Fending off monsters is just another day ending in y for Id, but he's accustomed to sailing the skies, not the sea. Flotsam lurches precariously underfoot from his perspective on an average day. On a day such as this, he has to redefine his notions of precarious, as tentacles sweep equipment, supplies, and people alike into the sea.

One such person had rushed ahead while Id was hunting for a suitable weapon. He'd found it, clomping out after the others only to see someone with dark hair get knocked into the water. Trapping a curse behind gritted teeth, Id barrels across the lurching deck, vaulting over stray tentacles along the way.

Falling in the water is no better than falling into the open skies. Worse even, for the loss of visibility, and when Id reaches the edge of the deck he's almost reluctant to tear his eyes away from the man, lest he vanish beneath the waves. "Hold on!" He calls, hastily glancing around for something he can use.