Rock the Boat

.…

So, laying in a bed after a week of sleeping on sailcloth, ropes, and hard wood? Amazing. Actually sleeping? Uncomfortable as fuck. Sasha's body had apparently taken her chant of Bear Grylls meme as Fact and had adapted to sleeping on her little boat. The bed that Amelia had let her use was barely more than a large cushion on the ground, to be honest, but, to her adapted body? It was too soft to sleep on.

So, when the sun rose, Sasha was found shuffling through the silent, sleepy town, groggy and grumpy after barely an hour or two of sleep, towards her little boat. Offering a sleepy wave at the wide-awake fishermen that were preparing to depart for their morning routine, she climbed into her little Rowboat, curled up in her Lean-To, and passed the fuck out in her little nest.

She didn't wake up again until almost noon, when the morning Fishermen came back.

"Hullo," she greeted the closest ship sleepily as she stretched, yawning beneath the hood of her Poncho. The fisherman who had been closest to her cursed and almost threw the tangled net he'd been carrying, earning chuckles and a grumbled warning from his crewmates.

"Fuckin' godsdamned Klabautermanner bullshit," the man snarled, huffing at her, and Sasha blinked slowly, reaching up and pulling down her hood with an arched brow,

"The fucks that mean?" She asked him, honestly bemused, making the fisherman flush brightly.

"Sorry, Miss," he offered her, embarrassed; Sasha waved her hand dismissively.

"Honey, if you think whatever you said was crass, you obviously haven't talked to enough people," she told him, amused. "I was more talking about the word you used that I don't know. K-Klabautermanner? I think you said?"

"Klabautermann," the gruff voice of Krem grunted as he climbed down off the ship, making the fisherman she'd been talking to blanch and hurry away under his gimlet stare. "Mean's a ships spirit. Sometimes, a ships spirit takes physical form, usually that form wears an outfit like yours, hood up an' all, only add a mallet for fixin' themselves up and you'd do 'em proud, lookin' as ya do, Lass." Sasha paused, trying to decide if this is some weird superstition thing like seeing women in white crying by the river, or if it was a legit thing.

Considering the magic fruit and superpowers thing she'd seen so far, however? She'd treat everything as at least likely to be real.

"Is there a way to tell if a boat has a spirit?" She asked instead, glancing down at her little rowboat curiously; Krem rolled his shoulders, glancing at her little Rowboat as well.

"You find yourself a good shipwright, an' they can say for sure. Elsewise, only way ta tell is when your ship's on th' verge of wreckin'." Sasha frowned, reaching down and patting her little Rowboat decisively. Like fuck was she letting her little boat get hurt just for her own curiosity.

"Are there any shipwrights here in Hearths Holm?" She asked; Krem grunted and bobbed his head at her.

"Jax is the local shipwright. Used ta be he even worked on Water 7, way back when."

"I'm gonna pretend I know what that is and be properly impressed," she told the old man easily, grinning at his snort. "And where can I find him?" Krem offered her a smirk.

"Oh, he'll be findin' ya sometime today, no doubt, if for nothin' else than ta bitch about that ugly ass set-up ya got goin' on there," he told her, gesturing at her Lean-To, and Sasha sniffed in faux offense, nose in the air dramatically.

"Well, excuse me for not having any hammers or nails when I survived a ship-killer!" She sniffed, before dropping the act with a grin. "But, eh, if this Jax guy wants to help me pretty up my awesome little boat, I'll take it! He's a great boat, after all, and deserves the absolute best."

"That's what I like to hear," a hoarse voice behind her grunted, and Sasha blinked twice, instinctively stomping down on any other outward reaction. Having friends and family who did their damnedest to scare each other for shits and giggles was good for something, at least, besides hypervigilance in unknown situations, and it meant that, even when startled, she wasn't one to flinch and give away her shock. Turning around easily, as if she was completely relaxed and her heart wasn't jackrabbiting in her fucking chest, Sasha eyed the old ass man who was limping his way down the dock, cane and all. If Krem seemed old, with his wrinkles and balding gray hair, this guy looked like he'd been old when the Ancients had been around.

