Donovan stared off towards the port town in the distance. Unless it was his imagination, it didn't look any closer than it did five minutes ago... or ten... or an hour. He had privately come to the same conclusion that Methuseld did - that they were barely moving, if they were moving at all. At this speed, reaching the port could take a day... or two... or more. It was difficult to say. Donovan knew just enough about boat-sailing to be dangerous, or at least just enough to operate their -PREVIOUS- ship. This ship, however... was something else entirely.<br/><br/>He'd been focused on the port so intently that he wasn't paying attention to the general standing at the wheel. She wanted to be alone - he'd leave her alone. That was a simple enough thing to do. But eventually he heard her voice, and that snapped him out of his reverie as he turned to look in her direction as she said her piece. She had indeed noticed the same thing about their movement - or lack thereof - that he had noticed. She also had the idea to get into a smaller boat and manually make their way to the dock, which of course was a reasonable enough idea. She declared she was going to have a look around the deck, and he nodded silently and was about to turned back around when she spoke again.<br/><br/>This time, her words were more personal. Donovan remained silent until she seemed finished, and then he immediately responded, hoping to catch her before she marched off. Again. If she did simply walk away - he would simply raise his voice to make sure she would hear him anyway.<br/><br/>"And to me, you're the general that was sent to capture myself and Dean, dead or alive. A puppet of the vizier. If you think I saved your life to simply play the role of hostage... believe what you will," he said. "But -you- should know -this-," he continued, "To me, you and that... that... fox-creature... aren't hostages. You're kinks in a plan that had been going just fine until you -put yourself- in the middle of our business. Having you as hostages hasn't -done- anything for us, and as I promised you both - as soon as we're safe on land... you're free to go back to your master... or wherever," he finished with a wave of his hand.<br/><br/>Then the turned back to the railing he had been standing at, and focused his gaze back on the town in the distance, muttering to no one in particular. "I keep my promises."<br/><br/>Minutes later, after enjoying the silence once more, Donovan's thoughts were interrupted with... laughter. Turning his head to the far side of the deck, he noticed Methuseld apparently caught in a gale of laughter as she stood before someone... someone who was not immediately recognizable. Brow furrowed, Donovan lowered his hand down to the hilt of one of his swords as he began to walk forward... and within a few steps it became apparent who the tiny-man was.<br/><br/>Standing off to the side, Donovan simply watched as Methuseld fought to control herself, falling on the deck in her laughter. The big man didn't think it was -that- funny, but perhaps Methuseld lived a sheltered life away from humor, and the smallest thing to her might cause the reaction she was experiencing now.<br/><br/>All Donovan could think of, as Dean seemed pretty perterbed by the whole 'shrinking shadow' thing, was how -glad- he was that he didn't let things go any further between himself and Aza... or this could be -him- standing there on the deck of the chaos-ship, looking like a shriveled husk of his former self. It did strike him as odd that he hadn't felt Dean's presence sooner, like usual, but now... the presence seemed... distant, and in its place, he could -feel- the presences of Aza and Methuseld...<br/><br/>And then he became -very- worried...<br/><br/><br/>