She was out of place on the deck in the placidity of the languid loungers and the sunny glimmering overhead amongst an idyllic sprawl of blue behind endless clouds. Sin was an omen, foreboding and nebulous, threatening to pull anyone close into uncertain existence. A macabrely beautiful contrast: the woman's intention was meditation.

There was no actual silence — the princess of Frosthall felt the cadence of the waves resonate deep into her bones. It invigorated her. The headiness of the moment diffused, Silk’s answer hanging off her lips while it fully formulated. “I’m hopeful for much out here but speaking in candor, I’m only out here in a moment of selfishness.”

A blanket of sable and accents of argent veiled the Baskerville when Silk went in search of the deck and its sanctuary.

Slumber evaded the dragonsoother often, a game of chase she'd never end up as the victor. The only downfall of this predicament resulted in a steadily growing weariness she could not shed; otherwise, the silence and stillness of the ship taunted her from her cabin and towards her favorited spot on the deck.

"I have news, though, I am compelled to believe you already had a notion of such," she greets Lothar, words carry the ever present fallacious dormancy to them, while she continues to cast a cryptic gaze out onto the waters. Slivers of moonlight land upon Joyeuse, illuminate the halcyon figure in a bath of resplendent pearl over a crown of pacified embers.

It's only after three more sisters swarm around the castle, much more docile and subdued in comparison to the surly blaze, Aurely wondered how often Lady Hightower prayed to the Mother for salvation. Around her eighth year she vows since no one seems content with her presence she will only ever find contentment in her own company. No one would be able to overshadow her if she were alone, but distinctly not lonely.