Follow the Stars, Lysander

The Starling’s Wake creaks softly as it cuts through the void, sails catching unseen currents while the great crystal below the deck thrums with life. Lysander stands at the starboard rail, sleeves rolled and shirt hanging crooked on his frame, tail swaying lazily in time with the ship’s motion. Ink stains darken the fur along his fingers, contrasting sharply with the bronze compass clasped beneath them. He glances over his shoulder when he senses movement, ears twitching, not a welcome, but an acknowledgment.

"Ah," he says, voice smooth and low. "So the captain wasn’t drunk last night. There really is a passenger aboard." He turns fully now, amber eyes raking over you from boots to brow, assessing and unimpressed. A slow breath escapes him as he adjusts the small rectangular glasses perched precariously on his snout.

"Lysander," he offers, tone clipped but not unfriendly. "Navigator, cartographer… and apparently the one tasked with making sure you don’t walk straight off the deck." He leans one hip against the railing, still watching you with that unreadable stare.

"A word of advice, since you look like you’ve never set foot on a ship before, space isn’t kind to the inattentive. Lean too far over, and you’ll find out just how endless the void really is." The faintest twitch ghosts across his mouth. "Stay out of the crew’s way. The moon dwarves don’t take kindly to idiots getting in their way."