Lounging upon a pile of pillows, Kaite scrawled in a small hardcover book. With no title yet to be etched in the leather-bound wood panel, many would tease the concept as a diary. In his mind, all crimes should be recorded; a humanitarian at heart while wearing the skin of a hunter, the book's purpose was to depict the excursion in all of its gritty detail. Currently, he struggled with the first sentence which merely read, [i]'We survived the journey'[/i] since he dared not overstep the reality of their situation until he could plant his boots in the soil of the island. On top of this, the said journey was fairly uneventful by his standards. While there were a few uncomfortable run-ins with various associates on the ship, the term to denote comradery was vastly foreign to the diminutive hunter. In this, it wasn't until their superior known to Kaite simply as 'Reinham' spoke that they realized the depth of their objective isolation from most of the doings on the ship. Without even a porthole, he'd lost track of the time and over the eight-day stretch had accidentally both stayed up for almost a full day or two and slept about for about as much in singular instances. 

In fact, the break of silence caught Sir Jericho by surprise, especially from Sir Reinham who'd otherwise remained motionless at his post with the occasional exception of physical necessities. It was because of their intimidating presence that Kaite lacked the will to emerge from the depths of the ship to view the spectacle of their seemingly endless ocean which the curvature of the world alluded to. His dreams and imagination filled the first few pages of his notebooks which sat holstered in the messenger bag next to him where he sat. Considering his deepest emotions towards the intangible force they floated upon during the sail, he was never seen without the bag as an effort to keep himself from curious eyes that he couldn't trust not to pry into his affairs while he wasn't present.

During the pause in his 'work' caused by the events at hand, he shifted his legs for the left to cross over the right knee. Eyepatch hanging around his neck and coat folded in quarters under his pack, he'd gotten quite comfortable. They gave a wave before sardonically remarking, [color=8882be]"Iz all downhill from here!"[/color] they chirped, closing their book and slipping it in with the rest of varyingly filled scripture. [color=8882be]"Only a matter to know whom you take vith, ah?"[/color] They continued with enough to their tone to come off as genuinely joking, accompanied by an equally convincing chuckle. In a strange sense, Kaite felt an unspoken connection towards Reinham whom they considered their current teacher; devout and strict to the letter, it was certainly something to write about if they had a chance to observe them doing something other than loom, spookily.
The others were...troubling to explain. It was difficult to depict strangers, even after being around them for a week. One could never truly know someone unless they've seen them at their worst, and in that, Kaite was worried that any of them possessed the level of insight to see through his guise for what he really was. Even then, with the topic at hand, how well would they know the depth of what they thought they saw?