It was a fair assessment to say that -- while possessed of good character, an inquiring mind, and a kindly, gentle disposition -- the 7th Earl of Wymbourne was not one of nature's sailors. His father had been a Navy man (that much backstory had been granted him by his unfortunately Suvian wife) but his brother had been the seaman; indeed, Algie had devoted his life and personal fortune to magic largely because, in his own estimation, he became violently seasick on anything wetter than a dewy lawn. However, here he was, afloat with naught but a heavily-armed former XCOM field officer for company, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself as he rued his luncheon, long since disappeared over the side in a technicolour yawn of which Linda Blair would have been proud.

"Ah, cheer up, your Lordship, you'll be fine." Nothing could dampen Field Commander Lola McCandless' enthusiasm, not even the flood. She was one of those people who would trot out the old phrase that the Chinese word for "crisis" was the same as that for opportunity were it not for the fact that she was troubled by the occasional presence of a thought in her head. "At least we were allowed to crack the Arc Throwers out, makes the job ten times easier."

"Commander, you forget your augments. Not all of us are blessed with the ability to turn off our sense of smell, though there are a few tinctures related in Meredyth's Whisperings Of The Great¹ that might have worked had not this devilsome flood demolished mine and Agamemnon's laboratory." Algie brushed at his DIA-issue oilskin with his free hand. If he concentrated on practical magic to the exclusion of all else, he could almost but not entirely distance himself from the reek of Arc Thrower-belaboured kraken. The stench was reminiscent of calamari, if the chef's only tools had been a poorly-earthed piece of electrical equipment and prayer.

"Eh, like I said, we're fine. Look at you! Holding up nicely. I bet one day soon you'll be able to go on a real boat!"

Algie, who had been raised properly, gave her the least weak smile he could presently summon up. "Thank you for your confidence in me, Commander. I fear it is misplaced, but your sentiment is much appreciated, depend upon it."

Lola had worked with him for a couple of months now, and knew better than to startle him with a matey clap on the shoulder. Instead, she just smiled and continued to pilot their large tin bathtub, the longer-established DIA mob having previously laid claim to all the dinghies. Quite where Algie'd managed to dredge it up from, she didn't care to ask, possibly because she was scared he'd literally dredged it up from somewhere, but she was as determined as ever to make the best of things.

They continued their merry way down a corridor, Algie leafing through his e-books and muttering to himself in a dead language. Behind them, the floodwater started to flow backwards, gently pushing them along rather than leaving them marooned in a pile of enormous, concussed squids.

As they rounded a corner, Lola stopped moving and crouched down, unlocking the safety catch of her Arc Thrower. "There's something coming up at the T-junction ahead. It's moving fast, and it's moving against the current. Game face on, Algie."

"Just as you say, Commander." Algie concentrated, then leaned over the side and filled up a makeshift scrying bowl with water. It might have been a Generic Mug with an inscription that said To The Worlds Greatest Insert Relative Here, but one made do with what one had to hand. He drew a quick cross-shape in the water and held a hand over it. "I have the beast. It has taken a left at the junction and... means to go right. I must say, this thing seems rather fast on its feet, assuming it even possesses them. Given what you've been catching so far, it may not."

"Great," Lola said as she steered them around the bend. "Fast-moving tentacle things I can't track with the good ol' Mark One Eyeball. At least it can't fly. It, it can't fly, can it? It can't fly."

"I see nothing to indicate it can," Algie replied. Admittedly, he had seen very little full stop, and nothing of their quarry's physical anatomy aside from the odd glimpse of a fin, but Lola's free hand was rubbing at her neck so he decided not to say so. "We will both be right as ninepence, Commander. We are here to look out for each other, are we not?"

"... Yes. Yes, we are." Lola stuffed her hand into the pocket of her own oilskin with rather more force than was necessary. "We are. Ignore me, I'm being stupid."

"You never are," he replied, and reached out his hand to touch her other hand, far away from her neck. He looked back down at the mug and stopped dead, his hand gripping a little too tight.

"What? Algie, what - it's coming back, isn't it?"

