Rhonda
The Pirate King slowly opened the door to his office, hardly noticing the glow of the lantern in the corner. Mikhail had been sitting there for some time. It left him uneasy.

There was something that left him _very_ uneasy about Mikhail. He had mourned. He had closed off the boys room, sectioned away all of his favorite books from the his library, began to commission a patch of flowers in his honor. He had cried, if only for as long as a man like Bradai Maith would allow himself to. He had lost a boy and gotten over it, gone so far as to accept the loss. And then the letter came in. HIs eyes and ears had found Mikhail alive and well, in the hands of Nathaniel Vivayn, of all people. His retrieval was quick enough, like picking an apple from a branch. It had been too easy. 

The Pirate King didn't believe in spirits. He had never seen a ghost, and he didn't plan to any time soon. But there one was, sitting across from him, taking up almost no space at all. Quieter than usual, content with sitting in window sills and soaking up the sun like a potted plant. This wasn't a case of miscommunication. Bradai hadn't mistakenly assumed that he was dead, the assassination took place in front of him. The boy was dead, and now he wasn't. Whether or not he was alive was beyond him, but he was certainly not dead. "Evenin'." He said. Bradai pulled out an inkwell and began to pen a letter to his daughter.
Steven
Mikhail glanced up as the door opened, and Maith walked into the office. That familiar one-two-three of his steps as he passed through the office to his seat. He watched quietly, there was no initial reaction to him sitting in the corner, and it wasn't until the man had taken a seat that he was addressed. 

"Evening." Mikhail replied, his finger lingering over the gold leaf trimmed corner of the book on his lap. He contemplated closing it and dismissing himself, but his eyes went to the inkwell and parchment Bradai reached towards. "Something hasn't been sitting right with me." He said, finding no reason to start off with asking if he was allowed to speak. Nothing felt real anymore, even the customs of conversation. "The Manor has been awfully quiet. Is it just because of the season, or has the world shifted so drastically since.." He paused, unsure if he was supposed to measure time since his own murder or his botched resurrection. 

"Things are different." The boy's silver eyes shifted downwards to the book in his lap once more. "And I've started to wonder if we should consider putting things back the way they were."
Rhonda
"Hmm?" Bradai looked up from his paper to see Mikhail sitting there, thumbing along the side of his book. "Tha Manor 'as been a little quiet lately. A welcome change, I'd say. Vhere was talk uff war after Astoria." A pang of awkwardness filled his chest. Should he even talk about that? The boy was there, he knew first hard. Even so, was it taboo to bring it up? "All cleared up now, fankfully." 

He set his quill sideways, over the parchment. "Fings will get busy 'ere fairly soon. People'll get off tha water for tha wet season, too rough to travel between islands and tha fishing will be good off tha coast. Maybe we can show you more uff tha city. It wouldn't be a stret—" He was interrupted.

"Yeah. Fings are different around 'ere." He pursed his lips and reached for the glass at the corner of the table. It was empty. He slowly released it quietly clasped hsi hands. "Everyone always wants fings to go back to tha way vhey were. It's a fools errand, boy."
Steven
Mikhail heard the glass sit back on the desk, and the ringing in his ears filled the silence of the office when Bradai stopped talking. Almost immediately he gathered his courage and his eyes lifted to the man. 

"You, and everyone I have met since Lord Vivayn got his hands on me has walked on their toes around me. I frighten the staff. I frightened his, and mothers. You look at me sometimes like you expect me to disappear." His lips pressed together, and the boy finally closed the book in his lap, setting it aside and back onto the shelf to his left. 

"Is it time to consider the idea of putting me back in the ground where I belong, King Maith?"