The child rattled about abovedeck as Wheel sat and polished his blades in the hold, crouched between two piles of ropes. A small lamp perched itself on his leg as he worked the rag over the ax heads. He felt breathless. Even when he gasped and filled his lungs, he felt short. The buttery light from the lamp pinched his eyes, making him squint. He felt like a wreck, and he'd felt like one for a week now. He knew he could stay this way. 
Choke on nothing but hunger and an ache. Black out from the weariness and never wake up. The best person he knew did it.

He didn't want to do it. Not until he had to.

Wheel sprang up in a single rolling moment. There was no reflection on how to snatch the lamp as it fell and stand up holding the tended axes. The ache was burning faster than usual. Picking his way through the boxed supplies to get abovedeck, he listened to the Cap'n yell at the kid for transforming into some crazy shit. Wheel hadn't seen anything that fucked up in a while, but that's why he liked this ship. Wheel didn't have to hide his shit. Not since he owns it. Daylight broke on his face, clean shaven cheek warming to the stiffly hot sun. Blinking his eyes, he saw Pieter cross the deck.

Pieter took pride in how clean the deck felt as he walked across it, carrying a keg of blackpowder to the small cannon on deck. He and Uban had spent the entire week before scrubbing the ship top to bottom, and the result was a pirate ship that would have had an admirals approval! He rubbed his stomach, just above his tattoo of a wolf shark. The only way to reliably take down some of the biggest creatures in the sea was through hunting like a pack and coordinating together. If there was a fight coming, they'd need to work together. They have been, of course. Pieter felt good about the Captain, about the Borealis. Pieter could trust the Captain wouldn't be piss dumb, so that meant Pieter could do what he needed to do without doing what the Captain needed too. Rohaan was bright enough, quick to work and eager to prove himself. He wasn't an angel, but who was? A shapeshifter pirate already stretched belief, but Pieter loved the kid for who he was. And Uban was good. Pieter meant to talk to him about the Salt and the Kraken and the older gods who bargained with sailors. Uban had the makings of priesthood, he just didn't know it. Setting down the keg, he began to prep the station, readying for the fight. It wasn't something to be proud of, but what could he do? It had to be done.

Wheel rolled his shoulders, lighting a cigarette with a match. Nothing better before a fight than a cig. It helps you berserk faster. Means you spend less time in the best place on earth. The place he'd die. But first, he'd feel good again.