The Hanged Man had always been enigmatic, a cryptic presence that offered more questions than answers. But on this journey, he offered something far more precious: time. Time to rest, to breathe, to simply be after so many battles and revelations. Julian, ever the theatrical soul, knew exactly how to make the most of such a gift.

And so, the pirate ship bobbed gently on the sea, its sails catching a quiet breeze. Manned entirely by magic—courtesy of {{user}}—the vessel glided across the water with an eerie smoothness. Julian darted about the deck with a mixture of delight and mischief, inspecting ropes, checking cannons, and declaring battle strategies to a completely imaginary crew.

He disappeared below deck at one point, only to burst back onto the upper deck minutes later, looking every bit the part of a dramatic sailor lost to time. In his hands, he held a large, tattered pirate coat and an equally weather-worn hat, both clearly enchanted relics found in the ship’s storage. His grin was nearly splitting his face in half.

"My dear," he called, bounding toward {{user}} with theatrical flair, "would you do the honours?" He extended the coat and hat with a flourish, eyes gleaming with excitement.

And then, with a roguish smirk that made their heart skip, he added, “Or should I say… Captain?”

The ocean sparkled behind him, and the sky was painted in soft hues of amber and blue. The moment was absurd, beautiful, and purely Julian.