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Something whirrs quietly. Too tired to open his eyes and bid the darkness goodbye, Lyney lays and listens to the soft squeaking of something close to him, unmoving, but informed of his awakening. The place where he lays is soft, though he can feel a small break on his back. Perhaps it is two separate cushions, put together to fit his whole self. Two beds? In what kind of place could he possibly be?

His eyes flutter open to the sight of a glowing, candlelit chandelier above him, thousands of little lights flickering from above. He is, as predicted, laying on two cushions on a couch, in a room. Why wouldn't he be in a room of some sort? It's outlined with stone bricks, and in between spaces there is some kind of glass wall or forcefield, blocking the water outside coming in. Kelp and seaweed surround the small underwater home, what might be shells cling to the side of the barriers, and blobs of what can only be colorful schools of fish flit in and out of sight. A whale bellows deep, Lyney can see its faint shadow fluctuating among the weeds.

Where is he exactly? He's not tied up or restrained, so he pulls himself up and folds the blanket aside, wondering who put it over him in the first place. His chest feels heavy, and he's not sure whether he should have died or ended up somewhere like... here.

Whirring is coming from the table next to him, where a little penguin, put together with metal scraps is shown facing his direction. It doesn't say anything, except for shake itself so that it's facing him a bit more. "Hello, "He whispers, and clears his throat. "Where am I, exactly?"

The penguin clicks and whirrs again, the gears spinning on its stomach. The thing about this little guy is that he seems to be recharging along with Lyney, plugged into some chord behind him. He belongs to someone, doesn't he? Everyone belongs to someone.

"Ah, you're finally awake." A weak voice comes from the front of the room. From one of the barriers, Lyney spots a boy approaching, a net filled with fish strapped to his back, diver helmet attached to his head like a cage. Behind the small bars that block his face, the boy's pale blue eyes glow. Lyney watches as the diver reveals himself- bangs among other layers of short hair cover his face, falling to a length just above his shoulders. They are like ocean waves, angel-like, long locks hiding his left eye from view.

"Are you hungry?" asks the boy, observing his wrinkled hands one after the other, pressing fingers together as if it's some sort of phenomenon. "You've been there for a terribly long time." Lyney touches his matted hair.

Lyney nods eagerly, the void of his stomach roaring in the silence between them. The diver chuckles to himself and walks past him, towards the little penguin, who musters all its strength to make a little hop towards his owner. A name is scribbled on his back, along a piece of metal that doesn't match the rest of the build. Pers, Lyney reads, and smiles. 'Pers' is a name he knows- it means adorable. And strong. This little guy is everything to the diver, he observes as the boy picks him up gently and unplugs the cord from his bottom.

"What's your name?" Lyney asks, still a little dazed.

"Freminet." says the diver, resting the penguin on his shoulder. Freminet looks at him, waiting for his response.

"I'm Lyney." He extends a hand to shake, and Freminet returns- something strong and firm. Not something he expects from someone so soft spoken. Perhaps he is a businessperson under the sea, judging how cluttered everything looks. The more he studies, everything just seems to look like cargo. Desks are loaded with papers, boxes of all shapes and sizes overflow in cabinets, jars are outside and bundled with seaweed.

The room is merely a kitchen, a living room of sorts, with a small bed in the corner, iron frame brushed with rust, quilt hanging over the side. Rugs, patterns inconsistent, probably handmade, are everywhere- whether they are cargo or his, Lyney can't tell.

Freminet opens the satchel that hangs at his side and pulls out packs of fish, salty aroma reaching the guest within seconds. They are fresh kill, cut swiftly in a single slice. There is nothing special about this moment, but Lyney will conclude that this is the best meal he will ever have.

Within minutes, breakfast- or lunch- or dinner- (apparently, time doesn't matter under the sea) is served, and Lyney is off the walls. He doesn't know what Freminet has cooked, but he's more than willing to eat up whatever he has served. Bread, fresh from who knows where, has been heated over the fire. A small cooking pot releases puffs as steam rises into some kind of vent, out into the open sea. Warm soup is served alongside fish, cups of water poured into little clay glasses like the rest of the materials.

"Where am I?" Lyney finally realizes that he needs to start questioning things, despite the cozy environment. "Why am I here?"

"You're twenty thousand leagues under the sea," responds the diver mysteriously.

Lyney shifts his gaze from Freminet, to the floor, and back to Freminet.

"It was a reference. Sort of. Not really." Freminet dips his bread in the soup, stirring it around as he takes a long sigh. "But to be a little less ominous, this is Fontaine."

Lyney plays with his fingers, which spark upon touching each other "I can't place my finger on it, but I think I'm from here."

"No, really?" Freminet lays his fist on his cheek. "You were drowning. I saved you. You're welcome. Do you remember how you fell?"

The guest shook his head, confused. "I... I was just falling. I don't know how I did it or why I was, I just knew that I was falling." He gently places down the silverware. "I just know that I'm Lyney."

Pers turned towards him, though perhaps Lyney was delusional, he could see his little beak shaped into some kind of frown. (Could birds move their beaks like jaws?) "I'm- I'm missing something. A part of myself." He concludes that something was most definitely wrong. "Why can't I remember anything?"

The diver seems confused too; he's playing with his hands. "So you have amnesia... but you know what things generally are? You just can't remember anything about your life?"

Lyney folds his hands in his lap, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest. "Nothing."

"How strange." Freminet mutters to himself, lifting a finger to his chin. "I suggest you sleep on it. We are underwater. Here, time is our friend." They finish in silence, Freminet offering to wash the dishes and lock them up for the time being.

So, Lyney watches the bubbles float from passing schools of fish on the outside of the stone home, wishing he could figure out what- no.

He needs to figure out who he is missing.  

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author's note ~ chapters are relatively short during act one! for some reason? they span about five pages- the chapters during act three can span about twenty...