The case she holds at her side carries a meager amount of her possessions. The sound of the Zee lapping against the port of London nourishes her soul. She fills her nostrils with the Zee-air. The hustle and bustle here is like an old friend. She contents herself to just walk around.

As she walks, she might notice a crew unloading their ship. A Truthful Skipper, her peligin curls streaked with viric, is stacking crates of surface food onto a cart.

A Silent Acrobat brings her the crates from the gangway, her half-pink, half-brown hair tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way while she unloads, a white streak visible on top.

A Rose-Strewn Huntress, a short girl with red-tipped black hair and the peligin eyes of a monster hunter, carries the crates down the gangway from the deck to the Acrobat.

While a Viric-Eyed Lookout, black-feathered wings arched behind her, carries the food across the deck.

And finally the boxes are being passed up from the hold by a Fierce Figurehead, who appears to be made of wood.

Well, stranger things in the Neath.

Well, there are all types here in the Neath. She gives her surroundings a cursory glance, none of the other ships look as interesting as this one. And more interesting women is always a plus in her book.

The Wanderer makes her way to the crew slowly. There's no rush, she takes a moment to just absorb the atmosphere.

The lookout spots her first, and mentions something to the others as they finish unloading.

By the time the Wanderer gets close, the girls have finished loading everything onto the cart. The Skipper turns to face her with a curious smile, hair fading smoothly to irrigo and viric. "Hello there."

How odd. "Greetings, are you the captain of this vessel?"

"I am," she confirms. "The Truthful Skipper, at your service. What brings you here?"

"Hm, I suppose I just couldn't stay away." She looks at the ship. She almost asks where they are going, but she doesn't actually care.

"Room for one more? I'm a competent navigator, and I know my way around a scalpel."

She carefully looks the Wanderer over, hair shifting again as she does, then looks to her crew.

She smiles, a couple viric streaks mixing in among the peligin and irrigo. "Sure. Welcome to the Heart's Handbasket."

"Lovely. I'm ready to leave whenever we are ready." She gives the assorted crew a little wave.

"Well then, how about my Figurehead and I help you get settled in, while—"

"Me an' the Acrobat finish selling off this surface food and get our wine shipment?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Good, good." She follows along.

Sable leads the way up onto the ship, and then below-decks to the cabins.

While the wooden form of the Figurehead follows behind. There are seven hatches: three on each side of the corridor, and one at the end. The end hatch has a spiral carved into the wood, the door nearest it on the port side has a pair of wings, across from that on the starboard side is a flame, and then the starboard middle door has a carved rose. The remaining three doors are unmarked, and open of their own accord at the Figurehead's gesture.

"You may pick from any of these three cabins. What may we call you?"

She takes a moment to admire the Figurehead. "Lilith. It's a pleasure." She takes a cursory glance inside each of the cabins. All she really wants out of a cabin is a desk and a chair, but she'll do without if she has to.

The Figurehead arches an eyebrow at the admiring glance and smiles back. "Pleasure to meet you. I am Maya, and also the ship. Our Captain is Sable, and I will let the other girls introduce themselves when they return."

Each cabin has a small bunk, a smaller desk with a chair, shelves with a latching cover over the desk, and a small storage area above and below the bunk. It's reasonably well-appointed for shipboard accommodations.

"Well this is quite nice." She sets her case down by the desk.

"So, you are the ship?"

"I am," she replies. "My Sable slowly acquired a great many quality materials, and then built me in Polythreme."

Typical, not five minutes onto a voyage and I'm already inside another woman. She discards the crass thought.

"Polythreme, that would be the place to do it. What is it like, being the ship?"

"What is it like being a human?" she replies with a soft giggle. "Truly, it is difficult to describe. I am aware of the waves lapping against my hull, the steps of all aboard me, the shifting of my cargo. I feel the rumble of my engines like your heartbeat, and the smoke from my stacks is my breath."

"I suppose it's a silly question." She thinks for a second. "In my experience being human is expecting endings and only finding them in stories."

"To use those terms, being a ship is expecting ports, but only finding in them more journeys."

She smiles. "It never ends."

"Indeed," she agrees, smiling as well.

Sable smiles at them both. "I should show you to the infirmary and the map room. Cabin at the end is mine, marked cabins belong to the other crew. Do you have any questions for me?"

She leads the way toward the other end of the corridor.

She follows, the questions about her hair will have to wait until one of them invites the other for dinner. "What is our next destination?"

She smiles brightly, cosmogone streaks tumbling down her tresses and mostly displacing the irrigo. "Port Carnelian," she replies warmly, "our home base, in as much as we have one other than Maya herself. Most of our usual trade routes stop there at some point."

"Very well then." She follows, charting the trip in her head as best she can. She'd be tempted to make a detour at the Iron Republic to purchase cheap fuel, but maybe they couldn't do that for reasons she wasn't seeing yet. "How long have you been captain?"

"Of course that's really just the next major trade destination. Doesn't account for meandering along the way, grabbing port reports, stocking up on fuel, things like that." She hums and strolls along. "And three years."

Ah. "The Iron Republic has the cheapest fuel." She thinks. "And I suppose the Melting Isles are on the way to Port Carnelian."

"Both true, and the Melting Isles has a nicely different selection of food compared to both local fare and surface food. It's a nice place for shore leave, too."

At the other end of the corridor are two more hatches, both of which open as they approach. One leads to the mess, the other to a decently well-appointed infirmary. "Mess and infirmary, should be fairly obvious which is which. We tend to do communal meals, though you're welcome to help yourself at any time."

She smiles at the hatches opening on their own. "Communal meals. Novel." She says approvingly. She takes in the infirmary. She is a ship surgeon now. She is responsible for the health and well-being of the crew. She inspects a scalpel. Reasonably good condition. "Very good, where next?"

"Next we're heading up to the map room, and you can have more opinions about our planned course in front of the actual charts. And after that, the rest of my crew should be back and we'll load up the wine and get moving."

"Sounds delightful, lead the way, captain."

The map room, on the upper deck, is dominated by a metal table in the center covered with charts of the Zee. Magnetic pins holds string to the surface marking out a route from the Cumaean Canal to London.

"Ooh." She takes a pin and lets it drop. "The charts must appreciate not getting carved with holes."

"I imagine it would!"

She starts pinning string to the map, going from London (which gets a gold pin) to the Cumaean Canal (blue pin), to the Iron Republic (black pin), the Melting Isles (green), Port Carnelian (gold), the Isle of Cats (blue), Nuncio (blue), the Chelonate (gold), Polythreme (gold), the Salt Lions (gold), Demaux Island (blue), Hunter's Keep (blue), and finally back to London. Plain steel pins get added to divert the route around islands and obstructions.

She scrutinizes the route for a moment. "Gold indicates trading, black for refueling, blue for port reports and green for... shore leave?" She guesses.

She nods. "Just so. The beaches are really nice. Shore leave is also available at Port Carnelian and London, sometimes at other trading ports, and occasionally at report ports."

She nods. Buy wine at Wolfstack, sell at Carnelian, then buy Sapphires, sell at either Chelonate or Polythreme? She forgets the prices. Perhaps ship some Stygian Ivory? Who buys that? Wolfstack? She forgets. Or remembers? Why does she think she knows this? She shakes her head. 

Her eyes wander around the chart. They snag on Kingeater Castle. Something nameless fills her belly with dread and sorrow.