( Prior to this world, Emilia had never been on a ship — except, that's not quite right, is it? When she was a child, she accompanied her grandmother to Northern Italy. To visit a friend, is what Nonna Maria had said. They must've disembarked from a ship then. She just really can't remember.
All she can remember is a little cabin deep in a frozen wood, and a plume of silver smoke twisting into the skies. Whenever her eyes close, she is gifted with some nightmare or other. A fickle memory she has no context for. And the building frustration of yet another faulty beacon keeping them here.
Better to keep busy, you see. To keep moving, in what ways she can while they're at sea.
Emilia keeps her guard up at all times, so she hears Viktor before he makes his presence known. The intent focus in her expression shifts somewhat to seem a little less unwelcoming. Her smile is small, but sincere. ) In a manner of speaking. I'm making candles.
( It looks innocent enough to the unknowing, and smells more pleasant than anywhere else on the ship. )
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All she can remember is a little cabin deep in a frozen wood, and a plume of silver smoke twisting into the skies. Whenever her eyes close, she is gifted with some nightmare or other. A fickle memory she has no context for. And the building frustration of yet another faulty beacon keeping them here.
Better to keep busy, you see. To keep moving, in what ways she can while they're at sea.
Emilia keeps her guard up at all times, so she hears Viktor before he makes his presence known. The intent focus in her expression shifts somewhat to seem a little less unwelcoming. Her smile is small, but sincere. ) In a manner of speaking. I'm making candles.
( It looks innocent enough to the unknowing, and smells more pleasant than anywhere else on the ship. )