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Mentions/Interactions: Ezekiel [@helo]

She led him with graceful ease, her stride fluid, the kind of effortless confidence that made her movements feel more like a glide than a walk. Her presence was magnetic in that quiet, unspoken way—like candlelight in a still room. She didn't try to charm, yet there was something undeniably alluring about her: the softness of her voice with that ever so faint rasp that adds eccentricity, the way her gaze lingered a heartbeat too long, how her fingers trailed lightly along the rail as they descended the next flight of stairs.

They walked down a narrow, lesser-used corridor that curved toward a maintenance stairwell—one of the many veins in the ship’s vast body that most passengers never even glanced at. The buzz of life above faded, replaced by the ship’s pulsing heart: the hum of arcane engines, the faint hiss of pressure valves, the creak of wooden bones with metal joints.

Finally, she paused beside a closed hatch. She turned to face him fully, her voice lower now, almost intimate.

[color=firebrick]“There are two people in the cargo hold. A man and a woman.”[/color] Her eyes searched his face, and something like vulnerability passed through her expression. [color=firebrick]“They’re very sick. Fevers. Coughing blood. Too weak to move.”[/color]

She hesitated, just enough to seem unsure, then looked down briefly before continuing.

[color=firebrick]“They’re not on the manifest. Stowaways.”[/color] She glanced back up, voice soft, confessional. [color=firebrick]“That’s why I haven’t gone to the ship’s medics. I’m afraid if I report them, they’ll be thrown off at the next port or left to die in a locked room. But if someone like you… someone with healing hands and no need to judge… were to help them quietly…covertly”[/color]

She let the implication hang, unfinished.

Her eyes held his again. No flicker of deception. No twitch of guilt. Only that same unnerving stillness, cloaked in certainty.

[color=firebrick]"Please...they are my parents.[/color] [/color]