The Drowned Palace Group 7

Opeila had only meant to quickly fill the lines, in case that was required for them to proceed... instead she cast the best fiery script spell she ever had. In the dim light she was blinded for a second, the fiery letters burning on in her vision even when she pressed her eyes shut.

Whether it was her spell or Astra's singing- something was happening. The room enlightened and for a few seconds Opeila only stood and stared, amazed by the transformation. This was fantastic spellwork. She wasn't even entirely sure what spells would have had to be cast to create this scenery. Surely the professors had helped here, there was no way that this was the work of a bunch of kids alone.
For a little while longer she stayed where she was, taking in the paintings, the bookshelf and the shells, before she took Cassius' hand that rested on her shoulder, interlocked their fingers and stepped closer to the shelf. "These titles seem to be connected to some of the things going on here, I think? 'Whispers of the shells'..." She glanced at the shells.

Her gaze found the painting with the waiting mermaid again. Waiting... what for? She looked over her shoulder, maybe the mermaid wasn't actually looking at her, but there was nothing. Did she want a shell or something? Only when she was looking for the solution around her, Opeila noticed the frozen clock. Waiting... because time was frozen? Was that the solution? Figuring out the time? II and IV... And five books.

Opeila took Watching the Waves off the shelf, turned it around in her hands and flipped through it carefully. Was there something weird about it? "Can you check out 'Whispers of the Shells'?"

The melody and the song was only the first piece of the multi-step lock that was the escape room, it seemed, as the cool blue light of the room illuminated the vicinity and a new scene was presented to the captive participants. Cerulean eye made more bold by the lack of any other hue darted quickly about the room, taking in the sights and the immediate visual information that it could: the ocean outside, the books and the clock, the portrait of the melancholy woman. Removing the tricorn hat and shaking it once to flick off the remnants of the water (as well as wiping his face with the black kerchief around his neck), Piérre wasn't the first to speak on the matter of the new environment. Indeed, he erred towards observation as opposed to being the first to observe and guess at the means by which to solve the puzzle.

He had to concur with Opeila, though, there did tend to be a general rule of fives in the room: the number of books on the shelf, the number of portraits besides the woman on the wall, and the fact that the clock had its hands on two numbers that were less than five. "There are five portraits as well. The books might tell us what to do with them." He added upon Opeila's hypothesis.

But it was the shells that caught his attention. It was the strangest item in the room, the piece that seemed the most out-of-place for the already strange things in the room. He couldn't seem to turn his eye away from it, tipping his head like a curious owl as blonde hair rippled over one shoulder with the action. He squinted at it with the good eye. Yes, the books were important to investigate, but he was so much better with noticing the things that were unusually out of place and picking out the often unnoticeable details. "I'm interested in the shells; they might have some kind of role to play in the puzzle as well--keystones or the like. Let me know what you find out from the books, I have a feeling that the clock, portraits, books, and potentially the shells work together somehow."

And the woman on the wall... the mournfulness in her eyes as the followed their little group's movements... He would stand before her for a moment, observing her deeply and discerning the little intricacies in her appearance and the angles of her face that created the expression. He wondered... "Are we here for you?" He would murmur softly.

It would be poetic, the treasure being for and somehow related to the woman or the goal being to somehow alleviate the melancholy of her eyes... Black silk-gloved fingers would dance on the portrait's frame for a moment, but wouldn't linger for long. "You are here and watching us for a reason. Why?"

But pull himself away from the image he would, and he would take to investigating the basket and shells, searching for anything particularly out of place, even for something like this that was out of place as it was [Keen Eye]. There was something in its sheer presence that surely meant that it was somehow involved in tying everything all together for the purposes of this escape room.

Too strange not to be, after all.

Action: Investigate the Basket & Shells w/Keen Eye

MOD POST - GROUP 7

As @Opeila Winters' eyes adjusted to the light - and the absurdly bright fiery script - she seemed almost speechless. She was underestimating the kids who put this together, assuming that they couldn't have done it. She had no respect or confidence in her fellow peers, it seemed. Professors Sarai certainly hadn't had a part. Nor had the manual labor due to the detention of her son. the detention of her son. Not at all. And if they had, it was a 5% role. Maybe 10%. 15%. It didn't really matter.

