Snippet #1718203

Day set: Pre-Launch
Time set: Briefly after Sol leaves... O'clock? 
Location set: Kitchens

Daller waved goodbye to Sol as she was bustled out. "Good luck, my lady. I hope to see you again as well!" He turned back to the smoky kitchen, smiling broadly. He felt more confident about this venture already- there was at least one person who wasn't too elitist to speak with a ship's cook like him. 

Pushing up his sleeves, Daller set to work with the food. 

Day set: Launch Day
Time set: Just prior to launch o'clock  
Location set: Daller's Quarters (Eventually)

The hour of the launch found Daller in the kitchens, completely unconcerned amongst the chaos around him. Cooks and staff rushed here and there, trying to secure everything not nailed down and check the nails of the things that were. Daller had a frying pan- with eggs in it- lifted out of his hands. 

"What is all of the commotion?" he asked, confused. No one paid him much attention, too focused on their own tasks. "The launch will be smooth, how could it not? We just unty ship from shore and... Er..." Suddenly, he remembered why this ship was so special. 

I've never been in a vertical boat before. Maybe I should go hide. This may be a bumpy ride.

Daller pushed his way through the panicking halls, finally stumbling his way into the door of his room. The interior was sparsely decorated, only adorned in a few seafaring trinkets he had collected- A puzzle box from the north that he had yet to open, a collection of books written in his native language, a life preserver (which was simply inevitable in any retired sea man's room; he'd never consciously kept it), and other trinkets. The bed was too small for him, but that was all right. The only other furniture was a chair and simple writing table, which apparently were standard. They'd even provided a journal. How quaint.  

"So... Where do I strap myself in?" Daller moved from here to there, searching for an elusive safety strap. None were apparent, and for a moment he wondered if, perhaps, this wasn't where he was meant to be. But everyone else was heading for their rooms...

Daller shut his eyes tight, and sat down on the chair. Going to be a bumpy ride...

He waited as the ship rumbled once or twice, presumably from movement.  He waited as it tilted a little as if it was on the sea. He waited until he couldn't stand it anymore, and shouted, "What are they waiting for?"

Abruptly, the air was full of shrieking, straining metal and the distant sound of fire, and Daller fell from his seat. It seemed to go on forever, and when it ended he rolled over and groaned. "Ohh, mother and saints, am I dead?"

Outside, running feet and excited voices announced that, yes, stars were visible, news at eleven. Daller picked himself up and stepped outside, pushing his way to one of the long slit-windows. 

Down below, the world turned, and there was so much of it. But it was drifting away. 

"Heh. Well, I said I wanted no more ocean.... No more ocean it is!" Daller laughed, laughed from adrenaline and sheer disbelief. I am in space! Me, a cook! What would they say to me now, old captain Sculi and Ords and Grefel?