<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/0y8wEtc.jpg)  </div><br/>Glad, at least, that no one seemed to stare when she dove into the well, Zabeth squeezes away the pain of the pricking cold that draws the head from her body in waves, causing her lungs to spasm and tighten as her heart races.  It's everything she can do to keep composure and force herself down into the darkness.<br/><br/>Even if she had a light above her, she would never be able to see the bottom of the well.  Her own shadow would cover it, and lacking the natural ability to see in darkness or low light, she recognizes that without the others topside, she would never have known of a mechanism, or tool, or whatever it is at the bottom of their spring.<br/><br/>She reaches the basal point, and her hands met the algae covered rock and scum in the basal well-- she recoiled instinctively, much like she'd accidentally touched the cold innards of a long-dead fish.  She now must scissor her bare legs to remain stable, and she feels around on the surfaces with her eyes shut tight against the darkness.  She is deep enough that the pressure is causing a pinching pain in her inner ears.<br/><br/><i>If the old crew had seen this, they'd never let me live it down,</i>she thought silently as her hands fumbled to learn the crevasses and swells of the stone basin's deepest recess.<i>Not like they never saw me naked before.  There was that game of Queensman Dice after a cask of Orletian rum and oranges... oh, how Rico had bellowed with laughter and Lunasol had smirked in satisfaction to see she was so much better endowed than me... or there was the time I got shitfaced with Kailan at the lake--</i><br/><br/>She felt it... her lungs were starting to strain just a bit more, but she was holding out better than she expected.  She let out a puff of air to relax her lungs a bit, and the bubbles tickled their way up her body and her nose burned with the cold water flushing up to her sinuses.<i>it had to be head-down...</i>It was some sort of lever, or bold-throw, she decided.  She felt for a mechanism, but found none.  Keeping hold to the slime-slicked handle she hesitated long enough to pat down the walls for grates, tubes... any hidden mechanism that a trained rogue could not survive without expecting.  She searched the slick surfaces with one hand, bracing herself by spreading her legs into a lateral split, allowing her to pin herself firmly with the force she balanced against each wall.<br/><br/>Another puff of air, more bubbles.  Her cropped hair ranged from her head in Medusaen waves in the small abyss.  Her lungs were beginning to alert her of their desire to function properly.<br/><br/>Setting her mind to it, she steadied and tensed her thighs to stabilize herself, then matched her grip with her off-hand, interlocking her fingers.  She tugged firmly at the lever to slide it along the groove, finding the muscles in her hands, arms, and shoulders straining with the effort.   Bubbles began to stream from the corners of her mouth as she exhaled with the exertion, but the lever would be moved.<br/><br/>Releasing it, she righted herself gracefully and pressed her bare toes along the bottom, crouched gently, and then exhaled her breath in a steady stream as she propelled herself from the floor like an arrow towards the surface.   She blew out the last of her expired breath and drew a deep, fresh one at the surface.  The rush of air around her face was sooner than she expected, she realized... though only ten feet down, it had felt like she was diving into the void of death itself.  She looks up expectantly, hoping to learn what effect this had caused.