Big table time

[rubyrubyruby]

It's the big table! Bolted to the deck it has been prepared and given a quick wipe from a rag. The parchment stretched like a prisoner on a rack is relatively blank. Being chart paper it has lines carving it up into proper and orderly sections, but apart from the grain of the paper, not much is inked. But there are carvings of boats, small multi coloured shells and a number of coins of multiple realm denominations to serve as markers. There's probably been a bit of recon delivery up to this point, so everyone that risked their necks has had a chance to deliver some observations.

Ruby has nudged the boat markers into a general mob of toys on a section of the parchment, though they'll need a fly over to get a more accurate positioning. Ruby shoves some conch shells along the parchment to guesstimate the three islands, but is going to rely on someone else to more accurately position them, or start sketching their personal observations and records via the pieces of charcoal and grease markers on the pristine chart. "You all bloody get around when you wanna, don't ya?" she muses, still in the process of congealing a mental image of some of the bizzare sights witnessed and retold. "Tha table is open for suggestions an constructive criti-schisms."

Arriving a bit belatedly, Maggie has change out of her soggy swim-adventure gear and into a loose long-sleeved shirt and trousers. She has reclaimed her boots and retains the diving belt o'supplies. Her hair is damp, but no longer lying like a sodden mess down her back. Instead it curls in haphazard ways that will surely end up with a snarl fit to be cut off sooner or later. The olive of her complexion has faded toward ash with high specks of color on her cheekbones. Eyes, emerald and troubled, find Ruby near the table. Moving closer, she pauses to cough into her lifted elbow before continuing closer. After a moment's near hesitation, she slips into place by the table and begins studying the map.
Proto-map? Such as it is.

Merrisol already waits nearby as the big table is set up with makeshift markers, although the hermit crab from earlier strategy maps has since escaped and been replaced by a scraped barnacle. He tries to smile as Maggie wanders over, but his tongue's too itchy and he only ends up making a sweaty puff-mouth face at her. Close enough? No. Adorable though? Nooooo. He nods to Ruby and pushes off the rail to get a better look at the placement of the three islands, including the one permanently submerged. "An' how doe de map of connening dunnel fid in here, bedween de fake inand?" he invites Maggie to use the grease pencil to make those approximations. Then he turns away to the rail to maul and rub his mouth into something producing a less annoying impediment. "...Because! If we could use the causeways to reach one or both of the other islands, and rig them to come up and stay up, I'd feel better about hitching the fleet to one of them rather than the conspicuous one that's already stuck."

After seeing Clive off to sleep off the worst of sweats, Sidonie approaches the Big Table. She nods to them all in greeting, and can only muster up enough energy for that, really. She looks a bit pale, so her freckles stand out starkly on her face and arms. The chelation therapy pills, such as they are, have been distributed to the others for taking (or not, as the case may be), and she's not far behind on taking her own once this meeting is done. She picks up a pencil and starts to draw the Toof Ring around the island, along with the Cursed Shipwreck Tomb and the areas of debris she can remember that concentrated the closer they got to the islands. And, of course, the mechanisms that she could see are drawn like a decorative frills around the conch shells.

Ruby places her hands on the table and leans down like a crouching frog, arms crooked like rear legs. Her head tilting to the side and squinting at Merrisol's mouth. Her expression is one that she's replicated whenever she froths incomprehensively when her emotions are stoked. "Whuuu..." She parses the speech and gets back on track. "Would tha need a big wrench, or what we gots be do-able?" She wrinkles her nose and hums. "Tha moight be attractive for a number 'o reasons. More Real Estate for starters. You think you can make'm, break'm and stake'm still, aye?" When Sid comes and adds some important extra bits to what Maggie's added, the map is taking on some nice dimensions. More meat on the bones. Ruby traces a finger along some of these interesting bits, but consciously snubs the Ship Tomb...her finger not stopping along these waypoints as the others. "Those circles around tha island don't fill me warm fuzzies none. Wonder if it 'as anything tah do with a nursery rhyme about faces-on-fences in tha drowned dark." She looks around, "Bedtoimes were a treat."

Maggie smiles sympathetically at Merrisol when he moves from the railing. The oddness that might be a blown kiss is considered for a moment before she lifts a hand to blow one back. In case. You can't leave a man hanging with stuff like that, right? Of course right. Accepting the grease pencil with a nod of thanks, she moves a bit along the table to get a close approximation of where they were compared to the fleet. Then, she begins to sketch what they found. Every now and then she pauses to cough into a large kerchief pulled from a pocket. Once, the fit is long enough that she turns away and folds a little to finish. When she finishes, she stands again, folding her kerchief up and tucking it away. Shaking her head, she returns her attention to the sketch. Nodding to Sidonie, Maggie offers a smile, then begins on her drawing again. The long trench, deep but narrow, the enormous sword sticking into the island, the strange beach with the critters. Then below, offset a bit with a note showing where the upper level met the lower. The passage way is added. Then the area with the dead solder and the door and, finally, the treasure trove. Of sorts.

