Surprise was not on the menu this sun.
She had nowhere else to go, after all, but up and in. His eyes swept back and forth over the hull as he moved, never focusing on any one particular point of egress bar the main entrance but rather taking in the ship as a whole, keen and alert and intent on picking out that dull bluish gray fur against the aged wood. Mooring lines were of note. Too many moons spent at sea to not know his way around a seafaring vessel. Anchor or no anchor, you put in at port? You tie yourself down, anchor be damned. That’s just how things are.
There.
No point in following after her. Keeper. Too fast, too agile, too gods-damned good at the vertical. Main entrance.
He barged inside, spun about, and broke for the stairs leading up to the next deck of the Braveheart. They were yelling now, the officers of the Storm, sounding the alarm, organizing as swiftly as they could to restore order. He didn’t have much time. What little he had to spare, he used to barrel into a Triad table and rebound off the scandalized seamen, slipping one’s Maelstrom jacket one off the man’s shoulder and concealing it behind his own back as he staggered away, apologizing profusely before turning around again, his footfalls thundering. He turned a corner and his free hand swept up and back through his hair, mussing it as best he could as he slipped his other arm through a sleeve and drew the uniform over one shoulder.
She’s going to hide. No other choice.
He’d just have to blend in, then.
She had nowhere else to go, after all, but up and in. His eyes swept back and forth over the hull as he moved, never focusing on any one particular point of egress bar the main entrance but rather taking in the ship as a whole, keen and alert and intent on picking out that dull bluish gray fur against the aged wood. Mooring lines were of note. Too many moons spent at sea to not know his way around a seafaring vessel. Anchor or no anchor, you put in at port? You tie yourself down, anchor be damned. That’s just how things are.
There.
No point in following after her. Keeper. Too fast, too agile, too gods-damned good at the vertical. Main entrance.
He barged inside, spun about, and broke for the stairs leading up to the next deck of the Braveheart. They were yelling now, the officers of the Storm, sounding the alarm, organizing as swiftly as they could to restore order. He didn’t have much time. What little he had to spare, he used to barrel into a Triad table and rebound off the scandalized seamen, slipping one’s Maelstrom jacket one off the man’s shoulder and concealing it behind his own back as he staggered away, apologizing profusely before turning around again, his footfalls thundering. He turned a corner and his free hand swept up and back through his hair, mussing it as best he could as he slipped his other arm through a sleeve and drew the uniform over one shoulder.
She’s going to hide. No other choice.
He’d just have to blend in, then.
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
