The tan man clearly did not take her joke about biting off his genitals too well. That, or something else bothered him, but he approached, drew some sort of shadow mark on the wall, and then stalked off upstairs like a grumpy child. Looking to the Elf and shrugging, Methuseld breathed out a sigh. "Don't you dare try and make a move on me, Elf. I'm going to go out for a bit, get some fresh air. I trust you won't make off with three-stones worth of armor?"<br/><br/>With that, the lithe body rose from the ground, wiping a bloody mouth on the soft blue doublet, and glided through the doorway, unencumbered by whatever spell Dean had set for whatever purpose he had set it. Looking around, the pale woman did not immediately go up for her fresh air, but decided to explore the ship a bit and perhaps find her sword. She really did not like to be without it. She felt naked. Well, that was the lack of armor, too. The last time anyone but the Vizier had seen her without armor... it'd been a while.<br/><br/>Soft leather boots padded on the creaking wooden floor of the small vessel that sailed out onto the massive lake, where relative freedom from the Spire awaited. Rain-cloud-grey eyes explored every nook and cranny, watching for both captors and sword. This was not an escape - it was a rescue. She hoped they hadn't thrown it overboard yet!