When she finishes, Maggie looks up at Ruby and shudders. "That is... Really evocative." And awful. Her voice is soft, though not quite a whisper. There is a slightly ragged quality to it, as though her breathing includes a wheeze.

Merrisol scratches absently and watches the undersea landmarks taking shape through the marker pencils. He begins to nod thoughtfully, even to Ruby's twisted childhood memories. Just keep talking to a minimum, Kerf, that's the ticket. Eventually though, he scratches, "When we're ready to go again.. or just one of us can trump the others into the island workings, we'll try to get to the operations under the working islands. I'll know for sure what we can do when I find the controls." The itching's getting worse though. Perhaps the knock-out pill is in order?

Her contributions done, Sidonie sets down the pencil and looks back up at the others. She noticed Ruby's pointed avoidance of the tomb ship, Merrisol's itchy tongue issue, and Maggie's slightly ragged voice. She just can't work up an appropriate and commesurate reaction. Which she thinks means it's time to retire. "I'm going to take the pills and get to bed. I'd suggest you take them sooner rather than later, too," she says gently. To Merri, she says, "The sleeping pill will just make you a bit groggy first thing in the morning." Her eyes then fall on Ruby, their expression serious and thoughtful. "We'll have to return to the tomb wreckage eventually. And, I suppose... talk about what it means." Not to mention the faces... on fences! Sharp fences make good neighbors? And with that, she steps away.

Maggie inhales a bit, listening. It is a careful inhallation, though. Trying to avoid coughing up a lung. Maybe. Looking at the map as it lies there, she purses her lips then speaks quietly, "I'll go with you, Kerf. I don't think anyone should go alone. Expecially..." Her voice fades away while her gaze lifts to Ruby's, emerald glittery and sharp before the scrutiny softens. Turning, she nods to Sidonie, "Rest well, Doc." Shaking her head briefly, she adds almost under her breath, "Especially the gentlemen." Looking up again, she lifts a hand to her brow, fingers wiping sea spray and sweat from her brow as her gaze remains steadily focused on Ruby, echoes of conversations from long ago dance a macabre dance behind her eyes, "Am I right?"

Ruby seems not entirely convinced on sabotaging the islands is possible if her facial expression is accurate, but she's warming to the idea and the benefits. The community canvas developing on the table is definitely becoming more of a lovely thing. She's hesitant to address the ship of sorcerers when it's touched upon, fidgeting and pretending to be busy analyzing the canvas. It's clear she heard that, and the promise that there'll be a reckoning of sorts. The restless and maltreated dead (or near enough) are powerful in how they linger if not put to rights. Them sins be salty. Ruby arches an eyebrow to Maggie, and does some reading into the question. She grunts, "If so, we prepared. Clive an Merrisol gots their potions. Aye...Merri should 'ave no problem with tha particular drink, roight?"

Merri looks to Sidonie as she speaks of pills, intent on her instructions despite the adverse side effects that are already cropping up. He scritches at the nape of his neck with one hand, unconsciously tracing around the edges of the bullseye tattoo, and tucks his other hand into his jacket pocket for the small packet containing prescribed sleepytime not approved by 4 out of 5 Mandrakes, and the fifth Mandrake was fairly iffy about it too. "Groggy? Might want a wake-up call, then," he starts to suggest, glancing over at Maggie curiously as she elects to sleep as well? "Did you not take the detox treatment yet, Hotstuff? Seems like your respiration's not improved as yet.." he wonders, trailing off however as there's nuance passing between her and Ruby that he hasn't really caught onto. It's usually him doing the scowling at Incarnate, no? Not that Maggie is now. "Pretty certain alchemy's contraindicated with the cocktail Doc assembled," he mutters, one hand going to Maggie's back to let her know he's ready to go below when she is.

Maggie listens to Ruby and eases a bit, "Right. The potion. I'd forgotten. Thanks." A glance over her shoulder to Merrisol and darn it all, she looks contrite about something. What she says, though, is "No. Not yet. I didn't want to take it if someone else needs it. I'll heal. Just need to sleep." The relief and contrition in her gaze holds until he brings up the potential problem of Alchemical remedies and Barber Surgery in combination. The contrition fades back to a tense worry as she returns her gaze to Ruby. Her silence, the slow breathing that goes with it, shows that while her breathing is not greatly improved, it has somewhat. Feeling Merrisol's hand on her back, she glances a warm smile up at her beloved. Mouthing, "Thanks," she refaces Ruby, then looks down at the map. A slow nod, then a quicker one and she slips a hand to his waist, "Let's go, love."