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TEST DRIVE MEME #4
1. you will survive being bested
[you wake up.
it doesn't matter where you were before. going to bed? dying? opening the door to face a great evil? same result. you wake up in a soft bed with starched sheets in a cool, darkened room, sunlight peeking out from behind thick curtains. maybe you're alone; maybe you aren't. maybe you immediately notice the folded paper on the bedside table near your head. if you don't, you better fix that real quick: you won't be able to even open the door before you read it.
the note itself is written in a neat hand on white card stock; there is a stylized logo of a ship with the words SERENA ETERNA printed underneath. the note reads as follows:
Dear Passenger(s),
As your cruise director, it is my great honor to welcome you aboard the Serena Eterna, your destination for fun and adventure! We know you could have chosen any cruise line for your vacation, and we're very grateful you chose ours! On behalf of the Captain, I would like to assure each and every passenger that will we do whatever it takes to fulfill all your needs and desires during your journey with us.
At your earliest possible convenience, please attend the mandatory lifeboat drill by the end of the day. I'm sure everyone is very eager to get started on all the fun and sun, but safety always comes first! You can find your life jacket in your cabin's closet; carry it to your assigned muster station on deck one, where I will take you through the drill. If you can't find me in the crowd, just look for the gal with the winning smile!
See You Real Soon!
Sincerely,
Gal Friday
you walk to deck one. you have no other choice: every time you try to step in a direction some unseen being considers "not towards deck one," you find your legs no longer move, staying stock still, frozen. whether compelled quickly by curiosity, or delayed by pure stubbornness, the result is the same, and you are left milling around with other similarly curious or stubborn people.
you see someone in uniform near the front of the crowd. she seems to be a gal, but is missing the winning smile, along with most of her other features. she seems to see you, though, rushing to your side and placing a lei around your neck with great formality. a voice, cheery but artificial, sees to come from nowhere and everywhere.]
Welcome! We're... I'm very glad to have you aboard!
[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.
after the drill is completed, you are seemingly free to go. or, well, your legs work, now. and maybe that's as good as it's gonna get.]
2. think about how many times I have fallen
[for the most part, no one has given the elevators much thought. they've all done their job reliably and dutifully this entire time, never so much as being blocked off for maintenance.
until today, when the doors close behind you as you enter, and don't open again.
for the most part, that's all that happens. the doors can't be pried open, or broken with force or magic, and though the glass walls remain stubbornly shatterproof, you can look through them and try to get the attention of anyone outside. (Friday, down in the atrium, sees your desperately pounding fists and gives a wave, but does nothing else.) the elevators don't move... except, when they do. going up two or three stories, and then dropping, sometimes as many as five stories at a time, stopping just as suddenly.]
3. it was the easiest thing to do
["physically assaulting people is an easy way to get attention" was probably a very bad lesson for the neglected locations to have learned, but it they did it anyway.
this time, it's the sushi restaurant on the promenade, Mikabo. it turns out, the conveyor belt can go faster than one would assume. much faster, actually, with the apparently ability to stop on a dime. both of these factors have combined to create what is functionally a pitching machine, but for dragon rolls, wads of wasabi paste, and exceedingly sharp steak knives, all of which are being aimed at anyone foolish enough to walk by the doors of the restaurant without coming in.
its aim, at the very least, doesn't seem to be the best. for now. because it very much seems like it's getting better.]
what is time.
Whenever Izzy finally comes out of the shadows and corners and quits lurking about, he will find Ed laying on the deck in the sunshine near the pool. A brightly colored beach towel is rolled up under his head like a pillow, and beside him is one of those ridiculous drinks in the wide glassware, complete with an umbrella. In his Tommy Bahamas and shades, eyes closed and feet dangling in the pool, he looks like the classic picture of a man enjoying his tropical vacation, maybe somewhere picturesque, like Cancun, or the Maldives, or the Bahamas.
If this ship wants him miserable, then he will make an effort to be exactly NOT that. The Captain can fucking take that and suck it.
