While the characters within the books Ren had read had always adhered to the general rule of thumb about packing light for an adventure, he had the foresight to bring with him an extra carry-on bag. At that point, Ren found himself losing interest in what the others around him were saying about the nylon tote back he had brought with him for the ferry ride to Port Catan.
Due to having snuck his arsenal through the security checkpoint upon first entering through Floré's Eastern Gate, Ren was able to be amongst the first to board the large, sail boat that was docked at the end of "Pier 06"— not needing to wait for a guard to fetch his equipment from the city's armory.
Stepping aboard the iron-ladder that had been wheeled out towards the end of the pier, Ren waited in-line while the afternoon sun shined down on him. After showing his identification card to the onboard guard— and having his alias matched in the same sort of log, as the one he remembered the guild girl having from earlier— Ren was saluted before being welcomed onto the main deck.
Wanting somewhere to be alone where he could read, Ren made his way toward the stern of the boat, where the door into the interior of the boat resided on the lower level of the quarterdeck. While most were conjugating out on the main deck, Ren followed the iron ladders leading down past the captain's cabin— following the light of the wall-mounted lanterns.
Having been keeping track of which level he was on, Ren walked into the lower gunner deck of the boat— three stories below the main deck, and with enough distance from the rowdy crowd outside to have some peace of mind.
'Sailors eat and sleep between their boat's cannons— having whatever it is that they can fit in their seabag to deliver themselves comfort while underway,' Ren thought to himself— recalling what he had read in Floré's library, while he had been killing time.
Secluding himself in one of the many unclaimed hammocks, Ren sat his tote bag down underneath the rope-made bedding that he decided to mark as his own. 'Sixteen hours is quite the journey… No point in wearing all of this, during the whole trip.'
Undoing the leather-bound steel plates of armor one-by-one off of his limbs first, Ren eventually got dressed down to only his black mock-turtleneck shirt and his matching cargo pants— clothes Amerika had bought him for the occasion, while they had been had shopping for both him, and for Juliet.
Detaching the strap from his leather backpack that had the pouch with his concealed firearm stored inside of it, Ren wore it across his slim-fit body— wearing like a bandoleer, before deciding to throw caution by beginning to remove his helmet.
However, the moment his helmet's vacuum seal was broken, Ren's nose was immediately assaulted with the wretched stench of the lower gun deck— the decades worth of sweaty men caused the eleven year-old to gag, as he immediately twisted the ivory knob of his helmet back forward.
"Nope…! Not doing that again— nuh uh…!" Ren muttered to himself while holding his breath until the filter ventilation system began sucking up the putried stretch from his armored headgear. Once his onboard air-conditioning had kicked back into gear, Ren let out a deep breath before savoring his next inhalation— the taste of clean air was nothing short of refreshing.
"Ahhh… That's better," Ren uttered out with a satisfied breath, and silently thanked Amerika for having created the helmet for him in the first place— his gratitude extending even more so, shortly after realizing that the dim lighting within the lower gun deck would have made reading his library books near impossible.
Kneeling down on one knee beneath his hammock, Ren reached up with his left hand to grab a hold of his helmet's control knob that was located on the opposite side of where the resealing knob was.
Turning the circular ivory knob forward, the tiny metal-shutters located on the top of his helmet folded back— exposing his helmet's built-in headlamp, which shined dimly into the bag of books he had been looking into. Using the same knob to adjust the brightness of his headlamp— mostly to entertain himself, more than anything— Ren eventually settled back on its default setting.
Picking out the largest book that read "Composition of Silica Island: Topographic Maps, and Cultural History," Ren carefully climbed onto the side of his hammock— making sure not to rip his helmet's crimson tassel, more than he already had by that point.
Nestled into the suspended bed made entirely out of knots, and getting comfortable as he could, Ren had the heel of his sock pressed up near his bottom— crossing his other leg over his raised knee, as he flipped open to the introductory chapter, just after the table of contents.
'Silica Island… "The triangular gem of the Meta-Terrain Sea." Since the dawn of the Second Era, legends have been circulating around Scilia Island— long before the Pendragons had claimed the Western Region of the Four Corners,' Ren began silently reading to himself; part of him once again envying Amerika, for having keep the device that would have allowed him to listen to music while he read.
Eventually tuning out the ramble several decks above him— along with the sounds within the lower gun deck, coming from those who had presumably wanted their own privacy, or a place to rest before the quest really began— Ren began taking mental notes, starting with the layout of Port Catan.
