[ There is a sound not entirely unlike a full-on train crash coming from one of the cabins.

Thankfully, more don't follow. Sabel is a woman of pure efficiency. If that much force didn't do the trick the first time, then there's no point in doing it again, is there?

Five minutes pass in complete silence. Then the door crashes open. Marching out of the cabin is an older half-Chinese woman looking for all the world like she's going to run over anybody who gets in her way. And she just might: anybody magically inclined to do so will see straight through the human illusion that disguises her and see her for what she is, which is a walking, talking New York subway train.

And she hates being on rails.

The light of her Mantle shimmers with rage, making her difficult to look at head-on, like the high summer sun reflecting off of a chrome hull. Get out of her way unless you have a reason to make her stop. ]

[ But after the muster, the whole ship is her oyster. So she walks.

She seems to be doing nothing but walking, up, down, back and forth, taking all the stairs and elevators, up and down the Promenade, up to the sports deck, through the spa, down again, through the buffet, across the puul decks, down into the atrium, through the infirmary, up again, passing Playback, around... tracing routes, marking lines. Whatever this god-forsaken place has for her now, her life will only be easier if she knows where everything is. ]

[ hit me >:) ]