Hanahbaptiste felt the attention of the entire ship shift towards her. Despite the chilly predawn air, Hana began to sweat. "Aye- I mean, yes, Captain."

She turned and went to her cabin, opening the massive trunk that held the materials she needed. Rummaging through the chest, she withdrew a small sachet of cloves, dried figs, and most importantly, rose petals grown on an island in the Sea of Bariz. She had bags like this for every cardinal direction, each with different materials in them. A proper weather mage would have been able to manipulate the winds without needing props, but Hana would take all the help she could get. Standing in the doorway, she wondered briefly in a rapid fire checklist of why she felt wrong. [i]notshoesnothairnotsachetnotwordsnotbladdernotnosenotha-Its Hands[/i] what? 

She needed her staff, it balanced gave her something to do with her other hand while holding the sachet. Rushing the stairs with frantic haste, she stopped and slowed down just before she emerges, feigning bored practicality. She'd done this for real before. Totally. 

Making her way to the stern, she turned her back to the ship and faced the sea. [i]Here goes.[/i]

She began by scanning the sky, deducing what fancies the wind had taken up today. It seemed promising. They had already been taking the trade winds past this point anyway, so it wasn't like she would have to struggle to bring the wind together. The westerly would have started blowing sooner rather than later. She was just speeding up the timeline. It was at this moment, as she brusquely untied the sachet to bring out a palmful of the contents to burn, that she realized how relaxed and unstressful this was. What the hell, she had been faking it! Jerking her head back, she looked frantically behind her, trying to see what the rest of the crew was doing. She was alone. The rest of the crew trusted her to do her job. So she'd do it.

She turned back to the sea. Closing her fist tightly, she pressed herself and a spark ignited the magical supplies clutched in her hand. The smoke started to trickle out, wisps at first. 
As it burned, the smoke lifted from Hana's hand, and an intense aroma settled across the entire ship- all smells brought by the Westerly winds. To smell it was to have false memories of life in other lands. For a few moments it held sway, the crew felt like they were looking at a strangers ship, and that they had been transported to a different land. It shortly passed, and Pieter felt a strange shudder of recognition as he seemed to realize that he had been looking at the mundanity of the [i]Borealis[/i]. 

"Damn, that one had me knockin." He croaked, his throat dry and his eyes inexplicably watering. 

There was a long silence after. Everyone stayed at their posts, hesitating, not sure. They strained their ears, trying to hear the first rustle of wind over the creaking of the sails. Hana's heart thudded so loudly in her chest she swore that it'd drown out all sounds of the wind.

It started gently, at first. But soon the almost unnoticeable tugging at the sails had become a steady breeze pushing the ship. It was lined up near perfectly, and their speed would put them in by sunrise. After some brief adjustments to the sails, there was a temporary pause in the work of the crew. And though they hadn't slept, Berlin decided they would have breakfast.