<div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/cc/CatMoore01.jpeg)</div><strong>NAME:</strong> Melody Fairchild-Harrow<br/><strong>WEARING:</strong> As pictured<br/><strong>LOCATION:</strong> Lunchtime excursion in 'mundane' Vancouver<br/><strong>TIME:</strong> Late morning<br/><strong>CONTENT:</strong> Further curiosity and (a lot more) embarrassment.  Also nerdy speculation.<br/><strong>TAGGING:</strong> Kaspian, Kaleigh, Open<br/><hr/><br/>Melody's latest squeak was a little louder than the last - and was accompanied by a marked widening of her eyes.  Beneath the table, her muscles responded to the kneading exploration, pushing back against Leigh's probing fingers.<br/><br/>"I, ahhh...."<br/><br/>Blinking rather dazedly, she cocked her head as colour tinged her pallid cheeks.<br/><br/>"I am starting to think that armour might be advisable as a general policy," she noted dryly, before her lips quirked into a wry smile.  "And I am also wondering if 'going for pho' might be some mundane-side euphemism of which I was hitherto unaware...."<br/><br/>A soft chuckle accompanied an inclination of her head.<br/><br/>"Food-sharing sounds good.  Though I have precious little notion of what any of this might taste like - or really <em>be</em>.  But, ahh, I think I might be too much of a coward to rush into... dancing.  But swapping clothes?  Really?"  She arched her brows at Kayleigh.  "I think that I <em>might</em> have worn something white and flowery as a child, when attempts were being made for me to blend in among the mundanes while out and about in a city.  But it hadn't occurred to me to try anything like that nowadays.  It'd be... quite a departure for me!"<br/><br/>"But <em>both</em> of you want short skirts, huh?  I can bear it in mind.  Though... as far as 'in mind' goes, I'm still musing on our mission.  If we're presuming that whoever was responsible was behaving rationally, then there are a few stages to consider."  One hand waved distractedly in mid-air, while her gaze drifted off to the middle-distance.  Apparently it was hard for her to set aside the Shadowhunting side of existence, at least when she was trying to figure something out.  Still, she retained enough presence of mind to nibble intermittently as she spoke - mostly from her own food, but also sampling the other offerings.<br/><br/>"The ship wound up in our world.  That means that either it <em>had</em> to - it was an inevitable end-point to whatever process had taken it <em>elsewhere</em> for a time - or else that someone with the power to move it felt that it was preferable for it to be here than to be... anywhere else.  Secondly, it wound up near us: that might just be happenstance, as the end of the process... or it might have been a deliberate design.  Third, multiple steps were taken to ensure that it was difficult to investigate what had happened to it.  Conceivably our being sent to the ship triggered a reaction that would not otherwise have occurred... but it certainly seems as if steps had already been taken to render the ship definitively beyond recovery.  Not only was it set to have the engine room detonate, a guardian was put in there... or was drawn from wherever it originates by something horrific and powerful that had already happened in there, I suppose."<br/><br/>"But that's a lot of trouble to go to, isn't it?  If they had, for example, the knowledge and power required to put the Song of Demeter wherever they wanted in the world, they could - for example - have put it broadside-on in the teeth of a hurricane somewhere far from shipping lanes.  Maybe even put it straight to the bottom of the ocean, without bothering with any <em>sinking</em>.  Instead... it appeared within helicopter-reach of the shore, in reasonably calm waters.  And it stayed intact long enough for us to spot it, organise a trip, board it, and - just about - effect an escape.  But why bother?  With the whole effort, and with doing it <em>in that fashion</em>?"<br/><br/>"So... I'd surmise that either someone was aboard the ship when it, ahh, <em>returned</em>, and that they departed before we arrived... or else that there was another visit before our own.  In the first case, it might be whoever was aboard the ship that was the vital 'cargo' that the Song of Demeter had been used to transport.  In the latter, if people waiting on this side had to travel to the ship and get things, then they might have had to use vehicles we can hope to track down...."<br/><br/>Biting her lip, she ducked her head again.<br/><br/>"Sorry.  'Dancing' might be a safer topic, in some ways.  At least to discuss out here.  But I think we can say that there's at least a significant chance that whatever... organisation or operation did <em>that</em> to the Song of Demeter has some sort of presence in the region.  Not necessarily the city, but... somewhere along this coast, close enough to be accessible from the ship.  Which <em>might</em> mean that asking questions about black goo could have us poking at some threads that are <em>active</em> in the local region, rather than just being a matter of rumour or ancient lore.  Or... can either of you spot holes in my chain of reasoning?"<br/></div>