Fog wreathed the crow’s nest like thick smoke, smothering sight and sound.<br/><br/>Jeremy Elridge hadn’t ever seen the like. The mist wasn’t natural, that was for sure. When he looked down, he could barely see his own two hands, let alone his feet. A lookout wasn’t much use when they couldn’t… look out. “Should have gotten down as soon as you saw the fog rolling in,” he muttered to himself. The sound hardly reached his ears, but it was better than the dead, strangling silence that lay over the ship like a shroud. He could<i>imagine</i>the sound of the waves breaking on the prow, the scurrying of sailors across the<i>Queen</i>’s deck… but he could only<i>really</i>hear his own slow breathing and the high-pitched ringing in his ears.<br/><br/>He didn’t much fancy climbing down to the deck without being able to see the ship beneath him, but what choice did he have? He chanced one last glance over the side of the crow’s nest, but there wasn’t even the hint of a ship’s silhouette below. Tendrils of fog twisted and curled, cold and uninviting. “Rut this,” he swore. Better to chance a little fall than to lose his mind.<br/><br/>He turned… and froze. There was someone else on the lookout with him - he could see their shadow through the fog. “Way to scare the tits off me, mate,” he called, but the figure didn’t move. He stepped closer. What looked to be a black-haired girl was gazing over the side of the lookout. Her simple white nightgown was drenched through. The fog was damp, sure, but<i>he</i>was hardly soaked.<br/><br/>Not a member of the crew that he knew, either. “You shouldn’a be in the crow’s nest, lass,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Gods, was she cold! “Come on. Let’s get you down to the lounge for some cocoa, warm you up.”<br/><br/>She turned.<br/><br/>The fog swallowed his scream.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>The syrup cake was even more delicious the second time around. That, or it tasted better because now it was comfort food instead of just dessert. Gwen was winning at dice, as usual, but Anaise didn’t mind. Even if she’d wanted to, it was hard to get angry at someone who couldn’t really argue with you. Raw, sincere emotion was the only thing Gwen could really communicate.<br/><br/>Anaise was still munching thoughtfully on a piece of cake when the elf, Tyora, strode over. It took balls to walk around like that on a ship full of sailors, that was for sure. The elf was either crazy strong or just plain crazy. Anaise’s right hand went to her hip, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. She glanced sideward at Gwen, who shook her head with a small smile. “That’s us,” Anaise said, and her hand dropped.<br/><br/>She didn’t have to follow Tyora’s gaze to know she was looking out into the fog. Her expression - and the goosebumps - said enough. “You’re looking at the reason, I think,” she said. “But I wouldn’t look too long, if I were you.” Gwen offered Tyora a piece of syrup cake and tilted her head with a smile.<i>That’s one way to entice her back from the fog, I guess.</i><br/><br/>From the looks of it, most of the crew had headed up to help out on the deck. The bard’s -<i>Marquis’s?</i>- song finally drew to a close, and the lounge was suddenly quiet, except for the soft drone of voices and the rocking of the ship.<br/><br/>Somewhere beneath that, almost inaudible, there was a sound like the scraping of fingernails on metal.<br/><br/>Then the next song began, and everything was normal again.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/><i>Thunk.</i><br/><br/>Again, Alan’s knife found the bullseye.<i>So, this is what the hells are like.</i>Stuck guarding the brig while the rest of the crew wound down for the night. They were probably having some of that Cane’s Anchor rum they’d been saving, too.<i>Bastards.</i><br/><br/><i>Thunk.</i><br/><br/>Better yet, the prisoners were gorgeous godstouched pirates his job was to ignore as much as possible. Provensport whores weren’t much to look at in comparison, but he was less likely to lose his life chasing them. Or his job, for that matter. Tits were tits, but they were hard to appreciate dead, homeless, or dickless.<br/><br/>“Guard, you have to warn the captain to reverse course before it is too late! Tell the fool to reverse course before he dooms us all!”<br/><br/><i>Thunk.</i>Not a bullseye.<i>Rut me.</i><br/><br/>“Hold on while I just mosey on up and tell the captain how to run his ship.” He tossed another knife, which landed with a satisfying<i>thunk</i>in the middle of the target.<i>That’s more like it.</i><br/><br/>A screeching, scraping sound behind him made him turn with a start. “If you two ladies could<i>not</i>--” But the sound wasn’t coming from the cells at all. It was coming from outside the hull.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>