As her gaze passed over the woman in the painting, she would find that the woman was certainly looking directly at her, not at anything in the room. However, every so often, she would quickly glance behind her, as if worried.

Her book was quite boring. Unless she was interested in learning all about the types of waves. Aplitude. Crest. Trough. Wavelength. Frequency. Fascinating things. @Piérre Marchonné would ignore her request to look through another one of the books, instead turning toward the shells.

As he glanced toward the shells, his eye would also catch on the painting. There was something odd about it. All the other paintings were securely bolted to the wall, but she seemed to be almost loose, hanging by a single nail on the top, and the sides of her frame seemed just a bit worn. Similarly, as he looked toward the shells, one shell stood out. Just a bit too worn, a bit too loved? It was a dark purple shell with an almost ripply texture.

@Cassius Eden and @Astra Norrick just seemed to stand there, rather uninterested in the bright lights that flooded the room.

Rolls

Light. The child could not help but be struck by a child like wonder at the illusion of a sea in the room, of the dappled luminescence. The window drew her most strongly, a pull there was no reason to resist. "There's creatures," she said, not loud, half to herself, but still audible to her companions. "Forming some sort of figure eight, it looks like." She looked to the frozen clock. Two and four. Two twenty.

Opeila had a right idea. Astra, also, noticed the books before the portraits. She stepped in, picking up Whispers of the Shells and carefully opened the tome, fingers gentle with the pages. Almost reverent. "Perhaps both books off the shelf will trip the door or something. Like in the Adam West Batman," she postulated to Opeila, totally forgetting that she'd never observed the former prefect make reference to unmagical things and thus it was very likely she'd never seen any Batman movies or shows or even comics, maybe even didn't know about the franchise. Amazing how different Astra's attitude on her own blend of worlds was now that she wasn't trying to hide the muggle part of her heritage as she was in past years. "Or, maybe, if this doesn't work, we could take all the other books off and leave these two on?"

Piérre-tano's voice speaking to the portrait caused the serpent's blue eyes to flicker away from the pages before her toward her friend. She would keep an ear on the conversation, though it seemed the woman in the portrait was not interested in answering Piérre. He would likely find something all other's would miss. That was simply his way.

ACTION : EXAMINING WHISPERS OF THE SHELLS, THEORIZING
stats : sta • 10 | eva • 7 | str • 8 | wis • 8 | arc • 6 | acc • 8
abilities : prodigal charms learner, terrible presence
inventory : wand, hand and a half sword (dull), vial of calming draught (small), exploding bon bons
interactions : @piérre marchonné
mentions : @opeila winters, @cassius eden
perms :
notes : edited to fix typo | fit reference

His father's eyes may not have been as inherently sharp as his own--perhaps the ringmaster took some kind of potion to sharpen his eyesight or should have been considering looking into some kind of spectacles--but his unconscious habit of glancing about quickly, hyperfocusing, obsessing, over even the smallest thing within a moment of it being spotted by him was something that could not physiologically be altered when it came to the wearing of a new body. Piérre's swift and careful eyes would sweep across the Lady's portrait, the frame, and notice the burnished edges that indicated that it had been touched by a human hand's oils and caress before him on what was likely several occasions. Indeed, perhaps it was likely that she had been moved before, as the frame dared to shift ever so slightly under his touch, the fact that it was at an angle away from the wall that seemed to imply that it could be moved.

Blue eye widened with a slight sparkle of wonderous intrigue before it narrowed again, flicking towards the shell and basket. Sure enough, almost instantly Piérre's attention was demanded towards one particular shell--one shell that stood out as an independent from its fellows. Old, worn, well-loved. Touched by hands, perhaps worried upon. "Well hello there, you..." He murmured, registering slightly that Astra was offering her own opinions on how the puzzle could work. He clicked his fingers at her in agreement--any creative ideas were good ideas to test at this point of discovering all the pieces of the potential puzzle presented to them at the moment--the red plume nodding proudly in the tricorn alongside his movement before he swept upon the shells and immediately snatched up the purple, rippled shell.

