Sage nodded in resposne to her questions, thinking about how to start. There had been years in the making of that....and while he knew she wouldn't look down on him for killking the previousn captain in a mutiny sort of thing, she may look down on his a little bit in other ways. He'd doen things he wasn't necissarily proud of...thigns that still haunted him, even now. But he did want to answer her question, so after a few moments of silence, he released his lower lip from where he'd started nibbling at it again so he could explain.

"I'll start off after we came back from that trip, I suppose," he murmured after a moment. SHe'd know which one it was....the one where he'd stown away in an attempt to get out of the orphan home. Her father had brought him back, and things had gone from there. "After you guys left, the lady got mad, whacked me good with the broom and all that," he noted, casually waving his hand as if dismissing it. That had been common, and while he could have definitley been a pain in the ass at times, he really did do his best not to anger the woman. She'd been cruel.

"She locked me up for a while after that. It was just chorse after chore for a while. After a few years of that, I supposed she decided she could make more money selling me off to someone than having me do all her chores when she had other kids to do those," he added sort of fidgiting with the small chain choker necklace he had clasped around his neck. "Eventually, I got shipped off to some farm, down near the coast somewhere. I'm not sure entirely where, but it was dry and hot all the time," he noted with a shrug.

"Anyway, I got shoved in a truck, brought down there, and shoved out. The woman and man in charge there were even worse than the orphanage....I was out in the fields mst of the time. Any excuse they had to amused themselves they wandered over to the fields and would find something wrong with one of us." There was a cold edge to his voice then, shoulder stiffening slightly as old memories floated through his mind. He didn't need to explain how they'd whipped them.....beat them. She'd have picked that up. She'd seen his back, in the brief moment in between shirts. "After a few years, her daughter came back fromboarding school. She decided she wanted me, and of course her father gave in after she'd pleaded and all that," he snorted.

His jaw tightened again and he paued for a moment, attempting to gather his thoughts, which were swirling around his mind like the storm they'd just been in. "Long story short, after a few years of it I got tired of being her...companion...at night, after working the fields all day," he added softly. She'd know what would have taken place those nights. She wasn't stupid. "So I killed them. The whole family. Took a kitchen knife they left out. Gave her what she wanted, and when she fell asleep I killed her, then took out her parents," he explained, voice cold. It had felt good at the time. It shouldn't, but it had. Maybe that was what scared him the most....that he was exactly what society steriotyped him as.

"I found a small crew that was forming, and joined that. The captain was harsh, but fair. He taught me most of what I know now," he said. "He grew old, of course, and died two years ago. He's buried in the ocean, nearby the island we have one of out safe cities at. No one but Captains know exactly where they're at, to keep them secret. And safe. His first mate took over, but no one liked him. He was cruel, and the moment he started beating crew members, I decided I'd had enough of people treating others that way. So I killed him. They looked to me to be the leader after that, so....here I am," he finished with a shrug.

It was a heavy story...one he knew she'd have more questions about. But he didn't want her pity...that was one thing he didn't want to happen. He wasn't just some fragile thing, constantly getting into trouble he couldn't get out of. Letting people push him around. No....he got what he needed out of people, then he killed them if need be. He'd slept with that girl for so long because he needed to gain her trust enough for her to fall asleep without hiding the keys to the chain holding him to her bed. He'd learned the code to the Captain's safe before he killed him. "Oh, and I found out my mother is apparently a sea nymph so I'm not even fully human," he added with a snort. "As if I didn't have enough to manage already, then new powers started popping up like pimples," he added, finding it rather annoying in all honesty. They were helpful, but soemtimes they really just...sucked.

Sage had hummed softly with a slight nod in response to her first comment. It was a lot...and he hadn't origionally meant to spill it all on her at once. That had been b bit of an accident...like once he started he just couldn't stop. There were things he left out, of course...things he'd pushed so far down only a flashback or a nightmare could bring them back up. But it did feel good to talk to her, he supposed. Even if it was just a little bit-he could be honest with her, and now he knew she wouldn't judge him for the things he'd done.

"I became what I needed to be," he noted quietly. He hardly even recognized the fact that he'd said what instead of who, in his comment....he supposed after years of people saying pirates were no more than angry dogs you started to believe it, deep down in your soul. You could fight it all you wanted but....to a certain extent they were right. He was a murderer, a thief. He'd slept around. The calls of murderer, thief, slut....they all hit harder than he let on.

