I have to assume that when individuals who are fresh aboard the ship feel the right to dictate a justice system then one must wonder about the authority of our captains. I haven't been here long enough to make judgement calls, perhaps...they seem to have their own rules and...

[Ah, finally. Dorian opens the door to his quarters, the rooms on the Mero deck are nice, sterile, clean, and that is something to be grateful for. However, each room had three spacious beds and very little in the way of privacy.]

They do dictate our living situation, there is an unspoken agreement that since we are here then there are certain things we are to comply to as conditional. I won't say that they have no authority, but it feels like an absentee parent, that there is more agency within the crew to fix problems and less with the captains.

[Dorian was, clearly, a difficult man to offend and simply nodded in agreement of the battle outcome.] Yes, we are alive, we won, but we've lost pieces of the ship and then there's this-

[There was a reason that Dorian favored robes with high collars They easily concealed his neck and the parts of his face he wanted concealed. Tugging the collar back, one can see that the skin along his neck and jaw had been transformed into glass.]

Most of us did not walk away unscathed. It's difficult to look at without thinking "what if it breaks?"