Cinders paced dramatically around the galley, looking at the ocean waves and rubbing her jutting chin at the prospect before her. Everyone was working on repairing the ship, but what about the submerged areas she thought.
Cinders looked over at the water edge and scrunched her face at what was about to be attempted. Fighting for clean and unchoking air carried the same principle as maintaining air underwater, right? Cinders carried with her six flasks with tubing to a leather mask that all sat snugly at her waist. The theory was about to be tested. Usually the devices allowed her to sit within the burning air and inflict mighty damage against the foe once boarding actions were attempted without falling prey to the punishing smoke. Here, repairs were required and Cinders was the woman for the job at the trickier to reach places exterior which lurked below the surface. No-one else seemed to be tending the areas which lurked below the waves, so Cinders knew she had to make herself useful.
She set her hat down and kicked it so that it span in place as she mounted the deck, discarding her sword also and personal affects so as to prevent them from weighting her down. She affixed a tool belt which had various strips of metal bundled across it, and made great pronouncement as she snapped on a single thick leather glove about her hand.
“I became a sky privateer to avoid the fucking ocean! And here we are, bobbing up and down uselessly while some lightning loving fucks are cruising to scorch us further! It's enough to drive me to evaporate the bloody ocean itself! Don't laugh I could do it if I really wanted! Now, watch this dive. Cinders is going to tend what you aint used to. Creating effective heat and forging ahead anywhere, no matter what!”
Affixing the mask and compelling the dead air to pressurise within the flasks, she stretched her arms and dove into the waters with a cackle as pierced the water hook and glove first.
Through the green tinted goggles of the mask she breathed shallow to conserve the precious air as she worked her way to the appropriate corner of the damage. Scorched and buckled metal that bound the wood in place. She reached the damaged part of the submerged ship and placed bundles of metal across the wounds of the vessel and set to work. The hook began to heat up, changing colour underwater and setting the water around it to bubble and fizz. The strips of metal were applied to the injured vessel, and Cinders set to welding as the ocean made motion around her.
She came to the surface to gain more air, lifting the belt of air awkwardly upwards at first, but became more practised at the gesture as each time she compelled air into the flasks and pressurised it so they held more air than was required. The principle held true to her estimations, so used to creating cyclones of fire which relied upon the condensing of air to truly combust at a thrilling temperature that pressuring air so that she might not do this job over half a day and lung capacity alone.
She worked on.
Wood working is for chumps. Metal working is for champs.
The buckled metal became reinforced from the trips that Cinders made, swimming to the appropriate places and travelling below the surface to attend what others simply didn't have the heat to provide. Her mask made her appear as a strange marine creature beneath the waves to the small fish that grew curious and then afraid at the rising temperature in her proximity.
She rose for the final time, metal spent. She scrunched her face again as everyone was busy with repairs of their own to notice her bobbing on the surface.
“Oi, oi, someone throw Cinders a rope and get me out of this washtub, sharpish, I'm done with it! I said I'm fucking done with it!”
