[Helen's been thinking about the kinds of places she'd like to discover, if they even exist. That, and she's been craving apples. And mead. She really wants a ridiculous amount of mead.]

I just want to find an island with lakes and rivers of mead and apple trees everywhere. There’s gotta be something out there like that, right?

Lakes and rivers of beer would be okay too. But only if its good stuff.

[For a while, there is only the groan of wood in the background before a sigh can be heard.]

I hate...whatever month this is. A portion of my crew disappeared, I've heard voices compelling me to KILL all of you interlopers in exchange for whatever I wanted...

Mind you, I did not get what I wanted. [She does sound irritated by that.]

I've been imprisoned, again, and had to fight a hoard of undead...AGAIN! This time for a week. The only silver lining being that the sea bitch is DEAD.

[SIGHS]

I think it's perfectly okay to sleep forever, or celebrate, for an equal amount of time. I'm far too tired to make a decision at the moment. So with all that said, any suggestions?

[The sound of a chilling wind filters through the journals followed by a female voice, hesitant and scared. Terrified even.]

Is... Is everything over yet? Did you, the people who can listen this... Were you victorious?

[A long pause filled with nothing but the wind and the sound of someone's breath.]

Is everyone safe?

[The last message that had appeared in the journals had been on Thursday, after that... Nothing. Until a few moments ago, at least, which is why she dares, why she pushes herself to ask.]

[Four plus one makes five, makes a repeating pattern, makes...]

Son of a...

This is Marvelous! [To say his tone right now is harsh would be putting it mildly.] Anyone out there, if you've got people on your boat that were possessed... Are they still there?

Hey. [Nah, that was a weird thing to start out with. especially now] Sorry, I know this a bad time to ask, but I wanted to know how many people out there were still in their right mind?

[Asami would have shut the journal after that, but she stops herself and adds a quick:]

Thanks.

[Private to Korra]

Where are you? Don't tell me you're acting like the rest?

Hey, uh.

[There it was, the pleasant and calm sound of the ocean as waves touched on the shore of Aeolipile.

Dave cleared his throat and spoke up. This was, of course, ten minutes after his suit was ruined beyond repair. Anyone watching the shoreline might have seen a big glowing green sphere rise up from the sea, Dave coming back to life in the middle of it. When it was all done, there was the red outline of a spinning gear hanging over the beach where Dave stood.]

Anybody else havin' a shitty day so far?

[Grell, standing at the helm of the boat where the wheel is, stares out at the sea. It takes a few moments before she mentally decides a direction and takes hold of it.]

Hoist the anchor! We're pulling off!

Wait. Why? [Dave chimed in, following the railing from the lower deck to the helm's platform.] Yo. Big Red, what's the story?

[Slowly, Grell looks over her shoulder at him, not pleased that he's questioning her orders.]

Because I said so! Now do as I say!

[Dave frowned--deciding to play the part of the world's slowest detective around. He couldn't tell the difference between an incited Grell and a possessed Grell, so there was scarcely a frame of reference for him.] Hate to sound childish, but I had some plans for this island, dude.

We could make off like bandits and leavin' too soon would kinda screw with that. Isn't that our, y'know, primary agenda?

Then you must despise yourself. [Grell walks over to him, very much irritated by his logic. She makes a grab for his collar with a not-too-pleasant grip.] Listen you interloper, we're leaving. NOW. If you love this island that much, you stay! Otherwise, you do as you're told, or else!

Uh. [Totally blind-sided by that, Dave's jaw hung in the air for a few moments. Usually, Grell was less likely to toss him off the ship. He was getting the impression that this was suddenly a more probable venue. So, he looked at her for a moment and tried to choose better words.]

Maybe we should bring this up with everybody else? I don't exactly want to make you sound like a cheddar-chump, but it sounds like we oughta--

[There is a sudden sound of something hitting the deck hard (spoiler: it's Dave) followed by a large buzzing sound of a chainsaw. Which is quickly followed by the squelching sound of a thick liquid mixing in.]

Grrk-- [In response, Dave could only choke out a few words. He didn't try to push back against Grell, rather he seemed oddly surprised it even happened.] Not on my good suit, dude...

[With an eye roll, Grell gives one last swift kick to his body before walking off, not waiting for the anchor to be hoisted. They just got this ship, damnit. Already there's blood on it.]

Alright. This is really fucking stupid, but apparently I can talk to people using this book?

Let's see if I can actually get this to work. If I just end up looking like an idiot, someone's getting their ass handed to them, and I promise they won't be able to walk for a week.

So...I'm here and it looks like I'm not getting home any time soon so...what now, exactly?

Plans, plans, plans, as far as the eye can see. How do you idiots know who has eyes on these journals? The Dog person at least uses it, but who else? Think before you scheme, learn a code or something. I haven't seen this many amateurs since that roll through the East Blue.

‘Nother week, ‘nother round ‘o answers fer ye lot to sink yer teeth inta. Might want to be a bit smart about ‘em this time around since I hain’t in the particular mood to be generous. In fact I may even pose a challenge fer ye ta stimulate those brains ‘o yers, providin’ they actual exist—o’ which I seen scant evidence let me tell ye.

Afore that, as usual...


Weather

North: Freezin’ cold throughout the week.

East: Not quite as freezin’ cold as the north be, but that don’t mean ye should take it lightly.

West: Colder’n’ an ice block up yer bunghole. Lotsa ice an’ freezin’ rain startin’ on Tuesday and lastin’ til Monday ‘o next week probably.

South: Hot and dry. Best be careful o’ fires down there.

News

Hain’t much. Not that thing’s’ve been quiet but the Dog’s tryin’ ta keep head down and ears lowered, ta coin a phrased. Cursed people come a’lookin’ fer vengeance and it hain’t easy fer me to gi’ em the slip til’ I’ve healed up a wee bit more. That an findin’ a more secure location. But I’d worry more about yer ownselves than me since the Navy is out in full force and will be prolly fer the remainder ‘o the month if not beyond. If ye see ‘em. Run. Unless yer feelin’ particularly suicidal.


Now—then question, singular question, o’ the week. Must be told in those fancy ha-ku poems. Let’s see if any man Jack ‘o ye has talent.

[Entry is dictated as the owner of the journal has a thing about putting his written word down in enchanted books.]

Hm. Now this is a peculiar little thing. It is not as though I have never seen an enchanted book or journal before, but not one quite like this one. Judging from the many entries within this weathered old book, I can see that it can be used to communicate with others. I am rather surprised that anyone would pour their thoughts so freely into such an object, where others can so easily assess it. Though I suppose that is neither here nor there.

So allow me to get to the heart of the matter and simply ask, does anyone have any extra information pertaining to this gem the fountain's text mentioned? I have tried to ask the locals of this quaint little town, but none have been forthcoming on the subject. It seems to be a rather taboo thing to discuss for them. However I have little patience for such nonsense. Especially if it is something relevant to aiding me in leaving this strange land. As such any information that can be shared would be appreciated. [Or so he says.]

As for the matter of a ship, it seems I could afford to buy my own ship, but if I am honest, I believe there is certain appeal in joining a crew that is already been established. Are there any ships that have been sailing a while that could use a new crew mate? I assure you that I can pull my own weight, so to speak. Though if you do not believe me, you are free to test my skills.

[The entry abruptly stops as the owner has closed the journal for now.]