Fantasy Atlantis | Exploration

[Quantum Leek]

​

The year is 1865. Over 2000 years ago, Plato wrote of the Island of Atlantis, a place inhabited by the children of Poseidon, and its fall from grace.

"Let me begin by observing first of all, that nine thousand was the sum of years which had elapsed since the war which was said to have taken place between those who dwelt outside the Pillars of Heracles and all who dwelt within them; this war I am going to describe. Of the combatants on the one side, the city of Athens was reported to have been the leader and to have fought out the war; the combatants on the other side were commanded by the kings of Atlantis, which, as was saying, was an island greater in extent than Libya and Asia, and when afterwards sunk by an earthquake, became an impassable barrier of mud to voyagers sailing from hence to any part of the ocean....

I have before remarked in speaking of the allotments of the gods, that they distributed the whole earth into portions differing in extent, and made for themselves temples and instituted sacrifices. And Poseidon, receiving for his lot the island of Atlantis, begat children by a mortal woman, and settled them in a part of the island....

There were many special laws affecting the several kings inscribed about the temples, but the most important was the following: They were not to take up arms against one another, and they were all to come to the rescue if any one in any of their cities attempted to overthrow the royal house; like their ancestors, they were to deliberate in common about war and other matters, giving the supremacy to the descendants of Atlas. And the king was not to have the power of life and death over any of his kinsmen unless he had the assent of the majority of the ten.

For many generations, as long as the divine nature lasted in them, they were obedient to the laws, and well-affectioned towards the god, whose seed they were; for they possessed true and in every way great spirits, uniting gentleness with wisdom in the various chances of life, and in their intercourse with one another. They despised everything but virtue, caring little for their present state of life, and thinking lightly of the possession of gold and other property, which seemed only a burden to them; neither were they intoxicated by luxury; nor did wealth deprive them of their self-control; but they were sober, and saw clearly that all these goods are increased by virtue and friendship with one another, whereas by too great regard and respect for them, they are lost and friendship with them....

...but when the divine portion began to fade away, and became diluted too often and too much with the mortal admixture, and the human nature got the upper hand, they then, being unable to bear their fortune, behaved unseemly, and to him who had an eye to see grew visibly debased, for they were losing the fairest of their precious gifts; but to those who had no eye to see the true happiness, they appeared glorious and blessed at the very time when they were full of avarice and unrighteous power. Zeus, the god of gods, who rules according to law, and is able to see into such things, perceiving that an honourable race was in a woeful plight, and wanting to inflict punishment on them, that they might be chastened and improve, collected all the gods into their most holy habitation, which, being placed in the centre of the world, beholds all created things. And when he had called them together, he spake as follows--"

The rest of the Dialogue of Critias has been lost. Other writers have since made mention of the Island of Atlantis, sunk into the ocean by the gods when its people became too diluted, too mortal, to persist. But there remains enough information. With every puzzle gathered, every piece in place, I can now say with very little doubt that it has been done.

I have located the lost Island of Atlantis.

OOC | Characters | Lore​

 

[Quantum Leek]

1865. London.

A scholar of Ancient Greece claims in a public symposium that he has mapped the location of the lost island of Atlantis. All that is needed to prove it is a submersible, but such things are few and far between and fewer still that can dive to such depths. And besides, even if one did exist, who would send it on such a foolhardy journey?

The crowd thins, most shaking their heads and muttering about the weak mental composure of the academics. Those who are smartest are often the maddest, when their minds go. This one has evidently outlived his usefulness.

The scholar, desperate and disheartened after attempts to reel the audience back in fail, deflates. Only one remains. A gentleman with a cane and a peculiar hat, who approaches at a leisurely pace--evidently quite untroubled by the catastrophic failure of the symposium. When they are quite alone, he tucks his cane under his arm and leans across the podium, speaking nearly conspiratorially.

"I have the ship you need. For the privilege of seeing that sunken island myself, she is at your disposal. All she needs is a crew. We'll take her engineer, of course, and there should be an experienced explorer, a journalist, a doctor--and who could forget the cartographer? But my chauffeur will handle those things--come, now. Walk with me. Don't forget your notes. I want to see those documents."

 

[Quantum Leek]

​

Archibald Phineas Ainsworth || Emmett Ira Lockridge ​

The morning was chill. Everything was sharp and grey, and a low fog hung over the Thames. It wasn't the sort of morning that a grand expedition should have left London to discover a new world, but it was the sort of morning that London had to offer in late September. There were no crowds on the banks, but their departure wouldn't be in complete anonymity. A few people lingered here and there in little clusters. Low conversation passed among them over a morning smoke and they half-watched from the corners of their eyes, as if they weren't entirely committed to be interested.

Their lack of excitement didn't dampen the spirits of Archibald Ainsworth. He took the steps down to the dock two at a time, moving as if he was a much younger man than his silver hair boasted.

"Hurry up, Emmett!" His voice cut the fog and the otherwise subdued quiet surrounding the riverbank. He half-turned to look back at his companion, one foot still lingering on the second-to-last step though the other had found flat ground. His chest rose and fell from racing himself down the steps, but the smile on his face displayed bright teeth and his enjoyment. "I want to be under way before Ben strikes nine!"

"Perhaps if you had not seen fit to pack every one of your possessions, my mobility would not be so hampered," came the dry and rather out-of-breath response.

Emmett was taking the steps deliberately, one at a time, as if he took his employer's boundless energy as a personal insult. He carried in his arms no less than four suitcases--one in each hand, and one wedged beneath each arm. A pained look adorned his face. It seemed to be the only expression he knew how to make, excepting the ever-present exasperation.

"My dear Emmett," Archibald said reproachfully, as if he hadn't noticed that the other man was carrying luggage for both of them, while his own hands were free. "Hyperbole does not suit you. You couldn't possibly carry Ashburnham. Now do hurry up. The others will be here soon."

There was a retort on Emmett's tongue, but he bit it back; he wanted to breathe rather than speak, just then. His focus was on the stairs. It would just be his luck to miss a step and break his neck on the morning they were set to leave. Though it was Archibald's enterprise, the whole act of putting together a team for this expedition had rather endeared it to Emmett. He was loath to give it up now, when it seemed so close to bearing fruit. Then again, even if he had broken his neck Archibald would have scolded him for dropping the suitcases and told him to pick them back up. He could have been dead and Archibald would have found something he needed to do in the afterlife before he could rest.

No sooner had his feet touched the level planks of the dock--without dropping or breaking anything, it should be noted--than Archibald was giving further instructions.

"Just open the top hatch and take those things below--you did bring the keys, I presume--I'll remain up here while we await the rest of our little party."

Archibald was standing on the end of the dock near the submersible; its smooth copper skin showed just above the water, running the length of the dock and beyond. The real beauty of it, however, was beneath the water. It was a shame that more people hadn't been able to see her before her first plunge. The whole contraption outside of the water truly was a masterpiece. Now it was just a thin surface of copper, blemished only by rivets, and barely wide enough for two men to stand abreast. The Thames lapped gently at it, washing over the metal surface, but not reaching up to the raised hatch.

Emmett looked at Archibald and sighed. It was nearly a huff. Yes, he had remembered the keys. He remembered everything. It was a necessary part of his job, though not--if he recalled--part of the job description. Then again, there hadn't exactly been a job description. But he had no doubt that Archibald would have sent him across town to pick up any forgotten bits if he hadn't ensured that everything important was taken along the first time. It had happened before.

"Go on! Don't just glare at me. There's work to be done!" It wasn't a sharp order, nor a cruel one. Somehow, Archibald managed to make everything sound good-natured. It only made Emmett hate him more.

"If we both survive this ridiculous venture, so help me God, I will kill you myself. Sir."

