It was deep night now, but for the Homeloss sailing at the world's end, the sky above was ever a layer of nebulous gray, eternal and unchanged beneath the perpetual twilight.
The sailor sat at the stern deck in a daze, his gaunt face displaying a complex expression, maintaining this pose for a long time like a statue.
Duncan stood next to him, gazing down at the desiccated corpse, and suddenly broke the silence, "Are you still thinking about your pile of 'last words'?"
"...Not really," the sailor awkwardly adjusted his posture, muttering, "It's mainly... I'm suddenly unsure what to do with the future."
Duncan raised an eyebrow upon hearing this, "The future?"