More liver-spot and wrinkle than skin, completely bald and eyes buried under a heavy, wrinkled brow and some thick ass eyebrows, holy shit, the old man paused next to her boat, chewing on an old cob pipe like some weird rendition of Frosty the Snowman as he eyed and judged her little Rowboat. He hummed lowly, consideringly, then glanced at her and gestured oddly, as if asking for permission. Sasha shrugged and offered him a bright grin.

"Welcome aboard, I'm Sasha, hapless dumbass, at your service!" She greeted him easily as the old man snorted and carefully hopped into her Rowboat.

"Jax, bastard and shipwright, at yours," he grunted back, offering one arthritic hand for her to shake. Sasha absently admired his firm, steady grip as they shook before stepping back and away as the man magicked a hammer and some nails out of what she now realized was a tool-belt/apron he was wearing/ "Now, get yer ass outta the way, girlie, while I salvage this mess of bullshit you managed to make for yourself," he grunted as he immediately got to work, tearing apart her little Lean-To without care.

"Ouch," she said easily, honestly amused, as she hopped out of her boat and headed down the dock. "Guess I'll go make myself useful elsewhere, huh?"

"You do that," Jax grunted around a mouthful of nails, and Sasha could only shake her head in amusement as she skedaddled. She wasn't about to get in the way of a guy who knew how to do his job when she knew fuck-all, after all. Though, maybe she should ask him for a Dummies Version of what he was doing, in case she ever needed to repair her little Rowboat herself…

Eh, she could do that later. For now, she had some money, and she had promised Blue that she'd get gloves so she could start pulling hooks out of his mouth. Best place to look for good, sturdy gloves, in a place like this? Fishermen and gardeners. Then she'd run over to see how much Rocko had managed to salvage from the trash-hooks she'd given him, and, well, after that, who knows! Depended on how much money she had left.

Let's fucking goooo!

()()()()()()

Whistling cheerfully as she wandered down the beach, away from the docks, swinging the large pail that Rocko had let her borrow when she asked for something to carry more hooks with. The gloves she'd gotten from one of the fishermen for a hundred Beli were broken in but sturdy brown things and fit her hands well. They'd apparently belonged to one of the fishermen when he was a teen, and were made for pulling ropes and nets up, so they were hardy and difficult to cut.

Basically, perfect for pulling hooks out of big ass Sea King mouths, and! They were blood-resistant! So easy to clean, too!

Noice.

So, here she was, walking down the beach in the bright sunlight, with a big ass pail and a plan for her day ready. Jax was still working on her little Rowboat, had gotten a couple of other people in on it, too, and since he'd made no mention of charging her for whatever he was doing, well, she wasn't gonna stop him. Nope, instead, once she was just barely in line of sight of the docks, practically on the other side of the island, she dropped her pail lifted her hands to her mouth.

"I'm Blue, daba-dee-daba-die!" She yowled cheerfully. "If I were green, I would die! I'm Blue, daba-dee-daba-die!" Within moments, the familiar form of her Sea King friend erupted from the water with a gleeful roar, making her laugh delightedly as that big head swung in her direction, pretty eyes bright with glee as he immediately launched through the water.

"Hey there, handsome!" She called gleefully. "I've got gloves now so, after I check your eyes, I can start working on those hooks in your mouth! If you don't mind beaching yourself a little, at least?" In response, the eager Blue slithered his way up onto the beach with a happy croon, setting his massive head down in the sand with a happy groan, his long body briefly stirring up the waves well behind him as he wiggled into place, obviously getting comfortable. "Hey there, handsome," Sasha laughed again, warmly, as she rested her hands on the soft, scaled skin beneath his eye, earning a soft, happy croon.

