50 Does your character have a base of operations between portals? A home, even? Draw or write about where your character hangs out during the downtime.

 

Laughter fills the air on the deck of the S.S. Calamari as sailors drink to wealth and riches. Having stuffed their faces full of dinner about five minutes ago, half-eaten food lies already forgotten on wooden crates of various sizes. Instead, the crew has turned to ale, and judging by the splattered stains on the mahogany underneath their feet, they’ve had several rounds.

“Whoa there, gentlemen! Sloooow down.”

Trillix Winshire, the captain of the Calamari, swings down on a rope from the top of the foremast, parchment-yellow sails unfurling behind her. The ship rocks quietly for a brief moment before accelerating due southwest, water lapping against the hull with a comforting swoosh noise. She whisks a shot glass away from a large, burly man with a blue captain’s hat atop his head, though it’s impossible to tell whether he’s actually the captain. In his intoxicated state, he could have just as easily stolen the hat from the sleeping man next to him.

“I can’t have you throwing up all over my ship. You can do it over the side if ya need to.”

A dark-skinned man gives her a snaggletoothed grin. He blinks up at her, half-dazed. His speech is slurred.

“Bu’ we be bar’ly drunk a’all, Miss! Aren’ we, gen’lemen?”

A collective murmur spreads across the group, except for the sleeping man. He remains quiet, as those who are sleeping tend to do.

Trillix looks unconvinced. She raises an eyebrow.

“You listen here, Mister Man. This is my ship, I tell you what to do. Besides,” she waves an arm, “you’re the ones paying me for this here voyage. You can drink all you want when you return home. But you’re done here. Understand?”
The crew mumbles and begins to descend downstairs, the man with the captain’s hat jolting the sleeping man awake. Trillix places her hands on her hips, surveying the damage with a long release of air. 

Pieces of the hull are chipped and splintered where darts and knives have been thrown at them. Food scraps and cutlery are scattered around the freshly scrubbed floor, oil and beer seeping into the mahogany wood. One of the soldiers had even spat his gum out into a crevice on the wall that would be particularly hard to reach.

“UGH, gods give me strength.”

• • •

Trillix wipes sweat off her brow. The deck has been freshly cleaned of any leftovers that might have been polluting the surface of her precious ship. She gives the wall a gentle pat-pat, breathing a sigh of relief now that the sailors she’s been transporting are all tuckered out belowdecks.

“Don’t worry, girl. You’re all cleaned up now.”

She paces up and down the ship, tracing her hand along the smooth walls of the hull. The rich, comforting brown of the wood has always been familiar, transporting her mind back to simpler days in the harbor, to Tana’s cozy cabin at the outskirts of town, which had been built out of the same trees. The squid figurehead at the front of the ship, nicknamed Gerald the Magnificent carved by Trillix’s own hand, is familiar too, always staring forward at the bright future ahead, never needing to look back at what the world had once been, reminding her that better days lie in store. And, sure, Trillix has a room belowdecks–everyone and everyone who wants one does, that’s the magic of the ship–but she’s always enjoyed it up here, beneath the stars, with no one but the universe and the endless sea around.

Moonlit waves crash against the bow of the Calamari, creating a comforting sort of white noise that Trillix could drift off to every night if she had the choice. She smiles, arching her back as a stretch and letting out a great big yawn, warm breath turning into steam in the crisp night air. As she waves goodnight to Gerald at the front of the ship, Trillix pulls a rope to let all the sails slack before crashing into the pillow nest that she’s built for herself right below the mizzenmast. She lets out her air and closes her eyes, slowly drifting off to the rocking of her ship and the music of the waves.

“G’night, universe.”

Perhaps the universe says goodnight back.