saltwater-
[He stops himself suddenly, reeling it back in, and clarifies.]
The point is, this kind of system can't exist without a separate source. The river's fresh. That saltwater has to be coming from somewhere, so there's gotta be a- an access point, deeper in the lake. There could be a whole series of flooded tunnels. Who knows what else you could find down there?
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And what Nate's implying definitely feels important, especially since Lance has gotten the feeling already that the caves might be somewhere people should be putting more focus into than they have been.
He nods a little, glancing up briefly from what he's doing to look at Nate.]
Right, like a...
[Give Lance a moment of concentration as his digs through his memory for an obscure fact--]
A halocline?
[Something like that.]
For that to be the case you're right; there must be a completely difference source that is likely the primary portion of the lake, while the river's contributions essentially flow over the top?
[He's... Not as versed in this subject as Nate obviously is, so he leaves it as a question for confirmation, but if he's understanding right then... Yeah. Who knows what else might exist down there, and suddenly he's a lot less concerned about the danger and a lot more interested in the possibility.]
How far down was the actual bottom of the lake?
[Presuming it was the very bottom where he found the skeletons, anyway.]
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The talk keeps him from wincing at every new pin-prick in his arm, anyway.]
A little over a hundred feet?
[He estimates, half-grimacing. He didn't exactly have a tape-measure, plumbing the depths with nothing more than his own self and a knowledge of what undersea pressure feels like on the human body.]
I didn't get to hang out for too long, by then the- uh, feeding frenzy had started.
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There are lots of people with magic here who should be able to either deal with the sharks or at least prevent them from being a problem, if we wanted to do a more thorough exploration. Measuring the depth would be as simple as just bringing a tether of some sort and marking how much was needed to reach the bottom.
[And he knows that water currents can be tracked through use of dyes, though that might be a little more difficult. He's really curious about this, though, and a few additional aspects of things.]
I wonder if, if there really are other cave systems underwater, they connect at all with the caves that border the city. We also don't know where the caves that the river leads into go.
[But more interestingly--]
We also know that Fear moves the city; why would he also be bothering to move an additional source of saltwater beneath the lake?
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I had some friends distracting the sharks, [he explains.] Magic-users. Or- wizards, whatever they're called. And believe me, I'd love to map the whole thing, but we have to get rid of the other ten monsters down there.
[Nate's middle name might be "Death Wish," but even he isn't keen for a rematch with multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth. He got lucky.]
Dunno about the water. There might be an ocean we don't know about a mile away from us. We move the city again, maybe the salinity changes.
[He lifts his other shoulder in half a shrug.]
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But he also listens to all of that, frowning a little in thought. Right, more monsters is a problem, and that's the same problem with exploring the caves around the city; that and the fact that they change. Who's to say the potential system under the lake doesn't?]
If it changes enough, it might kill off the sharks.
[That'd be a side benefit, right?]
I think they may also be able to test the water at the lab, to see if things change, provided they're given samples.
[But he's less sure about that. And okay, one of the wounds is officially done as far as stitches go, and Lance starts on the next one.]
How do you know so much about sinkholes and cave systems anyway? Is there much to salvage from them?
[Just, you know. Wondering.]
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He watches Lance tie off another small knot and in response he leans over it, assessing, before sitting back in apparent satisfaction. Not a bad job for someone who's a complete newbie at this kind of thing, and the half-smile Nate flashes him says as much.]
I dive a lot.
[Nate shrugs carelessly. He thought it was obvious based on the oft-repeated dude, I work in marine salvage.]
And I have a...recreational interest in archaeology, so I see a lot of caves.
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Archaeology is interesting. A part of the department where Dr. Brennan works is devoted to it.
[Both true, and an easy way to mention Dr. Brennan and see if it prompts any reaction from Nate.]
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[Nate is not certain how appropriate it would be to inform Lance that he and Dr. Brennan were fake-married with a kid for a recent event, so he refrains from sharing for everyone's sake.
The more interesting crux is that they know each other, and not just through Hadriel: they're co-workers, functioning within the same department of the FBI. (Nate also isn't entirely sure why the bureau would need an anatomical specialist in really old shit unless they were dealing with some unique serial killers, but he's not about to pass judgment.)]
Does the FBI investigate ancient cities, now?
[All right, maybe he is.]
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Right.
[He glances up briefly from what he's doing at the question, though, shaking his head before returning his attention to the stitches.]
Not usually. I work in the major crimes division, so Dr. Brennan and her team consult with the FBI in solving murder cases. However, the lab Dr. Brennan works at is really diverse; they've got everything from Ancient Egyptian relics to marine biology stuff to the Medico-Legal lab where the crime investigations happen.
[Lots of really cool stuff.]
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Holy crap.
[It may be the fact that it never occurred to Nate that the federal government would ever have such an interesting division under its wing, because the federal government tends to only give two shits about the economy and, like, the Declaration of Independence.
