After all that talk, the three of them sat in silence for a while, the conversation having burned itself out. Words had turned into quiet not uncomfortable, but heavy in its own way.
The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, stretching long streaks of orange and crimson across the sky. The golden light danced faintly across the ship's deck, glinting on the metal railings and dark wood, reflecting over the calm waters that surrounded them.
No one spoke. The mood had settled.
Levy leaned back lazily on his chair, spinning an apple core idly between his fingers, still stealing side glances at Razeal every now and then like he wasn't sure if another strange question was going to come out of him. Maria, meanwhile, stayed quiet, her eyes turned toward the horizon, her face unreadable.