Forcing yourself to be not-miserable is harder than it looks, though. Ed's bored. He's tired. But he knows how to pretend when it counts, and until he figures out how to mutiny and take the ship, being Blackbeard doesn't really suit. Blackbeard brings misery and death to others, and that's just what this place wants.
Someone is standing in his sunlight.
"Oh fuck off," he says without opening his eyes.
a human construct
And it's true, he has. He's run into (or run through) just about everyone on this whole bloody ship before finally getting the tip he needed.
He can not fucking believe there is a pool of fucking water on board.
A POOL OF WATER!
ON A SHIP!
WHO DOES THAT?!
Sadly, it isn't Blackbeard he finds as he was hoping, but Edward rather. In repose. Like some lady of luxury. What have they done to you.
A stark contrast to Izzy, freshly imported, still in his full leathers, and all wired up with a million questions and readiness to launch a full scale one man hell show on whoever did this. Hands on his hips, cutlass hanging at his side. Is there blood on his shoes? Bitch, maybe. Rather a stark contrast, especially with the sun behind him.
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He'd likely have installed a pool if he had the space and technology to do so. The madman had a library and a fireplace...why not a pool, too?
Don't be jealous, Izzy. You can be a lady of luxury too. There are plenty of towels. Pull up a deckchair and kick back. You're wound way too tight.
Ed tenses at the sound of Izzy's distinctive voice. It's barely a reaction, but to a man who knows Edward Teach almost as well as he knows himself, the tensing is probably as obvious as cannonfire. Behind his mirrored lenses, Ed peers up at the backlit figure towering above in a five-foot-eight-inch irritable glory. Slowly, he lowers the glasses just enough to look over the rims at his first mate. Former? first mate?
Not sure. Not sure it matters here anyway.
"And here I am," he says with an even, easy drawl. "What took you so long, Iz?"
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Ed's nonchalance is amazingly annoying but after spending so much time and energy and anxiety trying to find him, Izzy just doesn't have the wind to tell him off.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I was busy."
He thinks. Probably. He isn't sure how this all works out in terms of time table.
A sigh and Izzy allows himself to sit with a soft noise. It's hot as fuck out here and he's boiling alive. But it's not just that. Finding Edward alive and safe and well is such an enormous relief that the adrenaline he's been running on all this time finally sees fit to release it's grip.
A beat. He is exhausted.
"I spoke to our Mr. Spriggs," he says, eyes on the horizon. Like he's immediately assigned himself the task of keeping watch while his captain lays in the sun.
"He's informed me of the situation. This is a right ol' fuck up, isn't it."
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He reaches over and pats Izzy on the knee.
Things are about to get fucking complicated in more ways than anticipated, he knows. And he and Lucius will have their hands full trying to keep Stede and Izzy from repeatedly murdering, or attempting to murder, one another on a daily basis--or at least from starting fights. The ship isn't big enough for the both of them. It's like trying to cage Clarke and Darcy and the rest of the teenagers together.
Actually...now there's an idea. God-fucking-damn, he can't wait for them to meet Izzy. How he'd like to be a fly on that wall.
"You have no idea." What, exactly, did Lucius tell Izzy, he wonders, given how much, uh, interpersonal information Lucius is aware of. "Take it he told you about the Captain, and the islands, and Stede's crew?"
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Forgetting all this gumph around them, these wild, mysterious machines and materials, this almost feels like the old days.
When they were young and wild and stupid, setting up on a beach somewhere for a few days without a care in the world. Nothing to do but drink and enjoy the sunset with no rules. Practicing swordplay and roaring at fire just as much as they spent time in focused silence catching their dinner from the clear waters.
But life isn't like that anymore. It hasn't been for a long time.
Ed is still captivating, still incredible and talented and so clever it makes Izzy's head spin, but the trajectory of their lives is beginning to swan dive. Suddenly the words he exchanged with Stede earlier sink a little deeper into his skin. He is acutely aware of the fresh blood splattered across his boots.
This ship doesn't need Blackbeard, it needs someone better.
Stede is so, so wrong.
God. What are they doing.
"Not in as many words."
Very little of those words actually.