"At pace! Brace for imp-"

Algie was cut off by an enormous CLANGGGG of something on bathtub. Said something rocketed out of the water in a dizzying, brightly-coloured spray, and the waves tipped both agents out of the tub and into the drink.

Lola was the first to surface. "What the hell was that? And what's this crap in my hair?"

"Glubble," Algie glubbled eloquently as he began to sink. "Glubble glubrblblblbl."

"Algie!" Lola swam over and hauled him back to the surface, his periwig having floated off somewhere else. "Algie, are you okay?"

"I will be..." he wheezed. "In all likelihood."

The whatever-it-was landed back in the water with a splash and leapt out again, and Algie was only able to shake his vision clear for a moment before his partner reacted, shoving him out of the way as lurid orange goo coated the water where he had previously been.

"Thank you, Commander."

"It's in my hair I was growing it out this thing fries - oh. Damn."

"Language," Algie reflexively chided.

"Yeah, well, not everyone can pronounce an asterisk. Also, we have bigger problems."

"I fail to see what they are. We are floating, yes, but your Arc Thrower is to hand and our assailant has momentarily vanished."

"Algie? It's XCOM tech. This stuff really doesn't like seawater."

"Seawater."

"Yep."

"Seawater."

"I know, right? Something to do with the salts, I think, I wasn't really paying attention at the time. I'd been shot, it tends to dominate your thinking a bit."

"Indeed. That seems..." Algie paused, biting back a tirade. "That seems like a considerable oversight."

The creature had apparently taken the opportunity to circle around and come back at them, and with a cry of challenge it leapt onto the upturned tub, transforming on the way there.

As it clanked down hard, wielding what looked like an elaborate Super Soaker, Lola's eyes went a little bit wide.

"She's an Inkling! Oh my God look at you you're so precious!"

The Inkling gave a little curtsey and shot her in the face with the goop.

"You are rapidly becoming less precious."

"Well, you're the guppy who's not shooting back. Honestly. Don't you know how this game works?"

"... Were you in a match?"

Splat.

"Duh, of course I was in a match! What else would I be doing, guppy? I went squid, dived through a grate, went through the big hole, and out here. Is this a secret area or something?"

"You, er, you could say that, yes." Algie decided to speak up, now that he was treading water and able to at least vaguely breathe. "My name is Algernon, 7th Earl Wymbourne, and I work for an organization called the PPC. Please don't shoot me in the-"

Splat.

"I should perhaps have seen that coming," he continued. "Still, I should probably mention-"

Splatsplatsplatsplatsplat.

"... If I could just get a word in? Please?" Algie threw his head under the water the moment the Inkling's trigger finger moved. Then he came back up. "You didn't fire."

"Duh, 'cause you ducked! God, you guys are so bad at this."

"We're humans. We're not exactly known for feats of aquabatic prowess, especially not by the standards of... your doubtless fine people."

"What's a human?"

"We're like your kid mode," Lola piped up, "only without the turning-into-a-squid bit."

"Ohhhh... have you tried pressing-"

"Yeah, no, that doesn't work on us, cob."

"Huh."

"You got a name, kiddo?"

"xXxFartMeisterxXx. What's yours?"

"... Got any nicknames?"

"Kay."

"Right. Cool. Kay, um, you're more than a bit lost right now. This is, well, it's not Inkopolis. Not even close. You're in the Headquarters of the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, and, um, I think you must have got wrapped up in our little flooding problem."

Kay blinked and staggered back a little, nearly falling out of the bathtub. "You guppies consider this a problem? It's amazing! There's so much cool stuff just floating around, and I'm not even running out of ink! I love it here!"

"Well, if you'd like to stay-"

"Where do I sign!" Kay bounced on her feet, the bathtub making slightly ominous noises.

"Let's figure that out later. Right now? I want to towel off. And shower. And towel off. And shower again."

"What are we going to do about the krakens?" Algie said.

"Let that Guardsman guy you're always banging on about deal with it. We've done enough, you've earned a rest, and Kay needs orientation"

And so, as the three paddled off, life began anew for the little Inkling that could. She grabbed Algie and Lola and pulled them into a tight hug. "You guys and me? We're gonna be best buds. Go team!"

