Sage trailed the other ship for another half hour or so, feeling the wind pick up, snapping their sails and ropes about as the ships hull sang the melody of the ocean. He'd grown quite accustomed to the sound, and a faint smile played on his face as the wind picked up, whipping his hair around his face as the breeze turned into heavy gusts, scents of electricity and rain heavy in the air as it flew past. "Lower the sails," he called down to the crew, moving to take the ships wheel, turning it onto a straight path towards their rivals boat.

The men rushed to obey, knowing even a few minutes could mean they made it to the other ship in time or not. And if they didn't make it....well, things would get a lot worse, a lot quicker. He felt the ship lurch as the sails all lowered though, a familiar feel as the ship strained to leap forward, slicing through the waves like butter. It was a fast ship....and they were catching up to the other vessel in good time.

The wind was picking up even more now, the thunder masking the creaking of the boat as it came up alongside the other one. There was rain and clouds now, a fog coming up from the ocean as the cold cold rain met the warmer surface of the ocean. It concealing them well, so when he motioned for his men to hop onto the ship, they prepared themselves for the leap. they had one chance and one chance only to get on board. If they didn't make it....well, their fate wouldn't be pretty.

He moved from the helm, giving it to another crew member, since most of them would stay on board this ship. He moved to crouch on the top board of the railing, tensing as the ships moved around each other, waiting for the right time to jump. This was his favorite part....the thrill of a good battle was like no other. The anticipation of what was to come was just as good.

As the ships came together over the crest of a large wave, nearly scraping each other, he kept, landing on the deck of the other ship alongside five of his best members, made for sneaking around. They found the storage area quickly, and emptied it of enough food and water and weapon supplies to last his own crew for a while.

Of course, then the alarm bells started ringing. Shit. They had to leave, and leave now. They grabbed what they could and ran, all five members making it back across the ship. There was a whole army coming though, so he used his knife to cut the lines holding the ships close together, knowing that was the only was they'd all get to safety.

He turned to meet the blades of his rivals, quickly killing the first few. More added on the, though, and he knew he was fighting a loosing battle. But he refused to be brought down until he could physically no longer fight. His hair had come undone by then, and the wet strands whirled around his head as he fought, a wild look on his face he would not allow anyone but the best to bring him down. He was set on that.

Sage was fighting a losing battle; he knew that. He'd known there was a good chance men would die on this raid going into it. So had they. He'd left orders for none of them to try to come back for him. That was ok; his crew was safe, and he'd go down fighting. He doubted they would kill him...least not right away. They'd want information from him, and they'd need him alive for that. Which meant he might find a way to escape, to get back to his crew.

So, as he fought, he moved quickly, and although he was a good fighter and had killed many men already...more kept coming. He was good at fighting, but every so often a hit would land, and as he spent more energy, he slowed. Slowing meant more hits, and more hits meant..well...he wouldn't last much longer. He was fine with that. He'd give his all, and then after resting in their bring and eating a bit of their food, he'd attempt his escape. All of that was expected, at least a little bit.

What he hadn't expected, though, was to see his old....friend? He wasn't sure what to call her. They'd known each other a kids; he was in the orphan home near by where she lived, and had stowed away on her father's ship when he saw his chance to escape to orphan home. Of course, that life wasn't necissarily great either, since her father did eventually just bring him back there, where the woman in charge had beaten him sensless again once the man had left. No one knew that...exept Jora. He had always been able to be honest with her.

He had to admit, he had hesitated when he'd first saw her come through the rain....he knew how loyal she was to her company, and in all honesty if he'd known this was her ship, he probably would have followed a different one. He didn't want to leave her to starve or anything. He doubted any of his men could kill her, but even so he wouldn't have wanted her harmed either. So, for the brief moment when he saw her move towards him with her weapons in hand, he hadn't wanted to fight her. He wasn't sure he could have hurt her. Heck, he probably couldn't have beaten her in his condition...they'd always been a good match when sparring. He hadn't seen her for years, but he recognized her. And judging by how she knew who he was, she'd recognized him right away too. He had to admit, he was thankful for it.

Once they landed safely back on his own ship, he murmured a "quiet good job" to his crew and a "get us out of here" to his first mate, wavign a hand and closing the heavy areas of rain between his ship and the rival one, so they couldn't see where they'd headed before gesturing for Jora to follow him.

He moved down to his cabin, limping heavy and definitely on the verge of passing out, but determined not to do that in front of his crew. Besides, he needed to talk to her where they couldn't hear them. So, he moved down to his cabin. It was dry, and quiet aside from the creaking of the wood he'd become so familiar with over the years. He shed all but the basic layer of clothing, moving to wrap a bandage around a nasty cut on his arm and going about stopping bleeding from various areas. He'd change into dry clothes later. "I'm going to assume that one's going to put a mark on your head," he murmured to Jora as he mvoed about slowly, but giving her a thankful glance all the same.