"He said you were planning a mutiny. Do we have a plan?"
Let him correct himself. Let him beg.
"Please tell me we have a plan."
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Lounging by the pool is the plan. Eating ice cream is the plan. Letting Stede continue to host a crew is the plan. Ed...doesn't have a plan.
"Can't just kill the captain, not by normal means," he tries to explain. Mutiny is typically about killing the captain, or marooning him and leaving him for dead. But how do you oust a captain you can't kill and probably can't just kick off the boat? If one were to believe the rumors of demons and magic, he might well be tied to the ship itself. Maybe they could imprison him, but how? "Apparently it's been tried. But if he wants us to kill each other, then maybe the plan should be to do the opposite. Dunno, giving it a test."
Which he knows Izzy is going to scoff at. It's a stupid plan that relies on believing the fuckery going on around them, but it is currently the only concrete plan Ed has. As he told Stede, he's not entirely sure mutiny is achievable.
Not in the traditional sense. So maybe they have to think outside the box. It's still mutinous if you just don't do what the Captain tells you.
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"So that really is the jist of it, then. We've been captured to take part on some.. metal barge duke 'em out death match?"
It sounds insane but also too easy. Unbelievable. And Edward in all his creative genius has decided to do...nothing.
Wait, back up.
"You said islands before, what does that mean."
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“The death match was on the island. Fucker had us watch even if we didn’t take part.” Ed can explain in more detail if it becomes important but he’s not sure it will be the same next time. “But it’s not always the tournament. Sometimes it’s really just shore leave.”
And cabins and dances, but Izzy doesn’t want to know about Ed putting beads in his hair or spending a night in Stede Bonnet’s bunk.
“The islands aren’t natural, Iz. No wildlife, just plants. Can’t escape. You’re just... there. Can’t even plot a course from one. There has to be something we’re missing.” There has to be something they can learn from these trips, other than ways to kill their friends.
“But death’s not permanent. Figure if we use it strategically, we might figure something out.”
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There's a pause while Izzy does mental gymnastics. It's a lot to puzzle over and he isn't great at that part. No wild life. No great movement in the sea. Are they even moving? It doesn't feel that way to him but then again, this sorry excuse for a ship doesn't even have a mast, so what does he know.
"In what way?"
As much as he's up for strategic killings.
And missing points.
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"If it helps us learn something about the Captain or this place, or make any other gains. Just another scar. A piece to sacrifice. Be back again tomorrow."
He props himself up on his hands and gently nudges Izzy with a grin. Stede won on a technicality, but--
"If it serves our goal to leave another man alive instead, we take the death. Do it on our own terms, not his. If we have to be nailed to the mast to win, we take it."
What do they have to lose?
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Right. Okay.
Ed wants...self..sacrifice.. if it means the gain of information.
God, really? Self sacrifice? Do they have to?? He can't hide the disdain. What if no self sacrifice and let the other man die and still get the information?
But he'll fold. He usually does for Ed, even complaining and kicking and screaming. Izzy looks down at the garish lei around his neck, thinking about all the trouble he's gone through, the many people he's stabbed, and the ghoulish crew he's encountered in the very short time since he's awoken. He plays with a rooster feather and allows himself the indulgence of nudging back against Ed's arm. Just for a moment. For the smallest moment.
"No promises."
That's a lie and they both know it. Back to business. He wipes his brow with the back of his gloved hand, sweating bullets under the sun. The blood on his boots has long since dried, turning rusty against black leather.
"So what do we know about the captain thus far? It seems you've been here a lot longer'n me. Which I don't understand at all seein' as I saw you last night."
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Forgot what he has been missing all this time.
Just, you know, maybe don't die of heatstroke on him.
"Don't understand it either. You were leaving us, and now here you are."
Izzy seriously is one stubborn bastard and Ed would kind of like to not ruin their reunion by having the man pass out. Options: push Izzy into the pool to cool off and then have to deal with him looking like a angry wet cat for the rest of the day; make him take off his shirt and have to deal with him being grumpy and still not doing it; put a wet towel over him (see option 1).
