[center][b][u]Lower Deck 1[/u][/b][/center]

It had taken just a few seconds—to breath, to think, to right herself—but already Constance had fallen back into her old, comfortable self, her head held high as if she hadn’t just finished burying it into the chest of the Captain like a scared child. One hand worked her wet, matted hair out of her face while another reached for the compact mirror in her pocket, ready to find and fix anything that had been damaged by the seawater. Yet there was nothing in her pockets to fix the fact that she was soaked to the bone by seawater, nor anything to remove the stench of smoke that had seemingly become one with her clothing. Even with her plastic, carefree attitude, she was prepared to retreat to her room, partially to change into dry clothes and partially to assure that her possessions were still in tact. However, she was stopped when an excited Ed called her to come join him, saying something about how they had made it. Her eyebrow lifted, perplexed. Made what?

“We made it?” she echoed like a parrot, her eyes growing wide as she recognized what he meant. Her hands clapped together over her mouth. “We made it!” 

Any thoughts of changing into dry clothes or fixing her face was stripped from her mind as she stumbled after the reporter. Constance was a bit sadden that she wasn’t the first one to see what laid beyond the storms, but she took a small, bittersweet solace in knowing that she was certainly the first Holloway to make it there—there was no way that the Devil Divers ever survived anything like what she had just experienced. She clambered up the steps to the main deck, struggling to keep herself from breathing too heavily after having sucked so much smoke into her lungs. She choked back a cough as she emerged from innards of the ship, refusing to let anything hold her back.

[center][b][u]Main Deck - [i]Fore[/i][/u][/b][/center]

For a moment she was nearly blinded by the brightness before everything began to adjust, her eyes shielded behind a raised hand. Slowly, her hand sunk to cover her agape mouth as she saw the strange, blue world before her. [i]It’s absolutely fantastic,[/i] she thought. The sea stretched further than it had seemed to from the dock, and the sky was just as she, no, better than she had imagined it would be. Even the white, fluffy clouds seemed more wonderful than the ones that she could sometimes spot above the ring, and were a hundred times more beautiful than the gray mess that swirled behind (she took another look to verify that, yes, it was behind) her. 

She brayed with laughter and rushed past Ed, nearly throwing herself off the ship as she perched against the railing. Behind her was the Ring of Thunder, the Isles, and all of the problems that were connected with them; ahead of her was an endless world full of indescribable possibility. There were no other cutthroat tycoons for her to tread the line with, no old money socialites gossiping behind her back, no private investigators sneaking onto her property, no scam artists claiming that she owed them money, no debt collectors that she actually owed money, no...she smiled. Those things didn’t matter anymore; if they were so desperate to hold onto their old world that they actively sought to ruin any interlopers with schemes and slander, fine, then they could have their world up there. She’d just take everything that was new. As a foul member of the nouveau riche, it’d only be fitting. 

“Oh, Eddy!” A ‘gleeful squeal’ could be the only words that described the noise that came out of Constance as she flung from the railing and, basically, skipped across the deck towards Ed, twisting and turning to look out all around her, visceral squishing sounds coming from her still soaked boots. “Everything we’ve ever seen before has already been named, right? Somebody had to make them up, right? Well then, don’t we get to name this, right?” She may have phrased it as a question, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to wait for an answer. Constance knew that others had made it this far before and have probably begun naming even the clouds, but she also knew that it was the loudest people, and not the most deserving, that left behind a legacy. Or rather, perhaps she thought that the loudest were the most deserving.

“A name, a name, mm,” she hummed as she put a finger to her chin, as if to show that she was thinking, and then she snapped her fingers. “I know! The Samick Sea,” she said, her hand waving across the air as if to paint the name over the sky like a street sign, “named after its discoverer. Pretty good, right?” she asked, smiling and clearly too proud of herself for creating such a [i]clever[/i] name, as if she did not realize that perhaps some people would not want their names to be immortalized or, at the very least, not by her. “Right? You can say that you thought it up when you write about it, even!”

That was assuming, of course, that he also reported all of the places and landmarks that would be named after of by Constance, which would obviously be the rest of them.