Captain Quinton Church sat at the small, worn desk in his quarters, the rhythmic creaking of The Silver Wing providing a familiar soundtrack to his thoughts. The cabin was dimly lit by fact that the sun had not yet been able to pierce through the windows as it rose on the other side of the ship, its flickering light casting shadows on the weathered maps and charts that adorned the walls. Quinton’s hand, calloused from years of steering ships through treacherous waters, held the quill with a firm but steady grip. The inkpot beside him was nearly empty, a testament to the many letters he had penned to the guild over the years.

As he began to write, his posture was upright, shoulders squared, embodying the disciplined and steadfast nature that had earned him respect among his crew and the guild alike. His words were precise, each stroke of the quill purposeful, reflecting the captain’s nature. He detailed the crew's latest endeavors, the successful delivery of goods was on schedule, and so far the passengers were admirable in their calm manners. He mentioned the upcoming restock at the guild's outpost, ensuring that all necessary supplies would be accounted for upon their arrival.

Quinton paused for a moment, his steely gaze lingering on the parchment. He was a man of few words when it came to his communication with the Guild, preferring his simple actions over lengthy discourse, but when he wrote to the guild, he chose his words carefully. He knew the weight his reports carried, not just for the crew but for the reputation of The Silver Wing. Satisfied with the content, he signed his name with a flourish, the ink drying quickly in the salty sea air.

He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, and reread the letter one last time. It was a reflection of the man himself—direct, unembellished, and resolute. Folding the parchment neatly, he sealed it with the ship's crest, a silver wing against a deep blue background.

Quinton set the letter aside, ready for dispatch at their next port. With a final glance at the desk, he stood and moved toward the cabin door, his mind already shifting to the next task at hand, the responsibilities of a captain never far from his thoughts. One thing in particular was eating at him and it was the woman named Brooks whom he had met the night before they left. Since her joining the voyage he had been unable to spend much time with her. In normal situations this would be fine; however, with her medical skills he wanted to make a good impression on her. 

Instead of being able to simply make her stay more comfortable he was finding it difficult to approach her. A part of this had to do with his way of reading people. He was not oblivious and could tell that she was stressed more often than not. Or at least worried. He figured at first this might have been her first voyage on a ship, but even that didn't seem to be the whole picture. Earlier he had brought this up with his leadership and only his Quartermaster seemed to carry any meaning ful advice. 'Perhaps Captain should offer to escort her on our resupply trip? She may just want her feet on land?' he had mentioned though even he was acting with something close to his chest. 

It did help the Captain make up his mind though. He decided to act on this advice and set out from his cabin with the letter being tucked into his inside jacket. Once out on the main deck he scanned the ship and saw that she was standing near Sabrina who had seemed to made friends with the woman. Walking up to her and made sure to do so from the side she was facing so he would see her approaching. This made him take a slightly awkward route, but soon enough he was standing in front her her with Sabrina as an audience member. "Lady Brooks I was hoping you could accompany me when we make anchor when we resupply a guild lighthouse."

He then in a somewhat uncharacteristic manner seemed embarrassed. It had taken him a moment to realize what this might have looked like to people and quickly realized the wrong rumors could start if he didn't do something to contextualize it. "Of course I am hoping to escort you to some of the nearby fields to find some herbs. We have a book, but I think gathering some examples could be helpful in the future." He then smiled as if he was a child who had just solved a problem everyone already knew the solution too. A bit of rose was still clear on his cheeks as he waited for an answer.