Izzy is spared a swim today. "We can discuss this inside," he says, climbing to his feet and then offering Izzy a hand up. Let me introduce you to ice cream.
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But good call. He would be fucking furious to take a drink right now.
He agrees, though, and gives his hand for the lift up to follow him inside. Thank god because it really is the height of hell and while he's used to the heat and this uniform of sorts, doesn't mean it's good.
You know, half the time he'd be far more agreeable if he didn't have a banging headache from dehydration and leather up his ass.
"Everyone I've spoke to seems to know about that."
The leaving part. Another thing he hasn't been able to puzzle out alone.
"Seems to be the last thing Bonnet remembers, but he might have been fucking with me."
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"He could be, but then he's fucking with us both." If only.
Ed leads the way down stairs into the ship. The relief is instant; once they're no longer on the deck, the air becomes instantly, unnaturally cooler. There is nothing natural about anything on this insane vessel.
"Theory I've heard is we're all from different worlds. Which--Look, a metal-man from the far future, a doctor from about a century after us. Another guy knows a Blackbeard by a name other than Edward. I met a man who claims to live in the stars, Iz. This shit's--" He shakes his head at the absurdity of it all and then, cautiously, he slows his descent and does not look at Izzy as he asks:
"Why, what's the last thing you remember?"
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Now. Izzy has a choice to make and he isn't sure which way to go. Guilt hangs heavy on his shoulders but also it was Ed's own fucking fault for flubbing the tedious, careful pardon he had managed to wrangle, pulling on every last string he had to the navy and his service in a life before it started new with the man beside him. It was a beautiful negotiation. Fucking beautiful. And Edward threw it all away because he refused to do the right thing.
A man has limits.
He isn't sure he wants to bring that up right now with Edward being so nice to him. He just wants things to go back to the way they were and this new set of challenges won't be helped by Izzy making the declaration that he is now, in fact, a captain.
"It's all a bit fuzzy if I'm honest. Gunpowder in the eye'll do that."
A beat. Was that petty? Maybe. That's just the sort he is. He's still stinging from the whole thing to be honest. He looks over and notices that Ed is very purposefully not looking at him.
"What about you? What do you remember?"
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"Right." So something happens. Does Izzy return to make Ed rue the day as promised? Does he kill Stede, or Ed, or sink the Revenge? Whatever it is, he doesn't feel the need right now to boast about it, apparently, but Ed will find a way to get it out of him later. For better or worse.
He remembers Izzy getting on a dinghy and leaving. And Ed had to let him leave.
"Think the gunpowder's been getting around."
They don't have too many steps to go down to the promenade's level, not compared to Izzy's earlier adventures. If Ed were with Stede, he would probably take the elevator, but given that Ed doesn't actually like or trust the damn thing, Izzy's forced to walk.
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Fuck, fuck, fuck, does Edward know? Does he remember that? The Act of Grace bullshit, too?
For all the time hopping shenanigans aboard this ship (and he's still grappling with) he hopes to fucking god not.
Still, a deep seeded panic begins to curl in Izzy's gut. He tries to take in any sort of clue from Ed's body language but nothing betrays him.
"Yeah," he tries to blow off the non answer with a nonchalant shrug. No big deal. It is what it is. Not him spiraling inwardly, no sir.
"I mean I was forced to leave and so I left. You didn't stop it so here we are."
#nailedit
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There is no way to guess what happened between Izzy setting off on his own and whatever he did before arriving here, but Ed suspects it's not good and he shouldn't forgive-- But he's been through Hell with Izzy. Izzy's kept him grounded. Izzy's been one of the few constants--and bastard he may be, even though he's tried to kill Stede and initiated his own banishment from the Revenge with a duel, Ed doesn't want to lose him.
But that doesn't mean he wants Izzy to think he gets away scot-free.
"Except we're here." Not back in the Caribbean. Not on Stede's Revenge.
"So looks like you have a choice. We can repeat that song and dance to similar end. Or you can accept that you serve Blackbeard. You are my first-mate. And right now that means you leave Stede Bonnet alive and that means he has no authority to banish you."