His mind had spiraled into it's own depths by then, a dark place shrouded by black clouds and whispers that sent a chill down his spine. When Jora spoke up again, it tore him from his thoughts though, and he blinked, breaking the sort of trance he'd found himself in and looking at her, offering a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. A nod. "You always were," he murmured, sort of just letting her know he was never upset with her for her father's decision. The man had made his choice, and while she couldn't have done anything to help Sage if it meant going against her father's wishes, she had done her best. He'd always be thankful for that.

Her words were nice, but he couldn't help nut not believe them. He wasn't strong....just because he'd fought tooth and nail to get out of the mud didn't mean he still wasn't covered in it. He still suffered from it all, more than he'd ever let on. The weight of hiding it all was crushing, and he found himself glad the girl was there to talk to. Even so, he didn't think he was as strong as she claimed he was. But he wasn't going to say that out loud....she'd argue. Tell him everything he'd done. But he hadn't done it to be strong. He hadn't been strong at the time. He wasn't strong now. Now, killing people was just...another chore that had to be done. A numbness always settled over him. He didn't care how many people he killed anymore. In fact, the adrenaline of a fight was the closest he could get to feeling alive. And that, perhaps, was the scariest thing of all.

But that was enough about him...he wanted to know what she'd been doing these past many years. How she'd handled things. "What about you," he asked, head cocking slightly. "How did you get all the way up the ranks like that?" Other than her father, of course....the man couldn't do everything. But there was also not much he couldn't do. And he had to admit he was a little scared of the man.

Jora watched Sage closely as he spoke, her eyes soft, the warmth in them unwavering. His words landed on her like a heavy storm, and she couldn’t help but ache for him. His silence spoke volumes too—how much he had buried under layers of walls, of armor. The subtle shifts in his tone, the way his gaze drifted for just a moment, like he was slipping into something darker. He didn't even realize he was doing it—didn’t realize how much he was still carrying.

Sage thought she saw him as strong. He thought she didn’t understand how much the weight of it all still crushed him, how deep the numbness ran. But she did understand, more than he could guess. Maybe she hadn’t experienced the exact same things, but she knew what it was to carry scars no one else could see. To feel the heavy pull of expectations. To hide behind a mask and pretend everything was okay when it was anything but.

When he looked at her and gave that faint, almost-shrinking smile, she couldn't shake the urge to reach out to him, to tell him it was okay. To remind him that the things he'd done to survive didn't make him what he feared—that he wasn’t just the things he’d been forced to do. But she knew he wouldn't hear it. Not yet. And for now, she was content with being here, silently understanding.

Her fingers flexed in her lap, a small movement that betrayed the ache she felt. She didn't know the right words to make him see what she saw in him. So she chose to stay in the quiet instead, letting his words settle, breathing alongside him in the heaviness.

When his next question came, it startled her a little. She wasn't expecting him to turn the focus back to her, though part of her had been waiting for it. Sage wasn’t one to linger on his own pain for too long. He wanted to know how she had made it up the ranks, how she'd gotten from being that same young girl she remembered, following her father’s orders, to the woman who stood before him now, with her own weight to carry.

Jora tilted her head slightly, considering his question. Her lips pressed together in thought, and she shrugged lightly, not wanting to come off as dismissive but also not sure how to answer in a way that wouldn’t make her sound like she was bragging. The truth was, she didn’t think she deserved the position she held. Not in the way some others would have. But Sage needed answers, so she’d give him what he wanted to hear, even if it was a little more truth than she normally shared.

“Well,” she began, her voice steady but softer than usual, “most of it was just... showing up when no one else would. There were a lot of people who wanted to see me fall, wanted me to be nothing more than my father’s daughter, to be overshadowed by his legacy. But I had to prove to them that I was more than that—that I could handle it on my own.” She met his gaze directly, her eyes not flinching. “I wasn’t just his shadow. I had to make sure I wasn’t.”

There was a slight edge to her voice now, a spark in the words she chose, as though she was still fighting for something even now, some scrap of herself she refused to let go of. She’d never been someone’s sidekick, no matter the blood she shared with her father. She had her own identity, even if it had taken years to carve it out.

