Location: Underwater. Still. The novelty level is now approaching absolute zero. Even the colourful fish are starting to look repetitive.

  So, I did retreat to the library yesterday, as threatened. Partly to escape the smug silence of the failed scrying bowl, partly because the Hair’s obsessive window-tapping at that purple coral was giving me a headache, and mostly because burying my nose in ancient, dusty books feels more productive than staring at seaweed. Decided to actually look up the damn coral, just to prove the Hair wrong about its supposed cosmic significance.

  Took a while. My marine botany section is decent, but organised according to a system I devised two centuries ago that probably made sense at the time. Eventually found it in ‘Volkel’s Compendium of Unnecessarily Spiky Marine Life’. It’s called Siren’s Wail Coral. And guess what its primary magical property is? It emits a constant, low-level subsonic frequency specifically known to interfere with scrying attempts, divination spells, and general mental concentration within a surprisingly wide radius. Can also apparently cause irritability and mild nausea in magically sensitive beings.

  Well, isn't that just fucking perfect? Explains yesterday’s scrying disaster completely. The water wasn’t ‘noisy’; it was actively being jammed by decorative fucking coral. And the Hair wasn’t pointing out something shiny; it was probably feeling the subsonic pulse and finding it interesting, like a cat obsessed with a flickering light. I swear, sometimes its senses are more trouble than they're worth. So, thanks for the heads-up after the fact, you follicular frequency analyser. Appreciate it.

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  Speaking of atmospheric annoyances, the air inside has been feeling thick lately. Stale. Like breathing lukewarm soup. That’s the downside of being sealed up tight underwater for days on end – the air circulation and purification charms have to work overtime, and the external pressure probably messes with their efficiency. Had to spend another hour tweaking the airflow matrix and recharging the ‘Fresh Breeze Despite Being Fathoms Deep’ enchantment jars. Mundane, tedious, but necessary if you prefer not to slowly suffocate or start smelling like the inside of a sealed pickle jar.

  And guess who decided to 'help' with that? The Hair. Having apparently tired of coral-gazing, it’s now taken to emitting a low, intermittent humming noise. Right near my ear. It’s not loud, but it’s precisely the right frequency to set my teeth on edge, and I strongly suspect it’s trying to mimic the Siren’s Wail Coral frequency it found so fascinating. Trying to recalibrate delicate air-circulation harmonics while what feels like a giant, hairy tuning fork vibrates next to your skull is… an experience. Mostly an infuriating one.

  So, the local coral actively sabotages magic, the Hair provides unwanted sonic accompaniment, and the house requires constant atmospheric tinkering just to remain habitable. Just another day submerged in paradise. Think I’ll need earplugs tonight. Or maybe I’ll finally try enchanting that silence bubble charm I read about. Assuming I can find the ingredients. And assuming the Hair doesn’t try to 'harmonize' with it.

  Gods, I miss mountains. Or deserts. Or anywhere with dry air and non-vibrating hair.