"Yes, of course, Emmett," Archibald responded, as if he had said nothing more peculiar than 'I'll take your coat and hat, now, Sir.' His eyes were not on his chauffeur at all. They were on the end of the dock, as if he was expecting the others to appear at any second.

It was the only response Emmett was likely to get. So he sighed in resignation, dropped all four suitcases unceremoniously on the dock, and mounted the submersible to unlock and open the hatch. The circular door swung up without so much as a creak and Emmett stood looking down into the dim glow of light while he caught his breath.

"I don't suppose you would be willing to pass those up to me?"

There were times when Emmett made perfectly reasonable, not at all sarcastic, requests. These were among the times when Archibald found himself selectively deaf.

"They'll be on time, of course, but do make sure we stick to the schedule. You aren't to let us become distracted and miss the launch time." Archibald said, as if Emmett hadn't said a thing. He didn't even turn his head.

"No, I didn't imagine you would," Emmett sighed, jumping back down to the dock and picking up the first of the suitcases.

"Did you say something?" Archibald turned and looked at him for the first time. Looking at Archibald's face, it was impossible to tell if he actually had heard or not. It was just possible that he hadn't, with old age and senility taken into account.

"Launch by nine, Sir, very good, Sir," Emmett drawled, knowing that anything else would go unnoticed.

"Thank you, Emmett!"

With Archibald's back to him once more, Emmett hauled the cases up one at a time and lowered them down the hatch. He briefly considered dropping them, but he knew Archibald would (rightfully) blame him for any broken items later on if he did. As much as he perversely enjoyed provoking his employer, it was really better not to actually become the target of his displeasure. So he lowered them down one at a time through some careful gymnastics and a length of rope, then climbed down the ladder into the narrow entrance. If nothing else, the instructions to take the luggage in put him out of socialization's way for the time being.

 

[Shannon Trevor]

It was the perfect London morning, as far as John was concerned. How he had yearned for the drizzle and damp of an English Autumn all those times he had spent traipsing through the wilderness of deepest, darkest Africa. It occurred to him, that weather was not likely to be a concern for the foreseeable future, at least until they reached their destination, or the 'submarine' sank and they all drowned in the most horrific fashion.

He moved past the small crowd gathered at the dock edge and heard one person mention his name. John had become an explorer for the fame and fortune and in turn found he hated the exposure his adventures had given him and needed it just as badly. Why else would he have signed up for a pipe dream like this expedition?

Why indeed, he wondered as he spotted Ainsworth standing proudly on the deck of his 'submersible'. John could only see the top of the craft peering just above the water and what he saw did not look like much; a narrow strip of copper lost in the grey waters of the Thames.

"Mr Ainsworth," John called out in greeting as he took the steps down from the dock. "I trust you are well." Despite his skeptism, the old explorer still felt the familiar rush gather in the pit of his stomach. If everything Ainsworth said were true, John was being given the chance to tackle a frontier most did not believe to exist.

 

[Hoki]

Just how many times did he run through his flat? There wasn't a thing he had forgotten - not a single thing - yet that didn't shake the feeling that he somehow had. Even as he arrived at the meeting site with his satchel and case in hand, Thomas Bane felt compelled to check his belongings yet again. But he didn't, coming down the banks and passing the small crowds of bystanders. They conversed amongst each other in these early hours of the day, some voicing their doubts about this whole expedition - others, their amazement at someone such as Archibald actually taking the time to invest in the dreams of a child.

The word cut deep, hit hard, and stung like a ray, yet Thomas had too much faith in this very hour that it didn't bother him for once. His pace slowed as he made his approach, shouldering his satchel once more as the left clasp - not fully tightened during his rush to make it on time - fully undid itself and hung open. Within the bag was a wide assortment of leather-bound books, rolls of parchment, a thick notebook, and a collection of writing utensils all now exposed to the cold autumn air of September.

He was quite lucky that nothing had slipped out, that none of his notes or documents hit the dock and rolled into the shifting waters that surrounded the submersible; the submersible that was now in his sights, its metal glinting a welcome in his direction. Standing beside it and its opened hatch was none other than Archibald Ainsworth, the man who held such a casual air to him as he stood looking out. Another man had also made his approach then.

Thomas had only met a select few people before this very day, and two of those included Archibald and his Chauffeur, Emmet, who was most likely the one that lay beyond the opened hatch. This new man was not one the blond had met before, but it was someone he knew of quite well. 'He's coming with us??' Thomas thought with an almost clear expression of surprise on his face. Thankfully enough, he was able to recollect himself and finish re-securing the flap of his satchel, coming to stop just outside of Archibald and John's soon-commencing conversation.

Today was the day.

 

[Deccimo]

Viktor, the Doctor​

A close ringing beckoned the unmasked Viktor awake, his brown hues groggy in their awakening, a yawn escaping his mouth. Complacency overwhelmed his body, perhaps 5 more minutes would suffice in restoring his energy, then 10 minutes passed. Realizing this, he finally rose up from his king-sized bed and began his morning routine. The awaited expedition date had finally arrived, so he had set his alarm several hours in advance. Taking his time, he rinsed his body and polished a couple of his limbs; then he brushed his teeth and ate a small breakfast. Lorelei, his long employed maid, made eggs benedict and freshly squeezed orange juice for him. As the doctor ate in content, Lorelei’s meals were always simple in retrospect yet somehow extremely delicious, piano began to play in the adjacent room. A fantastic rendition of Sonata V meshed well with the dish as if accenting it.

Last on the to-do list, he dressed in his trademark attire in timely fashion. Firstly, his undergarments and then the dapper overcoat and suit pants; Finally, the mask, of which he almost felt like going without - new land new me he supposed, though for only a moment. This was a common occurrence for the doctor, maybe he was growing senile or maybe his youthful eccentricity was overtaking him. Lorelei had packed the night before, so he quickly picked up a lone, large suitcase and went out the door, which held a sign that read “Out for holiday”. Those aristocrats of the upper echelons would have to resort to doctors of a lower stature for their medicinal needs. He took one last look at his humble abode as well as his neighbors, wondering if Eugene had arrived at the meeting place yet or was playing hooky.

Knowing the man in question fairly well based on how he portrays himself, it was probably the latter, he was most likely having a fifth last drink. Viktor’s curiosity demanded he check, thus he knocked on the gaudy door of the Gogarty household, which Sylvia opened pronto. She motioned him in and led him to the usual battleground, the living room. Eugene was sitting comfortably, wine glass in hand, glass filled to the brim with red ambrosia; the Journalist poured a conveniently placed second cup and gave his greetings. Viktor waved back in fervor and bowed his head in thanks for the drink. A hatch in the beak of his mask opened, and wine likewise flowed into it. The two conversed about recent events till Sylvia requested they leave or otherwise be late, there was some spunk mixed in with her politeness. It was a while before the duo finally arrived, as they continued their discussion on the walk there, Viktor quite enjoyed Eugene’s company.

Upon seeing Archibald, the Doctor bowed with fierce energy to a perfect right angle; a quiet mechanical whirring could be heard during the gesture. After that, he placed his suitcase on the ground, wondering if Emmett would carry it in or if he would need to (Viktor guessed that the chauffeur was already making rounds and was in the ship). Also, he noted two new faces - a gruff, muscular man-bear specimen and an exasperated looking boy. He waved at them with slight interest, but mostly indifference.

 

[Drake Alistair]

Archibald Phineas Ainsworth​

There wasn't much time to wile away once Emmett had disappeared down the hatch of the submersible--grumbling as he did so. Just on time and only a few moments after the sound of footsteps on the ladder had stopped echoing back up, the first of their crew arrived. A mature but well-built and--by all rights--handsome gent.

"Good morning, Mr--"

"The explorer--John Shelton--he's been in and out of the jungles of Africa for half his life and has quite the favourable reputation. You had him to dinner a few years ago." Emmett had explained with an air of unending patience.

