[center][h1][color=DarkGray]Ven[/color][/h1][/center]
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([i][color=SlateGray]This isn't remotely a surprise[/color][/i])
Ven had been renewing his bandages before the announcement came. He had barely sensed a change in the wind of a few of his crew mates, as well as the Captain herself. He had taken into consideration the fact that he couldn't usually sense such changes unless he was actively looking for them, like when engaged in hand-to-hand combat with an Aneath, or just someone who didn't know enough about wind to mask theirs while moving or fighting. Therefore, it was obvious that whatever change was coming needed at least [i]some[/i] preparation, even something he probably should have done several months ago. Still, embarking on whatever was going to happen next required a form of symbolism, like he had been taught when his 'father' ([color=SlateGray][i]And some "friends"[/i][/color]) bothered to talk about the Veslin culture he had never really been a part of. New bandages would have to do for the symbolism.

When the ship lurch, his head flew back and he hit it on the wall [color=SlateGray]"Fuck!"[/color] He groaned in pain and finished up wrapping his hand. Ignoring his throbbing head, he stood up from his spot on the floor of his messy room. He had given up some time ago on keeping it neat and tidy; nobody was going to care, if anybody even ever came into his room. He had a lofted bed, and usually spent his time on the floor underneath it, either bored out of his mind ([i][color=SlateGray]Waiting for anything, or even nothing[/color][/i]), planning whatever he needed to do next on his various 'notebooks' ([i][color=SlateGray]In touch-oriented Veslin writing, of course[/color][/i]), or simply a miscellaneous activity that the Captain had charged him to complete for one reason or another. He had things scattered about here and there, not too worried about his writings since none of the crew ever bothered to care about it, bandages stacked in a corner for the rare times he needed to change them ([color=SlateGray][i]Or put off changing them[/i][/color]), some Veslin artifacts he had managed to keep-which were actually on a shelf, since he actually cared whether they were damaged or not.

His jacket and boots were not currently on him, and he hurried to get them on so as to keep within the time frame allotted by the Captain before she would get angry. He had become accustomed to getting clothes over his bandages in a hurry, so they weren't ruined by the time he had zipped his boots to his pants and his jacket over his chest. He left his poncho under his bed; he doubted they were going anywhere especially harmful for him. He left his room, briskly walking down the hallway to the commons room. He had gotten used to the layout of the ship not too long after coming on-he was pretty good at direction in general, as a Veslin-so it wasn't hard to join up with the group, despite his lack of eyesight added with the complications in the ship.

He came into the commons room and quickly knew who was there. Nearly everyone. It was a little awkward, being one of the last to show up, but he was able to hide any slight apprehension he had, as was usual. He sat down on one of the available seats, crossing his legs and showing that he was ready for whatever the Captain had wanted to tell them. [color=SlateGray]"We ready to begin yet?"[/color] He knew the next few moments could easily change quite a lot, though in what way or direction he had no idea. The wind was fickle like that.