archepirata:

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          “uh…. morning?”

     he’s quite perplexed as to why someone’s
     even sleeping on the deck. sun hasn’t even
     broke yet so it’s surely pretty chilly outside.

        Eyelids flutter, armour cast askew ’pon mercenary’s frame; hues of steel gradually lift from their snare of slumber, a swift blink that followed announcing wakefulness. Sun had not yet made her crest o’er the horizon, and morn’s chill had crept inside skelenyte pauldrons, bitter cold rending gooseflesh and tender joints that  c r e a k  as she shifts into an upright position.

      Had her stay aboard this ship not been sanctioned?

      Concern lines the crease of umber brows, narrow downturn boasted upon full lips as the query becomes clear in the gaze that fixates on the other.

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THEME.