Battles with other ships are not rare for The Sentinel, really. Pirates have their reputation for a reason, after all.
But it is less so a human foe that they are to face today—not an unliving threat, mind, for, to claim that the sea herself is not alive is nigh blasphemy—than it is one of Great Nature Above.
These fights are not unwinnable, and rarely lengthy, and while they demand high work and attention, they are also easy to spot on the horizon—easy to prepare for, despite their fearsomeness and fright.
They often go like this:
The day will turn dark as night, and the clouds overhead will hang oppressively low and heavy. The waves will grow wider and taller, and cap themselves in white. The wind will whip their sails erratically, take their carefully aimed position and ignore the charted course, ignore the fools who attempted harness it, and bend them to its will, instead.
Some sirens prefer not to catch storms on the surface, and instead wait them out in the deep, unaffected waters, below the rolling of the waves.
Such sirens are not disdained in the eyes of The Sentinel’s crewmates. They see no reason to raise judgement against their fellows in the sea.
But they do find themselves at odds with the notion of waiting out a storm. For, why should they wait it out?
When they could feel— alive— electric— invincible— instead?
So, battles are not rare for The Sentinel, indeed. But when they do fast approach on the untouchable skyline, excited smiles pass from crewmate to crewmate— although none are so eager as their Captain themself.
A drumming of thunder pounds in the distance, and Captain Vedette’s mouth curls into daring-do.
“Be ready, mates. Adventure’s on her way, and she’s fast a-comin’.”