“Most of it was just proving myself. And sometimes, that meant doing things no one else would. Not killing people or anything like that,” she added with a dry laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "But it meant being ruthlessly strategic. Getting my hands dirty when no one else wanted to." She paused, studying him for a moment, her expression softening. "I wasn't always the easiest to get along with, but I didn’t give up. That counts for something, right?"

She offered him a wry smile, hoping it wasn’t too forced. There was no use pretending it had all been smooth sailing. She knew her rise had come with its own price—and that price had often been her peace of mind. But Sage didn’t need to hear that now.

"What about you?" she asked, her tone shifting as she studied him carefully. "You’ve never really talked about the ship or your crew much. What keeps you going out there, Sage?"

Her gaze softened as she caught his eyes. There was something raw in the way he carried himself, something she hadn’t missed, and she couldn’t let him escape it just yet—not when there was more to be said, more he had to let out. "You’ve been through a lot. But I can tell there’s something more than just survival in you. I know you—there’s a reason you’re still here, still fighting. I just… want to know what it is."

Jora leaned back a little, letting him feel the sincerity in her words. She wasn’t pushing, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook, either. They’d shared this moment, both of them opening up in ways they hadn’t with anyone else. And if he was willing to listen to her, she wanted to know what had kept him going all these years.

"Is it the crew? The fight? Or something else?"

She didn’t know if he would answer her honestly, but she could see the depth behind his eyes—something more than just numbness, more than just anger or duty. She could see that, even if he couldn't.

Sage had noticed the girl's slight movement, and he did appreciate her knowing him well enough to just...be there. To support him rather than babble on about how he was strong or smart or....whatever else she could come up with. He wouldn't believe her, and she seemed to know that. He was thankful she understood, but that meant she'd been carring her own burdens too.

When she mentioned rising in the ranks was mostly just proving she wasn't her father, he nodded. He undestood that. When he first became Captain, it took the crew a while to realize he wasn't going to kill them. They began to understand he was there for them, in the end, and he didn't just kill needlessly. But sometimes it was necessary....and if he had to, he would not have any issues protecting his own.

"Well I'm proud of you," he murmured after a moment, meeting her gaze steadily. "You've done a lot for yourself, and that's something not a lot of people have the strength or courage to do," he added quietly. She'd come so far from the petite, little girl he'd known. However, she hadn't lost the kindness that had drawn him to her then, and was still drawing him towards her even now. That, maybe, was the most important thing of all.

He drew his lip into his mouth again when she asked what kept him going, and he shook his head slightly. He wasn't sure. He really wasn't...he didn't have much to cling to. He thought for a few moments, sighing after a small amount of time. "I suppose the crew, a little bit. If I give up they all bear the consequences," he noted. Some of those consequences would be dire....even fatal for many of his men. That wouldn't be fair to them. "I can't just abandon them, or this ship. It's been my home for a long time. The only true home I've ever had," he added, looking around his cabin at the way the board carried them safely above the waves and the soft candlelight flickering over maps and charts and various trinkets and such.

He was quiet for another moment before a dry chuckle escaped his lips. Perhaps there was a bitter tone to it too. "A bit of spite," he admitted. "They dried to tell me I wasn't worth anything, so I will hold this position as long as I live. I'll become something they fear." But those who'd hurt him the worst were dead, mostly. So even that didn't seem like the full truth.

He sort of stared ar his desk for another few moments before his jaw tightened as he sort of understood where he thought process was leading to. "I refuse to bow to anyone else," he noted softly. "I will not allow anyone to control me, or to control my men," he added, meeting her gaze fiercely, a dark fire spreading his his eyes and taking over his face. If he could see the look, he'd probably be a little scared. He was scared of what he was thinking, for sure. "I wouldn't mind death...being killed in a fight is honorable enough, if it's defending my home and family. But I refuse to allow anyone who has hurt me before to control my life. And they sure as hell can't take it from me, not unless I accept it."

Those comments had woken something in him....something he normally only felt in the heat of the battle. A fierce gaze had settled on his face, and his head was held high, despite everything he'd been through. Everything he'd mentioned. "If I stop fighting, I'm giving in. Bowing to their will again. And I will not let that happen." He spoke quietly now, but the power he knew he had carried sharply through the room. Not just as a person - a strong fighter and cunning Captain, but as a creature of magic, as wild and powerful as the sea itself. As unrelentless as the crashing waves which drowned so many.

