“So then what did you get involved for?” The crewman is bellowing, he’s a human crankshaft, cycling the wheel left. The airship knocks through air pockets, its wooden base just clearing the clouds.

“To get the hell out! I wouldn’t have stole anything from Krauss! Why am I even…” the wind cuts upwards, heaving the ship and scattering its crew. Bell grasps at the immovable crewman’s bandana as he is whipped — the bandana rips off. Bell starts to tumble down the slanted, jerking ship but one hand lurches at the flailing tip of the crewman’s longcoat. The crewman is steadfast, turning left, left.

“The Gods are en-joy-ing this!!” Bell clutches tighter, and his hands begin crackling. He looks up to see tiny neon streaks jump across his hands, but the pain is distant — He knows what those sparks mean. He raises his eyes, and the clouds ahead drop like a waterfalls. With his open hand, he pats the pendant in his pocket against his body.

“A fold,” he mutters into slapping winds. “Fantastic.”