Ember looked around the room with a pout.  

He had been so happy working on that dress, and now it was like somebody had let all the air out.  How had that man gotten in?


Ember gripped the handle of his wand in a mix of agitation, fury, and morose anxiety, then started waving it around the room, looking for how he had gotten in.  He wasn't sure what he was looking for exactly-- it could have been anything. A secret door to let dirty perverts like him in maybe? Perhaps some other way?  Regardless, the hair on the back of his neck bristled as he traipsed over the gossamer fibers scattered about from the errant magic just moments earlier, checking for drafts, errant magic, anything.

Then he noted the odd after-wash of magic he was not entirely familiar with. 2 vertical bars of it, in fact, following the wall, and up to a "sposh" on the ceiling.

"So THAT's how that pervert got in!" he fumed.

Well, he wouldn't have it.  Furiously, he began weaving wards all over the walls, floors, the ceiling and the door.

"The captain is sure to hear about this, you had better believe it beloved-- Oh, the CHEEK! But he won't get in here again, that's for damned sure! Thank goodness we were still dressed!"

He would have to perform this ritual pretty much daily from now on, and it irritated him to no end that a passenger could NOT be secure in their cabin without such onerous obligations, but apparently some people just dont comprehend the notion of privacy. With worry, the realization that the dirty peep had been able to pull off a very complicated bit of magic settled in, along with the realization of needing to cast wards before bed every night.  'Filthy perverts..' he muttered angrily. He would need to find some way to discretely warn the noble woman and anyone else sleeping in cabins about the intrusion, and the need for greater security it required.

Completing the task, he set about cleaning up the gossamer fibers strewn about the room, skillfully amending them to the frame, still hanging limply in the air where he had left it, before deciding it was time to take a break. The creative mood had completely left him, and it would take time for it to return. Oh, how furious he was!

Gently, he guided the unfinished frame to the empty bed and laid it out like a craftsman would lay a project on a table, before adjusting his hair and gown uneasily, then heading for the door.

He hoped that ... MAN ... was no longer out there still.