"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."