[Tags to
@DaGlobster]
Isabeau hadn't slept in nearly two days.
She was pouring over the maps in her chart room, brow furrowed as she bent low over a small table, squinting in the faint light of the lantern she'd brought with her. It was late- or early, she honestly didn't know- but she couldn't make herself go to bed.
The last time they'd sailed through the straights they were coming up on she'd lost two good men to a massive storm. There
had to be a way around without going all the way back to the islands, there just ha to be...
With a soft, tired groan she slumped forward onto the table, her forehead thumping against the wood. The edges of the map curled up where she was no longer holding it and she sighed heavily.
Maybe she could use her magic? She was under no illusions that she was powerful enough to stop a storm in the middle of the ocean, but maybe if she could just coax it around them, or perhaps create a secondary eye as it were-
Wow. She was going to go crazy if she stayed in this room for a second longer. She needed sleep. The young captain groaned again and sat up, arching her back in a stretch. Joints stiff from hours spent in her hunched position, she rose creakily to her feet and grabbed the lantern, then made for the door.
Which was the moment the
Poison Storm must have hit a particularly large swell, because the ship suddenly rolled under her feet. While Isabeau kept her footing with the ease of long practice, one of the weather charts, rolled up in a leather case,
thunked off the table and rolled under her feet, sending her crashing onto her rear.
"Son of a-!" She didn't care
what time it was, a torrent of cursing loud enough to wake the dead suddenly poured out of her. She was
so done with today.