Which definitely isn't on his to-do list to steal, because he's found cooler things by completely random happenstance.]
That's awesome. What do you do in major crimes?
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It is a really cool job. I have a few different roles; I'm a psychologist and so I counsel agents who have to deal with the sort of things we see, I do criminal profiling for solving cases and identifying suspects, and I go into the field as an agent to interview people and conduct investigations, and occasionally make arrests.
[What he gets to be involved in doing is meaningful, and that's important.]
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We just won't talk about the incredibly long list of lives he's taken when fighting for his own.
The only part that trips Nate up is the news that Lance Sweets, fairly unassuming and non-threatening individual, is a government-appointed shrink, a fact which immediately closes off several mental walls for protection. Criminal profiling, too, Jesus. He's stitching up a criminal right now.]
Jack of all trades, huh?
[Nate quips, watching the needle dig into his skin again and come out the other side.]
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It doesn't exactly bother him, because he knows that people have their reasons, but he still feels the need to comment; he shrugs his shoulders, just a little, as he continues the stiches, before responding.]
Something like that, although they my jobs are all connected in many ways. Aside from spending a ton of money to get several fancy pieces of paper and having a little more specialized experience, I'm not a lot different from other agents.
[He has the extra edge of experience and knowledge that allows him to put together profiles, and of course specialized training to provide counseling, but a lot of what he does can also be accomplished by other agents that happen to be good with people. He doesn't want his degrees to be particularly threatening.]
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He prides himself in his ability to bury painful things and having someone dig them up like a grave robber - the irony being that Nate has engaged in that precise physical act - is unsettling. (Anyone could analyze anyone, he supposes. Lance probably just has the vocabulary and insight to articulate it.)]
Why the FBI?
[As long as he keeps the focus off himself, he'll be good. Lance already knows about the mercenaries and Nate doesn't know how many more times he can get away with saying that marine salvage is his life's pursuit.]
Seems like you could've opened up a practice of your own, unless you were just really into the ambulance-chasing aspect.
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They offered me a job.
[It's as simple as that, really. Or perhaps not; there are a lot of factors that went into him actually taking the job, some of which he won't go into, but others are pretty straight-forward.]
I had just graduated a few months earlier, and I was twenty-two; there's only so far that degrees go in commanding any respect.
[He doesn't think he would've been too successful in running his own practice for that reason, and also that he just didn't have any practical experience. Besides--]
Also it's just cool to get to work for the FBI. I thought I was just going to be working with agents and making sure they were okay for field duty after a trauma, work out issues between pairs of agents who work together, that sort of thing, and that was meaningful and worthwhile enough. Ending up doing profiling was kind of a fluke, and the agent thing definitely was.
[And despite how everything ended, he doesn't regret the path he chose.]
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When Nate was twenty-two, he was doing three weeks in a Venezuelan lock-up to get information from an inmate while Sam scoured the local historic collections for leads on a job. They actively hunted for their work, and they loved every second of it, but sometimes Nate is reminded that other people didn't have the luxury of free movement and simultaneously had the albatross of college tuition debt swinging from their necks.
The Drakes had already earned a reputation and took consulting when it came to them. While a deep-seated part of Nate is envious of those with higher education he's grateful he never had to worry much about "fitting" into society until his line became legitimate by necessity.]
Agent Sweets. That's so cute.
[The smile on Nate's face should indicate that he is 100% giving Lance shit for the sake of giving him shit.]
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[But he makes the correction with a small grin, recognizing the teasing for what it is and not minding it at all; it's kind of familiar, actually. He finishes the last stitch in this particular set, then looks up at Nate again.]
Two more to go. Are you still good?
[He feels he should ask, even if Nate doesn't seem the type to want to take a break.]
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[He's definitely fucking with Lance now.
Nate leans over to look at the handiwork and is fairly impressed by the neat, tidy stitches - there must be an anal retentive quality at play here, or an internal need for perfectionism in all things - mentally admitting that it's better than what he could have done with his dominant hand. He has the feeling that Lance is (perhaps slightly neurotically) concerned about screwing this up and is intent on preventing that at all costs.]
Still good. You holding up okay? First time I gave someone stitches I thought I was gonna faint.
[He'd been a kid at the time, but still.]
no subject
[He says it dryly, but clearly isn't actually bothered.
Lance watches as Nate looks over the stitches, trying to read his reaction; he is indeed very perfectionistic, and often somewhat neurotic or obsessive about it. It's been both good and bad for him throughout his life, in different ways and different situations, but even when it's detrimental it's one of those things he can't break himself of. And in cases where doing everything perfectly actually might matter, like this one, it's especially obvious.
He nods at the question, managing another half smile at the admission.]
I'm fine. It's simpler than I thought it would be.
[And so he's a little less terrified he's going to screw up.
But if Nate's good too then might as well continue, and he starts getting the needle threaded for the next set of stitches.]
