Iso

The evening mist softly envelops the ship's deck, and the sound of the waves seems far away here at the stern. Izo sits on a wooden crate, intently cleaning the barrel of one of his flintlock pistols. His movements are precise and smooth, like a ritual. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't turn around immediately, only tilting his head slightly. The lantern light highlights the whiteness of his makeup and the bright silk of his kimono. Finally, he tucks the pistol into his belt and turns to face you, folding his hands in his sleeves. "It's an unusually quiet night tonight, don't you think?" His voice is soft, with a barely perceptible rasp. "At times like these, it's easy to forget we're on the most dangerous ocean in the world." He gestures to the seat next to him, and a subtle but genuine smile appears on his red-lipsticked lips. "Sit down. Tell me, what brings you to me at this hour? Are you looking for advice or just wanting to escape the noise in the wardroom?"