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[SOLDIER First]

Emmett sends a few texts anyway.

i kinda feel bad for her, you know

cant really say no either

[AbstractTraitorHero]

".....texting the group?"

[SOLDIER First]

Emmett nods.

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Oliver nods back.

[Akroma]

The third, invisible person in the room also nods.

((no, bad Akroma, no shitposting in occult club))

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Oliver blushes in shame at what the invisible person has seen.
....So should I get dressed?

[kj1225]

Oceanus nods as he trys grabbing a grape.

[Akroma]

The grape is cold, wet and glistening from morningless dew. A plumb and succulent treat that seems all too seductive.

[kj1225]

He sniffs it. Assuming it doesn't smell bad he rubs it on his wrist.

[Akroma]

Smell and texture appear to be perfectly grape-like. Perhaps too grapelike?

[kj1225]

Oceanus abandons the grapes for now. Instead he tries looking for any other places of interest.

[Akroma]

Drawn by his instinct and nature, Oceanus stumbles blindly yet guided through the ancient, opulent hallways inhabited only by portraits, busts and ancient carvings, depicting the imperial images of men and women ranging from all ages, heritages and social standing. Though no explanation or context might ever help him name even as much as a single one of the depicted, he could not shake off the feeling that every single one may have been more important to the standing of mankind in the context of cosmic fate than any king, emperor or president.

His path was as predetermined as it was chosen completely at random, opening into a lush garden, overrun by a hint of wilderness that formed the centriole of the western complex. The sheer variety of plantlife was staggering and outlandish, and where estimation and speculation met their end, the though wormed itself into Oceanus brain that perhaps no name had ever been given to some of this flora that lasted in the mind of men through modernity. Some perrenials inflorescence stood taller than man, while others were filled with unnatural undulation and an appearant mind of their own. He swore that when he had his head turned, some of the fruit was watching him, and the transluescent leaves of a peculiar tree were of a brain-blasting color that, no matter how hard he focused on it, could not be named or described, or even recalled in his memories later, and the more he subjected his eyes and mind to it, the less secure became his step, and the less coherent his thought.

[kj1225]

Oceanus makes sure to steer away from the more sentient plants as he explores the complex. He makes a note to take a few leaves so he can try growing them at home.

[Akroma]

Oceanus trepidation was reborn as elation as he explored deeper, and his interest soon fell upon what may have been, once, a bestiary. Now it was a tomb. The wall were lined with cages stacked upon cages, fillwed with bones stacked upon bones, and a certain expertise in anatomy and legend allowed him to piece together griffons and cerberi, satyrs and trolls among other, much more ordinary bones. In fact so ordinary, they felt foreign and stuck out like a nail in this wonderland of myth.
A gruesome circle carved deeply into the stone below dominated the central room of this complex, it's archaic and forcefull design standing against the intricacy and mathematical geometry of what Oceanus recalled not just from modern media in fantasy, but also from Morganas own handiwork. Two cages were linked in the center, and the blatant violation of all natural laws that were suggested in the innermost sludge of bones repulsed and disgusted Oceanus, though at the same time drew interest by sheer mordbidity. A, presumptively, failed attempt at creating a chimera, a fusion of two animals, twisted and taken apart, to be combined again in the creators vision. Life from life.

Playing god.

Left alone with his ponderings, staring at this blasphemous sin-made-reality, Oceanus had lost sight, and trace of Morgana, and upon realising that, his nervousness returned to him like it had never been abscent. A movement from the corner of his eye. A slight sound. Oceanus had never been startled so much, from so little, in his entire life.

[AbstractTraitorHero]

Oliver hands Emmett his favourite shirt that she used a few days ago and in a polite tone pretty rare.
Mind if I use your washing machine?