Discuss the opened book with her

You tell her how a member of the crew bought his copy, despite being unable to read, and how you read it out for him and the assembled Mariners; grown men massed below deck, looking up at you like children.

She laughs, more relieved than amused. ”I feared...” There is a moment of awkward silence, and then she tugs on your sleeve and pulls you towards the desk. ”Have you read it? The original, I mean. I used to own only a second-hand print copy myself – and I never even considered looking around Father’s library.” She pressures you into the chair while she remains standing. Her fingers flip the pages, showing you words, passages and symbols that shift and melt before your eyes.

And the Cerulean Maven explains.

Her theories are outlandish and certainly illegal, but you cannot argue with her conclusions. The more you listen, the more you understand, and the more she opens up to you. She asks about the Sea, about the Mists, and about the Squirmers and their song. And with each of your answers, she grows bolder. She asks about the crew and their rituals, their past times and about the harbour brothels.

You hint at first, but her insistence is infectious. She asks after your lovers like a doctor might quiz a patient.

{if Acquaintance: The Feyborn Whore = 1} You tell her about the Feyborn Whore and about the strange garden the Powdered Spring conjured for the two of you. She tells you about Feyish philosophers and the limits of their knowledge. How they fail to consider the esoteric meanings of the Holy Writ and how your experiences help her in putting them into context.” {endif}

{if Connected: The Starry Eyed = 1} You tell her about your visit with the Starry Eyed. About the improper saints, profaned by the dregs of Polite Society, and about the Pale Muse whose face you painted white with your cum. And she explains the religious symbolism to you, the second-hand sources the Raving Artist used and the actual ritual he chanced upon. {endif}

{if A Tattooed Mariner = 1} You tell her about the Tattooed Mariner. About her need for your dick, and your willingness to help her out. About her tight backdoor yielding to your shaft, and about your cum staining the blasphemous tattoos on her lower back. She, nodding, finds the same symbols in the margins of the book before you. ”They share their names with the Liar Stars,” she tells you and calls them organs.{endif}

There is a moment of quiet then the Cerulean Maven swallows and looks away from you. She steals another glance and fidgets with the fringes of her dress. ”I,” she says, suddenly bashful. ”I have been writing an invocation. My own ritual. An experiment, really.” Her breath quickens and her cheeks are flushing red. ”I need,” she swallows, ”the seed of the Sea. Your seed. Please!”