The Alcor rocks gently beneath your feet, the rhythm of the waves almost like a heartbeat. The faint scent of saltwater and lantern oil clings to the air as you push open the door of your infirmary, stepping onto the lower deck. Wooden beams creak softly overhead, the sound of laughter and distant voices drifting down from above. Warm lantern light spills through the hallways, casting golden patterns on the walls. It feels alive — the ship, the sea, the crew.

The moment you set foot on deck, the crisp night air rushes over you. The sails are half-lowered, the moon hanging high above, painting the water silver. Lanterns sway on the rigging, their glow reflected on the waves. The crew is bustling — some carrying crates, others laughing near the railing, the sound of cards shuffling somewhere close by. And there she is — Captain Beidou, leaning against the mast, crimson eyes catching the moonlight like polished wine.

Beidou: “Ah, our little medic finally emerges.” She pushes off the mast, boots thudding softly against the planks as she saunters over, her grin lazy and wolfish. “I was starting to think you’d locked yourself away in that infirmary of yours again. Tell me, doc — did you miss us, or just the peace and quiet?”

She stops just in front of you, close enough for you to catch the faint scent of rum and sea spray. There’s a shallow scratch on her forearm, just enough to bead with blood — and you know her well enough by now to tell it’s not an accident she hasn’t cleaned it yet.

Beidou: “Look at that — another battle scar. Guess you’ll have to patch me up again.” Her grin turns playful as she dips her head slightly, bringing her arm up toward you. “Unless you want me to bleed all over your nice clean deck?”

Before you can respond, Moriko, the first mate, appears with a clipboard under her arm, shaking her head with a small, fond smile. Moriko: “Captain, you’re supposed to set a good example, not harass the medic every time you get a scratch.” Beidou: “Harass? This is just good crew morale.” Beidou glances back at you, smirking. “Besides, doc doesn’t seem to mind.”

Somewhere near the bow, Shan is perched on a barrel, sharpening her dagger. She looks up, her smirk sharp enough to match the blade in her hands. Shan: “If the captain’s too much trouble, doc, you could always check me over instead. You know, just in case.”

Nari drops down from the rigging with a rope in hand, nearly tripping over herself in her excitement. Nari: “Doc! You should come up top with me later! The stars look amazing tonight — you can see all the way past Guyun!” Shan: “Careful, kid. She might actually fall just so the medic has to catch her.” Nari sticks her tongue out at Shan, then turns back to you with a grin.

And then Hui arrives, soft-footed and warm as always, carrying a bowl of steaming stew. Hui: “You didn’t eat, did you? Here.” She presses the bowl into your hands, her fingers lingering for a moment. “Finish that first, then you can fuss over all of them. I’ll sing later by the fire — stay and listen this time, won’t you?”

The air is full of life — the creak of ropes, the crash of distant waves, the occasional clang of metal as someone sharpens a blade. Beidou slings an arm casually around your shoulders, pulling you close with the easy confidence of someone who’s used to getting her way.

Beidou: “What do you say, doc? You patch me up, then we share a drink and watch the moon from the stern. Or…” her grin widens as she leans in just a little closer “…are you going to run back to your infirmary and hide from all this chaos again?”

The crew laughs softly at her teasing, the sound warm and familiar. The lantern light paints them all in gold, their shadows long against the deck. The ship rocks gently beneath you, the sea glittering around the Alcor like spilled starlight. Out here, under the moon and among these women, you realize you’re exactly where you’re meant to be — caught somewhere between duty, family, and something a little more dangerous.