Can he have his cake and eat it to? Ed will certainly try. Even though it didn't work last time.
"So, what'll it be?"
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"I have only, ever, served Blackbeard. It has been my honor, my absolute privilege to give myself to him."
Edward, though. Edward is on thin fucking ice as long as Stede is in the equation. And this promise broken is not a promise forgotten. Blackbeard would never have let it come to this. To the duel, to anything.
"Why are you protecting him, Edward. Why is it that you- that you adore him so- so-" the words trap themselves in his throat, threatening to become far too vulnerable. He shakes with the dam they build, stacking with more and more pressure.
"-so fucking much!"
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Ed's been grappling with an answer to the question of his adoration of Stede for a long while now, and with every conversation--with Stede, with Lucius, with Watson, and now with, of all people, Israel Hands... he feels like he might be closer to the answer. But he still doesn't have it, and even if he did, he's not sure it would acceptable to Izzy.
He could get petulant--You don't get to tell me who I like. He could get commanding and tell Izzy that it's not his place to question his captain (even if that's...sort of exactly his role). He could admit something he's not sure he should put into words.
Why does it bother you, Izzy?
"I just think he's neat."
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There might be blood coming out of Izzy's ears from all the fucking rage that's blowing out of them. Don't bother getting petulant because he's got that one covered.
"Neat," he grinds out between bared teeth, taking a step forward to close the small distance between them.
"Because you think he's neat!"
Edward, he could fucking throttle you. Right here. Right now. It's a rage as sure as there's life left in his body but it's more than that. The fire is flamed by anguish. By deep, personal betrayal.
"You broke your promise to me, Edward. Betrayed. Me. Because you think he's neat!?"
/spends too long looking for a kraken icon, gives up
He grabs Izzy by the front of his shirt and hauls him backwards, flipping him around at the last second to pin his front to the rail of the stairs. He stills Izzy's hands before he can draw a weapon, holding them toght behind his back as he leans into him--
"Listen to me--" he snarls in Izzy's ear. "You serve at MY pleasure--that is the promise I made to you. I can break that off whenever I deem necessary. Bonnet is under my protection until I tire of him--yes, because he's neat. Those are my orders."
"And I don't have patience for you questioning those orders. When either you or Bonnet have outlived your purpose, it will be MY decision whether or not to keep you alive." Which is a threat with considerably less bite to it in a world where death isn't a permanent state of being.
"But remember. You'll come back. Again," he tightens his hold on Izzy's wrists and twists, "and again," another twist of his wrists, "and again. Wonder how many toes I could cut off before the Captain decides enough is enough?"
They're all the kraken. That's the beauty of it.
Any other person might struggle or push back. Might drop to their knees and scream and wriggle.
Not Izzy Hands. It hurts, yes, but in a sick way, he likes it. He likes it when Edward exerts his power. He likes the blade in Edward's voice like a dagger against his throat. The hum of danger just under his skin.
There's no word in Israel's vocabulary to explain the fact that he is, in fact, an enormous brat, but that's exactly what he is and if you want him to listen then this is the key.
"Yes Blackbeard, yes. Yes." Hoarse but true.
And he does listen. He listens hard, gasping to stop any other noise from escaping his throat. His teeth are clenched, but through the pain comes a smile, and he wrenches his head back to look over his shoulder. Edward wouldn't kill him. He knows he wouldn't.
The boat doesn't need Blackbeard. It needs someone better.
No it fucking doesn't, and Izzy doesn't either. Someone just has to remind Edward of that. Of who he really is.
"I thought I'd lost you."
True, true. I just really need to make him more icons, period.
Ed doesn't want to be this man who causes pain, rules with cruelty, and is more feared than liked--and yet he also does. This is the side of him he has shaped and honed and used--across history, the name Blackbeard still inspires awe.
He smiles back at Izzy, though it is not a sympathetic or kind smile.
"I know."
And with Izzy properly admonished, Ed gives him a parting shove before releasing him.
"Have a little faith."
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wow all those typos of mine forever immortalized..
oh that is a feel...
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