If Berlin's smile was already a light, then it exploded into a bonfire when she agreed. He gave a small friendly laugh. "Good to have you aboard. We set sail in two days. Take with you anything you hold dear, because we ain't coming back any time soon." 

And set sail they did. The crew had been introduced to her when Berlin was certain that Uban or Wheel wasn't a drunken mess, and he had explained to her what made each of them special, from his long history with the cleric Pieter, to Uban's mastery of electricity. Generally, the crew was receptive to a new member. Rohaan, however, struggled. Berlin knew he would, he expected it.  And despite the fact that she had probably saved his life and had the captain's stamp of approval, Rohaan was wary of her. He made very certain that she knew him as Rio, even as the rest of the crew called him Rohaan. Berlin assured her that this would pass, and the lad would warm up to her eventually as he began to trust her and that she would soon earn the right to his second name.

Berlin had also taken the cast iron ball that had given Rohaan so much trouble and, while ashore, had a smith put a hole through it. It was presented to him as a necklace--a battle trophy to be worn with pride--and the boy could not be more proud of it.

Their first evening at sea, Berlin called them all down to the galley for their meal. Rohaan was mostly confined to the kitchen for a few days as he healed further, but Berlin did allow him to sleep up in his hammock amidst the high rigging. He made his rounds, bringing out dishes of food for each person, but when he came to Hanabaptiste, he kind of timidly slid the plate over to her across the table while watching her suspiciously. As he turned, Berlin called sharply, "Ah! Rheoaan! That ain't no way to treat one of our own. Turn your arse around and tell her hello." Rohaan turned, opened his mouth, and Berlin cut in, "In Carisian, and nicely!" 
Rohaan huffed, foiled. He glanced at Hanabaptiste briefly, then at the floor. "Hi." 
"Don't you take that tone," Berlin warned. "She's one of us now. And we stand up for our own, don't we Rheoaan?"
"Aye Ca-mm," Rohaan relented.
"Right. So start acting like it. She ain't a devil, Rheoaan. She helped you when she didn't have to. She's not out to hurt you, I can promise you that. Now, get you gone and fetch a bottle of Rum. We're going to celebrate a little tonight."
Rohaan brightened. "Can I have some??" 
"You can have grog. But not straight. Y'hear me?"
"Aye Ca-mm." But Rohaan glanced to Pieter with a hopeful gleam in his eye. If anyone would sneak him booze, it would be Pieter.

Drinks were served and Rohaan, finished serving, took his seat among them. By no accident, the only available seat was next to Hanabaptiste, so he sat there eating his food and occasionally looking over to watch her. New people always made him nervous, but she was also kind of fascinating too. He was very curious about what kind of magic she could do besides healing.

Uban lifted his cup. "To the Borealis." It was repeated around the table and they drank to their health. "So! You studied magic at a school, then?" He asked Hanabaptiste. "Tell me...can you summon lightning...? I wish I could, but I can't do anything that big, y'know? Just little things."
"What's school?" Rohaan asked through a mouthful of actual fresh bread purchased while onshore.
"Tevira's scales, boy, I thought I taught you manners. Don't speak with your mouth full. Anyway it's where decent boys and girls go to learn things. Like reading books, or the study of the stars," Berlin explained.
Rohaan blinked, looking at Hanabaptiste with a new interest. "You read books? What kind of books?" He asked her.