The deck is broad and low - level with or even slightly below the slowly roiling gaseous surface and with a very low rail hung with round viking shields along the outside of the boat. The wood is dark - almost black. There's a central mast supporting a large square sail that was once probably red and white striped, but now tattered and half rotted away and mostly a greyish color. It hangs lax - unstirred by slightest breeze, the rigging slack and useless. There are oar holes all along the rails as well, but apparently only poling is needed here. And the grim spectre poles on - standing at the narrowest point of the deck where it merges to form the prow - driving his spectral ship into the solid mass of fog just ahead.

Now that he's poling in the opposite direction the front of the ship has become the back - so he's now standing at the rear driving us forward. Handy how that works. I wonder if there's a dragon-head facing the opposite way on the other end of the ship.

There are benches once used by rowers doubtless long dead. They're recessed slightly below the higher parts of the deck fore and aft. We step down into the rowing pit and seat ourselves a little ways away from the grim figure driving us onward. None of us want to be too near him.

"About this vision you told us about, the spiders merging with humans." King Diddy begins, for once subdued. "I've been thinking about SaffronAxe and her instrument. You say it's called a Discordion?"

"Yeah."

Aboard the boat our voices are somewhat stronger - it seems to provide some measure of protection against the dismal soul-destroying forlornness that saturates the bleak coastline behind us. But our conversation is conducted in a hushed whisper. I'm not sure why - not trying to hide anything from anybody, it just seems appropriate here.

"I'll wager that somehow it disrupts the probability matrix... suspends the normal laws and makes certain improbable things more probable. Perhaps she's able to supply some control by simply the way she plays it, or maybe when she wants a certain outcome she has to imagine it strongly. Or sing it. I have some experience myself with affecting probability matrices through musicianship."

Suddenly he clutches at his midsection - just below the notch in the front of the ribcage, the solar plexus area. I suspect he might be having an attack of some kind. I reach out, take his shoulders in my hands, and I can feel the trembling of his slender frame. I can also feel the suppressed sobs that he's trying to hide. But he keeps his eyes tightly closed and tilts his head down.

"Oh Lucy" he breathes - a tearful lament that he seems unwont to share, but unable to withhold.



Serafiend: WTF did you guys see the posts Darkwampus just made on Do Date Marry? He's really pushing it now - he's messin with our Blueberry!

OldRaspa: Yeh he's a dickhead anyway - always tryin ta hit on Zha_Zha and Doreenema

Raspantlers: Old too! He's so fuckin old!

Neato89: Prolly a chronic wanker -

A^Raspxxor: now he's discovered the internets and he uses it to hit on girls half his age or less

Wirken: Oh HELLS no!!

Blirken: No he did NOT!!!

NoD: There's gonna be hell to pay... tar and feather him

Summerpoison: I miss my Nunyabot - Is she ever coming back?