"At the end of it all, they will know what it means to suffer," he added coldly. Maybe that was a bit much...a bit extreme. Maybe she'd hate him for it. But they were dangerous, and he was willing to be dangerous enough to stop them. Stop the evil they spread through their towns and cities. He didn't want a name for himself, or his crew....he didn't even want to be able to rejoin society. He wanted them to see they could not stop him. Could not hold him, no matter how hard they tried. They had forced him to his knees once, and now he would be the one to bring about their downfall.

Jora felt the weight of Sage’s words settling into the space between them, heavy and raw. She could see the fierce fire in his eyes, the kind of fire that had probably kept him alive in the worst of times. He was a man who had fought to carve out his place in the world—and now, it seemed, he was determined to hold onto it with everything he had.

Her chest tightened as he spoke about the ship being the only home he’d ever known. She could hear the unspoken meaning beneath his words—the idea that, in some ways, the crew and the ship were the only things left that mattered to him. The only things that had never betrayed him. The way he spoke of them, of this life, made her heart ache. She understood what it was like to have your world boiled down to a single thing—the thing that kept you tethered, the thing that kept you going, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

And yet, there was more to it. Sage had always been someone who thrived in the chaos, the wild uncertainty of the sea. He wasn’t just fighting for his crew or his ship—there was a deeper hunger in him, something darker. She saw it now, in the set of his jaw, the fire burning in his eyes.

She wasn’t afraid of that fire, not exactly, but she felt the bite of it—felt the heat of it in her own chest. The way he spoke about vengeance, about never bowing to those who had hurt him, made her pause. It wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about proving something. About them knowing that he wasn’t something to be forgotten, that he wasn’t someone who could be crushed.

It was a dangerous thing, that kind of resolve. And though Jora knew what it was like to carry the weight of past hurts, she couldn’t help but wonder—how far will this take you, Sage?

When his words turned colder, more calculating, she let her breath out slowly, her gaze never leaving his. She didn’t flinch at the darkness in his expression, but there was a weight in her chest, something heavy and tight. There was something she understood in what he was saying. The need for control. The refusal to bow. She could feel the pull of it, the same pull she’d felt herself when she’d risen through the ranks, when she’d pushed to prove she wasn’t just her father’s daughter.

But there was a difference in the way Sage spoke about it. A kind of finality, a conviction that chilled her.

"Sometimes," she said, her voice soft but steady, "the fight is the only thing that makes sense. The only thing that feels real." She shifted slightly in her seat, leaning forward a fraction, her gaze steady. "But… be careful, Sage." She hesitated, her thoughts racing. "You’re not just fighting to protect your crew, or to carve out your own place anymore. You’re fighting to make sure they never get the chance to hurt you again. And that’s a dangerous game."

Her lips pressed together for a moment, and she took a breath, her eyes flicking over him carefully. There was something raw in him, something that tugged at her own experiences—how easy it was to get caught up in that cycle of anger, of revenge, and lose sight of why you started fighting in the first place. She had seen it happen, over and over again. People who carried their pain until it consumed them. And she wouldn’t wish that on him.

"I'm not saying you're wrong for wanting to fight back," she continued, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "I get it. I really do. But just... don’t let it become the only thing that defines you." She met his gaze, her eyes soft but insistent. "You’re more than the battle. You’re more than the anger."

She paused, feeling the weight of the silence between them, her fingers lightly curling around the edge of her chair. There was a moment, just a flicker, where the walls between them seemed to thin, where she felt the rawness of his thoughts and emotions—where he wasn’t just the Captain, the fierce fighter, the one who’d survived the worst. He was Sage. The man behind the fire, the one who had fought to hold onto something, anything, in a world that wanted to take it from him.

She wasn’t sure if he’d hear her. But she had to say it, anyway.

"You don’t have to carry it all on your own," she said, her voice low, but firm. "You don’t have to fight everything—and you don’t have to fight forever. Let someone else in. Let me in, if you can."

There was a vulnerability in the way she said it, a part of her that feared he might pull away, but she wasn’t going to let him hide behind his armor forever. Not if he wanted to stay the person she knew him to be—the person she knew he was.

