Snippet #2465034

You know, ships are too quiet. Figuratively. By Nimba's standards, anyway. Sure there was always the chatter of the crew, the creaking of the ship, and a myriad of other possible noises. Like cannon blasts. What Nimba missed was music. Pervading, energetic and soothing all at the same time. It had given a real personality to her caravan, back when she still traveled with her family. She guessed that, had she to be fair, the ship had its own character. The problem was she just didn't care for it, really. The Anya itself was fine, of course. She spent most days aboard just wandering the decks, compartments and holds. Gave a girl quite a bit of space to explore for a big, floating tub. Infinitely more spacious than her old vardo, at least. She'd spent most of the very early morning making breakfast, and then some goyano for Adrian and his officers. A brown, clear drink that a lot of people took to calling "Yi Aba tea", even though it was more accurately a kind of cider. Whenever they were moored off she tried to stay out of the way as much as possible, keeping away from the cargo hold and stores where traffic would be busiest. As it were, things weren't as hectic as usual. Most cargo had already been unloaded, and only provisions were being taken on. The worst it got was when Adrian ordered for the forward hold to be prettied up for some high profile guest.

Nimba stole onto the deck, padding silently across the wooden boards; ducking and dodging the crew. In her right hand, tucked behind her back, rested a fresh, bright red apple. They'd a barrel of them down below, she figured absconding with one wouldn't hurt. Besides, she was hungry. Spotting Adrian, she sidled up next to him, brought the fruit to her mouth and bit down as loudly as she could. She smiled up at him as she chewed, and waited until she swallowed to speak, "I'm not sure if you were supposed to be looking somber there, wey'ho, but you've definitely gotta work on it. You look a little silly when you're just smiling at.. well, at nothing like that." She elbowed him playfully in the ribs, and strolled over to the side of the ship, taking a seat on the railing. She'd always had good balance, so the only way she could foreseeably fall would be for someone to push her. The thought crossing her mind, she shot Adrian a dubious glance. Then took another bite of her breakfast.

Spying a dhow setting off from the docks, she followed it with her eyes until it was out to sea, casting a net for a chance at a haul of fresh fish. She tilted her head. Fish sounded good. Maybe fried in some oil. Add a few herbs- She jumped when the first mate, Damaya, barked an order at a guy who'd been slacking. "Hard ass," she murmured sourly, taking another bite. She didn't mind the woman, she just didn't get along with her. Admittedly she did one damn good job. Nimba just thought she went, oh.. above and beyond the call of duty, so to speak. When nothing but the core of her meal remained she tossed it into the water below, hopped back onto her feet and rolled her head around to loosen her neck muscles. "Na ki bai'o dama yño. Sapara nyé. It really that important we wait for this luxury lapper?" She scoffed, looking out into the docks, market and what streets were visible from her vantage point. Not seeing anyone who looked like they could afford anything more than your average galleon, she turned back to Adrian. "All I'm saying is that I don't do specialty meals. Okay, well.. exceptions being anyone who can't actually.. eat.. certain things," she said with a shrug. "But I swear, if this im'a ba comes whining that the food's not 'to their standards' or some loii..."

Realizing she was probably getting a little carried away, Nimba took a few deep breaths. The fire cooling, she cleared her throat and recomposed herself. "It's not happened, yet. But it probably will," she huffed.