Welcome to Gaia! ::

Several days, and many buckets of vomit later, Lamia could quite easily find herself in a rut.

Although she dutifully continued to serve her master his meals (she snapped at the cooks if they attempted otherwise) cleaned his clothes (haughtily ignoring the curious stares of the crew), and her other usual duties, all while attempting to adjust to the constant rock of the ship. She'd kept her distance from everyone, unlike her Master Yobu who often went above deck to chat with the crew, to which she'd retreat sulkily to her room.

The faint bump against a dock made Lamia sigh. As much as she'd like to be reunited with solid ground, she's stick out too much. A snake tail and claws often did so.

She had thought about Captain Matsu's offer to have them removed. She almost screwed up her courage to ask. But to have them replaced with oridinary human limbs would be like trying to imagine a bird without wings or people without faces. It couldn't be done. So while the temptation was real and quite strong, she felt more compelled to flake off the shedding scales and continue slithering about rather than standing tall with a pair of legs.

She sniffed derisively at the captain's casual, tactless statement.

"Joy," she muttered, "Let me know if we're planning a full out terror spree will you?"

She stiffened angrily. He just had to bring up Master Yobu.

"Fine," she said stuffily, "But I don't want any full blown massacres. You embrace death far too much as it is."

She ignored his questions and plucking up the white meats of several game birds. She was growing increasingly irritated at the gawking stares, and oft times screams of the townspeople as she attempted to shop with the lout captain.

"My mother had a saying," she spoke coldly, "If one presumes to control and spread death, death will presume to control him. I've seen all your scorch marks," this incited something else, "And another thing! You're using the wrong polish on your ship, its too streaky and oily."

If pointing out such minute, worryless mistakes made her feel any better, it'd at least allow her misery some company.

She glared at him, despite his nobler attempts at defending her honor.

"Never mind," she grumbled, muttering about indignant pirates. As they passed another shop though, she was sure to pick up the right polish. If she was going to live on this ship they'd better clean it properly.

(Nah she's just sulking. Right now she feels he's the bane of her misery She'll warm up)

After returning to the ship, she made a beeline for one of the cabin boys, a young, squat thing. He looked incredibly surprised at being approached by the legendary snake woman of the ship. She shoved the tub of polish into his hands, pulling the old one out.

"I, uh..." he stuttered. She ignored it.

"When you polish the hardwood," she said bossily, "Your polish can't be too oily for it. This," she waved the old polish, "Is too oily. Also you can't work with lumpy polish so make sure you properly mix that. Understand?"

"Er...yes'm."

She nodded pertly and slithered away, pleased the deck would be much less greasy on her hands and tail. But as she slid to her room, she began to slow down. The polish wasn't the only problem she noticed. The brass handles of the doors needed to be washed in solution, the railways needed sanding, and the edges of the sail were looking in need of mending. While the sulky reclusive side of her said to continue to her room, her perfectionist, tidy side insisted more strongly on reticifying theses errors.

With a sigh, she lumped the oily polish into a trash bin and went to see the rest of the relaxing cabin boys. There was work to be done after all.

And thus Lamia's life began to fall into a pleasant rhythm. Rather than attend solely to her duties to Master Yobu, she got up and ordered around the cabin boys, who were slightly proud that she talked to them, even if it was bossily so. Although the mysterious grease on the deck continued to vex her madly, she kept the rails smooth and polished, the brass, silver, tin and metalworks of the ship free of rust and sparkling clean. She even began to nag at her new crewmates to pick up their rooms. She had failed to see much progress in this.

Finally she retired after a hard day of mending sails, to the onsen. Being self conscious of anyone (even a woman) seeing her clean the flaking scales of her tail, she locked up the girls onsen everytime she went in, uncofortable unless she was wrapped in a big towel even, just in case there was a peeping tom.

As she scraped at the speckled, silvery tail, she mused over her situation. Like the old scales, this new life seemed to ecilpse and shed her old one, revealing a smoother, shiner coat beneath. As she scraped the oil from the scales, she smiled as she mused on what chore was due next to keep the already glowing ship even more so...