There was something about the ocean that felt so magical and powerful. Bodies of water so vast and deep that one could not walk around them was still amazing to someone who had grew up on the reservation. There were lakes and there was the Colorado river but the ocean? It was like comparing a boulder to a mesa. Swimming it is like bathing in raw power.
Luna dives heedlessly into the icey winter water. Even with her kindred condition she recognizes cold. She swims out, forcing her way though the waves, salty water and fine surf silt flavor her mouth. Out beyond waist deep water she dives to the bottom. The water is shallow so she feel the push back from the waves as she skims the floor. Her fingers brush over rocks and a stray handsized crab. Her hair fans out behind her like a wraith's cloak in the dark.
There had just been a full moon so Mother was waning but she still shed plenty of light on the water. Luna moves long the shallows with her fingers and tows, examining the dark shadowy world beneath the surface of the waves. Smooth stones, bits of broken glass smoothed by rubbing against sand and rock and a piece of rusting metal. Several fish dart past her, no doubt taking her as a predator. Gangrels are predators but fish don't have the blood in quantities she would require. But now that she thinks about it, there were some very large fish at the market the evening Irish had taken her. She makes a mental note to ask around if the blood of the massive blue fish brought in are perhaps some sort of delicacy.
The shallows get deeper and world of darkness under the waves with it. She moves without specific goals and explores, allowing faint tugs of currents and her sense of touch to guide her path. In the cold darkness her fingers brush something larger than the stones she's felt up until now. She pauses and diggers her toes into the sand as she moves her hands and fingers over the object. It was wood and square. No, rounded like a chest. Even leaning away from the chest yields little extra light in the murky dark water. Her mind flashes to her chest and all that it had lead to. Could it be possible? No. That would be down right unbelievable. Still it was closed so it presumably held something. Digging and scooping the dirt away, Luna wraps one arm around the chest and makes back for shore.
Coming out of surf near a cluster of rocks she looks around and sees she is still outside the Bay proper, surf having not carried her that far from where she started. Squatting down she wrestles with the latch and it's small, rusted over lock. She grunts and growls for a moment and then the corroded lock snaps into several chucks. Curiosity growing, she flips the latch and opens the chest.
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