imaginarymods | NPC Inbox.

[It's not a terribly long walk to the cafe, where there are definitely people and they are definitely watching. Wash wasn't exactly looking forward to being an octopus in public, but...well, the umbrella insists. He steps into the water, slips under the surface, and suddenly Wash isn't there anymore and an octopus is in his place. He waves a tentacle at the umbrella - you lead, he'll follow.]

[It leads.]

[As a matter of fact, it's shockingly fast underwater. Some combination of propulsion and what is clearly magic, gusts of air and water churning around it and propelling it forward. If Wash isn't careful, he could easily fall behind.]

[There's a tunnel under the lake. It looks unfamiliar as the umbrella leads Wash into it, and then all of a sudden it doesn't look so unfamiliar at all. Flora with a faint glow decorate the walls of the widening tunnel. Soon enough, they're joined by bioluminescent coral. A jellyfish floats by, then another, and more.]

[This is the Cavern of Memories. Call it a back door. Down here, everything is connected.]

[Once propelled into the greatest chamber, the umbrella stops the constant churning of water and lets itself float, spinning slowly in the current left behind. Only once its momentum has slowed does it begin to move on its own initiative again, drifting from one jellyfish to another and hovering in front of each, then bopping them lightly on the bells with its tip.]

[This doesn't seem to work very well at first. Memories pop up, but none of them are the one the umbrella wants, and certainly none are of anyone Wash knows.]

[But then something starts to go right. Either the jellies are beginning to understand what they're dealing with here, or the umbrella has simply hassled enough that statistically one was bound to get somewhere helpful eventually, but regardless: a bell shifts to a new scene and the umbrella pulls back to watch.]

[This is the interior of . . . something. A structure, metal, a room maybe, but in terrible disrepair. A giant piece of metal has been slapped over a massive hole. Other repairs have been made with equally slapdash methods. Scattered around the room are people, most of which are still unconscious, crumpled with their backs to the viewer.]

[The focus is on two women. One, an elf woman, barely sitting up but struggling towards consciousness tooth and nail. The other is Lucretia, sliding down the wall to collapse on the floor. She looks much younger. She looks exhausted. Her head is in her hands. The elf woman begins to move towards her, slowly and painstakingly, as Lucretia speaks.]

[There's no sound, and she says a lot of things. But the first two sentences are spoken slowly and are the same thing twice over. It's almost certain Wash can read her lips, under these circumstances.]

[I made it.]

[The fuck-]

[If Wash had half a second to think, he'd be grateful that he'd already had experience being an octopus and knew how to swim in this body; as it is, it's all he can do to keep up with this stupidly fucking fast umbrella.]

[Wash doesn't come to a stop until it does, and he takes a few moments to just float. He'd be bitching about the pace if he could talk; as it is, he just waits and watches, following along behind the umbrella until it finds what it's looking for, keeping an eye out for his jellyfriend all the while.]

[It's when the umbrella pulls back to watch a scene that Wash pays full attention to it. After a few seconds of watching, it hits him - he's seen this before. It's hazy, something after Candlenights, and it definitely doesn't belong to him, but...he remembers this.]

[There's a bit missing, though - an answer that, as far as he knows, none of them ever really got. He points a tentacle insistently at the elf woman. Who is that?]

[Hm. The umbrella doesn't respond to this right away, floating gently on the current and allowing itself to be pulled slightly away from this first jellyfish. The question, it seems, is a difficult one to answer through such roundabout methods.]

[After a few long moments of ponderous drifting, the umbrella does a half-turn and pokes cautiously at a smaller jellyfish. A figure appears in its bell, from the back only, but it's clear it's the same elf. She's wearing a long red cloak; she has a red umbrella hooked over her wrist. She lifts it and idly shoots a fireball from its tip into the air. The fireball coalesces into the shape of a dick, then smokes into nothing. Soundless, she laughs.]

[Another jellyfish gets poked. The same elf appears, body crumpled in its red robes on the sandy surface of some unknown desert under a purple sky. She dies in the memory. From her body, a spectral form emerges, wrapped in a red robe, skeletal and intangible.]

[A third jellyfish. The undead elf looks down on an elf man who is almost a carbon copy of her in her living form. He looks frightened. She repeats the maneuver with the fireball dick, and he looks a little less frightened.]

[The umbrella turns to Wash again, drifting back and forth uncertainly.]

[Wash follows, and waits, and watches, because what else is he going to do? These aren't exactly easy questions to answer when you're limited to jellyfish pantomime.]