She'd know he appreciated it....and he did. He really did. He was a little confused though. There may have been ways other than putting a price on her own head, if anyone who saw her kill her own crew had survived. There were always more than one option. Besides...he wanted to catch up a little bit. Though, they were both soaked and he was currently a dizzy mess, so maybe they'd do that later. "You're welcome to find some dry clothes that fit you from the closet," he added, sitting down heavily in a chair by his desk, grabbing a needle and thread, lighting a candle to sterilize the needle in preparation to stitch himself togetehr as best he could.

Sage felt his shoulders relax slightly when she mentioned she wouldn't be in any real trouble over helping him out. "Good," he noted quietly, nodding and then instantly regretting it when his vision tripled. That was rather annoying, in his opinion. He often wondered why human bodies were so....breakable. But that was irrelevant now, so he'd better just stitch up the couple places that needed stitches and move on.

Though, when she mentioned that he knew how to get into trouble, he chuckled softly. "I suppose that never did change," he mused, swiping the needle through the flame in order to kill off the multitude of bacteria that was probably on the thing. The cabin was clean, but not that clean. And he really couldn't afford to get sick or have something get infected. That wasn't going to help anybody.

"I'm fine," he huffed when she asked to elt her help, but he didn't object as she took the needle and thread from him. She would do a better job than he would, he could admit that. Plus he was just...tired now. The adrenaline had kept him going but now it was all catching up with him and he was definitely on the verge of just falling over onto the floor. Which would be very embarrasing, really. He didn't very well like that idea. Besides, one of the nastier cuts was on his cheek, which he couldn't even see to stitch up, so it was easier to have her do it.

He felt suprisingly comfortable sitting there as she leaned over him, moving his body how she wanted him moved in order to start stitchign things up. He winced slightly, but he'd learned to deal with pain by then. He'd taken planty of nasty hits over the years, and was fairly used to having to stitch hismelf up. It seemed to hurt less with her there though....her touch was soft, and she was warm, which was nice since he was also definitely freezing, having been in the rain and was now soaked to the bone on top of having lost a fairly large amount of blood. "Yeah," he sort of murmured, agreeing when she said they could talk later. He may need a nap first too.

He did hope she stayed a while though...he was almost scared to ask how logn she'd stay there with them. He hadn't seen her in years, and he had missed her. More than he probably should have. But he'd thought about her often, especially once he found out she'd joined the fleet with her father. He'd never really been a fan of the man, but he respected him. He was a damn good fighter and planner....he was smarter than most people out there. And it was fairly obvious Jora had taken after him. "I'm just glad you decided to take my side," he admitted with a soft chuckle after a moment, admitting that she'd become a wonderful fighter. If she'd gone at him the fight probably would have been over quickly.

Sage had hummed in agreement in response to her first comment. He couldn't nod, since he didn't want to move while she had a needle going in and out if his skin, but he did try to acknowledge her comment. His words were heavy, he knew....they were both somber for a reason. But even so, he couldn't help but be relieved he'd found her again. They'd been almost siblings, for years, and then all of a sudden he'd been shipped off. He hadn't seen her again afetr that....he'd heard she had joined the gaurd, and that had made him feel a bit guilty about being a pirate, but he'd thought that if it ever came down to it she wouldn't remember him. Kill him without knowing. Apparently, that wasn't the case.

He was quiet after that, just doing his best to regain what energy he could by sitting there while she worked away at his body. Trying to soak up what warmth from her he could. To try to recall if anyone had ever touched him this gently before. If they had, it had probably been her. Maybe his mother or father had.....he couldn't remember them though. He doubted that was the case....he couldnt' breathe water, so he couldn't have stayed with his mother for long, since she couldn't leave the water for long.

Once she was done, he took the tools from her and wiped the needle off, setting them back in the drawer he'd took them from, stilling when he felt her hand on his face, just blinking up at her in surprise in resposne to her comment. "Society seems to think so," he noted, drawing his lower lip into his mouth to knaw at it it. Well....he mostly knawed at the small silver lip ring that was there. That was why it was there...so he didnt' kill his lips so much when he got stressed or nervous. Which, let's be totallt honest....was pretty darn often. It sucked, but that was what being Captain meant. It all rode on your shoulders. And it was a lot to carry. It was heavy. Exhausting. And you couldn't ever set it down. If you did, people would die, and it would be your fault.