"Let's get your eyes looked at, then get to work, shall we?" She said, and did just that, gently running her fingers over her friend's large eyelids and carefully removing what few hooks had returned since her last check, humming softly to herself as she worked. It took a little longer than usual, since she had to make the trip around his head herself instead of him just turning his head for her, but it was worth it, to drop the newly extracted fifteen hooks into the pail to be sorted later.

"Let's get started, shall we?" She called cheerfully. Rubbing her hands together and carrying her Hook-Pail over to rest next to her leg as Blue tilted his head at the right angle for her to start gently plucking out all the hooks that were embedded in the outside of his mouth, starting at the corner of it.

Hours passed as she slowly made her way around the Sea King's head, singing random songs as she focused. About two hours in, she had to peel off her Poncho, laying it out on the sand so she had somewhere to dump her full pail of hooks out, sighing in relief as the breeze swept over her sweaty body, arms aching from the constant up-and-down motions and various amount of pulling she had to do. The entire time, Blue rumbled contentedly, sometimes "singing" along with more familiar tunes as she went.

She had to dump her pail four more times before she made it to the other side of Blue's mouth, sweat streaming down her forehead and hands cramping as she went. And it was then that someone came to check on her, the sun starting to set in the distance.

"I wondered where you were, girlie," the familiar, stern voice of the Commodore stated slowly from Blue's other side, and, finishing pulling the very last of the hooks from the corner of her friend's mouth, Sasha allowed herself to sigh happily and slump against Blue's cheek, tired and aching, but oh-so-satisfied. "I will be honest, though, When you said you got those hooks from your Sea King, I wasn't imagining… This." Sasha chuckled, a little hoarsely, as she straightened up and tiredly heaved up the once-again-full Hook-Pail, carrying it around her friends muzzle carefully while trailing her hand over his blood-smeared mouth as she did, carefully looking for missed hooks as she went. Rounding the end of his nose, she paused as the Ex-Marine seemed to stiffen at the sight of her, his green eyes going sharp and assessing, and, blinking herself, eyes aching a little from all the heavy focus she'd been doing for the last, oh, six hours or so? Sasha glanced down at herself.

"Ah," she stated, bemused, as she took in her blood-coated body, her arms soaked in wet-and-dry blood all the way to her elbows, her tan shirt a loss cause and her darker pants obviously stained. "Well, that's unfortunate… Ah, well. Worth it," she declared with a firm nod, turning and setting a firm hand against the tip of her friend's nose, beaming brightly as Blue crooned at her affectionately, the sound loud enough to make her ears ring and her bones vibrate. "You're good to go, buddy. Give me a couple days to recover and sort this mess out, and we can start on the inside, okay?" Blue rumbled agreeably, slowly lifting his head up off the sand and yawning, jaw opening disturbingly-wide, more snake than canine, and closing with an audible snap. The Sea King offered her one last croon, eyes half-lidded with contentment, and then turned and slid back into the sea, disappearing from view even as Sasha lifted one bloody hand up to shade her eyes from the setting sun's light to watch after him, smiling tiredly. The sound of a bottle being lightly shaken distracted her from looking after her friend, however, and Sasha turned her head to see that Marius had brought a jug of what looked like water (could be vinegar, pussy) and a large plate of sandwiches and, suddenly, she was fucking starving.

"Rinse yourself off first, before you try any of this," the Ex-Commodore ordered, unamused, as Sasha bounced over to him. Immediately, she wrinkled her nose in remembrance and nodded, dropping her Hook-Pail off next to her hook-covered Poncho and trotting over to the sea. Considering her options for a moment, Sasha decided 'fuck it, I have no shame' and promptly started stripping out of her clothes, ignoring the choking sound behind her as she padded, naked, into the water, carrying the blood-soaked clothes with her to try scrubbing with handfuls of wet sand.