"Yes, of course I know who he is, Emmett, I invited him to dinner myself."

"No, sir, I invited him to dinner."

"At my behest."

"Yes, sir."

"It's all the same, then. Who's next?"

"Shelton!"

Emmett had explained it all the night before in painstaking detail. And in spite of the fact that Archibald absolutely remembered who all of the people on Emmett's list of adventurers were, he might have had the slightest difficulty putting names to faces without the brief brushing-up provided by his chauffeur. Not that he was going to admit that to Emmett.

"I am well. And yourself? Prepared to breech the next untouched land?" Archibald stood with his hands tucked in his pockets, waiting as the other man approached, but he counted the seconds for the rest to arrive. The sooner they were off the better--the depths of the Atlantic wouldn't explore themselves!

It wasn't but a few minutes before the next of their number arrived.

"Mr Bane, the man of the hour!" Archibald greeted cheerfully, not at all put off by the young scholar's inclination to stay well out of the conversation. Archibald was the sort who could have conversed with a horse--he didn't really need the other side of the conversation in order to enjoy himself--but if there were people he would just as well drag them all in than let them stand beyond interaction.

"Mr Bane, this is Mr Shelton, our veteran of the unknown--Mr Shelton has been in and out of the jungles of Africa for half his life." Archibald introduced the pair with a wave of his hand, quoting Emmett's information word-for-word. It was just as well his memory was perfect. Otherwise he would have forgotten who all these people were.

"Mr Bane is the intellect behind our endeavor," He added to Shelton, "The bright young scholar who started it all, and will lead us straight to Atlantis' doorstep."

The next of their number arrived as a pair. The doctor he recognised immediately--even if the man hadn't been his doctor, it was difficult to forget someone who insisted upon wearing a mask even in polite company. He bowed mechanically to Archibald and Archibald inclined his head politely in response, his smile never faltering. If he could spend a small fortune to fund the production of a submersible that he originally had no use for, then the doctor could wear a plague mask at all times. Who was he to pass judgement on other people's eccentricities?

"Ah, Doctor, good morning--I don't believe you have met the others. This is Mr Bane, our scholar, and Mr Shelton, renowned explorer. Mr Bane, Mr Shelton, this is our on-board doctor and with him--"

"Eugene Gogarty, a household name in the journalism world--"

"A journalist?"

"Yes, sir. You asked for a journalist."

"Yes. Of course I did. Who better to publicise our findings when we return? Continue."

"You had both he and his wife over for dinner last year--I actually approached her, first, as she is a journalist as well, but she declined in favour of him."

"Mr Gogarty, to put the pen and printing press to our discoveries, once our feet are on dry land again," Archibald concluded, gesturing widely to each man in turn as introductions were made. He didn't mind playing the host in the least. In fact, it was one of the things he did best.

"Now we're just missing one or two faces and then we'll be off. Really, you're all the talent--I'm just tagging along for the show, you know."

 

[Semblance]

ARDYN DURAND​

With two duffle bags draped across each shoulder, a frantic young woman rushed down the harbor. Ardyn was carrying a couple of papers in one hand, each containing illegible scribbles that resembled mathematical equations and scrawled-out graphs. She lifted her free hand to her face and her hurried eyes glanced at the gold watch on her wrist. "8:59?!" she exclaimed disbelievingly as she picked up the pace. Ardyn was of course, once again, late. The invention to which she had dedicated the past three years of her life and had subsequently made this adventure possible was no exception.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and dropped both her duffle bags onto the ground. "Of course! Wien's law!" she declared successfully as she scribbled down more more numbers and letters onto her notes. "How could I be so dense?" she quietly chastised herself. To the average bystander, he/she must have seen a crazy young lady talking to herself and using a flat rock to scribble down incomprehensible hieroglyphs. Ardyn, however, was too caught up in her new scientific realization to notice nor care.

A few minutes passed by before she suddenly jumped up. "Bollocks!" she cursed to herself when she looked at the time again and realized it was 9:07. "That crazy old man is going to kill me," she referred to Archibald, knowing how precise he was with time. Ardyn quickly slung the two heavy duffle bags over her shoulders and made her way to the meeting point. "Oh great, of course I'm the last one," she muttered to herself when she counted five figures on the docks.

As she neared, the engineer instantly recognized her much older cousin, Eugene. "Why hello, cuz! How are Sylvia and Liam?" She smiled widely and opened her arms for a hug. "I'm still waiting for you to write an article about me," she said, feigning annoyance. "Your cousin invents the impossible and I don't even get a word?" she asked incredulously.

Her attention diverted to Viktor, who was standing right next to Eugene. "How are you, Doc? Doing well?" She extended her hand to shake his. "Although it would be quite funny if the doctor, of all people, was not doing well." She couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape.

Ardyn's light brown eyes switched over to Thomas. "Ah, the man who got us all into this!" she exclaimed. "So it's your fault if we all end up dying," she stated playfully. "Ah well, if I do die, I wouldn't want it to be anywhere else except in this darling," she proclaimed, finally letting her gaze set on the copper submarine. Its familiar sleek metal skin peeked above the sea and it looked even more beautiful in its natural habitat, if that were even possible.

An unfamiliar face caught her attention and she looked over at John. "Hello, you must be John the Explorer. I'm Ardyn, the world-famous engineer." Ardyn smiled brightly and reached out her hand to shake his. "Well, depends on your definition of famous," she added. "And I've read all about your adventures, but you'll be just as lost as us in the ocean. I hope you're ready because it won't be like anything you've seen before," she said, a childlike excitement filling her voice.

Finally, the engineer rested her gaze onto the man who made this all happen. "Archie!" she called out, her smile growing wider. She knew how much he hated this pet name, which was exactly why she continued to use it. Ardyn opened up her arms and gave the older man a warm embrace. "Sorry I'm late. I know you had meticulously planned this, old man," she said both sincerely and teasingly, even though the eccentric man was used to her unreliable timing. "But I'll have you know that I think I figured out how to generate more heat while we're down in the cold blue depths," she announced. "Wein's law. Obviously!" she proudly revealed to him.

It was then that Ardyn noticed they were missing a crucial member. "So where's the husband?" she asked the Eccentric, glancing around for Emmett. "Don't tell me he finally decided he was fed up with your shit and left you for good." She noticed that the hatch to the submarine was already open and realized that he was already inside, probably hoping to get as much time away from Archibald as possible before the journey. "Seriously though, you wouldn't survive a minute without him," she added and turned her attention back onto the group.

 

[Fenn]

The Journalist​

Eugene inhaled crisply, beset by the usual cold morning, as how mornings are. Sitting down, he felt the seat's chill against his backside, nursing a newspaper as he perused for any convincing merits. His wife Sylvia chatted him under the sibilant sounds from close by, a warm temperature gradually suffusing:

"Anything there of interest?"

"A brilliant scrutiny of global economic trends heralding an inevitable recession," his answer came swiftly.

"Heh, I wrote that!" she chuckled coquettishly so that Eugene couldn't help but glance over. He grunted. Droplets of water running down dampened his wife's fair, smooth skin and long, black hair; a scene filled with bewitchment; fog slowly steamed out, adding to her youthful charm through its clever obscuration, the language of vixens: poison to his heart. Seeing him silent, Sylvia looked over and saw askance him dazed with heated eyes.

"You're such a dirty scoundrel, hurry up and finish! Today, you'll be embarking on a grand discovery you know? The city of Atlantis!" she hastily shooed him. Eugene grunted once more, then he was done, flushed and wiped himself clean. He caught his showering wife a parting glimpse but ultimately stayed and relished the scenery.

"There's still plenty of time. Besides, what nitwit would choose some decrepit fish-shit-and-seaweed-infested platter of wet rubble over a woman this beautiful?"