He held it before his eye, admiring the way that it cast light and the minute details in the colours before closing his hand upon it. He would be holding onto this little treasure for the time being until he could figure out what better to do with it. "Adam West? Astra you never told me you were cultured like that." The voice, while droll, had a slight turn of genuine amusement on it. A tease that the fellow half-blood could make since he had indeed been familiar with the show himself after moving to England. "Do you think our treasure will include a Broommobile?" The jest was made in similar drolly dry fashion, a tight pursing of the lips in a tight smirk that held back a snicker presenting instead.

"Well, I found a shell." He flashed the item with a twist of his wrist quickly before concealing it again and opening his hand to show it as empty. It had found its way into an inner pocket in the sleeve. "Which looks a tad different from its fellows... just like the Lady among her portrait peers." He stood before her again, arms crossed with brows furrowed--one brow pressed upon that black patch, the other transformed the eye into a stormy blue sea.

Well, if she could potentially be removed from her place...

"Madam, please pardon me--I intend to temporarily relocate you for a moment." So saying, he gently took the portrait in both hands and made an attempt to remove her from her place, lifting her up and away from the wall to replace her on the nearest chair or dresser against which if she were leaned she would still sit upright and at a decently elevated level so that she could continue to watch the room. "I promise to return you as soon as we find a way out of here or whenever possible."

Hopefully he wasn't barking up the wrong tree.
Er... perhaps "climbing up the wrong crow's nest" was more apt for this instance?

Action: Collect the Worn Shell, Remove the Lady's Portrait to Investigate Further

MOD POST - GROUP 8

As @Astra Norrick paged through her book, she would notice scribbles written within the margins, a book written on facts and anomalies of various sea creatures and objects of the sea.

@Piérre Marchonné clearly cared nothing for the dignity of the lady of the portrait, though her expression of disgust turned to terror as he enlightened her of his plans. Quickly glancing behind her, she would attempt to brace the portrait as if to prevent its removal. It would not work, being made of paint.

As you delicately detach the painting from its place, the siren emits an indignant sound before fleeing. On the back of it is spelled out, in a tiny writing, the following :

7
My first is a sound that's soft and low,
For use it when secrets begin to flow.
My second is hard, but once was home,
To creatures that under the water roam.
My author's first name grows in a reef,
It's pretty and pink, echoes of belief.
Her last is a word for the watery world,
Where seaweed sways and shells are curled.
Page 76

The 7 is just faintly glowing, and the lady in the portrait has fainted. She failed to protect the secret.

Thankfully for @opeila winters and @cassius eden, their help hadn't been needed to solve this clue. All that was needed was Píerre's eyes.

Despite himself knowing that it was simply part of the performance of the event, he pitied the portrait's attempt to remain on her hook and resist his fourth wall's hands from removing her and putting her aside. He kept his promise, though, and did set her on a nearby chair where she wouldn't be kicked or crushed underfoot. It was the least he could do for the poor woman, who had fainted in her frame. "Oh dear... She'll... surely come around eventually, won't she?" The remark was more of a self-assurance than a question, really, but it was his own nature to be sentimental even about the things that... likely didn't possess "real" sentiment. Portraits could feel pain when their canvas was damaged, after all, so surely they deserved a little bit of care from those that kept their maintenance.

He grimaced again at the siren's dismayed cry, uncomfortably scratching the back of his neck awkwardly for a moment before he remembered the body he was in and the poise that it carried that he quickly resumed. Back straight, shoulders back, chest raised and chin at that ineffable upwards and sideways tilt that evoked the constant nonverbal indication of perpetual cocky query. There were words left behind on the wall that he had removed the picture from, and he read them once over and then again.

Page number... and then the riddle could be title and author?

