Then waved her off as if she were nothing more than drifting smoke.
"Go bother someone else. I don't have time to argue with a brat."
Kaelira's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Brat?"
Aldric had already turned away.
"Get lost."
For a moment, it looked as though she might push it further.
Then she simply clicked her tongue.
"Rude."
And moved on.
Draven sat a short distance away, as always—quiet, still, and unmoving. His gaze remained fixed forward, a bottle resting loosely within reach but still untouched.
Kaelira approached him anyway.
No hesitation this time.
She stopped beside him and held out a drink bottle.
"I brought you this."
A brief pause.
Draven's eyes shifted to her.
Then to the bottle.
He took it without a word.
Kaelira's expression softened just slightly, as if that alone confirmed what she needed to know.
"Thought so."
She lingered for half a second longer, then continued walking.
The pilot spotted her immediately.
"Oh—finally!"
Kaelira tossed him a large bag without ceremony.
He caught it with one arm while still steering the ship with the other.
"Ahh, beautiful," he said dramatically, already digging inside. "The savior returns. The legend. The—"
"Don't start," Kaelira cut in, popping open her own drink.
She leaned against a nearby console while the pilot rummaged through the food as if he hadn't eaten in days—which, judging by his earlier complaints, wasn't far from the truth.
"If you were really starving," she added casually, taking a sip, "you wouldn't have enough energy left to talk that much. Or sing."
The pilot paused mid-bite.
Then looked at her properly for the first time.
"You know," he said, squinting slightly, "you don't look that old to be drinking. How old are you, anyway?"
Kaelira lowered the bottle slightly.
A brief pause.
Then she shrugged.
"Twenty-seven."
The pilot blinked.
"…Twenty-seven?"
Kaelira nodded.
"Mm."
She took another sip as if it meant nothing.
"To my race, I'm still considered pretty young."
The pilot stared at her for a moment, then gestured vaguely with a half-eaten piece of food.
"Yeah, but to humans you're—"
He stopped himself, clearly reconsidering how that sentence would end.
Kaelira's eyes narrowed faintly.
"…I'm what?"
The pilot coughed.
"Nothing."
From the side, Aldric's voice cut in without even looking over.
"Don't finish that sentence if you value your remaining teeth, you freak."
The pilot immediately nodded.
"Understood."
Kaelira leaned back slightly, unimpressed.
"Coward."
The control deck settled into a brief, uneasy quiet again—broken only by the pilot chewing far too enthusiastically and the steady hum of the ship climbing through the skies.
Kaelira took another drink, glancing once toward Draven.
Then, with a small, satisfied exhale, she stayed right where she was.
Aldric's eyes flicked sideways the moment he heard the bottle cap open again.
He didn't even turn his head at first.
Then, slowly—
"I thought I said," he began flatly, "that you shouldn't touch the booze."
Kaelira paused mid-sip.
Then casually swallowed.
"What? This?"
She lifted the bottle slightly, as if inspecting it for defects.
"It's just a drink."
Aldric finally looked at her properly.
That calm, irritated look of his wasn't there anymore.
It was colder.
Sharper.
"No," he said. "It's not 'just a drink.'"
Kaelira waved a hand dismissively.
"Oh, relax. It's not like I—"
The air changed.
Subtly at first.
Like the ship itself had noticed something and gone still.
Then—
Pressure.
Not physical at first. Not quite.
It pressed into the room like an invisible weight settling over everyone's shoulders.
Kaelira's words stopped halfway.
Her ears twitched.
Her tail stilled.
Aldric hadn't moved.
But something behind his gaze had.
A thin thread of mana leaked outward from him—controlled, restrained, but unmistakably dangerous.
Killing intent.
Not wild. Not explosive.
Precise.
Directed.
It didn't flare like a burst.
It settled.
Like a blade being placed gently against the throat of the room.
The pilot, still chewing, slowly stopped mid-motion.
"…Uh."
The food in his mouth suddenly felt like a very poor life choice.
Kaelira blinked once.
Then slowly lowered the bottle.
"Oh," she said softly.
Aldric's voice stayed level.
"I don't know what part of 'don't touch it' was confusing."
Kaelira lifted both hands slightly, trying to ease the tension.
"Okay, okay. I get it. You're sensitive about your supplies."
That earned her a sharper glance.
The pressure tightened a fraction.
Not enough to injure.
Enough to warn.
"Sensitive?" Aldric repeated.
Kaelira's grin flickered—still there, but less certain now.
"I mean—look, I didn't think it was that serious."
Aldric leaned back slightly in his seat.
"You're on a ship full of unknowns, a cultist, and whatever else, and your first instinct is to start drinking unidentified supplies?"
Kaelira opened her mouth—
Then closed it again.
Aldric continued, voice flat.
"If I tell you not to touch something, then you don't touch it."
Silence stretched.
The pressure in the room remained.
Not increasing.
Not fading.
Just present.
Kaelira exhaled slowly through her nose.
"…Fine."
A beat.
"I get it."
She held the bottle up slightly, then lowered it completely.
"No more drinking."
Aldric stared at her for a moment longer.
Then, slowly, the oppressive mana in the room receded.
Like a tide pulling back.
The pilot immediately exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for a full minute.
"Okay," he muttered. "That was… intense."
Kaelira rolled her shoulders once, trying to shake off the lingering pressure.
Then glanced at Aldric again.
"You didn't have to do the whole… death aura thing."
Aldric picked up his bottle again.
"I didn't."
A pause.
Then, dryly:
"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have time to complain about it."
Kaelira stared at him.
"…Noted."
Then, quieter, almost under her breath:
"Still dramatic."
Aldric didn't respond.
But the look he gave her said he had heard it perfectly fine.
Aldric took another slow drink from the bottle, eyes half-lidded as the control deck settled back into its usual hum.
The pilot had already resumed eating like a starving animal.
Kaelira leaned against the console again, quieter now after the warning.
Draven remained exactly as before—silent, unmoving, detached from all of it.
And somehow…
that only made Aldric more irritated.
His gaze drifted briefly toward Kaelira again.
The wolf girl noticed immediately.
"…What?"
Aldric clicked his tongue softly.
"Shut up."
But internally—
Unbelievable.
Another one.
Another stray.
Another annoying bastard dragged onto this flying disaster for no sane reason whatsoever.
First the cultist.
Then the pilot.
Now this beastkin brat was casually drinking in the control deck and calling Draven "Master" every few seconds like she belonged here.
Aldric closed his eyes briefly.
The longer this ship flew, the worse it got.
It was almost impressive.
Every time they stopped somewhere, they somehow picked up either:
— a problem
— a lunatic
— or someone emotionally unstable enough to voluntarily stay aboard.
His eyes opened again slowly.
Kaelira was now talking to the pilot about something completely pointless while casually swinging her tail behind her chair.
The pilot was laughing.
Actually laughing.
Aldric looked deeply offended by the entire scene.
"…Why the hell are they getting so comfortable already?" he muttered.
The cultist glanced toward him calmly.
"Because they are."
"That's not what I meant."
"You dislike seeing others happy."
"I dislike idiots."
Kaelira immediately pointed at him from across the room.
"He's talking about me again."
"Yes," Aldric answered instantly. "Openly."