Mirrah's eyes snapped open. 'Snapped', Mirrah felt, seemed like an appropriate word since her eyes had opened as wide as they could. Normally the brightness of the sun would have made her dark-adjusted eyes flinch, but it hadn't in this case, as if the sun had been beating on her closed eyelids for a while now. It was perhaps the sun that made her eyes snap open, suddenly aware of the situation she was in. It was morning, no, later. Daytime regardless. Where had the night gone?

Mirrah pushed herself up, and in doing so, felt every sore muscle and stiff joint pop and groan. Mirrah, herself, let out a slight groan and dropped back into her cot. A cot. She was sleeping in a bed. There didn't seem to be a pillow but a blanket was laid over her. She ran her hands along the rough fabric, then surveyed the cot underneath her, moving only so far before feeling the wooden floors underneath. There was a ceiling above her too, a wooden one that reminded her exactly of the pirate ship only the floor was steady. For a second, Mirrah relished the feel of a still ground.

But what had happened? Mirrah remembered fighting with the Captain of the pirate ship, remembered seeing the harpoon sticking out of the deck. The Patrol ship had caught up to the pirates, so...was she rescued? For a moment, Mirrah would've convinced herself that she was rescued by Patrol until she quite vividly remembered falling over the rim of the ship. And hitting the water beneath. Mirrah couldn't remember any effort of swimming either.

Mirrah sat up this time, ignoring the pains of her muscles. A chill swamped her bare shoulders as the blanket dropped down to her waist. Only then did she notice how undressed she was, wearing only her undergarments and, well nothing else. Immediately Mirrah wrapped her arms around her, taking note of the open threshold, no door, and even worse as she swung her head beside her, the man laying in a cot right next to her.

Her face flushed a deep red, then went to a darker shade the moment she recognized the face as the pirate from before. No other thought ran through her head at that moment aside from Get the hell out of there! to the fleeting yet tempting thought of punching the pirate's face in for good measure, but the cool air pressing against so much of her skin was more alarming. Mirrah jerked herself to her feet, losing balance for a split second and catching herself on a nearby table. The clanging of various bowls and pens clouded the room, making Mirrah freeze where she stood, staring at the prone body still laying in the cot, watching only the soft rise and fall of his chest. She maintained that position for a good ten seconds, making sure the racket she was making wasn't waking the pirate. Or more importantly, wasn't waking the pirate to look at Mirrah and her embarrassing state.

And yet even as those ten seconds passed, the silence aiding in clearing her head, Mirrah began to notice her environment. A single bedroom, wooden walls with a wide open window on one side where the soft sunlight had been shining down on Mirrah's face. The scenery outside had changed drastically from the ocean view she had grown accustomed too. It looked like there were mountains on all sides, a sliver of water peeking from behind a cliff in the distance. Heavy fog sunk in in the valleys of the mountains, contrasted by a clear blue sky above. Mirrah shook her head. Was she dreaming?

The interior was much darker compared to the brightness of outside. The corners seemed shrouded in black. Bookshelves lined the walls. It looked like tables and desks had been moved aside to make room for both Mirrah and the pirate, but what was on the tables chilled Mirrah down to the bone. Various vials and jars, some empty, others filled with a green liquid and corked at the tight lid, held what looked like dead critters or parts of larger animals. Bowls lay scattered on the tabletop, some with a pestle laying inside. And hanging at the exposed walls, much to Mirrah's terror, were various instruments of what looked like surgery. Varying scalpels of varying sizes, knives and needles. Half of the items Mirrah had no idea what they were and didn't care to know. It only aided in Mirrah's determination to get the hell out of there.

There was, laying on a chair and neatly folded, a collection of Mirrah's clothes, the clothes she borrowed while in disguise and a set of other clothes she could only surmise as the sleeping pirate's. Her face grew red again at the thought that the man in the cot could've been as under-dressed as she was, but easily ignored that as she quickly buttoned her shirt and slipped into her jacket. Mirrah was already feeling a great deal better, but as she swung her head around to look for her gauntlet, she found it hovering the air.

At first Mirrah wasn't sure what to believe. Her gauntlet was floating. Floating. Just hovering there in midair in the dark corner of the room. As if it were possessed by spirits. Surprisingly, Mirrah hadn't reacted. It figures as much, every muscle in her body was still sore and aching for more sleep. Upon closer inspection, she noticed black shadowy tendrils curling up underneath the gauntlet, virtually indistinguishable from the shadows around. The gauntlet twitched forward the slightest bit. Mirrah flinched, but didn't step back.

Instead, she moved forward, toward the dark corner and reached out for her gauntlet. Her gauntlet didn't retreat from where it was hovering. In fact, it moved forward, easing itself into Mirrah's open hand. For a split second, Mirrah fancied that someone was holding it out for her, a thought that grew more confident as the weight of the gauntlet dropped into her open hand.

Standing where she was, without any light to darken the shadows, Mirrah thought she could make out a hand that was now retreating back to the dark. As she looked longer and her eyes adjusted to the lack of light here, Mirrah could make out an even darker shadow within the shadow, pitch black and, without a doubt, the shadowy hand belonged to. It looked like a figure standing there. Watching Mirrah.

Mirrah took a step back down, eyes still locked on the figure standing in the shadows. It didn't move to follow her nor did it seem to mean any danger to Mirrah. It didn't react when Mirrah strapped the gauntlet back on her left hand, didn't flinch even as she moved towards the doorway. It just stood where it was and watched and Mirrah, in turn, didn't take her eyes off of it. She kept her eyes locked on the shadowy figure, even as she passed through the doorway.