"Seriously?" The retired Marine demanded, and Sasha couldn't help the bright laugh she let out after looking over her shoulder, spotting the bright red neck and ears of the Ex-Commodore, who had turned his back to her for 'privacy'.

"Buck up, Marine!" She teased cheerfully. "Bit of titty never hurt anyone! And besides, I'm naked for cleanliness, not sexiness, which gives off totally different vibes!"

"What the fuck are vibes?" she heard the man mutter, sounding almost despairing, and she could only laugh again as she climbed carefully out of the water, rinsed clothes held high to keep them from getting sand in them. Then she stopped, stared down at her now-sand-covered feet, idly wiggling her toes in the sand, before nodding and going right back into the water in order to pull her pants back on. She didn't want sand anywhere near her crotch, thanks.

How people could have sex on a beach she had no fucking clue, because sand was fucking gross.

Now in nothing but her pants and underwear, she once again left the water and padded over to the still faced-away Marine. Before she got to him, she pulled her shirt back on as well, wrinkling her nose at the feel of the wet cloth, but, eh, it was whatever.

"I'm decent and hungry!" She stated cheerfully, grinning as the long-suffering Ex-Marine turned around, expression unamused but ears still bright red. He silently handed her the plate of sandwiches and water, and Sasha beamed up at him. "Thank you for the food! You didn't have to bring me anything, and I appreciate it!"

"Amelia insisted since you missed breakfast and lunch," he told her grumpily; Sasha paused, staring into space for a moment with a mouthful of sandwich. Slowly, she started to chew, feeling heat start to fill her cheeks.

"Ah, heh, yeah, um, I forgot," she stated after swallowing, smiling sheepishly up at the Ex-Marine. "I ate one of my last oranges after getting my new gloves and popping over to see Rocko, but, yeah, I tend to get hyper-focused and forget to eat…" Marius frowned at her at that, and Sasha waved it away with one of the sandwiches, humming happily as she took another big bite of the stuffed sandwich. It was like a BLT, but with fried fish instead of bacon, and a really yummy, spicy sauce that was almost like sweet-and-sour mixed with BBQ that just somehow worked? Tangy and meaty and sweet.

"Delicious," she mumbled around a mouthful, and Marius finally sighed and shook his head.

"How do you plan on carrying all these back to town, anyways?" He asked her, nudging her hook-covered Poncho with an arched brow; Sasha hummed at him, taking a swig of water—and it was water, thankfully, but sweetened somehow, probably with lemon juice, because, y'know, scurvy was a thing.

"Gonna camp out here tonight," she told him easily. "I'll start sorting them out like Rocko showed me the other day, with the bad or broken ones going into my pail and the rest sorted out by size and what I can tell about the metal. Then I'll take the scrap-hooks to Rocko to melt down and start bringing the pails of good-hooks afterwards so he can sort them out further and pay me as needed." Marius frowned, eyeing the hooks with sharp, considering eyes as he did.

"You're not going to get a lot of money from this, you know," he told her slowly; Sasha shrugged easily, finishing off another sandwich and reaching for another without hesitation. She was so weirdly hungry, but considering she'd had an orange and that was it because she got distracted, it made sense.

"Not in it for the money," she told him easily. "I get enough for what I need, and I'm helping Blue. That's all I really care about, y'know. He's in a constant state of discomfort, like having splinters you just can't dig out, and he's my friend. It's always worth it, helping my friends." Marius stayed quiet at them, frowning heavily down at the hooks, and leaving Sasha to demolish another six sandwiches, until her plate was empty. Gulping down the last of the water, the amnesiac sighed happily, stretching, before she moved to start working on the hooks. After a moment, the Ex-Marine knelt in the sand next to her and started helping, earning a bright smile from the young woman as he did.

Humming happily as they worked, Sasha felt satisfaction curl in her as they sorted her collection.

Good shit, bro. Some good, fucking shit.

Day Eight: Survived!