'I suppose we'll land in whichever berthing is available at the docks… From there, we'll all probably head straight to this rather large commune called "Nicolosea", and then make our way to… "Refuge of Wisdom"?' Ren read to himself, while looking at a section of Scalia Island's Eastern map.
'Refuge of Wisdom… What a deceptively sacred name… I don't know who the hell's grandiose idea it was to name a goddamn Pizzeria after something akin to a holy temple!' Ren thought sarcastically to himself with an amused scoff, as he rolled his eyes at the last location on the map, before the base of Mount Ebott. 'Either that place has the most delicious pizzas in the world, or the owner is an absolute narcissist… Or both— both of those could very well be true.'
After approximately two hours of glossing over the roads they'd need to take, as well as reading in-depth about the cultures and local species of non-humans who called the island their home— with the boy's favorite finding within the book, being the urban legend of a "Titan" that had been buried beneath the very mountain they were bound for— Ren decided to get out of bed to find the chamber room.
Screwing the cap of his canteen that he had been sipping purified water through while reading on his hammock— whenever he got thirsty enough to momentarily take his helmet off to drink from it— Ren tucked the double-walled canister into his nylon tote bag beneath his suspended bed.
Taking the large bottle of aloe vera sanitizer with him— partially blaming Amerika for cursing him with the knowledge of bacteria and virology— Ren made sure to take a small roll of biodegradable paper that the goblin girl had also taken the time to craft for him. Needless to say, the eleven year-old boy received several curious stares from both the sailors and adventurers onboard— all of which ranged from intrigued, to down road judgemental.
With how respectful Amerika had been of his privacy while traveling together, Ren found it jarring to relieve himself within a room full of adults— all of whom seemed to be watching him, as he tried to block out their stares while squatting over the putrid bucket that was amongst several others in the dimly-lit room.
Once again silently thanking Amerika for gifting him a helmet that allowed him to breathe in only cool, filtered air, Ren used the large vat of sea water to fill his used bucket before tossing it out from the porthole— quietly muttering an apology to any mermaid that might have gotten hit by his waste.
Sloping his palms in naturally disinfecting goop, Ren profusely sanitized his hands on the way out of the chamber room— cringing, as he reflected on just how utterly filthy the inside of that room had been.
Having been so fixated on cleaning his hands, Ren was taken by surprise when he felt a soft, yet unfathomably strong hand clamping down on his shoulder from behind— causing him to feel immediate whiplash, as whoever was behind him brought him to a sudden halt.
Expecting it to either be the yellow-haired adventurer who had insulted him earlier, or some perverted older man who had been eyeing him while he did his business, Ren's hand was already reaching towards his concealed weapon when he heard what sounded like a deranged girl asking him, "Can you spare a few squares?"
Slowly unzipping the small pouch along his cross-body strap, Ren kept his hand at the ready while slowly turning his head over his shoulder. Discovering that it was a slender figure in a black-hooded cowl, wearing a sleek black mask that came equipped with eerily glowing white slits where eyes should have been, Ren felt strangely unnerved at the figure that was still gripping his shoulder firmly.
Had it not been for the fact that Ren was actually taller than the person behind him by a few inches, the eleven year-old boy would have already had his hand around the grip of his snub-nose revolver. "… I'm sorry?" Ren asked rhetorically in a cautious voice, to which prompted the hooded figure to raise his black-armored forearm slightly up to his shoulder level.
Pointing a playful finger down at the roll of toilet paper he was holding in his left hand, the slender figure said in the same childish, feminine voice, "I'm asking for a few sheets of your lavatory tissue— about six squares will more than suffice, if you're able to spare them, that is."
Uncomfortable and bewildered at the surreal interaction he was having, Ren needed a few moments to collect his thoughts before finally beginning to turn around to face the hooded figure— who had the courtesy to retreat his armored hand from his shoulder, upon feeling the eleven year-old turning around.
"Uh… Sure? That's… That's fine," Ren muttered back in a low voice, while moving his hand away from his concealed firearm to begin rolling up a generous amount of toilet paper.
"Gee, thanks man! I didn't think I'd come across someone who knew what this stuff was— much less had the foresight to bring it onboard!" The hooded figure remarked excitedly, and began bouncing on the balls of his black-armored boots as Ren awkwardly handed him more toilet paper than he had asked for.
"Yeah, umm… Think nothing of it," Ren replied back with an uneasy smile behind his face-shield, and watched the slender figure bring the bundle of toilet paper up to his face to begin rubbing it strangely against the side of his armored mask. "Did you… Did you want me to wait for you out here?"
