Zozeko sat up, folded his wings from where they trailed on the deck, and rolled out of his hammock onto his feet. His socked feet hit the wood with a thud and he reached blindly for his boots, nudging Malik in the ribs with his toes to rouse him. The Djan had slept in a ball on the deck beneath Zozeko's hammock, his wings curved around his back to keep him warm. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Afternoon, Father.”
Zozeko grunted in response. He was not a morning person so usually opted for the late shift, except when leaving port since it was all hands on deck, but he had come to realise that "morning" was whatever he made of it. His body was tuned to wake in time for him to replace Raven on deck, but that did not mean it enjoyed the waking.
Ah. Guest. They had a guest. Red eyes scanned the crew quarters briefly before he remembered that Faris had opted to sleep out under the stars. Definitely a sailor himself, then, if there had ever been any doubt.
The scent of breakfast steamed through the cramped hold. Zozeko rubbed his face, turned his boots upside down to check for nasties, then yanked them on. “Malik, invite our guest to break his fast.”
“Yes, Father.”
They must be halfway to Espur by now, which meant Zozeko would have to be on high alert while on duty. Ships were always more vulnerable away from the ports, to both pirates and sea monsters. First, however, he would fill his belly, and perhaps prod Faris ibn Alsyad for news of home.