As we climb up the mountain, the vessel doesn't seem to be moving at all.
That is the illusion of the sea, while we ride the wind, the waves roll against us.
'Where are you'?
Heela sounds calm, as if this is just a Sunday sermon, and the preacher man is taking too long.
I look up finding blood, and entrails flying with the wind.
'Port side, I am resting in a row boat'.
I see a body get thrown over the port side as I finish my thought.
'Sylph broke our runes'.
I roll my eyes and don't bother to reply, either we survive this, or we don't.
I have an idea of how to get past this, and it all requires fuel.
Yet the frying pan waiting for me is going to be much worse.
Green eyes are seen over the port side as she tip toes, and looks over.
'Hold on'.
Her head turns upwards to look east, finding no end to the wave on the port side.
'I'm sorry'.
I give her a smile as lightning flashes in the dark.
