[ The ship swayed in the choppy winds left behind by the storms that rocked them from the night prior well into mid-morning. More than a few of their number - the ones less accustomed to air-slash-sea travel - were left green-gilled from the motion and you couldn't pass a deck without the now familiar sight of at least one poor soul bent over the side, bidding farewell to their dinner.
Finn was lucky. Being tossed through the air was old hat for him - impressive, when you consider just how attached this kid (this man, very nearly) was to old hats. Only those memories, of soft comfortable fur and familiar dog stink weren't bringing their usual comfort. Something in him felt yellow and green.
Soul-nausea, that's what Jake called it. Finn sighs, running a hand through his hair and accidentally pulling a few strands out of his already loose braid. Maybe he was sick after all. Finn finds Yujin in the the belly of the ship, reading a book. He looked a thousand years old to Finn, gray hairs cast orange in the candlelight. It didn't make sense; seeing the way Jake carried on with him, you'd think they were peers. But Jake wasn't that old, was he?
This line of thought kept Finn hesitating at the door for a few moments, unsure of how to start, when Yujin looks up. The sudden eye contact startles Finn, who promptly ducks out of view in the wall behind the door frame. An instinctual reflex that immediately sends Finn's entire body cringing inward like he'd just given the Earl of LG a big juicy kiss. Wh-y did you do that, Finn!? You're being so weird!
He takes a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut in hope. Maybe he didn't see.
Please don't say anything, please don't say anything- ]
[While Yujin is no stranger to travel by ship, sailing through the air is another experience entirely. He's not afraid of heights-- he even enjoys the broad vistas above the clouds-- but sometimes, glancing out a porthole and seeing nothing but the open air can be a bit... much.
Luckily for Yujin, he's on the Hawking. Most of this ship's crew are bookworms. It's not unusual for him to spend most of his free time reading below deck. It's expected enough, in fact, that the whole time he's been here, he's only ever been disturbed by an orber. So, when he hears the sound of a floorboard creaking near the doorway of the sleeping quarters, he glances up immediately: it could be something important.
Instead, he sees a split-second of messy blonde hair... then nothing. Yujin blinks, puzzled, and shuts his book.]
Hello? [And then, a pause: he doesn't know a whole lot of blondes, does he?] ...Finn?
[You're out of luck, Finn. Yujin doesn't just sit up in his hammock, he gets out of it entirely, craning his neck in an attempt to peer past the doorframe.]
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Backdated to the Hawking, pre-jake departure
Finn was lucky. Being tossed through the air was old hat for him - impressive, when you consider just how attached this kid (this man, very nearly) was to old hats. Only those memories, of soft comfortable fur and familiar dog stink weren't bringing their usual comfort. Something in him felt yellow and green.
Soul-nausea, that's what Jake called it. Finn sighs, running a hand through his hair and accidentally pulling a few strands out of his already loose braid. Maybe he was sick after all.
Finn finds Yujin in the the belly of the ship, reading a book. He looked a thousand years old to Finn, gray hairs cast orange in the candlelight. It didn't make sense; seeing the way Jake carried on with him, you'd think they were peers. But Jake wasn't that old, was he?
This line of thought kept Finn hesitating at the door for a few moments, unsure of how to start, when Yujin looks up. The sudden eye contact startles Finn, who promptly ducks out of view in the wall behind the door frame. An instinctual reflex that immediately sends Finn's entire body cringing inward like he'd just given the Earl of LG a big juicy kiss. Wh-y did you do that, Finn!? You're being so weird!
He takes a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut in hope. Maybe he didn't see.
Please don't say anything, please don't say anything- ]
no subject
Luckily for Yujin, he's on the Hawking. Most of this ship's crew are bookworms. It's not unusual for him to spend most of his free time reading below deck. It's expected enough, in fact, that the whole time he's been here, he's only ever been disturbed by an orber. So, when he hears the sound of a floorboard creaking near the doorway of the sleeping quarters, he glances up immediately: it could be something important.
Instead, he sees a split-second of messy blonde hair... then nothing. Yujin blinks, puzzled, and shuts his book.]
Hello? [And then, a pause: he doesn't know a whole lot of blondes, does he?] ...Finn?
[You're out of luck, Finn. Yujin doesn't just sit up in his hammock, he gets out of it entirely, craning his neck in an attempt to peer past the doorframe.]
Everything all right, lad?