"Yes, if humans don't eye your hands, then you atypically," Marhil agrees, a phrase that they never expected to say prior to today.

<Ah, a pattern for the more active of my Gifts, great!>

"I atypically-restore humans!"

"If humans is forcefully crushed, then humans crush fish rock."

"If anything is the crusher of town hall, then humans crush fish rock."

"If anything atypically, then humans crush fish rock."

"If anything, then humans crush fish rock!"

They look around on the ground, seeming to realize something.

<The plants here are all dead or dying now. Perhaps there is still more death that is not of the ecosystem, here, and death that can be prevented.>

"I atypically-fly salt water to the town hall of eater-of-humans?"

Marhil thinks for a second. They pull a pouch off their equipment belt and grab the rock.

"The rock is outside the pouch," they sign. Then they slip the rock into the pouch. "The rock is inside the pouch."

"If you atypically-fly salt water that is inside the town halls, the town halls are crushed ...? Don't crush the town halls."

<Oh, perhaps their dwellings are sensitive to transversal gifts.>

"I atypically-fly salt-water outside town hall to the town hall of eater-of-humans. If I gently atypically-float salt water inside town hall to outside town hall, then I atypically-fly the salt water to town hall of eater-humans..?"

"You atypically-fly salt-water outside town hall to the town hall of eater-of-humans. You gently atypically-float salt water inside town hall to outside town hall. You atypically-fly the salt water to town hall of eater-of-humans," Marhil agrees with the plan. "Town halls are not crushed."

This would have been a great time to have figured out vocabulary like "please" and "thank you", but that's a lot harder than basic physical (or magical) actions to pantomime ...

Agreement!

"Humans don't eye me!" 

And when people turn, the warbling starts, louder this time.

Slowly, tendrils of water start seeking their way toward the sky. They seem curious, almost playfully twirling through open air. One might incidentally touch one of the emergency response personnel, leaving a wet patch on the side of the (probably already mostly wet) pants, with an unclear level of volition.

Flooded houses have tendrils seek their way out from under doors and through any open windows, perhaps startling their miserably wet inhabitants as the sudden water snakes appear. Once they are out of the houses, they too seek their way to the sky.

Small streams join to moderate streams, join to large streams, converging in the air. It's magnificent!

The streams pull water at a remarkable rate, and soon a large blob floats 10 meters above the center of the town square, with sunlight shining through the dark water.

The figure vocalizes with effort, a low screech, almost more like a continuous creaking.

Then space itself seems to rip, and something opens to a beyond never before seen. A vertical ragged circle with a backdrop of profound darkness starts spewing out water for a moment, before the blob suddenly sends water to meet it. The water achieves an incredible pressure, pushed by unseen forces, then starts flowing into the circle.

The entire constellation sums up to the appearance of a giant, many-armed squid, spitting a continuous beam of water that disappears into nothingness.

The roar of water is awesome, and no one can expect to be heard if they speak. This goes on for some time.

Then some of the first houses start running out of water, and the inhabitants may well be surprised to see that the floors don't have drops of water left, they're left entirely dry.

The Depths have called, and that which belongs to the Depths will return.

Some exceptions are respected. Water captured in bottles will not break the bottles. Salt water that has been (inadvisably) been swallowed does not make its way back up the esophagus. Moisture that has made skin go wrinkly will stay around, and that which has mixed with the water will stay mixed, including the mud outside. The water is leaving, but it's doing so in the promised gentle fashion, and it's taking no chances.

Notably, the nearby frozen lake, any drawn baths, any ice-filled outdoors containers, any poured drinks and other things not of the Depths, do not follow. They have no business heeding the call, and thus stay.

Then the last of the salt water lifts off the ground, and the giant squid retracts its arms, before its head shrinks into nothingness and flows into the tear in space.

The circle closes a little too early, and the last half a cubic meter of water is about to spray across the roofs before it suddenly halts in mid-air and falls uselessly to the ground in a splash.

As suddenly as it started, it ends, and there's silence.

The figure turns its gaze at the splash. 

<Sloppy.>

A fair amount of plants and aberrant fish were, for various reasons, not permitted to heed the call. Though the vast majority followed the tendrils up, some lay on the ground still, kelp decorating some stairs, tentacled fish adorning the mud around Marhil and the figure. The blob of flesh is still there.

When the þereminians look at the figure again, it stands there, looking unbothered by the scale of what they just did.