Maid: Attack On Loli

[Anubis Dread]

With an enormous "bang", the door to Tsubasa's chambers are thrown open and Arya walks in, carrying a rack of speaks and a large black duffel bag, both of which she sets down besides her mistress' bed. Then, moving as noisily as possible, Arya tramps into the bathroom, where after a few moments the sounds of a bath being drawn can be heard.

Arya then comes back into the main bedroom and begins fiddling with the speakers, emerging from their internals after a minute or two spent cursing in Russian and flips them on. She grabs the microphone from where it's been hanging on the speakers side, takes a deep breathe, and shouts, "Omae-sama! Your bath has been drawn! Do you require my assistance getting into it this morning!"

Despite her habit of sleeping through anything your attempts to wake up your Master for the day are more than successful. She starts awake and almost falls out of her bed.

"Oh. Good morning Arya," Tsubasa yawns. "I can get into the..." She scowls as she pats her hand in empty air, shifting herself so she can look down at her crutches that she'd knocked too far away for her to reach. "Yes. I could use some assistance bathing," she sighed.

Spoiler

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You earn (1d6)[5] Favor and have a chance of a nice private scene if no-one interrupts.

A, a fresh day to serve the Master! Of course, with Master not up yet, that means the Control room needed to be looked out for! Aranea takes this task upon herself to hold down the ship while Master gets prepared to face the day. Of course, her head-held high confidence on this matters is somewhat deflated by getting into the control room, and then realizing she has almost no clue what all these buttons do. "O.k, just be calm. Something this big has to be relatively self-sustaining, right? Long as you don't try anything stupid, it should work out."

Everything seems in order. Except for the kitchen that you can clearly see on your monitors. It seems as though there's quite a show going on in there.

Spoiler

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You earn (1d6)[3] Favor

Honoria was a Knight of the Round Table. She had eaten some of the most luxurious food in the world, prepared by the finest chef's to survive the cinflaragation. Her palette -unlike those of the other maids- was refined and distinguished, and she knew what making a meal really took.

She was not sitting on the floor with a bag of flour on her head, and anyone who said otherwise was a filthy liar.

"Arya...Aranea..." Honoria growled, rattling off the names of the maids as she rose to her feet, dusting herself off. She didn't know who it was, but one of them kept putting the ingredients on the top shelf.

It was spite! Spite and jealousy! Jealousy that they didn't have her slight (not-small), graceful (not-short) figure. Putting the food on the shelf only Honoria found difficult to reach was a calculated move to impinge her honor!

She muttered darkly, pulling over her stool, and ferreting around the drawers. She hated cooking - detested it. More than maybe any duty, cooking was beneath her.

And yet, Honoria chose cooking whenever she could. True, it took her a lot longer to cook something edible...but that was because her recipies were more complex! Not because Ho oria lacked theskill to cook!

She pulled her supplies, and set to work. She didn't care how long it took; she was going to create a fine meal for the Master!
...N-not that she cared about Tsubasa's diet or anything...

Your determined efforts at cooking fail miserably. It seems no matter how much you want it blindly tossing ingredients into a bowl with high spirits is no replacement for actual talent and edibility. The breakfast you cook ends up consisting of soggy toast and burnt cereal.

(1d6)[5]x2

Yelizaveta was struggling mightily to keep a straight face after what she'd just witnessed. Still, no reason not to try starting off the morning in a friendly and helpful manner. She needed the practice if nothing else. "She was heading up to the control room, I think.

Lucky thing, if I'd been up a little earlier I'd have had a great excuse to sit and read until the master's up. Ah, well. Are you cooking for the Master or the Prisoners? Whichever you're doing, I'll get the other."

(1d6)[3]x2

On the one hand, the prisoners often just get prepackaged food for the day. Making food for them would be something they'd appreciate immensely. Normally. In this case however you suspect that if you fed this to the prisoners there'd be a riot. Your soap BLINKS at you. A tentacle reaches out from the brown goop and snags a piece of toast before returning.