We’re still floating down the lazy river of the flow. Lenata’s out on deck tossing out freshening charms. Kenari’s been climbing the rigging, practicing her acrobatics. I’ve been meditating and trying to sharpen my mental abilities in between singing on deck and watching Ef going through his morning calisthenics and beating up on fake opponents made out of stuff we have on hand. I’m trying to figure out how to approach him again without it getting weird. That one night was all that was shared and we’ve never talked about it again. Maybe he likes Lenata more than me, or maybe it meant nothing to him. To either of them. THIS, I think is why Luigi cautioned us against sleeping with coworkers, to avoid the emotional turmoil it causes. It’s a distraction and a detriment to my self-control, for sure.
I’ve taken to writing my journals in Maenad. As far as I know, no one else on the ship can read it. We’ve been cooped up on the boat for so long, everything is fair game for amusement. Everybody is SO BORED and the crew is not exactly happy about the prospect of dying of old age before we reach the other end of this river.
I don’t blame them.
Some of us would die of old age before the others.
I don’t like to think about that sort of thing. Somebody’s bound to come before too long. This IS, or it used to be, one of the standard trading routes and the Arcane are the only ones who sell helms.