Luckily for Lucretia, Lup's way too busy holding onto the fucking rudder for dear life to notice any difficulties she might be having. It's like trying to wrangle a wild bull, taking all her strength and determination to keep it still against the murderously churning waves, let alone force it in the right direction. Her damp hands slip off the wood more than once, nearly breaking her fingers in the process. It's not a great time and if there was even a fraction of a chance she could solve this problem by setting the whole damn boat on fire, she absolutely would. Maybe she'll still do that when they've hit land, you know, she's got options.

And despite the betrayal burning hotly in her mind, it's all too easy to depend on Lucretia, to trust she's gonna handle her part of the job to get them safely to shore. "We got this, babe!" she calls back, caught up in the rush of tag-teaming these shitty survival odds.

Turns out said shore is uhhh, suddenly rapidly approaching, as if the storm has decided if they wanna get to it so fucking badly it's really gonna put some English on them. A flash of lightning reveals jagged cliffs coming at them at top speed and Lup hastily throws the rudder to the side where, on real waking-life Enso, sloped sandy beaches should be.

"Hey so like, where's the brakes on this thing??"