Holding the handful of toilet paper still up against where his cheek was covered, the cowled-figured titled their head at Ren— expressing confusion, before asking him, "Why would you do that? Are you expecting me to give you this back when I'm done with it, ya freakin' weirdo?"
'… They're calling ME the "weirdo"?!' Ren thought sassily to himself, and shook his head back at them before clarifying himself, "That's not at all what I was implying; I was just going to offer you some of my hand-sanitizer, once you were done in the chamber room."
Letting out an amused chuckle, the hooded figure cutely said in their unique voice, "Oh, that," before lowering the toilet paper to their waist and saying, "No thanks— I actually remembered to bring some with me! Mama says I always have to have some on me when I go on missions! Plus, it's called a "lavatory"— not a "chamber room"…!"
Narrowing his eyes with perplexity, Ren repeated back in a baffled voice, "Mama…? You…? Y-You still call your mother that…?!"
Nodding their head shamelessly to the question that Ren had forgotten to filter out in his head before saying it aloud, the hooded figure replied in a jovial voice, "Yeah! Why wouldn't I call her that?!"
Stumped again by the childish attitude of the hooded figure, who was wearing intimidating armor that was polarizing of how they spoke, Ren paused for a few moments before finally muttering back, "I mean… I guess there's nothing inherently wrong with that…"
"Yeah! You oughta be more open-minded with your worldview, mister," the hooded figure scolded in a teasing voice, while letting out a cute laugh as they playfully punched Ren in the shoulder— which genuinely hurt the durable eleven year-old enough to make him wince in pain.
"Anywhoozle~! I gotta go take a big dump now, so I'mma take these with me to the loo with me," the hooded figure in sleek armor announced loudly enough to turn heads. "Thanks again for your generosity— don't know what I'd do if you and I hadn't crossed paths!"
"Don't uh… Don't mention it," Ren said with a mildly annoyed tone in his voice, while rubbing his shoulder. "Good luck in there— it's going to smell awful," he added, as he turned around to begin making his way back to the lower gun deck.
Not wanting to look over his shoulder, Ren heard the jovial figure called back out to him in a loud, friendly voice, "Don't worry about me; I can't smell a single thing with this mask on!"
And just like that, Ren froze mid-step— his suspicion peaking, as his unseen eyes widened behind his face-shield. '… Can't smell a thing with their mask on?' Ren mentally repeated to himself, while all cylinders within his brain began firing rapidly.
'Can't smell anything with their mask on… Knows what toilet paper is… Is carrying their own hand-sanitizer… What's going on here?! Who the hell even are they?!' Ren's thoughts trailed off, as he cautiously turned his head over his shoulder— his heart leaping in his chest, upon noticing that the slender figure had also been staring at him over their shoulder as well.
Had both of them had their headgear removed, they would have been locking eyes in that moment— time seemed to slow down, as dread coursed through Ren's stomach, as he and the hooded figure continued to stare wordlessly at each other for what felt like a single moment frozen in time.
Being the first to make a move, the hooded figure with glowing-white slits on his out-of-place mask raised their gloved hand up slowly— creepily curling their armored fingers at Ren, as though to convey to him "I know your secret," before carelessly turning back around to head to the chamber pot room.
Just like that, the hooded figure who sent chills down the eleven year-old's spine skipped flamboyantly to the loo— seemingly humming to themselves, and nonchalantly knocking down a fully grown man in armor, without bothering to check on them as they landed hard on their back.
Relieved with a sensation akin to a weight being lifted off of his chest, Ren stood with his arms draped to his side— taking in a slow, deep breath, while turning his head away from his shoulder. '… I'll have to keep an eye on… Whatever they are— they might be affiliated with the Completionist.'
Reflecting on his worrisome experience with the hooded figure, and dwelling on the possibilities behind why they were there on the boat with him, Ren made his way down the ladder to the lower gun deck. Upon reaching his hammock, Ren placed his toiletries into his tote back— making sure to look over shoulder, before quickly taking his helmet on and off, so as to take a long drink from his canteen.
Wiping his forearm quickly, Ren felt extremely paranoid while screwing the cap to his bottle as quickly as he could— dread coursing through him, at the thought of the suspicious figure coming up from behind him, without his helmet to protect him.
Once he had his helmet back over his head and resealed it properly, Ren let out another sigh of relief while putting his canteen back into his bag— switching it out for the book of Silica Island that he had been reading, before that fateful interaction.
But no matter how hard he had tried to immerse himself within the pages of his rented library book, Ren's mind kept wandering back to the sight of the hooded figure— slowly waving back at him, while curling his fingers in a threatening manner.