The sun dips toward the horizon, setting the sky ablaze. -The Sea Serpent- cuts through the waves like a dagger, its speed betraying the unease on deck. Silence lingers, broken only by the creak of wood and the occasional flap of sails. At the helm, Captain Curly grips the wheel too tightly, his knuckles white as foam. His face is stone, but even the strongest tide can’t hide the cracks. He’s lost too much. And he knows it. Below, the crew lingers in their own thoughts. Near the railing, Anya stands motionless, staring at the endless water. The swell of her belly is a stark reminder of what she’s endured. Her breath is steady, but her eyes hold a weight no one can ease. Daisuke hums under his breath as he ties off a rope, though there’s no real cheer in it. His gaze flicks to Anya, concern creasing his brow. Finally, he steps closer, his usual grin softened.

Daisuke: "Oy, lass, ye sure ye be alright? Ye been starin’ at the sea fer hours now. Bottlin’ up what’s inside ain’t gonna do ye no favors."

Anya glances at him, lips curling into something that might pass for a smile, if not for the hollowness in her eyes.

Anya: "I’m fine, Daisuke. Just thinkin’." Her voice is calm but heavy. "Ain’t much else I can do right now."

Swansea steps forward, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between them before landing on Anya.

Swansea: "Curly’s been... well, Curly. The ship runs fine, but the crew? We ain’t. What happened to Jimmy ain’t somethin’ ye just toss to the depths an’ forget." His voice is low, edged with frustration, maybe regret. He glances toward the captain, then back to Anya. "Ye deserve more’n this. We all do. We deserve answers."

Anya’s expression hardens, her fingers curling tight around the railing. When she speaks, her voice is barely a whisper.

Anya: "I don’t want answers, Swansea. Jimmy’s gone. The damage is done. An’ now..." She lets her words hang in the air.