So aside from diving in the lake, what else have you been doing here?
no subject
Hadriel has afforded him many things, but friends are difficult to come by even in his own world. Nate isn't exactly known for opening up.]
I was mapping the tunnels until I learned that they change every few months.
[Sort of a downer, but that doesn't mean he won't still go spelunking in his spare time, sans equipment. Nate rubs at his chin with his free hand.]
Used to travel a lot more, so being stuck in this one city kind of sucks.
[At least in New Orleans he could drive to the Gulf, or the bayou.]
no subject
I've heard sometimes they change while you're still in them too. There's someone else here who I had spoken with about the idea of exploring using a tether, both to mark the path and so they don't get lost, to see if that has any effect on the changes.
[He actually needs to message that person; he's been meaning to for awhile but life in Hadriel has been crazy for him.
The rest of Nate's response is also more offered information, and Lance is curious but cautious about prying too much.]
I did my undergrad in Toronto, but other than that I've spent most of my time on the east coast of the US. I did have a case in Florida once, before I was an agent; the guy I was evaluating got us into a shootout for no reason.
[Just taking a moment there to drag Walter, both because he can and because dealing with him had definitely made Florida a stressful place instead of a relaxing one. Also it was hot as hell.]
Do you have a favorite place that you've been to?
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[There's something to be said about the merit in lulling someone into a false sense of security - or in this case, a genuine one - and its efficacy. Even during the periods when he was "on his own," he had someone to fall back on and since neither Elena nor Sully are here he eases into a familiarity with someone else. He knows he'll get stuck if he doesn't.
Nate huffs a laugh through his nose when Lance touches on an undesired shootout and he is reminded of every time he fell into one of those himself. Usually quite literally. Sucking another breath in through his teeth, less at the needle in his arm and more at the next line of questioning, he shakes his head.]
That's...kind of hard to answer.
[He admits, and Nate goes quiet for a long moment, fixating on the medicine cabinet across the room.
He misses the humidity of the Panamanian jungle, watching steam rise over the trees from a jagged mountaintop while the local monkeys hollered blue murder. Tibet's crushing alpine ridges, the way traditional communities nestled amicably between peaks and sprawled into valleys, the surreal ghostliness of throat-singing echoing down temple halls. The beaches of Naxos, the call to prayer wailing from a minaret in Istanbul, haunting islands jutting up from the Pacific. Borneo's saw-toothed coastline, Mongolia's unforgiving desert, the heat that beat down on the desolate stretch of sand in the Arabian peninsula and crushed you against the sun's anvil.
The paradise that emerged from the fog when he least expected it to, dense foliage rising from a rift of waterfalls, oases in vast and seemingly empty pockets of the world.
Start with the best part.]
...I spent a lot of time in Colombia. Mostly the northern edge of the country, the coast - sometimes south down the Andean range. Small towns. Port cities. [Wrenching himself from his nostalgia long enough to make brief eye contact, he adds:] Good people.
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He isn't too surprised that Nate has to think about his response, or even that he gets that faraway look, but the intensity of it stands out to Lance a little. Either Nate has been to some amazing places or he really misses the feeling of exploring and traveling, or perhaps both; when Nate finally does answer, Lance guesses that both is probably correct. Angela sounds the same way when she talks about the places she's visited.
He glances up from what he's doing at the right time to make eye contact before returning his attention to the stitches.]
I've never been anywhere like that, but the way you're talking about makes me wish I had.
[Maybe he'll have to visit when he--
Oh. Right. Barring some sort of miracle he can't imagine, that's not going to happen; Lance stops what he's doing a moment, gaze going distant, but he soon shakes himself out of it and resumes working on the stitches.]
What constitutes 'a lot of time'?
[It's the first question that comes to mind and so he asks it, trying to move on as quickly as possible in hopes of avoiding any questions himself; maybe Nate just didn't notice, anyway.]
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Sam, who begged him to drop everything to chase one last job, one last time. Nate was never going to say no to his older brother.]
Few years?
[He doesn't remember the exact number. They bounced between borders with such frequency that they became unrecognizable, non-existent, a vast stretch of territory where two kids with ambition and sheer force of will could carve out their own space and explore at their leisure. The world was theirs, and they'd fucking earned it.
What Nate recalls best about those early years isn't faces or names, but the smell of new places and the freedom and anonymity afforded with them. The pungent kick of ajiaco in the morning and the taste of mamoncillo sucked right out of its rind after being plucked from the tree. Sunsets watched from the rooftops, saltwater air. Hard times were a given but they never lasted long.]
Sorta...grew up there.
[Nate informs him, using the most generous and broad application of the statement.]
Santa Marta, Baranquilla, Cartagena, [he offers a small laundry list of coastal names, all spoken with a familiarity that suggests English is not his only language.] Central America too, but there's something nice about the old city streets.
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