"Scoundrel." She snorted but her tone told him she was happy.

Afterward, Eugene fixed himself a light breakfast accompanied by red wine. Because wine fixes a mood for success. A first glass to brace the day. He eyed the antique analog clock that adorned their kitchen while he ate, noting there was still an hour left before the appointed time. As a reporter, it was crucial to punctual and even early, advancing ahead of others by an auspicious premiere - but now, he was the delegated reporter. Since he wasn't in any way contested regarding this matter, there was no necessity for him to rush enjoying his meal.

His wife soon entered the room with pursed lips, appearing with hesitancy after some thought. Eugene turned his head to see a timid wife approach, lifting a brow in curiosity.

"I've been - I don't know but I feel worried about you going on such a long journey away. If anything wrong happened to you . . ." her voice trailed, "Maybe you don't need to go? It's not like we're in need of finances, I —"

"My wife, you can care about your husband? If it's too hard to bear me leaving, why not we make you another memory together? Right now so that when I do leave, you have something to remember when thinking of me. Thames is only a quarter-hour distance."

"—Christ, you rogue, why is your mind always bad? Liam's still sleeping, we couldn't . . ." She protested but didn't deny. However, before Eugene could seize her shapely waist, the doorbell rung along with his forming irritation. He planned to confront these daring guests himself, imagining what bastards - but his wife had readily beaten him to it, wearing a scowl as she brisked toward the door to answer it. Eugene grudgingly relaxed because one worked-up Sylvia was enough for anyone, taking his glass of wine to the living room to savor.

"It's Viktor," she sharply announced before busying herself in the house. Eugene let bygones be bygones and welcomed his neighbor with a drink, seeming much used to their peculiar imbibing technique. Discussing their forthcoming cooperation in particular, it soon neared the point that they should depart (even without having his wife urging them). He told the Doctor to wait in front as he went to grab his luggage that Sylvia prepared the evening prior. He didn't immediate leave by then, and walked into his son's room. He sat on the bedside and stared at his boy still sleeping, tenderly caressing his head.

"Your dad's leaving for Atlantis now." Eugene murmured faintly, but Liam still heard him and woke.

"Okay."

"Any final request for dad?"

"I want Poseidon's trident."

"Okay, dad will wrest back Poseidon's trident right from Poseidon's gruby hands."

Liam laughed at this remark and said, "Dad, I'll miss you." Eugene kissed his forehead back to sleep, closed the door and left.

Roughly fitting a dark bowler hat on his head, the journalist smiled at Viktor and kissed his wife farewell - no longer looking back as the two set their steps on the barren, stone road. They took a more wild path around the city, overgrown with shrubs and trees, but freed from public interference - better to humor Viktor in overall. Pressing his hat down on his face, he shielded much of the frosty wind upon meeting the dock.

Contrary to his friend next to him, Eugene simply nodded and shook hands with Archibald, listening to the introductions which were given. Being well-connected, he was aware of most who were present and soon to be, but inevitably some less than others. He was not all too familiar with the scholar, but that couldn't be helped. Thomas Bane wasn't any illustrious name, not then and not currently, but in due time. The media's eyes mainly rested on Archibald, as well as John Shelton, pertaining this story.

"Mr. Ainsworth, stop acting modest. It doesn't suit you. Even among the circles of eccentrics and kooks, you're a cut well above the rest." He complimented in good laugh, then switched his attention to the explorer.

"John, how are you? It seemed just like yesterday since I followed you through thick and thin along for those expeditions. Despite withstanding the vicissitudes of age, you're just as strapping as when I remembered you." Eugene's mouth crooked with friendly sympathy, but he didn't say any more.

Instead, the journalist became pleasantly startled by a hug, and squeezed back after realizing who it was "Ardyn, lass, Sylvia is well, and so is Liam. Did you grow taller again?" he casually teased the young woman "Besides, impossible is only so-so once you make it possible, so how could I write about it considering my status?" disinclining to even bat an eye at her childish expression.

Done dealing with this cousin of his, Eugene immediately beckoned Thomas over to pass this junior some grace and wisdom, "Thomas, don't mind that girl, she's just playing. I know a bit about you. I suppose you can find yourself discouraged and stifled by all the controversy at times. I understand this more than anyone else here, so allow me to give a little advice. Regarding people who do nothing but curse you . . ." A smile lights up his face, peaceful and calm as though warmed by the sun, emanating the bearing of a literature writer and great poet - he spoke in style:

"F**k their mothers, to hell with those lots. There's no need to bother with those people." he patted the boy firmly on the shoulder and nonchalantly strolled over before the submersible as if nothing in the world could affect him. Amber hues observingly fell on the copper body peeking atop the waters, gleaning over and recovering its image from his recollection. Ardyn and him had shared a cozy bond ever since he moved to London - after all being family who were only walking distances apart - so it was natural for Eugene to be one of the few present to have witnessed the vessel in its full beauty. His heart had always been proudly impressed by his intelligent cousin and her creations, gladly awaiting her future prospects and being there to see her accomplishments. He laid his suitcase down to the side and stood quietly musing these fond memories.

 

[Shannon Trevor]

They were a punctual lot, a trait that John admired. A man the eccentric introduced as Mr Bane waited politely as John and Ainsworth greeted each other. Bane was a quiet young man who seemed content to let Ainsworth speak of his qualities on his behalf. From the look he gave as introductions were made he seemed to recognise John's name but said nothing. John offered the young man a friendly smile and a firm handshake. "Good to have you with us," he said sincerely.

The next two companions to arrive did so together. John seemed to recall that Ainsworth had commented to him at one stage that it was somewhat of a motley crew he was putting together. As the pair approached John thought Ainsworth might have been understating that fact just a tad. The first of the men was someone who John knew well; Eugene Gogarty, a journalist of some renown who had accompanied one of John's expedition years ago. Gogarty was able to keep the pace and the general spirits of the party up. He had proven to be good company with a witty streak and a highly commendable tolerance for alcohol consumption despite a relatively slight frame. John laughed at Eugene's jibe about his age. "Good to see you again, you old soak."

John turned to Gogarty's companion who hid his features behind a plague mask and said nothing. John acknowledged the man who would be their doctor with a nod and the stranger offered a wave in return. There was something...off about him and it wasn't just the attire John couldn't quite point it out but his movements and stance seemed alien. John ignored it deciding it was best not to offend any of his newest party while introductions were still being made.

By the time the final member of their crew arrived, John was feeling like the odd man out. Ardyn Durand, a perky and pretty young engineer was Eugene's cousin and seemed to be on first name terms with the doctor, Ainsworth and Ainsworth's unseen assistant. Miss Durand seemed young for an engineer but she was certainly not lacking in confidence. Friendly, immensely excitable and quick to extol her own qualities, John decided he liked her immediately.

"Well, it looks like we have quite the team here. Until someone builds us a rocket to the moon, we have a chance to explore a frontier most don't believe exists. I'm excited to be able to share this adventure with you."

 

[Hoki]

They all came in, one by one - the one by two of their on-board doctor and pristine journalist - and Thomas found himself getting washed away in this excitement. Lots of hands were being shaken then, first Archibald's in a greeting and then John Shelton's in a sort of introduction; it was almost intimidating being in the presence of such a TITAN of exploration. Which was a little ironic to think, considering that the city they were searching for had been at the mercy of a god who had been born to a ti-- It was funny to him..
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Thomas returned with a growing smile. But, really... The John Shelton??

Next was the Doctor, whose very presence felt almost ghastly and cool. He gave Thomas the chills at first, but they were quick to fade off, replaced with a sense of awe. It was smart of them to bring a doctor, especially one that was seemingly so collected. The Doctor, the name of which he was going to PROPERLY get when he had the chance, didn't necessarily seem interested in hand-shakes, so Thomas stayed where he was before returning the same waving-gesture.