She could feel the weight of it all—her own burdens, his burdens—and yet, somehow, she still wanted to hold onto something else. Something more than just survival. Something that could burn as brightly as that fire inside him, without getting lost in it.

She let the words settle, watching him carefully. He had already told her he wasn’t the same man he used to be. Maybe, just maybe, he would listen.

Sage felt his face soften when the girl spoke up again. It was clear she was nervous....not scared of him, or what he might do, but scared for him. Of what he could do to himself "I know," he noted quietly. "I haven't reached the point where I don't plan out my actions," he added with a shrug. it was casual..one most people wouldn't really register with fighting. Killing, if it came down to it.

"I've learned, quickly, that this sort of thing could be dangerous. So I learned to harness it," he noted. Hopefully it would be reassuring to hear, at least in the sense that he wasn't letting it totally consume him. "It's not a wild anger, not any more. It's calculating. Not big, but sharp," he explained, a smile curbing his lips upwards. But it wasn't a happy one....it was probably a little creepy. "I don't strike with it often, but when I do it's quick and it's deadly," he noted.

At her next comments, he sort of offered her a more genuine smile. A small one, but it was something. It was all he could offer her. "I haven't found that part of me yet," he admitted softly. "I have a job to do, to protect this ship and the men on board it. That comes first, before anything for me." It was true...he wasn't sure who or what he was underneath all the coldness. The walls he'd built around himself to keep people out.

But here she was, already past most of those walls. It was scarier than anything he'd faced before... completely letting her in. But he sort of wanted to. He wanted someone to be able to have a relationship with, where he could talk about things. Where he could wake up panicked from a nightmare and have her there to calm him before he scratched his skin raw. He gave her a slight nod, letting her know he was letting her in. It was almost heasitant....it was nerve wracking, letting her in like that. But....maybe , just maybe it would be worth it.

A knock sounded on his door, so he called to come in. His first mate opened the door and walked in, nodding to him before speaking up. "The men are asking about rising rations back up to the normal now that we have more supplies," he explained, to which sage nodded. "Normal rations only," he noted. "Don't let them pig out or they'll wind up puking it all over to the fish," he added. The older man nodded and slipped back out, mentioning bringing sage and jora their share soon. "After the crew is taken care of," he reminded the man, who nodded, unsurprised. That was a normal occurrence.

When the first mate left, he sat back in his chair, mind whirling. He was all of a sudden just....very tired. The adrenaline of the fight had worn off, and their tense conversation had ended, and he knew they were all safe, and he wasn't going to bleed to death or anything....he was more than ready to go pass out in a corner. But that made him think about what to do with Jora. No doubt she wanted to sit and think too...she'd need a room. Or at the very least, a bed brought in here. Or...something.

He'd also have to figure out to get her back to her own ship...if that's what she wanted. He couldn't bring his own ship or crew even remotely close to her father's fleet...that was a death sentence for them all, and he couldn't do that. It wouldn't be fair. Wouldn't be right. He couldn't ask that of his crew. Besides, he wasn't sure he could see her father and not loose control. Because if the man said or did anything, his anger could bubble over, and he knew Jora loved the man, which was the only thing keeping him alive thus far. And he really didn't want to kill her father, especially not right in front of her.

"Why don't we get you a bed. Or a room," he noted after a moment, chewing on his lip as he though about what rooms might be open. "I can have soemone drag a bed in here....we could set up a curtain around you if need be...or we could empty out one of the storage rooms down in the belly of the ship," he sighed. "I'd prefer it if you stayed up here, it would be warmer and drier, and less noisy so easier to sleep, but it's your choice," he added with a shrug.

He didn't mind her staying in his own cabin...there was enough room, and he had to admit he found her company...nice. Refreshing. Even if most of their conversation had been hard so far. But he did want to catch up. Even just knowing she was there might help with the nightmares too...at least, he could hope.

He moved to light a cigarette after a moment, the leaves inside it leaving a slight smell around the room. He didn't exactly love the habit of smoking the plant, or the habit of drinking, but some days were just so chaotic he really couldn't help it. It calmed his mind a bit, and while he was already plenty tired enough, he wanted to make sure she got a bed and room, and was fed, before he just passed out somewhere.