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Above the whistling gale of the storm and the sharp patter of rain and cloud, Deimos heard the tell-tale cries below of their presence being summoned. Captain Zeph's voice shot above the dimming storm sharply, and Deimos almost had to hold back the sigh of disappoint as they realized their crow's nest alone time would surely be ending now. Though the storm has severely dampened (literally and figuratively) Deimos' mood already, the thought of having to climb down and interact with another human being brought a newfound anxiety to their mix of cloudy discomfort. Still, Deimos [i]liked[/i] Zephyr, and disrespecting an order went strictly against their obtained code of honor and trust. The storm swirled above, lessening as time went on and they imagined how long it would take for them to climb down, and by the time they actually moved to commit the act of descending the wind and the barest of rain showers was all that remained.

Deimos stood slowly and shimmied to the ladder, descending down the mast as slowly and carefully as they could manage. The wood, turned slick and cold from the storm's torrential showers, threatened to drop Deimos at any moment if they had the guts to make any wrong move. Oddly enough, though, Deimos felt no anxiety at the thought of falling. Perhaps living at the monastery had schooled their fear of heights into something more useful. Glancing down they felt nothing but thrill. It swooped within their stomach and echoed waves of excitement through their limbs and summoned an urge to release the bars and just fall, but, of course, Deimos had no use for a broken body. So they descended, and as soon as their feet touched solid wood the anxiety of human interaction returned.

Approaching Captain Zephyr and the newly boarded stranger felt as if Deimos was walking towards some sort of rabid animal. Frightening shivers traveled up and down their spine, and their heart pounded with unfounded panic. Years of minimal to no human contact made speaking to strangers unbearable, which might be understandable but… Deimos wished they had as much skill with words as they did with maps. Eventually all the space between them and the two other people was filled by Deimos’ worried footsteps, and they started up at the taller man next to Zephyr with an oddly intense glare.

[color=CEE6BB]“Hello…”[/color] Deimos said quietly, voice barely heard above the gales of the storm, [color=CEE6BB]“M-my name… My name is Deimos.”[/color] They bowed politely, and when they rose they made direct eye contact with their feet, refusing to look up at the man standing next to Zephyr. A long second passed between the three of them before Deimos turned to their captain, staring at his chest with a bit more confidence. [color=CEE6BB]“How can I be of use, Captain Zephyr?”[/color]