Seelie

“Flying her is like reading tarot in a hurricane—half intuition, half panic, and somehow it all works out.”

— CeeDee Wardyn

Overview: A Witch’s Winnebago in the Void

The RSCC Seelie is a YSLU Deepspace One-Family Caravan—known affectionately (or derisively) across the System as a “Doffey.” Designed by Yute, Seneca, Lister Unified, the Doffey has a reputation for being the cheapest, ugliest, most stubbornly reliable deepspace-capable vehicle on the consumer civilian market.

CeeDee’s Seelie is all of those things… plus about ten layers of mysticism, personality, and illegal modifications that make it unmistakably hers. Though nominally a cargo-capable micro-hauler, it has become an extension of CeeDee’s identity:

• Part traveling witch’s den
• Part con artist’s toolkit
• Part cozy coffin-with-engines

It was not acquired legally—CeeDee stole the ship outright—and the identification/registration “conversion” she paid for was performed by a less-than-reputable shop. Presently, the ship would not pass even the most cursory Systems Authority inspection, but fortunately CeeDee rarely visits places with Systems Authority inspectors.

Exterior Profile: A Colorful Brick in Space

The standard Doffey silhouette resembles a toaster with wings, and the Seelie proudly maintains that aesthetic. Two triangular aerofoil wings extend from the midline, enabling limited atmospheric maneuvering, while an ion drive protrudes from the rear like an afterthought someone welded on during lunch break. Along the underside, the contragrav thrusters and coolant systems form a haphazard cluster of vents and panels.

Where most owners keep their Doffey’s hull a sober industrial gray, CeeDee has coated hers in swirling neon paints, sigils, charms, and patterns—some meaningful, some purely theatrical. Against the blackness of space, the ship is shockingly visible, a glittering carnival barge drifting through the void.

Interior Habitat: A Home for Witchcraft and Poor Life Choices

Inside, the Seelie is no larger than a mobile home, and somehow smaller. The forward cockpit seats two, though the co-pilot’s chair is mostly used as a pillow, storage shelf, or snack table for Zixie the doll-familiar. Behind it lies the living area, where the décor style can best be described as “witchcore hoarder chic.”

Every surface is covered in charms, talismans, amulets, bones, beads, oils, candles, and contradictory symbols of half a dozen occult traditions.

• Celtic knots share space with Nazar hamas
• Pentagrams hang beside Catholic crucifixes
• A pair of protective Malocchios dangle from the same chain as a holographic meditation mandala

Even when no incense burns, the ship smells permanently of it—frankincense, patchouli, lavender, something mysterious from CeeDee's “don’t ask” drawer. The overhead lights are rimmed with votive candles, many burned unevenly from ship turbulence.

The kitchenette is barely functional as an actual kitchen; it is, however, a fully equipped alchemy bench, complete with reagent drawers, infusion racks, and at least one cauldron-sized mug. Only a single hot plate remains for food preparation, grudgingly spared because even CeeDee must occasionally cook something that isn’t potion-compatible.

A couch doubles as her bed, her desk, her storage, and her thinking spot. A tiny shower/waste-disposal cubicle occupies the aft wall, typically hosting towels, drying tarot cloths, and laundry that “isn’t dirty yet.”

The Maintenance Crawlspace: A Trapdoor to Pain

Directly beneath the co-pilot’s seat is a trapdoor leading into what CeeDee generously calls “the engine room.” In reality, it is a coffin-sized compartment containing:

• The Fitch–Finnig hypersphere engine (Class A)
• A single quantum-matrix capacitor
• Wiring that probably violates several planetary safety codes

To access it, one must either:

1. Have a robotic body the Size of Zixie, or
2. Lay belly-down on the reclined co-pilot chair and shove one’s head, shoulders, and arms inside, praying not to sneeze.

CeeDee is not mechanically inclined. When the engine knocks, she simply turns the music up. Zixie tries her best, but maintenance quality varies dramatically depending on how recently CeeDee has fed her Doll wine, compliments, or promises of new outfits.

Cargo Compartments: The Tools of the Trade

Three cargo blisters line the top of the habitat, each packed with the tools of CeeDee’s eclectic profession:

• Collapsible séance tables
• Crystal projectors
• Smoke emitters
• Mirros
• Tarot decks in elaborate cases
• Cloaks, hats, thematic costumes
• Herbal kits
• Backup fog machines
• Portable shrines
• A suspicious quantity of glitter

This storage is one tantrum away from total avalanche, and Crenshaw will likely learn this the hard way.

Bottomside Equipment: The Ship’s Actual Functionality (More or Less)

Along the underside run the systems that YSLU actually engineered:

• Coolant lines
• Communication receivers and transmitters
• Contragrav thrusters
• Access ports for the capacitor grid

The Doffey is cheap but incredibly sturdy. Its carbon-ceramic organic framework armor protects better against lasers and radiation than physical threats. Unfortunately, the Seelie’s only defensive weapon—a low-band laser turret—has not worked in years. CeeDee has no idea.

Performance and Reputation

The Doffey line is known for:

• Low acceleration
• Minimal cargo
• Basic safety features
• Utter refusal to die unless actively murdered

The Seelie remains capable of deepspace travel despite years of misuse, questionable maintenance, and at least one incident involving a pot of boiling essential oils spilling into the ion drive casing.

To CeeDee, piloting the Seelie is a kind of spiritual practice—equal parts ritual, improvisation, and blind faith that the universe wouldn’t dare break something so charming.