The little fae ought to be lying down, perhaps in her uncle Raziel's treehouse again, surrounded by books she could not see, but she'd swear she her ribs felt good enough for her to be up more if someone asked and up and about she was nonetheless.  With slow steps, granted, but with growing confidence and less pain in her pale sea-green hues.  Since her return, Keona could hardly stay away from the shore, eager to taste the salt in the air, finding the bay more soothing than any amount of warm blankets and pillows and soft voice telling her the stories locked in the tombs she couldn't read.  She could read, though, she knew; as soon as she learned braille.

Sitting on the shore she heard a familiar voice's call, blinking once, her ears perking.  Yes, that was Goldie.  A lesson? The tiny fae grit her teeth quietly and returned to her paws, following the sound.  Teaching honestly scared her.  The idea of so many eyes and ears on her.  Not that there was much Keona had to teach anyone.  One day, she supposes, she might have something she's invested in enough to want to share it like that.  Once, she'd been told to conduct a lesson on moving blindly -- an odd situation for her, who didn't know how to put herself in the shoes of someone who could see, then couldn't when she'd never been able to see ever -- but that, she felt, did not count as a passion.  Only something she'd done for duty's sake.  Only something she'd been looked to teach because of her blindness.

So, she certainly respected Goldie for finding something to love and love enough to teach.  Keona knew a bit about living above the ocean, on a boat, but not much about what went on beneath the waves.  She could name every part of a ship, and explain the jobs conducted on board, but not such specifics of the creatures beneath aside from the basics; fish, dolphins, some birds could stay under for a while... Well, there was an entire world down there out of her reach, making it an adventurer's dream.  "I'll listen," the little feline murmured, slowly easing into a lying position, wincing as she adjusted.

tá mé i dtiúin — ✯

"Then it means she's an experienced veteran," Bakugou replies to Caesar in an almost joking manner, ears pointed towards the savannah cat. In all seriousness, he would happy with hearing the girl talk about the dangers of the ocean because at least it would mean that he would know that she understood how to be safe. If she was harmed by the sea, then he would have an excuse to yell at her for knowing the dangers. Even then, he wonders if he would even have the heart to yell at her, finding that he had a bit of a soft-spot for the young Dealer. He wouldn't want to pile upon her stress and, knowing how much grief her amnesia had caused him, Bakugou wasn't ready to let his emotions run ahead of him when it came to dealing with Goldenluxury. The Reaver simply sits down, tail twitching in impatience for the lesson to begin. He had attended a number of lessons during his time in The Typhoon but they had all been short-lived. Hopefully, in this one, he would at least get something out of it. He wanted to eat least learn something this time.

Bakugou sits down, once again hearing the Officer speak up and rolls his eyes. Caesar might not be amused but the Reaver surely was, lips curling into a smirk when he hears him talk. He understood the yellow male's reasoning but, the thing was, he didn't feel stressed about the lesson at all. It was just a lesson and he doubts the female would throw them all into the water and expect them all to save themselves. Before he can say anything, his attention shifts to Technopaw, the young sage calling the male 'stinky'. "The coward of an Officer is just scared for his life," he sneers to the catsune, "He's afraid his dumb-ass brain will absorb stupid advice and end up drowning himself." He doubts that the words that will be leaving the Dealer's maw would be stupid. There was a possibility it could be completely basic, a possibility that it would be horrendous, but Bakugou's focus was on the fact that Caesar had talked about trust. It was hard not to let those words slide.