Then came the girl that complete flipped his mood over itself; even before he could greet the well-kept, almost regal looking man that accompanied the Doctor. There was no real introduction, no "how do you do" or anything of the like, just an oh-so-casual mention of death and failure, all of which would fall on him even without it being stated. What a great reminder... Thomas was used to being shut down, but the fact that someone coming along had said it kind of put a damper on his faith -- playful or not, the context was still a little striking.

The blond did his best to shake it off, a shadow coming over his face as he tried to laugh it away. Tried. Thankfully, Ardyn moved on in a very lively fashion that he was allowed to breathe, the more sensible part of him reminding Thomas that it was most likely nothing personal. He was still like a teenager in some sense, continuing to overthink it despite the natural reason. That's when Eugene gestured for him, to which he was quick to obey.

It was sort of relieving to be in Eugene Gogarty's presence - contrary to his own self-devised belief. He seemed to be a kind man, one of the family-oriented sort, and gave Thomas a great deal of comfort. It was a little surprising to hear that this well-known journalist knew a little bit about him (perhaps due to a little research prior to this meeting), but not nearly surprising as the next bit of advice and great wisdom.
And it was, in fact, some of the greatest advice he could've heard pass through someone else's lips.

As Eugene would head on with a spring to his step and the warm, yet equally sparse rays of sun on his shoulders, Thomas' mood did yet another flip. He was quick to react so strongly to playful banter, sure, but if he hadn't, then he wouldn't have been able to have his spirits so suddenly raised. It was a nice feeling. 'I think he has s child...' the blond thought to himself, briefly recalling an article he had read before. This didn't surprise him, it just made him respect the man even more.

So, this was the crew he was going along with? The crew that Archibald Ainsworth and his chauffeur, who was currently nowhere to be seen, had put together? Wow. Thomas came closer to the bulk of the group, a genuine smile pulled across his face and his mind filled with excitement. When he had the chance, he would go around and thank everyone individually; though, perhaps making it to Atlantis would be their preferred form of thanks?

 

[Drake Alistair]

Archibald Phineas Ainsworth​

The conversation carried easily as they waited for the final member of their crew; Archibald had nearly forgotten about the time he had told Emmett they were supposed to leave. Emmett would deal with that. He only ever had to be told a thing once and he seemed to remember it forever. That was one of the wonderful things about Emmett. The others were too numerous to count in any reasonable amount of time, but Archibald definitely would have put among them "that face he makes when I ask him to do something really absurd," which was most anything, really.

Eventually, Ardyn did arrive, in high spirits as usual. Archibald was pleased to see her, and pleased to see her cheerfully engaging with each member of their crew. And when she turned her attention to him it was with a distinctly teasing air. Archibald's smile didn't waiver. He returned her hug in spite of the name she gave him--Archibald was a man's name, Archie was almost certainly a dog's name--and smiled away even as she teased him about Emmett.

"My dear Ardyn," Archibald said, as she informed him he wouldn't last a minute without his trusted companion. "I know that, and you know that, but Emmett doesn't know that I know that, so let's keep things just the slightest bit quieter, shall we?"

Archibald counted faces in the group. There were five there, and himself, with Emmett inside. But he was almost certain that Emmett had said there would be eight for the voyage. He shifted his eyes up toward the face of the clock tower that reigned over London and squinted for a moment. Old though he might have been, he was definitely certain that the clock face read ten past nine, at least. Weren't they leaving by nine? Damn it all--and what had happened to Emmett? Surely it didn't take forty minutes to carry four suitcases through a relatively small submarine.

"Emmett! Where have you gotten off to?" He called out, turning his head toward the still-open hatch of the submarine. "Everyone is here--I think--and didn't I say we were leaving by nine?"

 

[Deccimo]

Viktor, the Doctor​

Viktor had taken a makeshift seat atop his unusually large suitcase, his right leg crossed over his left, and was in the midst of performing wrist exercises with both his hands; these are the tools he holds in the highest regard, even believing that with these alone he could heal all wounds. Each motion was fluid in succession, yet mechanical in nature as one could perceive the stiffness in his arms. Finally finished, he considered his options: mingle with this motley crew that has been pieced together, strike a conversation with Eugene regarding Liam’s upcoming birthday, or review the new procedures he had theorized the night before. His decision? Why not do all three.

The Doctor marvelled at his new patients, and the myriad of techniques he could attempt with them. Most specifically, John Shelton, as a hardened man such as himself could withstand the more painful operations that Viktor had in mind. “Do no harm” is a buffoon's oath, only through breaking the limits of the human body can one achieve new heights in the medicinal world. That’s not to say that the man lacked any empathy, he was a firm believer of treat others how you want far you would allow yourself to be treated. As for the rest of them, Viktor was fully confident in his ability to keep them alive without issue.

Placing his hand on John’s shoulder, he immediately assessed his muscle mass and body condition, all while waving of course; Viktor earnestly wanted to make friends with the group before him, probably. The doctor gave another perfect bow and handed him a pure white business card that read just a single name, Viktor. A glint appeared in those desolate eye sockets before he turned around and walked towards Thomas. Likewise, he handed the fellow the same card as well as a pat on the back in thanks for this grand opportunity that was given to him. To top it off, he placed his right hand over his heart as an oath to them. Beneath the mask was a face of complete seriousness, as Viktor never grew complacent, someone will no doubt be injured on this escapade. Hopefully his aura was palpable enough to get the thought across. If not, they would at least understand the gesture.

The Doctor and the Engineer had shook hands earlier, the former nodding at the latter’s jesting, but he felt like inquiring about how life had gone for the energetic upstart. She was conversing with Archibald, seemingly teasing the aging man, and to Viktor, it was quite the sight. Ardyn looked just fine from what the man could see, so he surmised that no discussion pertaining to her days was needed. Instead he walked next to Eugene, standing beside him in awe at their craft for the upcoming Atlantean adventure. Casually whispering in his usual deep, monotone voice, “Your younger cousin has really outdone herself this time hasn’t she Gar? Also, what do you plan on getting Liam?”

 

[Quantum Leek]

Emmett Ira Lockridge ​

The submersible wasn't near large enough for it to take forty minutes for Emmett to put four suitcases in place, even if he had taken them one at a time (which he did, just to be sure he could miss the most socialization possible). But even when he had taken up fifteen minutes with the task, it was still a quarter til nine and he was left considering the options. He could, of course, resurface. Judging by the sound of conversation above, there were a few people assembled already. Or he could busy himself about the place for fifteen minutes until departure. The problem with that was there was a potential for people to be late. If he arrived at nine to announce their launch and not everyone was there, he would be stuck waiting for the last of the--he tried not to think "his"--crew to arrive. That was problematic, over all.

In the end, Emmett ended up perched on the ladder in the narrow tube, just out of sight but listening to everyone that passed outside. He heard Archibald introduce the doctor and Mr. Gogarty to Mr Shelton and Mr Bane. That was four of the five. But there was no mention of Miss Durand for another quarter of an hour. When she did arrive it was clear, even from where Emmett was standing.

Her voice was notable among all the men gathered on the dock. That and the enthusiasm with which she addressed each member really left no portion of the conversation above to Emmett's imagination. He leaned back against the curved wall behind him and listened, momentarily distracted from his purpose. There was Miss Durand shaking the doctor's hand--he could practically see it as she made a quip, evidently not in the least concerned about the most peculiar member of their group. Another joke as she turned her ever-jumping attention to Mr Bane--Emmett didn't know the man particularly well, but he was willing to bet that Miss Durand's off-color joke had turned his face a touch off-color. Emmett nearly smiled at that. She had this way of accidentally saying just the wrong thing. As someone who intentionally said the wrong thing--at least to his employer--it was a quality to be admired.

