on the worn wooden deck of an ancient ship, a group of laestrygonians gather around a makeshift table, their rough hewn faces aglow with warm candlelight. a 32 year old woman, her long hair tangled and wild, holds court as she expertly weaves a tapestry of shimmering silver thread, the intricate patterns reflecting the moon's gentle glow above. the air is thick with the scent of saltwater and baking bread, wafting from the nearby galley where a 30 year old cook stirs a pot of steaming soup. as the laestrygonians laugh and chat, their rough exterior softens, revealing a deep sense of camaraderie and belonging, as if they've known each other for lifetimes. the ship itself seems to lean in, as if listening to their stories, its weathered sails billowing gently in the breeze like a contented sigh., <lora:sdxl_lightning_8step_lora.safetensors:0.9>