The last few aprts of her comment did cause a slgihtly amused grin to form on his face. The ghost of a smile, really. "Old war dog," he noted with a sort of chuckle. "What does that make you then," he teased lightly, a spark of his old self shining through. He still had that humorus, more teasing side....he just never had a chance to show it. He was always needing to be responsible. Grown up. That had been froma young age though....jokes about trauma were what had gotten him through a lot of it. Well...maybe not through it since he still had nightmares and things triggered some things, but still. Close enough.

"Thank you," he added quietly, moving to reach his arm up to close his hand around hers. It wasn't a romantic gesture or anything, just a familiar one. A thank you. Telling her he trusted her, that he was glad she was here with him. It was a vulnerable gesture....if her intentions weren't good he was as good as fucked, but he did trust her. "Now lets get both of us into something not quite so wet before I freeze my ass off yeah," he noted lightly, nodding towards the closer in the corner of the room.

Jora’s hands stilled as Sage spoke, his voice quiet but carrying so much weight, so much more than he realized. She could feel the tension in the room, thick and heavy, as if the past few years and all the years before that were sitting between them now, a shared history neither of them could avoid. It wasn’t just the pain in his voice—it was the way he carried it, the way he hid it beneath that sharp exterior of responsibility, as if he was still trying to prove he could handle everything alone.

When he grinned, even if it was just the ghost of one, Jora couldn’t help but let out a soft, relieved breath. The old Sage—the one who could still find humor even in the darkest corners—was still there. That was something, at least. Maybe they hadn’t lost everything after all.

"Well, I guess it makes me... the stubborn mutt who never quite knows when to quit." She gave him a knowing look, a flicker of something softer in her eyes. "You know you’re not the only one with scars, right? Some of us just hide ‘em better."

She wasn’t sure if he needed to hear that or if she just needed to say it. There were things she’d kept locked away too, memories of those years when she’d been on the other side, fighting for things she didn’t always believe in. The Guard. The orders. The distance. It had all felt like a betrayal, in the end. Maybe not to him, but to herself. But that was something she wasn’t ready to get into just yet. Not tonight.

Her lips quirked upward in the smallest of smiles, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She wanted to be lighthearted, to tease him and pull him from the weight of his thoughts. But she could feel how much he had buried inside, the old scars, the ones that hadn’t healed. She didn’t know what it had been like for him after she left, but she knew it hadn’t been easy. And she knew—deep down, she always had—that he was carrying a burden that no one should have to.

When he reached for her hand, Jora paused, her breath catching in her chest for the briefest of moments. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t meant to be. But it still felt like a promise. Like an acknowledgment that, despite everything, there was still something between them. Trust. That simple, raw thing. She squeezed his hand back, not saying a word, just letting the silence stretch out for a moment, as if the gesture alone was enough to carry the weight of everything they didn’t need to say.

"Yeah," she said with a light chuckle, moving to gather his clothes, "I’d prefer not to let you freeze to death either, Captain." She turned toward the corner of the room, the flickering firelight casting long shadows across the floor.

Her tone was playful, but there was something underneath it, something unspoken, something that neither of them could easily ignore. They had both been through too much to simply pretend things hadn’t changed. To pretend they hadn’t changed. But there was a certain comfort in the familiar— in knowing that some things, at least, didn’t have to be complicated.

“But you’re not off the hook for all that heavy talk. Once you’re thawed out, we’re having a proper conversation, got it?” She added, shooting him a knowing look as she started to pull the dry clothes from a nearby crate, a silent promise that they’d talk about all the things that had gone unsaid between them for so long.

Later.

She tossed him a dry shirt, grabbing one for herself along with a pair of pants. When she caught his eye again, her smile softened, just for him. "You’re not alone in this, Sage. Not now. Not ever. You hear me?"

It wasn’t a promise for the future, not exactly. But it was a reassurance for the moment. And maybe that was all either of them could afford right now.

Sage couldn't help but chuckle at the small mutt comment, shaking his head slightly in amusement. If he was a normal person, maybe he would have actually laughed. Tossed his head back and just had a jolly old time. He wasn't sure if he was capable of that now. And he wasn't sure she was, either. Both of them had been through a lot....it wasn't fair to argue who'd been through more. Everyone had their burdens to bear. Her next comment caught him off guard and he hummed softly. "I know," he noted quietly. he believed it, he did.....he just wished that sometimes, people didn't need to carry them at all.

He met her eyes quietly when she squeezed his hand back, not needing to speak or nod to covey the message he wanted her to get. And he didn't need her to move or speak either-they both understood each other. The silence probably meant more than words ever could. But it was a promise, and he knew neither of them would take it lightly. Not ever.

