[sub][@Zombehs][/sub]
More echoes reverberated through the ocean, only to be blocked by the stagnant ‘wall’ of water that surrounded the island. Soon, Shou found himself in total darkness, only the faint suggestion of far-off Formulae pointing him to where the surface was. The electric buzz that persisted in irritating his mind was prevalent this deep in the ocean as well, and all around him was devoid of the vibrant ocean life that he was accustomed to.

His sword, a streamlined design meant for underwater combat, cut through his surroundings easily and glided without much effort for the first couple of inches. The deeper it went, however, the harder it became for Shou to push it further. Rather than a matter of some sort of Formulized effect causing the weapon itself to slow, it felt more as if the blade was caught in a vice that grew stronger and stronger as it got deeper and deeper. Shou, of course, was still an Egoist. At [i]this[/i] distance, he could still force himself deeper, could even survive the force that was currently clamping down on his sword.

But this was certainly no way for him to swim, and this was certainly no way for him to [i]breathe[/i]. Shou had, after all, dove deep before, had felt the water weigh down on him more and more as his flesh squeezed together and his bones began to creak. Even without being able to see the machinery that changed the laws of this world, he could understand the source of the stagnancy.

The water was under a uniform, crushing pressure, one that made it more akin to a solid than a liquid, all without affecting its temperature in any fashion.

[sub][@Silverpaw][/sub]
The Clocktower, located on the northern end of Bermuda’s Inner Circle, was a sight to enjoy at a distance and a wonder to marvel at up close. Rivaling the grand clockwork constructions of Britain’s famed towers, the red brick tower rose easily 100 meters into the sky, ending with a gold-hued balcony that exposed the massive bell suspended on top, as well as a pointed cap from which steam gently escaped. Surrounding the Clocktower itself was a small garden and fountain, benches placed in all four cardinal directions to create what the designers may have intended to be a popular date spot. Only time would tell if that would be the case in the future, but there were certainly a few students out and about, marvelling at the Clocktower and taking pictures.

After all, its exterior, at the very least, looked to have been made only of non-Formulized material. That, in and of itself, was a bit of a novelty for a structure so large.

Access to the inner workings of the Clocktower was easy enough. If Kiran wished to, he could climb up the spiraling set of stairs 100 meters to the very top of the tower, all while enjoying the near-impractical amounts of gears and chains, pendulums and ball-bearings that made up the internal machinery of the clock. It was inefficient and overly complicated, but for Polymaths who didn’t make physical exercise part of their daily routine, it was something to distract their minds with while they ascended the tower in order to take in the gorgeous view of the island.

There was, of course, a door leading to the basement of the Clocktower as well, and any Polymath with even a pedestrian understanding of non-Formulized architectural design would know that such a tower would require a suitably deep foundation in order to maintain stability during poor weather.

That was a lot of occupied space then, beneath the Clocktower.

And that door, of course, was locked.

[sub][@Jumbus][@Yankee][@Medili][@banjoanjo][@Click This][/sub]
[b]“Innocence.”[/b]

The corner of Jeanne’s mouth twitched up, twisting into a mix between a snarl and a smile, as if the very word had no value to her. Sin and punishment were the domains of clergy and monarchies, institutions sated with the status quo, mortals willing to whittle away their lives for meager stagnancy. It was not a matter of innocence or guilt, of some cobbled-together mechanism meant to dissuade a Polymath from pursuing their irregular ambitions. It was simply a matter of truths.

As Ryuuko removed the leather mitts, the Frenchwoman cast her gaze over the other three that had volunteered to play as jailers, before pulling her own leather gloves, black as coal, over her hands. Cold eyes settled on Inti. She favoured the primitive child’s warm smile with the faintest of her own. [b]“Nothing there was valuable to me. So I set it aflame to smoke out the monster inside. Unfortunate,”[/b] she shrugged, [b]“that I was ill-equipped for an encounter with an Egoist.”[/b]

She rested her hands over her navel, gaze sweeping over the volunteers once more. Judging, dissecting, categorizing, calculating. They were in some ways adequate, in other ways inadequate, but in all ways useful.

[b]“I will not dissuade any of you from defending my case, but the malformed beliefs of those possessed by a subnormal intellect hold no bearing over my actions. However…” [/b]her smile warmed by a degree, a crack in a severe façade, [b]“Mademoiselle Higashiakemi, are you to accompany me to my bedchambers for these three days?”[/b]

Perhaps it was experience, perhaps it was apathy, perhaps something else entirely. For all the castigation and the prospects of expulsion, Jeanne remained unfazed.