Dean made it up to the top of the deck and looked about. It was dark out, with lapping waves crashing against the hull of the ship. Moon and starlight shone down, providing enough illumination to see – well, for his eyes – and in the far distance the lights of the city shone oddly amber.<br/><br/>“Fire,” Dean mused to himself, wondering whether or not the Vizier had set the cleansing flame free or if some peasant had revolted in the wake of the supernatural disease. Who knew? And, to be fair, Dean did not much care.<br/><br/>Moving to the rails, he began adjusting the ship’s course, aiming her across the massive lake, toward the civilization on the other side. Dean’s movements, lithe and liquid grace combined, suggested that he knew what he was doing. He didn’t. There were instincts, buried ones that surfaced from time to time, telling him what he needed to do. This was one such time.<br/><br/>Course corrected, the tall (though not quite as tall as before), Shadow turned to see his Knight approach, sensing disquiet in the other man and saying nothing. It was their first moment of quiet in a long time and it presented an opportunity to simply enjoy the contrast of their presences, their abilities, and their past together. As much as the Shadow was a creature of darkness, this last day had shown them both that they weren’t quite as simple as they might have though. There were nuances, no matter how binary they could seem.<br/>