[b][color=662d91][h3]K E N J I    T A K E D A[/h3][/color][/b][sub]Back on the ship:[/sub]
Interacting with: [@Adeline] Genevieve 

[hr]

[color=662d91]"It is not the battle that weighs on my mind, but what will be left of my conscience after."[/color] 

Kenji spoke softly but firmly. His ghostly whisper stern and serious while his gaze far away.

[color=662d91]"Each [i]adventure[/i] cuts away at the remaining threads."[/color]

He interrupts himself with a sharp gasp as Genevieve treats the open wound on his forehead.

[color=662d91]"The futures I rob from the young men simply doing their jobs. The hearts I sunder of mother's, wives and children whose loved ones I take from them.

The days after the battle. The weeks, sometimes months. The stench of death. The decay. The sickness. The long ceaseless moans of the damned and dying. The cries of pain. Injuries that cannot be healed no matter how well you might try. The lack of ceremony as they are given to the sea."[/color]

He catches her hand to stop her, and looks into her eyes.

[color=662d91]"You can count on that."[/color] He says solemnly.

[color=662d91]"That, and if we lose too many of our own, then we will force some of those whose comrades we just murdered, and lives we ruined, to help us. 

To have slaves on the ship is to sleep with one eye open and to close your heart to the brutality and torture required to keep them in line."[/color]

He released her hand and looked away again.

[color=662d91]"Many things can be repaired. Your conscience, your empathy, your soul. You will not even realise it is gone until it is too late.

No matter the treasure we find our ship will sit higher in the sea after, with all the bodies we send overboard. That is what I anticipate."[/color]

There was a tired resentment covering old worn-out-anger in his sermon.