Rohaan shivered a little as he came up on deck. Under a blanket and huddled in a bed, he was quite warm, but the breeze and the autumn sun that seemed warm enough for Pieter and Berlin felt like a cold hand tickling his body. They were in a warmer region, but still not the far tropics that he knew. The void left by the lack of a story and words to think about made him remember everything all over again, but it hurt less now. He was ready for it this time. Still, he couldn't help a single hiccuping sob and a little hidden sniffle as he assumed his position in the rigging of the mainsail. But he swallowed it down hard, putting on a stony face instead. He would not cry. Not again. Not in front of them. In the dark of night when it was just him up in his hammock aloft, the Nest, he called it, then he might allow it. But not now. He knew Berlin wouldn't blame him, but he'd be damned if he showed that much vulnerability in front of Wheel especially. The man was tough and unflappable--something Rohaan always admired. But the wind, which did more than shuffle a breeze up aloft, did little to distract him from his thoughts. He kept seeing the town. He kept remembering seeing his home up in flames, wanting to go and help, to fight. But then watching both his parents fall, and knowing this foe was beyond him. And he remembered the dark, dank of the Barizian ship's hold, where they were crammed in there like dead fish, forced to lie on top of each other. Rohaan gripped the nearest rope hard, till his tanned knuckles went white. No. He wouldn't stand for it. Not now. He was stronger now and he was ready. They would pay. With blood, they would pay. --- Uban minded the helm while Berlin was away, though there was little to do in such calm seas, so he often busied himself with other little tasks that he could easily drop if he needed to. "Ah give her a break," he chided. "She's greener than me when I first came on. I'd never seen the ocean in my life, but at least I had prison under my belt already to harden me." He wiggled what was left of his missing finger. "She'll get there. She seems like she came from a proper background but nobody comes and joins a pirate crew--especially not this one--if they don't have a reason to want to. There's more to her than I think we yet know. As for Rohaan..." Uban glanced up aloft briefly. "It wasn't good. Apparently he's a survivor of a Barizian raid, and it was on one of their ships that he ended up in Tavalor. I can only wonder how he made it out--seems like they know what to do with a shifter like him. He's never talked much about it except in passing, you know. But he saw their flag and just like, I thought he was gone for a second, you know? Like soldiers do. Just empty eyes. But then he turns on the cap'n as a bear and gets him across the chest. It's lucky it wasn't me, and Berlin's lucky that's all he did. I don't have Berlin's touch, you know? And I don't know if he would have remembered we were friends without a little help. But then he just like, unravels like I never seen before. Just a bad time, all around..." Uban shook his head. "But you know, now even I want blood. Not just you anymore, I think. We'll all get it and it's gonna be sweet. But before we do, I think we oughtta put Hana through her paces. Do some combat training, you me and Rohaan, eh?" --- Berlin nodded. "I know. It's...shocking. Especially the first time." He put his big hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment that it was down and his wandering fingers showed this. "I never did tell you what we do. Who we are. Pirates, you knew, but I'm sure you've guessed we aren't typical sea rats. Now don't get me wrong, we do a bit of merchant ship plundering, drinking, and plenty of treason, but if there's one thing we really do, it's track down people like them and remind them that there are more frightening things in this ocean than them. We attack slaver ships all the time, but we haven't had much, if any, encounters with Barizians. They're a special case, it seems. I can assure you, we'll see to it that they get their comeuppance. But look here," he said, his tone getting firm and almost stern except there was a softness in his eyes. "While a fight may come to you, I won't make you enter into combat. That's a choice each of us has made and if you choose not to, I respect that. Wheel might not," he said with a little chuckle, "But that's just his way. I also urge you to be open with me as your captain. It's my job to see to it my crew is taken care of, and I can't help you if I don't know what you need. Aye?" This sort of thing was what set Berlin apart from other sailors in his legal career. When he had men under him, he not only kept them in line when needed and maintained order, but he also went out of his way to make sure they had what they needed to do their jobs well. To find the balance between strong, hard, and worthy of respect, and to be also empathetic, was a difficult thing to do, but Berlin managed it well. It was something he swore from the beginning that he would do as a captain. Berlin took out a small battered flask from his back pocket. "Here. You might want this. There's a reason sailors drink, Hana." He gave a little chuckle.