[b][h1][center][color=4286f4][i]Arthur Stanford[/i][/color][/center][/h1] [hr] [center][img]https://s.aolcdn.com/dims-shared/dims3/GLOB/crop/3280x2050+0+121/resize/640x400!/format/jpg/quality/85/https://s.aolcdn.com/hss/storage/midas/73ce8167c00ca1dc68e8468a67c07477/202780896/Photo+Credit+Jordan+Matter.jpg[/img][/center] [hr] [center][color=4286f4]Location:[/color]The Ground Skills: N/A[/center] [hr][/b] As the last of the monsters were vanquished, Arthur relaxed, and put his knife away. Smiling at Andy, he said, [color=4286f4]"Um, thanks.[/color]" he didn't know how he felt about being complemented for his skills with a weapon that he didn't want to have to wield. He was happy that he could protect himself and others, but the knowledge that his existence hinged on that fact soured it. He felt complicated right now, a feeling that had started when he got here, and just hadn't found a way to stop itself. He had a desperate want for some kind of normalcy, but everyday that just seemed to get further and further away. Climbing aboard the ship, Arthur was looking forward to another bit of relaxation, this all had really stressed him out, and he just wanted things to be calm for all of five minutes. He was concerned about Dem, but honestly, being around him might put him in a bit of a panic attack. It reminded him of when he had knocked Andy out of the tree and broke her arm, and he didn't want to think about that right now. Instead, he hung out around the top deck, waiting for them to set off again. Hopefully the wind in his hair and the gentle sway of travel would keep him calm enough.