A Lost boy somehow gets even more lost.
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He secures his things to his hammock, then goes to watch the crew work the sails, as well as observe the round slowly shrink behind them as begin their voyage. It's fun being back in zero gravity, and exciting to be on his way to a new round, though part of him feels nervous about the decision to leave such a relatively safe and understood one behind.

If he spots Blenn, he'll give him a smiling wave. If he spots Kastna and she's not busy, he'll float over to speak with her.  If neither of them are around, he'll just see if there's anything he can do to help the crew besides watching and learning, for now.

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Most people on the ship are busy most of the time, but he can find opportunities to talk to Kastna. If he asks to be put to work they want him mending sailcloth, their usual sewist has an injured thumb.

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He'll be happy to help mend the sailcloth! But first...

"Hi, Kastna." He does his best to appear as subdued as he feels. "I just wanted to apologize for making you feel uncomfortable last time we talked. I haven't been around many people for a long time, and I'm very far from what would be a familiar culture to the one I grew up in. I shouldn't have asked you to relive painful memories, and I just want you to know I won't do it again, if we happen to work beside each other at some point on the voyage."

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"- okay, thanks," says Kastna.

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Off to sailcloth mending he goes!

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They have pretty high standards for stitch length and neatness but he can manage if he tries diligently.

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Diligence is his middle name.

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What are people chatting and/or singing about as they sew?

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Two crew members plan to have a wedding on Rabbitround! The elder of the two has been very sad and shy since his creator-wife died in a bad storm, but he's gradually been warming up to the second-shift navigator's assistant and they've been sharing a hammock for a while and they're gonna get hitched.

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Aww, that's nice.

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If people regularly create their own husbands/wives...

He cautions himself not to jump to conclusions. He still doesn't know enough about how the "making people" thing works. Maybe the man wasn't made to become his maker's husband, and it just... happened naturally...

But if he's right and everyone here is a kidnapped human from another world...

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He focuses on his needlework, trying to get each line to be a consistent length and distance from each other. He also keeps thinking of Chesabit, who insisted that she could just go do another job if she didn't want to be a sailor.

But of course people could be made with certain feelings, or else creating soldiers would be terribly risky...

He has to find someone on Rabbitround he can talk to about how making people works. That or finally find a way to observe it happening himself.

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Nobody volunteers to make anybody in front of him.

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His thoughts for some reason turn toward the logistics of babymaking, which he originally learned the same way most precocious kids did: dedicated research.

Presumably everyone "made" here is infertile, given how sexually open everyone is, and Chesabit's reaction to the idea of having babies the normal way. He wonders how that works, biologically. Do the men just have all their "tubes tied" by default? (He's not entirely sure what specific tubes this phrase refers to, but the various horrifying mental images that were evoked when his friend's dad casually mentioned it once stuck with him.) Or are the women the ones who get tweaked instead? Or both for good measure?

He wonders if it's even possible for anyone to make someone here who isn't infertile. If so, he might be able to prove he's not from this world...

...just as soon as he invents microscopes, unless the whole "women are also infertile" thing is false, and something... awkward... happens.

 

 

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This train of thought will distract him for a while (not helped by the close quarters he's suddenly in with all the healthy, attractive women he's been having a harder time not noticing) until something else does, or all the sewing is complete.

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Eventually the sailcloth is all fixed but then there's other mending to do! Hammocks and clothing and tarps and bags and whatnot.

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He gives his fingers some rest, then moves on to the next thing. Does he hear singing from elsewhere on the ship, or is that less a thing, here?

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They sing, but it seems customary on this sail to have the sailors on the skin of the ship to choose and lead the music rather than it bubbling out organically from whoever has an idea.

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He'll probably have an easier time with headaches this voyage, then, but having more mastery of the language means he can actually start his own conversations, and he's determined to not stop just because he occasionally puts a foot in his mouth. Once he gets to Rabbitround the stakes might go up dramatically, and he might stay there long enough that his reputation matters a lot more.

He looks around him as he sews. Who are his potential conversation partners, should he choose to strike one up?

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The conversation at present is about everybody's favorite weather conditions. One of them confesses to liking thunderstorms but only while on a round, nobody likes them in transit. One of them, usually a rigging type but recovering from a twisted ankle, likes flying through clouds, relying on dead reckoning and vestibular clues to get out the other end in roughly the right direction.

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"Say, what's the longest any of you heard of someone, or a ship of people, living between rounds on their own?" Danny asks during a lull in the conversation. 

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"Heard of? There's ballads about ships that go on for centiwakes, but it's not exactly advisable, is it? And the ballads might be exaggerated."

"My maker's maker lived on a ship that had some dirt and plants on the hull, trying to grow some of their own food, but it doesn't seem to have caught on, now, has it?"

"If I think I'm sick of potatoes now..."

"Yes, it all had to be pretty short stuff, trees would've been torn off in the wind or just sent the ship spinning."

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"Have you heard of anyone trying putting trees in a room on the inside of the ship, with glass windows so they get light?"

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"No, that would be such a lot of glass, wouldn't it? Too slippery to climb around on. And the roots, even if you pruned the branches!"

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