...........

--------------------

...It was immediately apparent; while the gains ultimately exceeded the costs in the crew and damage to the ship, the risk was far too great to match its value. There was no mistaking it. Any gains they had made were from sheer luck, and it would have been foolish to assume otherwise. This frustrated Vee, both for his lack of preparation and for his uncharacteristic presumptions of the enemy cargo. Rarely did he make a bad gamble, and in this case, it costed more than gold, but lives.

In his infirmary, Vee hovered a hand over a shipmate's upper torso, his hand glowing softly as he slowly scanned over a massive gash. The wound had since stopped bleeding, but the sailor convulsed in pain as the wound was cauterized with Vee's sorcery. While solurgy made the process of healing faster and cleaner than its traditional counterparts, it wasn't going to make the process for the recipient any smoother, so to speak.

A little over a dozen other injured were scattered about Vee's infirmary, those already healed but needing time to rest; again, an incredibly lucky turn of events, even with the generous portion of casualties. As he finished with his last patient, Vee went about handing each a very small vial; filled with a highly potent, but small amount of liquified cuprum. "Make certain to return the vials, or expect to pay a share for their replacement," he said plainly as he instructed them to move to their quarters. If taken all at once, the injured would sleep soundly as their bodies finished their repairs.

With the last of the men escorted out of his quarters, Vee made his way to his desk, to pick up a few items before making his way to the captain's meeting hall. First, his journal. Then... a wooden pipe, already pre-packed with cuprum in its natural, "floral" form, already ground for easier inhalation. This was how the substance was usually ingested, providing its user a much more mild albeit still relaxing quasi-dream state. Vee has since become quite accustomed to the substance, his tolerance affording him the ability to maintain relatively high function... but it was still a lovely form of escapism from his own guilty conscience.

Vylmor arrived to the wardroom casually late, seeing Elara and the captain already mid-discussion. Not wishing to make a fuss, he quietly leaned himself adjacent to the entrance, striking a match and lighting the pipe that was dangling from his lip. He made a few puffs to get the greens properly ignited. The substance had a noticeable but pleasant scent, not overbearing, but an almost minty, fresh flavor that cleared the nasal passages. The scent proceeded to permeate throughout the room. 

The captain asked anyone if they would like a drink, but Vee politely declined with a raised hand, already mid-high from his own vice. He simply laid back, nonchalant, ready to answer if any particular questions arose, but at the moment more than happy to simply observe and listen.