Emmett shut his eyes for a moment, wedged in the entrance of the submersible with his feet on the ladder and his arms crossed over his chest, as he visualized Miss Durand's progress through the group. She ended at Archibald, poked fun of him, and called him his least favorite nickname. Emmett really did smile at that. The expression vanished, however, at mention of him--why did she have to refer to him as Archibald's husband? It was positively uncouth.

It wasn't until Archibald shouted for him that Emmett remembered the reason why he was standing on a ladder listening to people talk. His eyes opened and he pulled his pocket watch from his breast pocket. They were late, but it hardly mattered. Ten minutes wouldn't make or break the expedition--and besides, there hadn't been anything he could have done about Miss Durand's lateness. He tucked the watch away and climbed the rest of the way up the ladder until he emerged from the open hatch.

"We couldn't very well leave without everyone assembled, and if Miss Durand--begging your pardon, Miss--is late, there isn't anything I can do about that." Emmett's tone was clipped but not rude--excepting the aside where he looked at Ardyn and his voice was polite even to the point of warmth. he drew himself all the way out of the submersible, standing near the hatch.

"Now, if introductions are complete, may I suggest that everyone bid their last farewells to London and board so that we can be under way." His voice rose for this statement--an announcement to everyone, rather than a comment to his employer. He looked at no one in particular as he spoke, his eyes hovered just over heads or shoulders, rather than meeting faces.

 

[Shannon Trevor]

John had said his fair share of goodbyes over the years. The location varied; the bustle of a platform at Kings Cross, or the docks of Liverpool or Portsmouth as he watched England fade into the distance. Today felt different. The overcast sky, the Autumn chill and the sounds of early morning London washed over him. He had never thought about his own mortality, even though he had faced it more times than he would have cared to count. Perhaps he had just been out of the game too long, but a sudden sense of finality seemed to settle itself at the bottom of his gut. He realised then, one way or another, this would be his last expedition.

He sighed, looking over the assembled crew as Ainsworth had done a few seconds before. His eyes rested on the doctor for a split second longer than the others. The man had not been shy about physical contact and John unconsciously glanced down at the simple white card the doctor had given him. 'Viktor' The name suited him.

"Well," he said as he pocketed the card. "It's farewell to Old England."

 

[Semblance]

ARDYN DURAND​

Ardyn rolled her eyes at her older cousin's quick response regarding his status. "Well, let's see who can bring back a better souvenir for Liam," she challenged him. "You'll have a budding engineer in your hands once I'm done with him," she promised.

Completely oblivious to Thomas' apprehensive reaction to her words, Ardyn met Archibald's wise blue eyes. "Archie, you are much less subtle than you think you are," she smiled. "I'm sure Emmett knows perfectly well that you need him more than he needs you," she reminded him lightly.

She followed his gaze as he counted the faces in the group. "Aren't we waiting on one more person?" she asked with some relief, glad that she was not the last one to arrive. Her hands fidgeted restlessly with the papers still in her hand, eager to start the journey.

When Archibald called for Emmett, her sharp amber eyes quickly shifted over to the hatch where the Chauffeur was supposedly waiting. Her fingers wrinkled the parchment in her hand even more as she suddenly became more aware of herself. When the young man finally emerged from the submersible, Ardyn's gaze naturally outlined the length of his sharp jaw and lightly skidded over his lips for a quick second before meeting his bright blue eyes.

"Ardyn," she immediately corrected him for the hundredth time. No matter how many times she insisted that he call her by her first name, he never listened. Her voice came out in an exasperated sigh but her eyes stayed light and playful. "And I was determining how to generate more heat while we travel the cold ocean depths, so when you two are not freezing your toes off, you can thank me for being late," she replied sharply with amusement, her gaze shifting between Archibald and Emmett.

"Has everyone arrived, Mister Lockridge?" Ardyn asked in a formal voice, imitating Emmett's persona, when he made his farewell announcement. Her charade broke when a playful smile appeared on her face at the end.

 

[Fenn]

The Journalist​

After giving others his regards, Eugene had stopped paying much attention to their banter (except he did immediately retort back at Ardyn something about her half-baked skills in finding adequate souvenirs or her equally shoddy ability to impress Liam who was too precocious for her), so that he could find some quiet and reflect for a weary soul. He was not behaving pompously, no. The morning sky still glowed darkly and appeared to descend itself over the Thames; underfoot, the wooden planks creaked as he leaned on his weight upon the suitcase. When Eugene had left, he left his family with a strong front, but inevitably his emotions ran uneasy under the calm veneer. Taking a hearty whiff of the murky air, something seemed to reignite in his chest - his body vigorous, and his entire bearing nothing but determined.

Life is a series of decisions; To set my foot where I want to set it, as to whether they are deep and shallow, it doesn't matter. These decisions are all mine to make.

He steeled his weathered will in face of a precarious venture. Even if the Heavens aimed to strike him down, he wouldn't just politely lay down and resign to fate. That was his character, never yielding - a blazing sun. Once this journey was over, Eugene imagined himself narrating to Liam the wondrous tales and felt a stir of fatherly emotions. He drank in his ardent spirit, the second glass of the day, then flitted his ambiguous gaze at Viktor who suddenly came beside him.

A voice like birdsong, a pleasant breeze - does not describe Viktor's in any slight manner. Eugene, amazingly, did not jump after being caressed by his friend's too intimate-for-comfort whisper. He did think about punching this socially-deficient cock breathing down on his neck however.

Steadying himself from that experience, he just wryly smiled and answered, "Yes. Ardyn can consider having outdone herself as long as we manage to reach the Atlantic, before the waters start coming in I mean." He didn't bother glancing back as he said this, having a guess that Ardyn would hear any of his jabs toward her regardless - even if he had spoken them solely in his thoughts. A woman's intuition: he was very familiar with this arcane magic.

Eugene continued without care anyways, "Deciding on a gift was a tad hard, you know how that boy is. He never did like toys so I got him a book." An abstract avant-garde fiction book for college-level literary comprehension of course, but those were minor details. He fished out a cigarette from his inner coat pocket along with a lighter, lit it, and took a long, lung-filling drag. His gestured longed to plainly bask in the serenity, before they had to depart; and so, he and doctor remained silent side-by-side, dragging out the world around them with each slow, deliberate puff of his cigarette.

A while passed by then until their chaffeur finally stuck his head out. Though Eugene's gaze seemed dull, his brow elevated deviously, capturing the young lad's actions - the little airy glances - with understanding. Emmett was obviously a novice in his eyes, but Eugene had no designs to give him advice toward his own cousin. He simply kept the chuckles to himself and made no hints otherwise. Ardyn was old enough to make her own decisions and Emmett likewise conducts himself as very dependable; an old uncle like him didn't need to stick his nose in the affairs of youths - not that he saw himself being that old by any means.

"Stay good, London," Eugene stamped the cigarette with his foot, nodding at Viktor as he started the queue onboard. He glanced once more the tender sights of the England - though not his homeland, it was where he started his family. The wistful journalist then smiled a greeting at Emmett before climbing down the hatch with his suitcase. Though he wasn't fully clear if they were still waiting for the last person, he still wanted to settle himself in the submarine and explore a bit of its interior.

 

[Drake Alistair]

Archibald Phineas Ainsworth​

Emmett arrived so promptly that Archibald was half certain he had been just waiting for the opportunity to do so. He probably had been. That was just like him.

Archibald tipped his head back to receive the excuses and immediately brushed them away. Yes, Ardyn had been a little late. That was no excuse for Emmett to be late. He was, after all, the one who was supposed to be keeping them on schedule. If he didn't, who would? But in spite of Archibald's hurry to disregard any reasonable excuse for not leaving precisely at the stroke of nine, he didn't miss the way Emmett's manner shifted to politely subservient when he addressed Ardyn in particular. She was the only person he ever addressed by name--even if she didn't like the formality of the name he gave her. Everyone else was predominantly sir, to Emmett. She gave a curt reply to him, prompting a smile from Archibald--but she did ask a good question.

