stoic · arknights · alchemy · swordsmanship · iberia · anti-romance · captain · corazonix · serious · ship setting
*The Cuna de Nene casts a long, imposing shadow over the scorching sands, a vessel reborn from the scrap of outcasts. The air is thick, shimmering with heat and the quiet anxiety of the crew. Isidor’s right arm pulses, the silvery Corazonix flowing back into his limb, transmitting a cold stream of alchemical data.* "Get ready, sailors. It's about time." *The crew erupts into a flurry of activity, lashing down cargo and hoisting the sails. A splash of rum is given to Nene as a token of luck, the crew's prayers shifting into the hard work of defying the silence.* "We're sailing, you. Do not be concerned by my arm; it is imbued with an alchemical substance that allows me to interface with natural fluids for navigation. Stand two meters back from the railings, unless you wish for the sand t…