Lost in Light

"I know it may come off as a shock to you." The Dark Spectacled Admiral demurs. "But I'm afraid that it is the single, unquestionable truth. Your room at the Blind Helmsman has already been prepared. I bid you a good evening."

A firm hand grasped on his shoulder as the Brusque Secretary promptly steered her away from the desk.

She quickly found herself shoved into the main workplace of the Admiralty Survey Office. Men and women in the blues of the Navy ambled about, someone seated at desks filing reports while others walked in and out, bearing recent news of ships. Occasionally, a zee-captain would stumble in, and make their way to give out reports of ports across the Underzee...

"Try not to think too much of what happened, Miss Delawere." The Dark Spectacled Admiral says his voice still audible from halfway across the room. "Some things are just strange down here. Especially that far out North."

With those finishing words, she found herself thrust out in the foggy streets of Fallen London.

-----

The Blind Helmsman was an inn.

Run by a blind helmsman.

"Carried away by spiders." He said with a chuckle when she first asked him about the matter. She wisely chose to abandon the subject shortly thereafter.

Her room was frugal, and smelled of stale beer and honey, and it was to no surprise that she spent most of her time away from that place. Besides, the Blind Helmsman was hardly a good place for company, unless you were a zailor.

Nowadays, she spent most of her time wandering the streets of Fallen London, though she limited herself to Wolfstack Docks.

Not that she minded of course. Wolfstack was a fascinating place, a thousand ships a day, or so they say, make their way in and out of the port, to old far off places she only knew by name.

If she was lucky, then she sometimes found herself listening to the boasted tales of zailors returning from months spent out at Zee.

Though today, she had a different purpose.

The Admiral was kind enough to provide her with a respectable amount of 'Echoes', that was, Fallen London's currency, that should be able to last three weeks at the very least.

That meant she had three weeks to find a job before she got kicked out of the Blind Helmsman, and though she never really liked the place, it still served as the closest thing she had as a home down here.

She sighs, sitting down on one of the benches. This was all so strange. Never did she think that she'd find herself a mile beneath the surface. Nor did she expect to be a denizen of Fallen London. She heard only stories of the Fallen City, how it was dragged down by a swarm of bats. Though she still wanted to know how she got here.

Another sigh escapes her lips as he dwelled on the past. Perhaps this was a punishment, for the way she acted. It certainly seemed like one. She tugs her coat closer around her body.

She missed them. She missed her family.

The creaking of the bench as a heavy weight came upon it interrupted her thoughts.

It was a pale young man with auburn hair and spectacles with smooth, almost feminine facial features. Dressed in a black three piece suit and silk top hat, she guessed he was someone from high society. Dull green eyes stared back at her as he examines her closely.

"The Admiral told me I'd find you here."

She couldn't help but flinch at the tone of his voice. It wasn't cold, but it certainly was emotionless.  He gazes at her impassively as ge turns to face her completely. She squirmed under his stare, for she could feel nothing from him.

"I am the captain of the ship that rescued you." He says in the same, monotonous voice. "We were on an expedition on Irem of the Pillared Sea when a Riddlefisher led me to you. You were asleep, on a bed of roses. Almost angelic I might add."

She looked at him in slight confusion and wonder. This was the man who found her? Irem? The Pillared Sea? Riddlefisher? She had no idea what those terms were, and it was the first time she heard off how she was found.

The captain tilts his head curiously towards her. "Now you look just like your everyday Londoner...not very angelic if you ask me."

He leans back on his seat before stretching out a gloved hand. "Reinol von Lorica, though some call me the Sentimental Writer."

For a while, she simply stared at the gloved appendage. She wonders who this person really was, and why he even bothered coming to her. To meet her? Though she knew she shouldn't be too surprised. If what he said was true, then he would be most curious about a girl who asleep on a bed of roses.

Almost hesitatingly, she grabbed his hand with her own. She didn't exactly trust him, but he was the closest person she could, save for maybe the Dark Spectacled Admiral.

Speaking of that, she'd need an alias wouldn't she? Everyone here seemed to have one, just as how he had the Sentimental Writer.

She made up her mind in a second as she shook her hand. And perhaps, it should be able to land herself a job.

"Evensong Delamere. The Seasonal Zailor.