"Glrbl," replied Algie, who was just not suited for a life on the ocean wave.

---

¹: This is a real book; indeed, I own it. However, it is not a book of magic, or even about it, but rather a collection of quotations from the great and the good. I felt its title was well-suited for a treatise on Revivalist English Magic, though perhaps (given friend Algie's origins) one of somewhat dubious canonicity.

Algie, Lola, and Kay belong to me. Jonathan Strange and Mister Norrell belongs to Susanna Clarke. XCOM: Enemy Unknown belongs to Firaxis and, further up the line, Julian Gollop. Splatoon belongs to Nintendo. I belong to my bed. I am going to go to sleep. I hope this has amused people by the time I wake up.

(( Because it's about time to wrap back up to here anyway.

(( A few notes: 1. I'm gonna crack eggs in batches, and I have the day off today, so if you happen to be around I can actually engage in a little back-and-forth posting with you while feeding hatchlings is going on. Yay! Just not too quickly, if for no other reason than that I have to do laundry and stuff today, too.

(( 2. A thing I forgot to say - the meat is cut up into tiny blobs about the size of your first thumb joint. This is important. I am the dumb for not saying so IC from the get go.

(( 3. "Think loving thoughts" means be loving at the hatchling. If your character was confused IC, that's cool, they'll figure it out pretty quick. I just want to make sure no one is confused OOC.

(( And now, ladies and gentlemen, your main event! ))

Jenni did not, in fact, approve of the Notary one little bit. She took her eyes off that egg for one second to survey the room, and when she looked back, there was that woman, on her feet and juggling egg and meat in her hands like a ninny—and what was that, a skewer? She was going to feed it with a pointy object? Jenni pressed her hands to her face and groaned. The woman was going to kill that poor hatchling for sure. But if she could ignore Brightbeard's kindhearted words and the clown jumping up and down next to her, she certainly wasn't going to listen to Jenni. If she lost it, maybe it would be a lesson to her. In her mind, Jenni washed her hands of the matter and resolved to help the other ten owners succeed no matter what.

Just about everyone else had done the sensible thing and sat down on the sand with their egg in front of them or in their lap. That was good—a few had the food a little too close to the eggs, though, which wouldn't help them Impress. One last chance to impart some wisdom.

"Okay, everyone!" she called out. "Make sure to settle your eggs so your hatchling can break out safely, and don't let them gorge on the meat. Feed them carefully, one piece at a time, and make sure they eat from your hand, not the bowl!"

She heard Hera and Ilwion's song reach a new level of intensity, and the first three eggs broke almost simultaneously.

If anyone's was first, though, it was Colt's. The egg gave one good hard rock, tipped on its side, and shattered. A little green head popped out. The hatchling gave a startled, raucous call, her eyes glinting red like tiny rubies, and shook off the rest of her shell, leaving herself flopping awkwardly on her side with one wing snared beneath her. She called again, a piteous little creel of hunger and dismay.

Near Colt, Gerry's hatchling had a considerably better time of it. The shell broke neatly, and the creature that staggered forth, though dark with egg fluid, was clearly bronze. He lay on the sand a moment, catching his breath, then flapped his wings and got to his feet, looking around and urgently calling for food.

At the same time, Alex Dives' egg hatched, and this one was a blue who, when dry, would be the exact medium gray-blue shade favored by the Harper Hall. He added his cries to those of his siblings, head swinging wildly one way, then the other. He caught the scent of the bowl in Alex's lap, and with an excited squawk, lurched toward the tech.

"Remember, small bites!" Jenni called out. Her heart raced. She could feel the hatchlings' hunger—anyone with more natural sensitivity than a block of wood could feel it—and she remembered her own Impressions, lifetimes ago though they were. Tears pricked her eyes, but she wouldn't let herself get caught up in memory.

Henry helped with that. He had been happily chatting with the Illion-Sims kids about this and that, and he eagerly scooted toward the agents with their eggs when he heard the humming that he knew signaled the start of the hatching. He was startled by sudden pangs of appetite, though. "Mommy?" he called out uncertainly. "Mommy? I'm really hungry!"

