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In the resounding blackness of the fluid abyssal bottom that the eldest Davyjones called home, there was a ripple of strange noise. It was also familiar, perhaps the echo of a voice from a chamber plus a specific, known heartbeat. It was that thing, that structure, moving in an unusual fashion. The dragonspeaker was inside it, the strategic human Draig.

There were no refracted wavelengths from it, just a couple sparkles of electricity on the streams. Still just motion in the water, there would be light soon – that thing is very bright. The Davyjones could tell by the movement where they were looking to go, and how far, and how well they were doing. There were a number of currents that radiated from here that he knew and could feel. The massive building-sized boltcutter claws sent off a thundering few beats of aqueous percussion.

This subtly noticeable vibration reached the Arch in motion, and Draig Claymore recognized the feel of those stony gates crashing shut nearby. It was the inimitable, unsurpassed, majestic crustacean dragon friend, the Eldest Davyjones. What was he doing here? Upon his request, they darkened the Arch except for operating information. There was a lot of ocean on this planet, and here they were, crossing paths. Draig could think of a few possible ways to go from here, and was balancing likely propulsion allowance within the meteoric depths. They might want to see the Davyjones if they could, if only to dodge its gigantic bulk.

A light kindled in the darkness, a shade of blue that Draig recalled from the time that the Dragon Arctyri had introduced them. This time, as they neared enough to discern it, there were only some visible parts of the intricate lines of bioluminescence on the Eldest. Draig saw the convergence point of these lines, as well as their radiant angles. He understood. They had come to an understanding during that introduction, and it was still there. Judging from where they’d been going, Claymore could figure out where those lines went. Those were currents, in the facing direction. He did not doubt the Davyjones. Draig instinctively determined their course with this. The Woollibees set the Arch as requested, and they were rewarded with a surge of following current. Draig cackled, and pounded his knuckles on the viewing pane in a chipper answering beat.

The Eldest Davyjones perceived the rhythmic answer, and blinked his eye bouquets at the calculus curve of the passing Arch. With one crash of a claw, the encounter was concluded. He returned to spinning a profound eternity of deep blind contemplations on the great ocean.

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