Falco is responsible in knowing that it's a good idea to look out on his end, too— And he does, where Duty doesn't. By the time she enters, the boy circles his vision around to scope their near-empty surroundings before following in after her with strokes and kicks. Without the bioluminescence, it would've been terribly dark, too dark to see a thing.

It's like going through the aisles of the wildest museum he could've ever stumbled across. His bangs float across his brows as he finds the right way to move his arms to keep in place, using the inner curve of the ship's interior to guide him. Scattered across the floors are more parts of the sunken vessel, fractured walls and rattled treasures— old copper that shines like a light against the water's shimmers, so many little characters stuck in time as iron figures.

Falco can feel the back of his neck along with the hairs on his arms prickle. It was like seeing something . . . Haunted? But not quite. He felt safe enough to keep fear at bay, but they held an unknown power to them, nonetheless.