Journal Entry 94
We're cruising along the coast, a few hundred feet up. Endless oceans in one direction, seaside plains in the other. The occasional beach goer or sailing ship. We did stop briefly, the captain wanted to fish. Pulled out a fishing rod and everything, and while everyone patiently waited, fished over the side, with the airship 50ft over the waves. He didn't catch anything after an hour and we resumed course. Whatever. Hung out on deck past nightfall. Can't see shit out there, not enough light. The pilot is apparently taking the ship up to a few hundred feet and hauling ass and navigating by dead-reckoning, then corrects his course come sunrise when he can see anything. There has to be a better way then this. Airship guide lights? Glowing, floating navigational buoys? Anyways, Marcus is still bleeding anxiety everywhere. I think he's finally realizing what he's been doing, and that yes, running away or not, he's going to be a father and it's not going to be entirely human. There may be others out there to boot, he's been grabbing ass since Wildlake. Ha, what if this is what we were brought here to do, scatter Earth human genes all across the population. Fuck, I've slept around too. Not nearly as much mind you.. God damnit.