Elevator: Inside
Never in his life had he been on a ship, nor had it been something he had any desire to do, and the moment his feet touched the deck, panic set in. He could feel his heart pound a little faster, breath coming in shorter, more panicked pulls. Looking out at the dark sea that stretched on farther than he could see, he knew he needed to be somewhere else.
Not here. Not so exposed.
He was a thing dressed in pure white, the stark white a contrast against his darker, olive-toned skin, feet and hands bare. Slashes in the back of his shirt made room for the delicate, paper-like wings that sprung from his shoulders, quivering with the fear and panic he was experiencing. Quick footsteps carried him from the deck to the promenade, the soles of his feat remaining clean despite the dirty floor beneath them. An elevator. HE knew elevators, trusted them, and trusted them even more to carry him away from here. A breeze rustled his wings, their delicate material threatening to tear, and his fear doubled, choking him.
He reached out to punch the button of the elevator, willing it to arrive, for the doors to open, and when they finally did, he let out a sound that was relief and thanks bundled in one. Stepping inside, a button was punched, any button, he didn't care, his heart threatening to pound itself out of his chest as he waited now for those same doors to close.