[But the elf woman has a red umbrella - the same umbrella? - and that catches his eye. She's in a red robe - the red robes are from that hazy memory - even dead (undead?), she's still in a red robe - Hayner had mentioned meeting a red robed person in Lyrabar - and a copy of her? A relative? Someone-]

[It's a lot of information, and...well, jellyfish pantomime isn't terribly effective. After a few moments, Wash points to the first jellyfish - that umbrella - and then points at the umbrella. Is that you - that same umbrella? Are you connected to her?]

[This she can do. Yes or no, she can absolutely do. One puff for yes, although it comes out in a stream of bubbles.]

[That's one question answered, at least. It's the same umbrella, possibly more. He floats for a moment, thinking. He has questions, but pantomime is fucking frustrating, and he can't exactly talk underwater. The umbrella would probably follow him to one of the underwater air caverns, but that doesn't mean he could get a jellyfish to-]

[Wait. Wait.]

[He holds up a tentacle - wait here - and swims off deeper into the caverns, towards the larger groups of jellyfish. Jellyfriend has to be around here somewhere - Wash just has to find them.]

[The umbrella doesn't like being told what to do, if the long rush of hot air in Wash's direction is anything to go by — but it does stay, spinning in irritated circles.]

[Jellyfriend is much more obliging. As soon as the familiar silhouette of the octopus swims into the main chamber, there's movement off to the side, and then it comes bopping up towards him. What's up! Hey! It flashes a wave on its bell.]

[Cool your jets, umbrella, jeez.]

[Wash waves a tentacle in response to the reflected wave - boy, is he glad to see you - and beckons for Jellyfriend to follow him. He's going to bring Jellyfriend back to the umbrella, then beckon to them both to keep following him - c'mon, they're not done yet. If they follow along, he's going to go in search of one of those air bubble caves. There's got to be one nearby, right?]

[YOU cool your jets!! Says the umbrella, not really, because it has no mouth.]

[It does follow him, though, along with jellyfriend, who is far more compliant. It's fairly easy to find a cave with an air pocket, too. Once Wash levers himself up into it, the umbrella follows, ricocheting off the close walls and falling to the ground by Wash's side. Jeez, it's cramped in here.]

[At least this doesn't take long, though once he's on the ledge, he nearly gets pegged in the head by an overenthused umbrella. He ducks - jeez - and gives the umbrella an unenthused look as it settles.]

Are you done?

[He sighs, not waiting for a reply, and turns to Jellyfriend, offering it a genuine smile.]

Hey, buddy. I have a favor to ask of you. See, the umbrella here- [He gestures at the umbrella - say hi!] -is another friend, and we're having trouble talking and thought you could help. So I'm going to ask a question, and it's going to ask you very nicely- [He directs a very pointed look at the umbrella.] -to show me what it wants me to see. Sound good?

[Man, grandpa sure is cranky. Flipping onto its opposite end, it peers down into the water (with its lack of eyes) and clatters to the ground again, clearly focused on the jellyfish. It lets out a puff of smoke. Acquiescence.]

[No bulli.]

Great.

[He takes a moment to put his thoughts in order. He'd been asking about the elf woman, and there'd been some progress.]

So you're her umbrella...

[It's a mutter more than anything else - thinking out loud. She's undead, or she was, wherever she was. She was capable of magic. There's a man who looks just like her...]

[And she is the only person in that hazy memory that he hadn't seen during his time at the bureau. Everyone else had appeared in some capacity - Jesus, what the fuck had happened to Barry Bluejeans? - but not her. That's a starting point.]

That elf woman - what happened to her? Where is she?

[The umbrella pokes the bell of the jellyfish. With a flash, there's the elf woman, walking on a downward slope towards what appears to be an empty plain. The attention is on her and her alone, so it comes as much of a surprise to the viewer as to the elf woman herself when she hears the sound of a kicked pebble, turns around, and finds a hooded figure right behind her.]

[The figure extends a hand from under its robe, black and shimmering with color. Wide-eyed and suddenly furious, the elf woman takes hold of the umbrella, but it's too late: she's been struck hard in the chest by a tendril made of the same dark material as the figure's skin. It knocks her yards, culminating in a collision with a massive rock and a sickening snap. Her neck rests at an odd angle when she crumples.]

[The red-robed thing rises from the body, sparking fire and lunging towards the hooded figure — but it's too late. Abruptly it's sucked towards the fallen umbrella, swallowed by it until all of a sudden it's just the hooded figure and the umbrella.]

[Then the figure runs, and the memory dissipates.]

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