It served to reason that if Emmett said they were ready to leave then they were ready to leave. He was hardly known for miscalculation. But still, Archibald had this lingering feeling that Emmet had listed eight people--including the two of them--on his roster.

Mr Gogarty, at least, wasn't concerned with the particulars and took Emmett's advice from the start, becoming the first to board the submarine. Archibald stepped up after him, taking his chauffeur's hand when it was offered, and beginning his descent down the narrow submarine mouth that led to the wider environs. The first time he had been inside he had told Ardyn he was much too old to be climbing up and down a ladder like some monkey. She hadn't changed it. Then again, it had been a little late in the process to change architectural elements. The best he could do was make Emmett deal with any luggage--which he had done--and watch his footing.

"Were there not eight names on the list, Emmett?" Archibald inquired as he started his descent, pausing on the ladder to look up at the younger man. Emmett was likely as not perfectly right in saying they were ready to leave--but Archibald wanted to know all the same.

 

[Quantum Leek]

Emmett Ira Lockridge ​

Some were content to take Emmett's instructions to prepare for departure without question or objection. Miss Durand responded to his comment with characteristic sharpness; he was used to it and didn't much mind, but it did give him paused and cause him to wonder if he ought to have said something differently. He had tried to be polite with his comment on her lateness, but perhaps he should have accepted the blame for their delay himself. As for her insistence that he call her by her first name, it simply rolled off of him--much the way that logic rolled off Archibald.

"Yes, Miss Durand," He replied, half to her question and half to her explanation of why she was late. He had no doubts that she had worked very hard on the submersible and that they would appreciate not freezing to death in the ocean.

Mr Shelton and Mr Gogarty, on the other hand, took his instructions rather literally; it seemed fitting to actually bid farewell to the city, given that they were about to dive into the unknown with no return date in mind. There were a thousand things that could go wrong (not that Emmett had counted Of course he hadn't. Except last night. All night.) and nothing whatsoever guaranteed their safe return.

All the same, this was no time for such dismal thoughts. Even Emmett felt the keen tingling of adventure, quite in spite of himself. They were really doing this. One of Archibald's mad fancies taking them out of England--out of the known world--and beyond. It was hard not to be a little bit excited.

Not that any of that showed on his face. He gave a polite nod to the journalist as he passed, the first to enter the submersible. Then he offered his employer a hand up without being bidden, clasping Archibald's hand with a firm grip and hauling the older man up to the open hatch. Emmett put a steadying hand on his arm until he was certain that Archibald had a firm grip on the ladder. Before Emmett could turn to help anyone else up and into the submersible, Archibald drew his attention once more, inquiring about their eighth member.

Emmett had told him that Lillian was in Africa, and that they would have to pick her up on the way. Given the course that Mr Bane had plotted, that would hardly be a detour. He had arranged for her to meet them in Morocco where they would pick her up in port and continue on their way after replenishing supplies as necessary. It would be their last port before submerging into the Atlantic ocean and from their on out supplies would have to be rationed more carefully. But until then, at least, there was no reason not to enjoy what they had stored.

"Yes, sir, your cartographer. We're to pick her up in Morocco before the final surface-stretch of the journey," Emmett explained once more, without even his usual exasperation. In fact, there was nothing in his tone to suggest he had already explained this once before.

 

[Deccimo]

Viktor, the Doctor​

His partner seemed visibly shaken by the interjection Viktor had spoken, and yet his response remained as composed per usual. Reading material at the university level seemed perfectly fitting for the budding maven, must be something in the Gogarty blood that produces geniuses. Nothing signified the Doctor’s error in conversational etiquette, and without a proper scolding his obliviousness would continue, though the opportunity only presented itself once in a blue moon. An air of conviction surrounded the Journalist as he gave London his last glance (at least for awhile), and as if becoming palpable it infected Viktor, causing him to review his recency within the European border. Breathing in the resolute, fresh breeze of the Thames, he consolidated any lingering doubts and delved into the deep; leaving his unusually large suitcase on the dock for Emmett to bring in.

Clearing his mind as his climbed down the ladder, Viktor willed himself to a state of childlike curiosity, as his interest of the ship’s interior swelled with each step. The metal plated walls were devoid of the usual impalements, and rather seemed to be welded together at inconspicuous sections. An interesting choice as it likely traded performance for aesthetics, though considering the engineer at the helm, it was probably a heightening of both. A myriad of pipes of differing sizes were outfitted in an appeasing fashion, coursing itself akin to veins to the ship’s body, supplying unknown substances throughout the belly. In summary, the imagery presented led the man’s mind to the idea of being inside an inorganic whale; which then led to thoughts of performing surgery on aquatic animals, as their anatomy greatly contrasted those of the land variety.

While lost in thought, his daydreams filled with scalpels and the slicing of blubber, his body fashioned itself to the floor as if ready to sleep, his hands cupped atop his belly. The stance looked a tad bit morbid, though an aura of friendliness was emitted as the Doctor patted his stomach in perfect rhythm.

 

[Hoki]

He had sort of become a little more secluded into himself at that point, looking at the people that would be joining such a fantastical journey. And, frankly, it was all so amazing; from the cool, collected Doctor - Viktor, as his pearly white card would read - to the more outward Engineer. From the ambitious Eccentric, to the well-versed Journalist. From the reserved Chauffeur to the experienced Explorer.
Then, Thomas.

Come time for the farewell toward the gracious London, the young man didn't voice his like Eugene or John did, but he did remain where he was, taking the time to breathe in the familiar air as he looked back towards the quickly bustling city. There were many times when he wondered if this place served to be a memorable location to him, if it was worth being thought of during his time away for studies or travels. Maybe considering the nature of this expedition, London seemed to be such a place. It bid farewell first, not requesting such a courtesy from him in return.

Thomas only smiled, further shouldering his bag and turning his back to the city. What lay beyond would be something truly incredible; a sunken city, or extensive failure. Yeah, they were both incredible, but each in their own way. He had faith - at least right in that moment - and would continue his research behind the vessel's walls. After all, you could never do too much research on something like this, even if it was just constant reviewing of materials.
You could always find something new...

Following a few others down the ladder, the faith he had in this endeavor turned to sheer excitement, spurred on by the mechanical life that now surrounded him. He was sure to stand clear of the entrance - and of the content Doctor - before even voicing his amazement in a simple "Wow". It surpassed his wildest dreams and expectations in one, massive leap. Wow, indeed.

 

[Semblance]

ARDYN DURAND​

Ardyn's bright amber eyes gazed into the port of London for possibly the last time. Her attention skimmed from the sailors unloading their cargo onto the docks to the merchants selling their latest artifacts along the boardwalk. She had grown quite an attachment towards the busy city the past few years. Although she was raised in the outskirts of the trading hub of Brighton, she had invented herself here. After dropping out of the London Academy of Engineering to pursue this seemingly crazy idea, she had discovered a whole network of inventors and scientists just like her. For the first time ever, she had a multitude of opportunities to help bring her ideas to life. Wealthy investors, such as Archibald, had made her goals tangible. Although her resolve wavered many times over the past three years, the support system she had gained from this technological society had always managed to inspire her again. And she would be eternally grateful to these role models.

Her gaze shifted over to the eccentric old man as he slowly lowered himself down the submarine. The first time he had tested out the prototype, he had complained of the steep climb. To transform the ladder into stairs, however, would have required completely alterior the size of the hatch and the attached exterior metal. "Careful old man," she said, half jokingly half seriously.

