Airships of various sizes, shapes and functions ebbed into Moran Station. The<span style="font-style: italic">Nauge Solitaire</span>made a slow crawl into the flow of traffic that surrounded the shipyard. The wound in her side gaped like an open maw, exposing the ruptured pressure tank. Beauregard had managed to quell the fire in the furnace room, but the scorch marks left the floorboards brittle. Her purple sails were only set to half-mast as she settled into a mechanic's dock. Dockworkers quickly rushed to secure the vessel's mooring lines. On deck stood Belladonna, a matching pale blue parasol over her shoulder.<br/><br/>"Ugh! This is a catastrophe! All my plans are ruined. I wanted to be in Lordale at least two days before the wedding." She fanned herself with an oriental fan that she had received from a merchant wishing to make connections in the market. Hearing of William Andler's young daughter, he brought a gift to smooth the negotiations. Belladonna had always kept the fan since she was a little girl. She remembered how her sister would hide it when they got into arguments as children. But they would always overcome their altercations, and it served to only bring them closer.<br/><br/>With the airship secured and the gangplank lowered, she disembarked with Beauregard close behind. They approached a man leaning against the wall of a repair depot. "Excuse me, but do you know where I could find your boss," she requested, taking the man for a lowly dockworker. "I quite desperately need to reach Lordale in four days."