the storm has finally passed, and aleksander’s breathing shifts from adrenaline plagued inhales to calm sighs of contentment. handing the wheel to his first mate, alek hangs his hat at the top of the stairs, runs a hand through thick, raven hair as he descends, nodding toward each crew member with an air of pride and satisfaction. this ship had been through generations of sea — induced trauma, and it never fails to keep aleksander and his loyal mates safe. it’s something he’s thankful for every day.
aging hands land on two brass handles, the captain heaving open double doors to his chambers, closing them behind him with a breath before turning. his intention is to climb into the captain’s chair, to take a moment for himself after steering his and his crew’s lives away from danger. instead, his eyes land on the porcelain — like, bare back of one elizabeth swann. what he can only assume are damp close begin to fall as he twists with great speed, averting his gaze to give her privacy. ‘excuse me, i... normally the crew changes in their quarters, not mine,’ he does not sound angry; only a bit sheepish ( perhaps slightly amused ). ‘had i thought someone was in here, i would have knocked. my apologies,’
🧦 : aleksander walks in on elizabeth changing clothes. @undred.
