[Below deck wasn't the best place for Cloud to be stowed. They tossed him somewhere like a piece of cargo. It was cramped and it was dark where they put him, and there was that awful, swaying sensation of being aboard ship, combined with the terrible feeling that the walls were closing in on him.
He was a country boy from the mountains, and the closest he'd come to "sea legs" were maybe a couple of crab legs he'd had once eaten at a festival banquet at which the guards were allowed to try some of the household's better food. So by the time the commander made her way down, he was suffering from both motion sickness and claustrophobia, both of which he was fortunate enough to be prone to. Again, lucky him. He looked decidedly green, but fortunately, he'd managed not to be sick in spite of his overwhelming nausea.
The thought that these pirates were probably going to kill him didn't make him feel any better. If he somehow survived this ordeal, he was never helping anyone again, ever. Especially not a pretty girl.
In spite of the pain and anxiety he was wracked with, he sat up straight and tried to maintain as brave an air as he could, drawing on an as-yet-untapped reserve of strength and will within him. He may have looked seasick, but at least he was courageously seasick. If he were going to die, he'd try to do so with dignity. He looked up at the commander as she approached.]
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He was a country boy from the mountains, and the closest he'd come to "sea legs" were maybe a couple of crab legs he'd had once eaten at a festival banquet at which the guards were allowed to try some of the household's better food. So by the time the commander made her way down, he was suffering from both motion sickness and claustrophobia, both of which he was fortunate enough to be prone to. Again, lucky him. He looked decidedly green, but fortunately, he'd managed not to be sick in spite of his overwhelming nausea.
The thought that these pirates were probably going to kill him didn't make him feel any better. If he somehow survived this ordeal, he was never helping anyone again, ever. Especially not a pretty girl.
In spite of the pain and anxiety he was wracked with, he sat up straight and tried to maintain as brave an air as he could, drawing on an as-yet-untapped reserve of strength and will within him. He may have looked seasick, but at least he was courageously seasick. If he were going to die, he'd try to do so with dignity. He looked up at the commander as she approached.]