Arcanite Helmet

⟬ Several bells later... ⟭ 

"Brother-Captain," Tycondrius sighed.

"WhaaAAAt?!" Snapped a certain, irritable and impatient half-god. 

Tycon chose not to respond to the provocation. He waited patiently for words that at least partially resembled civility. 

Krysaos took a deep breath and slumped his shoulders, "I'm sorry, man, I--"

"Forgiven," Tycon shrugged, only a modicum of annoyance leaking in his voice. 

The Captain's verbiage had been more careless than usual. 

It was... grating, but not enough to interrupt Tycon's work. 

"No, I mean... y'know," Krysaos continued, "There's all this waiting... and... I feel powerless, y'know? Aren't I supposed to be a god?"

...Tycon knew. In fact, he was painfully aware of Krysaos' concerns. 

The Captain of the Neptune's Revenge had accompanied Tycon throughout his formation-making progress. 

All the while, he spoke openly, his every thought and emotion.