Stavanger Bay Where is your rider

Smokestep shrugged and cast a frown at his First Mate that seemed to carry a weight with it. Perhaps she was right in saying he was doing a disservice to the crew. Perhaps she’d have been a better Captain than he would ever hope to dream. And perhaps still there was a chance he could improve himself beyond the idolization of The Banshee and rule his claim as a good Captain should. Smokestep would likely never know these things. He’d set himself in a mindset that was far too difficult to shed. There was a rut that had worked it’s way down through the earth and into the depths, and it had swallowed him whole. There was no sun where the young pirate dwelled. He could not see the light that she posed to him. Saddening but true, Smokestep had lived a life far too close to this mark of ‘never good enough,’ and it was there he would likely remain. 

Roz made mention that his threats would not be what kept her in the ranks of his crew. The pale ghost regarded her with a building frustration, but he was reminded that there had been others who had come and abandoned their beautiful home, and there would likely be many more. Still, he aimed to show that his word was his bond. Smokestep did not know what his future held. He did not know the turmoil that would send him scouting across earth and see, but he knew that his law would be his bond. If he were to falter on that, there would be nothing left of him. “Aye... I understand. I can’t say ye would be forgiven for such an act. We’re all held to the same bond, you and I the same. But I’d hope ye’ll stick ‘round fer wots to come.” 

He lacked the strength to fight the point with her any longer. His gaze fell from her and sought the waters with a need to connect to it. After a moment, the young Captain rose and left their talking place with a heavy burdening soul.