Journal Day 1

The ghost wind can no longer be heard. It has not subsided mind you, but it now rages within, rather than tearing everything apart as it has done for 9 days.  It must be contained. I cannot tell if the men realize what kind of danger we are in here. This is not some mortal storm, but the all encompassing power of Love wrought to bear on a man. If this man cracks, it is not he that falls, but all of us.  Fortunately the crack must occur down one very specific fault line, reinforced to a seemingly impossible degree. It seems only she knows how strong, as for her part she screams into this void, splintering dark dares into the night and shaking the crew to their core. There are no dreams on nights like these. Sleep is earned from the exhaustion of knowing you are neither asleep nor awake, but something far more unsettling.  As your mind searches for any way to warp its surroundings to allow for some respite, all of our souls cling to the mast, praying it holds firm against the ghost wind, and that there is some kind of point to all of this once it has subsided.  I catch a glimpse of her eyes though and realize she knows exactly what she is doing. I should have suspected as much, who besides the fully prepared or absolutely insane parleys in the face of screaming primal ethereal madness?  Presumably you'd have to be at least a little of both, so I look forward to seeing where we go from here.