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<”I hereby confirm today’s close of business for the Sinners.”>
The collective sigh of relief from the sinners had to be one of the loudest ones Ishmael heard while working for Limbus, and honestly, she couldn’t blame them.
Even as an experienced veteran of The Great Lake, it wasn’t easy traversing it as is. Throw in Charon’s questionable driving skills, The Middle (Thanks, Heathcliff), and the retrieval of a Bough from both a Whale of the Lake, and from what was left of the Pequod, and it makes sense anyone would be stressed to all hell.
But, that was in the past now. Recent past, sure, but the bough was with Limbus now, and they had orders to sail back to their next assignment.
Most of the sinners had retreated into their rooms in the back corridor by now. Rodion was adamant on having a small feast for a mission success, and most of the other sinners obliged at the offer of sweet food and lack of water.
Ishmael had instead decided to go out onto the main deck of the busboat. As much as the others had tried convincing her to join, the thought of having an actually peaceful moment on the water was something she hadn’t had in a long time.
The quiet shifting of water was the only noise she could hear as she leaned against the railing. The stars were just beginning to fade in the night sky, a view Ishmael hadn’t seen for years.
Her moment of peace was interrupted by the sound footsteps, and the metal creaking ever so slightly under the weight. It was probably just Dante, who had come out before to check on Ishmael, given the recent events with her old crew. As much as it was obvious they cared, they couldn’t read the room for shit at times.
But, as Ishmael turned, prepared to hear that all too familiar clock ticking, her eyes landed not on a vividly red jacket, but bleach white hair.
“Do you need something, Faust?” Ishmael asked after a brief silence.
“No, I do not need anything. I have simply determined that the carbon dioxide concentration in my room was too high, and that being in a less rich environment would help my efficiency."
“You know, you could just say you wanted to get some fresh air like a normal person.” Ishmael joked.
“To speak as one would consider normal would imply me to be normal, which is untrue.” Faust replied, walking to Ishmael’s side. “Also, I decided that observing Ishmael would be a better use of time than what Faust was doing previously.”
Ishmael sighed. She had enough chats with Dante to verify that, despite everything, she was fine. And Dante at least made it seemed they cared on a personal level, rather than making sure that she was still functional enough for the company.
“I have never seen this amount of stars before.”
Whatever rage-induced rambling was about to come out of Ishmael's mouth ceased at the comment Faust made.
“You’ve…never seen the stars before? I thought you knew a bunch about them.” Ishmael asked. The idea of Faust not knowing something was an idea foreign to her.
“I know of the stars, yes, but knowledge of something and seeing something are vastly different. One would know of an atom from school, but very few people have the tools needed to see atoms.”
“Fair enough.” Ishmael replied, turning back to the view of the Lake. “It’s pretty hard to see the night sky in full unless you come all the way to the outskirts. The light pollution in the city makes it almost impossible. Or at least, in the Nest I used to work at, it was.”
“The lumen output of most Nests in the city do allow for some viewing of the night sky. U Corp however, with its reliance on lighthouses, and the fate of falling into water when it's dark means it's brighter by a significant margin.”
The two kept chatting, about the various brightness levels and life of the people in U Corps Nest.
And it was then that Ishmael noticed something.
Faust kept looking in the same spot in the sky. Not in her normal way of staring at something, where it was obvious she was just facing that direction, but doing something else in her mind.
No, she was observing something.
“Something catch your eye, Faust?” Ishmael asked.
“I believe…I am looking at Ursa Minor.” She responded.
The sentence made Ishamel pause. Believe isn’t something Faust did. Faust knows.
“...You believe? Weren't you supposed to know everything?” She responded.
“I have…decided to not contact Faust for this matter.” Faust said, enigmatic as ever. “Also, I am confident in my knowledge on this matter to not need Faust’s input.”
Ishmael had reasoned she had seen the impossible, working for Limbus. Her coworkers emotions spread out for them all to see, a version of revival that didn’t attract the ire of the Head, and the very fact one of her coworkers was The fucking Red Gaze (though she wasn’t certain if coworkers was the best word for him, but he wasn't exactly their boss).
Never, in a million years, would she see Faust being wrong.
“That's…that’s Ursa Major, actually.” She said, still uncertain if this really was reality. Maybe this was some lingering effect of the bough she didn’t know about.
“I- That is what I meant, yes.” Faust said, trying and failing to regain her composure. “To make such a blunder is statistically impossible, and-”
“Relax, will you?” Ishmael cut her off. “You’ve been correct literally every other time we’ve needed you to be. Besides, it’s not like anyone will believe me, even if I told them.”
“That much is true.” Faust responded, calm as she was before. “Still, any gap in my knowledge is something that must be fixed.”
“Well, I have some old things from my sailor days I could bring out? The sky is clear enough for it.” Ishmael offered.
“That…sounds agreeable.” Faust said. “I will continue my search for Ursa Minor as you do.”
“Oh please. It should be over that way. That one at the tip is Polaris.” She said, pointing upwards.
Faust didn’t say anything, merely staring up where Ishmael had pointed. And as Ishmael left to go get her old sailing equipment, there was one thing of note in her mind.
The stars looked brighter in Faust's eyes than they ever did in the sky.