Him, Her, Them, That Bastard, That Jerk, The One We Don't Talk About
And eventually: Jeff.
The ship sails through a sea that is more ghosts than water, but the light of its lanterns keep them all away. Deep beneath the other spirits, a red light pierces through.
Phaedra: ...Or HIM.
Young Dark-haired Woman: Like... HIM him?
Phaedra: Yes, Lani. HIM him.
Looking up amongst dead faces is a pair of bright red eyes. Listening to the conversation, its brows arch quizzically - or with annoyance - or both.
Phaedra: Let's turn off the lights and get inside the barrier. Doesn't feel safe to keep sailing tonight. Cal?
Cal: Agreed, your highness. I'll bring us in to the harbor at Grand Physalia.
The red eyes turn toward a splashing sound. Someone - or something - is making ripples on the water's surface. A pair of bandaged feet appear, and stop walking just above the red glow. The owner of those red eyes looks alternately surprised... and fearful... at their presence.