The Crossing

It's a pretty cruddy day out if one isn't fond of getting wet, or doesn't benefit from the positive quirks of having the blood of storms coursing through your veins. Rain just doesn't want to let up. Cold and blustery, hatches are battened down and some are wearing slickers. A rope bridge has been slung between the Beast and Ark #1. Some quite excellent exercise opportunities to hand-over-hand it across the turbulent sea...and people gambling money on who might fall into water.

Ruby just so happens to want to get over to that Ark, for reasons. She eyes the rope bridge, and then eyes the water. Her lips purse. She rasps out a command to grab the 'bloody flying rug' in case anyone is not at all keen on making the crossing through sweat and effort. A large alhambran carpet is fetched and kicked until it is rolled out flat upon the deck. It is rapidly soaked with the driving wind and rain. Maybe it's not the safest means of conveyance either. "Should be three ways, but...faaah. Choosers can be beggahs."
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Lethal logistics

When he isn't working on the hedge restart, or ruminating over the critters on the arks or beneath the waves, Merrisol is... auditing! For he is mad logistics officer extraordinaire! As the forge delivers each load of close-quarters weaponry, he has divided them into allotments according to the reported totals of quartermaster ledgers from various ships of the fleet. The supply transports are particularly under-equipped but every vessel could use an extra passel of sharp cutlasses, daggers, and axes -- all to the standards of Incarnate Inc. Whatever that huge smokey floating forge is called. It's a slow-going process for these war packages to pass from ship to ship across the breadth of the flotilla; luckily, there are a few airmail alternatives in a pinch... at least when the barracuda and birds aren't biting.
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Arkcology

The bad-idea rope bridge has been reduced from three lines to one. Where once there were essentially two hand-holds and a place to place a foot, there's just one tenuous rope. The Magic carpet was rather deftly piloted by the Barber-Surgeon, Sidonie. Her two passengers, Merrisol and Ruby, were safely pulled from the national geographic feeding frenzy happening between sea and sky. The Fellicans were the victors, gulping more missile-like barracudas. The latter managed to spear and pull down some of the airborne predators, but nature favoured one side over the other.
Betting sailors exchanged money when folks were deposited on the Ark, it of the rather strong primal scent. Yarrr, there be animals kept here.
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The visitation - Part One

It's still the Ark. It's late. After the trouble it's taken to come over, Ruby has personally decided to delay getting onto the crazy carpet or find another way to the Beast just yet. Besides, there's probably more parchmentwork the closer one gets to that ship. She's off in negotiations with employing a wet nurse while she protects her ankles. While the kids are a whirlwind of chaos. When it's bedtime, the femmes congregate to roost like a coven of conspirators over teacups. Cloistered in darkened grownup only galleys, they rest their soles and decompress.
The Ark is one dark place with minimal lighting when daily duties are done and critters are snoozing. Ruby suggested taking a tour if folks also stayed over or delayed departure. Nothing is barred from poking around in, especially if curious. The passageways are like dark caverns or like narrow alleys of a timber city. There's creaking of the wood, and odd noises. Shadows dance, cast by candles or lanterns. The rolling of the city adds a very slow lurching motion, but not so troubling for those with sea legs.
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The Visitation - Part Two

Bolted to a nearby beam there is a rough assemblage of levers along with a rope arranged similar to a dumbwaiter. There's some moisture along the rope, and others that descend into the darkness below. Rhythmic puffs of hot air issue out from somewhere down there and rise slowly up the shaft in faintly visible vapour. Down there...a scraping noise and the movement of shadows. A sound like an intake of air, echoed by a handful of others. Snuffling sounds as animals starting to rouse. The noises coming from down there are dull and muffled, obscured by a heavy atmosphere.
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