His tone brought her to his side in an instant, and she scooped him up into her arms. "It's all right, baby. It's not you, it's the hatchlings. Remember?" She smoothed his fine black hair back from his face and also threw a light shield over his mind. The tracker on her ankle vibrated a warning, but she ignored it. The hunger would only get more intense when more eggs cracked, and she couldn't have her own child upset.

"Oh yeah," Henry said, relaxing against her. Then he spotted Gerry's and pointed excitedly. "Look, look! That one's a bronze like Ilwion! That's good, right?"

Jenni laughed. "They're all good, Henry. Just watch now, and see what they do!"

(( Let's take this as an opportunity to reset and behave from here on out, yeah? ))

<Hello, Agent Brightbeard,> Ilraen replied happily, although he offered his delicate seven-fingered hand with hesitation. He hoped the Dwarf was aware that he had to reserve his strength. <My partner and I are well enough, thank you.>

He would have gone on, but he noticed the blue asari approaching them at that point.

She walked over to the Andalite and gave him a courteous nod. "Hello Ilraen," she said. "I hope you're doing well."

<Yes, thank you, Teyala. Henry and I are very excited to be present for this occasion. We wish you joy with the outcome—and you as well.> He bowed slightly toward Brightbeard. <Now, since our transactions are not material in nature, please do not let me keep you from your eggs. Jenni tells me it will be best to be comfortably settled before the shells begin to crack, which should be quite soon.> He glanced at Voltarmi, who nodded with the cheeky grin of someone who knows and isn't telling.

...

Henry yelped when Bella abruptly hugged him. "Bell-la!" he complained, struggling to free his arms so he could pry her off. "Lemme go! No glomping, no glomping!" An ill-timed heave resulted in one of his feet slipping out from under him in the sand, and the two children went over in a heap. "Mo-om!"

...

No sooner had Jenni finished speaking than a blur of gold streaked by her to land with the clutch beside her. "Well, hello, gorgeous!" she exclaimed softly. Quickly gathering in her excitement, she did her best to radiate calm and confidence as the queen inspected her eggs. "Don't worry, they're all right."

And then Dafydd was back, issuing much the same sentiment. She nodded at his reassurance, but was distracted from replying by the young tech—another Intern Alex, she recalled—coming around to get vetted by Hera. The queen's acceptance of Alex reassured Jenni that she wasn't likely to interfere with the Impressions.

Then Henry squalled for her, and her head whipped around to pinpoint where he'd tumbled in the sand. She relaxed, realizing that everything was all right—he was just in a tussle with little Belladonna. She trusted Constance to sort it out, so she simply called out, "You're fine, Henry! Play nice!" and left it at that.

She was surprised to note that, although the dwarf and asari had made their way to Ilraen and the Cafeteria dolly, no one else had queued for their eggs yet. If Hera was any indication, they'd better hurry up. She planted her hands on her hips and looked around impatiently. She did not want a chaotic last-minute scramble, and she especially did not want to be landed with ten fire-lizards. She was not Menolly, thank you very much!

She raised her hands and clapped loudly for attention. She was peripherally aware of upsetting Hera and Ilwion with the sudden noise, but they'd be more upset if their hatchlings started to arrive with nothing but each other close enough to eat. "Come on, people! Do you want an egg, or not? We have minutes, if that! Let's have some order, please!"

Between the speed this is going at and being ignored I'm going to bow out of the rp. I won't be able to keep up and have no reason to do so.

Nesh, if you don't mind, just assume my two are still present?

Intern Alex Dives raced through the Generic Corridors of HQ, clutching the newly-repaired tricorder to his chest. The eggs were hatching, they were finally hatching!

It was all he could do to keep from thinking about the fire-lizard he would soon be getting, but he forced himself to replay the last episode of My Little Pony in his head as he ran. Consequently, he almost blew right past the door.

He skidded to a stop, spun around, and opened it. "I'm here!" he gasped, bending over and panting hard. "I'm--I'm here! I'm not late, am I?"