On the deck of a certain ship...
Morton considers his current state of hygiene and, upon finding it to be rather sordid, shrugs and consults his fine jester companion for valuable input on this whole situation.
"So then, grand Jester, where to next? Another ship, or perhaps follow that strange fellow to see if we can find his captain? Something else?"
He raises one finger for another ship, two fingers for following tiny people in their fascinating secret lives and three fingers for going somewhere else. Kevin, ever the original one, raises three fingers and points homeward.
"Ah, you want to go that way? To somewhere else? Lead the way then, my good man, I shall stay in step!"
Morton shuffles the straps of the backpack on his shoulders again, getting them comfortable before following Kevin. Though it's more of a mental comfort than anything, really.
"So, what are we to do when we get to where we're going? Part of the task, sightseeing, or something else entirely?"
Kevin, in a mysterious mood, vaguely half-shrugs and leads Morton back home. Well, he supposes it might be back home. Hard to tell, what with it looking like a stone-and-steel egg with a lowered steel gangplank.
At the home of the Eight Old People...
Sigmund figures that all this caution nonsense just isn't for him. He opens the box! At that exact moment, he hears a subdued whisper in his mind. There is a sense of calm about it, but it's the sort of calm you see in a person right after their blood runs cold and right before they violently rip your throat out.
~Are you... one of them?~
"Doesn't look like it's trying to escape! Nice!"
Sigmund remains quiet and looks into the box, seeing a stone within it. Easy pickings. He snatches it up quickly!
Just then, he his mind reels from a frenzied shriek, a panicked scream of a cornered intelligence. His hand seizes up, grasping the stone tightly and refusing to let go!
~UNHAND ME! ACK! I WILL NOT BE CAPTURED AND MISUSED! TOO MUCH IS AT STAKE!~