"I do believe an unfrozen me would be better," he agreed, getting to his feet with a grunt and wince, steadying himself on the edge of the desk, cursing himself quietly as his head swirled. He'd gotten up too fast....he should have known that was coming, and he sort of had-he just didn't really want to admit he'd been as hurt as he'd been. It would have been worth it...they hadn't lost a man, and they had the supplies they needed. So, he would have been ok with being captured. Or being killed. Though, now that they were safe, he did want to be warm. He always seemed to be cold...even as kids he was the one who got cold first. Constantly. Maybe it was just because of his smaller stature. He wasn't skinny...years of hard work had shaped his body well....but he also wasn't exactly well fed either. A life on the ocean made that one a bit difficult, especially when they ran low on rations. He let his crew eat then. Which had been happening for a week or so.

"Fine," he agreed in response to her comment about the heavy talk, as she'd put it. He was comfortable sharing things with her. He always had been. There were some things that would be hard to talk about...and he was sure it would be the same for her. But he was willing to try. Becuase he did want to understand. And he wanted to know what had happened to her. Both of them wound up here, like this, and it was a bit...odd. Overwhelming, in a way. Then again, his head and body and mind were so worn out by then even the soft glow of the candlelight from his desk hurt his brain.

When she tossed him a clean shirt, he moved to feel the wet one off and toss it to the side, where it flopped onto a different crate. It would dry there soon enough. Not that anything was really ever fully dry on a ship at times, but whatever. He was conscious that she could see the scars he'd collected...some small and rather unnoticable, and other large and deep. Others just drew attention to them, like the rather large amount of whip marks on his shoulders, back, and hips. Or maybe she was more drawn to the fact that each one of his ribs was fairly visible underneath the tightness of the muscles he'd formed and maintained over years of hard work. Now he was over thinking things though, so he tugged the shirt on quickly and ducked behind a pile of crates to change his pants and such, gesturing for her to do the same.

Once he'd set the rest of his clothes out to dry, he limped over to the chair again and practically collapsed into it, letting out a heavy breath and just sitting there limply for a moment before pulling himself togetehr and brushign through his hair quickly, which had grown to reach almost his hips and was constaly tangled like no ones business. But once it was combed out enough, he just tossed it into a sort of messy bun, revealing the shaved undercut. It was the general haircut he used for most things. Working, fighting, that sort of thing.

It wasn't until he caught her surprised look that he realized the pointed tips of his ears were also now visible, something he generally kept hidden from everyone but his crew. He hadn't cared because he trusted her...but they had looked like normal ears when he'd known her. They'd changed shape and grown, along with his heightened senses, alongside his body. A sort of nymph puberty or whatever, he supposed. He'd have to figure out a way to explain that. He noticed that look she always had once she got curious, so he just flopped back in his chair and waved his hand for her to talk. "You look about ready to explode with questions," he noted, giving her the go-ahead to ask whatever she wanted. He'd answer.

Jora’s eyes softened as Sage moved to change, watching him for a moment longer than necessary. She meant what she’d said—he wasn’t alone—but it still felt fragile, like something easily lost if either of them let it slip away. She could feel the weight of everything unsaid between them, the distance between who they’d been and who they were now. It wasn’t just the scars they wore—it was the lives they’d led since the last time their paths had crossed.

Jora ducked behind a different crate, quickly swapping her wet clothes with fresh dry ones, both of them changing in silence.

The quiet moment stretched on until Sage adjusted his hair, and Jora’s gaze caught the faintest shift in him, the small signs of things that had changed in his absence. She didn’t know exactly how much had changed, but she could see it now. He was still Sage, but there was something different—something harder, something shaped by the years since they’d parted. It wasn’t just the physical scars that spoke of his journey. It was the way he moved, the way he carried himself. He wasn’t just a sailor anymore; he was a leader, a captain. And that was something she hadn’t really asked about.

She had known him before all of this, when they’d both been working their way through life with nothing but each other and the rough seas at their backs. She hadn’t asked about his rise to captain then, and she hadn’t thought much about it since. But now... now it seemed like a story worth hearing. How had he gotten there? What had turned him from the man she’d known into this captain—this hardened, experienced leader of a crew?

When Sage gestured for her to ask, Jora didn't hesitate. The curiosity had been building for a while, and tonight, she wasn’t going to hold it back any longer.

“How did you become a captain?” Her voice was quiet but direct, the question simple, but loaded with years of unasked curiosity. She wasn’t asking to pry into his past in any painful way, but more because she wanted to know. She wanted to understand how he’d gotten here, what path had led him to command a ship and a crew.

She watched him closely, trying to read his reaction. She could see the old, familiar wariness in his eyes, that guarded edge that came with his past, but it didn’t stop her from pressing further. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full of things neither of them had fully addressed. Maybe this was a way to start, to open that door without forcing it open too wide.

“What happened?” she asked, her tone softer now, a quiet understanding behind the question. She wasn’t looking for details of every battle or every hardship. She was looking for the why—the heart of it. What had driven him to take up that mantle? What had it cost him?