With one last look at the London docks, Ardyn stuffed her papers into her pocket and threw her duffel bags down the hatch first. The strap on one of her bags, however, got caught onto the metal hook on her belt that she had attached for her keys. The force lurched her forwards and her hand instantly reached out for the closest thing, which happened to be Emmett's already extended arm. A red flush instantly crossed her cheeks and she gave Emmett an embarrassed smile. "Sorry about that," she said awkwardly and quickly shifted her hand from his forearm onto her belt. She unhooked the strap and let the duffel bag fall into the submersible. "Forgot to take this damn thing off," she muttered under her breath. "Seeya down there," she looked back at Emmett sheepishly before lowering herself into the submarine.

Ardyn landed with a clang onto the metal floor. Her wide amber eyes surveyed the interior slowly for the hundredth time. The back of the submersible consisted of the engine room, turbine, rudder, and propeller. She had even added in a missile tube for their own defense. A mixture of brass and silver pipes ran along the curved walls, connecting a variety of oddly-shaped machines. Small gears turned and rotated while metal poles poked out of the floor and attached to the ceiling. Circular windows were placed periodically along the sides, which converged into a large transparent windshield at the front. The dashboard consisted of a myriad of screens and monitors, each with their own collection of levers and dials. Different pitched beeping noises emitted from the various machines and two wooden chairs were placed in front. "Who wants to help me drive this baby?" she asked the group, excitement filling her voice.

 

[Quantum Leek]

Emmett Ira Lockridge ​

Evidently satisfied with Emmett's response, Archibald continued his descent into the submersible and left the way clear for the others. He was followed shortly by the doctor and Mr Bane before Miss Durand climbed up to the open hatch. Before she had a chance to enter, herself, however, she was nearly pulled in head first by her bag.

Emmett's eyes widened for an instant, a tiny crack in his usually calm facade, and his hand closed firmly around her arm, holding her in place. He had an instant to notice how close she was, the way her hand clutched at his arm, while he stared at her in what was decidedly a most unprofessional and undignified manner, before she flushed and pulled away, righting the wrong that had been done by her bag and apologizing.

"Not at all, Miss Durand," He responded immediately, his calm politeness back in place. he had already put aside her most recent insistence that he call her Ardyn.

Once the others were all below with their luggage--all, Emmett noted, except for the doctor's suitcase, which he retrieved himself and lowered down without complaint--Emmett joined them, closed and secured the hatch, and glanced about the space, finding himself standing beside Miss Durand once more.

"That, I believe, is to be my privilege, Miss Durand," he provided, in response to her question. Technically it was more his job description than hers, but it was her machine and he certainly wasn't going to tell her she was taking his job, even if he did bristle a bit, internally. Instead he merely held out a hand, gesturing toward the front. "After you."

 

[Drake Alistair]

Archibald Phineas Ainsworth​

So it was that Archibald found himself amidst a dream come true. He had a knack for making that happen, but even so, this was uncanny and remarkable. If he was perfectly honest with himself it was mostly due to Emmett. But Archibald was never perfectly honest with himself.

"Yes, yes--come in, come along!" Archibald said, cheerfully stepping over Viktor to make room for the others as they came down the hatch. "There should be space enough for all, but we'll have to be a little bit close. Not to worry."

Emmett was inside, the hatch was closed, and they were all but ready to go. Archibald stood beaming, looking around at the crew he (read: Emmett) had assembled, and a comfortable stream of words flowed from his mouth. He had always been exceedingly comfortable playing the host, and this was no exception. It might have been Ardyn's creation, but it was his submersible.

"Step right along the hall, here. The helm is up that way, behind the ladder--I suggest you avoid it unless you wish to risk Ardyn and Emmett's wrath and--believe me--neither are pleasant. There are two rooms on either side; each sleeps two, so you're free to make your choice. In the far back there is a small kitchenette with seating enough for eight. I don't know what Emmett has planned for meals, but until dinner I believe your time is your own!" Archibald gave the abridged version of the tour while standing at one end of the hall and gesturing this way and that. The space was small enough that they would see the whole of it before the day was done--indeed, before the hour was done. Perhaps by the time they reached their destination, all would be properly sick of the close-quarters and their companions, but there was nothing to be done about that.

- - -

The remainder of the day passed in good spirits with few incidents of note. Emmett and Ardyn had taken to the helm and gotten them under way with much pomp and circumstance, and no small amount of celebration all around. There had been time for taking of rooms, for unpacking and growing comfortable, for lounging about and watching the water pass by, or for idle chatter among (mostly) relative strangers. The submersible kept close to the surface; the water outside turned from a blue-grey to a blue-green as they left the Thames and headed into the ocean, but there was still plenty of light filtering through from the surface.

For tea there was a selection of sandwiches and pastries and it felt very much like home; Archibald didn't stop to wonder when Emmett had found the time to put together a tea-time meal amidst everything else.

When the sun set and the waters outside grew dark, more lamps were lit and they continued in good spirits, nearing the end of their first day at sea. From what he could gather, they seemed to be making good time. But as that time wore on, Archibald began thinking more about dinner and less about progress.

Archibald's pocket watch read 8 o'clock. He stuck his head out of the room he would share with Emmett and called down the hall toward the control room.

"Emmett! When is dinner? I am famished."

 

[Quantum Leek]

Emmett Ira Lockridge ​

It had been an exceedingly long day and, by Archibald's usual standards, it was only halfway through. Emmett was already hoping that the early schedule they had kept would send his employer to bed a little (a lot) earlier than normal, but so far the old man had showed no signs of slowing down.

For his own part, Emmett had been up since dawn after a late night of making sure everything was in order. He had Overseen all the packing and the loading and made certain that everything was in its place while Archibald was still abed. And that was only the start of it. Then there was the day itself: getting all of the passengers aboard and setting off with Miss Durand hovering over his shoulder as if he was going to break something just my touching it--as if he hadn't piloted it before!--it wore on Emmett's nerves but he held his tongue. He always held his tongue. Then there was tea, then further progress through the ocean and seeing to whatever trivial tasks Archibald called him for--as if he had already forgotten that Emmett had other things to do--and the preparation for dinner.

The worst part of it was, it wasn't even unusually busy, by Emmett's standards.

He was tired, yes, and very much prepared to have an early night of it--hoping that the others decided to forego a late supper--but he carried it well. He kept it inside, beneath a mask of calm and quiet, hidden so well that his employer never thought to wonder if he was working Emmett too hard.

When Archibald called for him the last time, Emmett was already in the kitchen. There had once been a time when he hadn't known a thing about cooking (or household management, or piloting a submersible, or....), but that had been before long weekends in the countryside in which he drove Archibald out to his country home and discovered that Archibald had neglected to hire on a staff, in lieu of having Emmett see to it himself. And still Archibald wondered why Emmett regarded each new eccentricity, each new addition to his list of duties, with a blank stare and an exasperated sigh.

The point was that Emmett could cook. Rather well, if the input was really to be trusted, and that at that moment, he stood in the kitchen in his shirtsleeves putting the finishing touches on the main meal of the day and preparing to call the others for the meal. Archibald, of course, beat him to it. Emmett sighed, wiped his hands off and pulled his jacket back on. He really needn't have shouted so loudly. Their room (Emmett shuddered to think of sharing a room with Archibald and being woken a dozen times per night with pointless requests) was closest to the kitchen. Perhaps he expected to find Emmett in the control room, but Emmett had left that to Miss Durand, for the time being.

Emmett appeared in the doorway, pushing open the pocket slider the rest of the way, and finding himself face-to-face (although not really) with the back of Archibald's head.

"Dinner is imminent, Sir," Emmett said calmly, his voice low and void of the exasperation he felt. He raised his voice, glancing down the short hall toward the open door of the control room; in a clear tone it was easily possibly to make oneself heard throughout, provided doors were open. "If you would all like to make your way to the rear, I will serve dinner shortly."