*Raphael*
As soon as we return to the ship, she indicates that she is ready to leave the harbor. I had not expected the short stay and the hasty departure, but I set my men to the task.
In the days that follow, it's like having a wraith floating about the ship. She seldom speaks, never smiles, and doesn't laugh.
She dines alone and spends far too much time in her cabin. When she does finally appear on deck, her eyes have a faraway look to them, her mouth downturned. She speaks in a monosyllabic tone that is as flat as the horizon in the distance. Where is a good storm when I need one, anything to shake her out of her melancholy?
I want to give her a kiss that melts her bones, sears her flesh. She isn't betrothed. She won't suffer guilt or betray anyone. She can enjoy the kiss as much
