Often, Raevyn would spend time alone in her favorite spot by the masts, where she would take necessary breaks from the crew to think. Some days, she would cry, and others, she would laugh. She tried not to think about her mission, about her intentions. What she was going to do her friends. But sometimes, it was unavoidable. When this happened, it put her in an awful mood, and she retreated to her spot to spare the crew her wrath. Today, she found herself staring into the water, watching as their ship raced past the waves, leaving them behind and greeting them again. It was beautiful. Raevyn jumped when a crew member came up behind her, his loud footsteps heralding his arrival. She let out an embarassing, high-pitched squeal, and nearly fell backwards into the sea, but managed to hold herself up by grabbing onto the wooden rail. The man who has startled her- Frey, the bosun- simply stared at her, like he had somehow missed her near death. Raevyn tried to act like she didn’t care, quickly pulling herself together, addressing Frey. “Frey!” She said, greeting him warmly, ignoring his interruption of her peace. Frey was holding a half-eaten fish from the previous night, picking small bones out of his teeth, eating what he could out of the poor creature. Raevyn didn’t mind, because, hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Even if it meant a savage act of fish-mutilation. Frey, it seemed, wore a constant expression, even in the worst and best conditions. When Raevyn and the crew were nearly shipwrecked in a storm a week ago, Frey was found staring blankly into the chaos for hours, as if he didn’t care. It was strange. Encouraging, yet destructive at the same time, weakening one’s confidence in a meer glance.