"Uhm... I think I have a lead here--if we want to try looking somewhere else, I'll keep following this trail. You know, just in case we're... missing something." Eye flicked over the books, flicked back to the riddle, and then back to the books with each assessment of the stanzas aligned over the potential literature waiting for him. Whisper... Shells...

Well there was the title as it was, most likely, "Whispers of the Shells", and the last two lines of the stanza--the natural conclusion of the hints, anyhow--very quickly corresponded with the author's name: Coral Ocean.

His eye flicked around, searching for the book before finding it in Astra's hand. "Astra, can you check page 76 in there?" He nodded to the book that she held. "If there's something hidden it in, it could very likely be there." If it wasn't immediately obvious, he also had magic on his side, and would cast with the yew wand a simple revealing spell to illuminate anything sneaky hiding between the lines.

There was, also, the illuminated 7. Was it the order in which the secrets were supposed to be put in sequence, perhaps? Or was it potentially the seventh way out of the room? Or, perhaps, it had something to do once again with the clock?

He couldn't do too much at one time with so little information, though. If he was going to try to solve this all the way with his fellows, they needed to get more clues, more markers, more numbers and books (and potentially pictures) that aligned. The siren and the lady were removed--there were still four other books, three other portraits, and some strange oddities that could very easily have something important in store for them by the end of it all.

Action: Investigate pg. 76 of "Whispers of the Shells" by Coral Ocean (Cast Revelio if needed)

MOD POST - GROUP 7

With a soft jolt, the woman within the painting would startle awake. Shaking her head as if confused, she would proceed to smooth her dress and prop herself up, straightening her spine like the proper lady she was. Once situated, she would finally look around and, upon realized she was off her hood, promptly faint again, @Piérre Marchonné's subtly hesitation having no effect.

Although @Astra Norrick seemed to have no interest in helping Pierre find the clues hidden within the pages, he would make his way over to her and turn the page. It was quite obvious the clue was on the page, and no revelio was needed. The crew - rather, Pierre on his own, had sped through this clue at an impressive rate. At this point, they might actually solve something.

On the page, a date is written on the right corner, the first number glowing strangely. 1934. Scribbles had covered the pages, circling various words as well as a "6". It depicted a ranking of the rarity of various shells, going from one drop of water to five, with five being the rarest. The name written under the rarest shell was Corpus Cushellum, which seemed, according to the book, to be a dark purple shell with an almost ripply texture. It was underlined multiple times, and a scribbled margin marked it as "FOUND".

Astra grinned when Piérre caught her reference. "I hope so," she answered to the Broommobile postulation. He moved the portrait, she continued to scour the book until he mentioned a lead. Immediately, her attention skipped away from the literature in her hands.

"On it." A quick flip and she was there- page 76.

It was... Odd. To say the least. Addendums not in words, but in scribbling and circles. Annotation not so much actual notation but vague thoughts realized in their exact form: nonsense.

"Right, so, there's a lot of things circled, uh, like the six. Which could be important. And a bunch of shells and they seem to be ranked?" Astra adjusted her hat so she could peer closer. "This is glowing... Year 1934, I imagine. The one glows." She looked to Piérre, briefly, as if he might know what all that was about, before going back to study the page. "Ah, here. Five droplets- very rare, probably ultra-rare- for a wavy purple shell called Corpus Cushellum."

She would pass the book to Piérre if he wished to take it. "I guess that's what we're looking for. Corpus is Latin isn't it? Body, or something?" Her next object: searching through the collection of shells. She would crouch, book open by her side if not in Piérre's hands, and carefully pick through the pile in search of a rippley, purple shell, just as the book depicted.

ACTION : LOOKING FOR CORPUS CUSHELLUM
stats : sta • 10 | eva • 7 | str • 8 | wis • 8 | arc • 6 | acc • 8
abilities : prodigal charms learner, terrible presence
inventory : wand, hand and a half sword (dull), vial of calming draught (small), exploding bon bons
interactions : @piérre marchonné
mentions : @opeila winters, @cassius eden
perms :
notes : fit reference