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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.]
no subject
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."
no subject
"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?"
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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.
no subject
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
no subject
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?"
no subject
"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!"
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
Knowing the future doesn't help, however the hell that is supposed to work. He isn't sure if Ed knows and is just playing nice, but he doubts it. If he did then their greeting would have gone very, very differently.
Izzy grunts as he's released and rubs his wrist, torqued as it was, and older than it used to be. It's always hurt, being pinned like that, he's just more aware of it these days. Still, it's a small price to pay for winning the interaction. And he feels he has.
Sort of.
Play nice with Bonnet. Fine. He can bear it to a point, and there are much larger things at play here.
"So we're keeping surveillance on the ship, yeah?"
Right back to business, stuffing down all his pain and betrayal for another time more private. Blackbeard doesn't care about emotions. He won't tolerate them in Izzy and Izzy does what all good dogs do and heels to the command of his master's voice.
This game is as old as they are and it is incredible just how quickly Izzy slides back into place at Edward's elbow. Sickeningly, pathetically, it makes him feel better. Makes him feel right again. He's worried, yeah. Stressed, yeah. But their codependency runs so much deeper, with sharp, backwards claws that are impossible to remove without taking fistfuls of flesh with them.
"Have we got a crew or is it just us?"
no subject
Here is Izzy to prove that no, he has not. He needs some help sometimes finding True North.
"Stede Bonnet has a crew. They're playing pirates," he says, as if he hasn't spent the last month or so palling around with these kids and playing as Co-Captain. What the fuck has he been doing all this time? Playing games, pestering Stede, learning nothing. Taking a fucking holiday by the sound of it; there's no real way to sugarcoat this into something Izzy would approve of, so Ed doesn't try. He's the captain, after all, much as Izzy throws his weight around and manages Ed. "As far as us, it's just you and me. Been a bit too busy to recruit anyone else."
Too busy playing co-captain and making eyes at Stede. Go ahead, Izzy, lay down the law.
no subject
But also rewarding. Sickeningly so. Edward has been aimless without him which only goes to prove just how vital Izzy. That his pride of place is valid. Without that certain he, too, would spiral aimlessly into the void.
"I may have a lead on that," he offers, always looking for ways in. Ways to take and streamline the information he's given. Izzy isn't the thinker in this relationship, he never has been. Where Edward is the blacksmith, Israel Hands is the hammer.
"If we're to make our intentions known and leave-" not willing to utter the word mutiny out here where anyone could hear "-we'll need muscle. And knowledge. And loyalty. I've met a few people we could bring in.. with your approval of course once I've finished vetting them."
no subject
They've worked together and depended on each other too long to fully understand how to function completely without. No one else has filled the vacant role that Izzy abandoned when he left, and no one else has filled it while he was not present on the ship. Ed cannot craft without Izzy; and without Ed, there is no finesse.
"Of course." Having Izzy round up and vet people for their crew is a good idea (and better than Ed attempting the same and running into conflict with Stede--he's somewhat curious to see if there's any overlap, though, or how Stede will take to another crew forming). Muscle they could do. Knowledge, certainly. Ed is not sure loyalty will be easy to find, not in a place where they may have to kill each other, but he'll let Izzy handle that. Izzy always does manage to make Blackbeard into something more fearsome and worthy of following. "Anyone in particular I should know about?"
wow all those typos of mine forever immortalized..
Yes, he does think Deputy is the man's first name, and yes he is recommending a man who he has, personally, stabbed.
"Thick as two short planks but he's got the devil in him. He can fight. Follows orders well."
But in the same breath that wildness in Pratt's eyes could prove a liability. Izzy needs to know more before he can make a decision.
Nevertheless.
"The other is some kind of sorcerer, I've never seen anything like it. Glowin' hands'n all that. Conjured some kinda shield. Pala... What was his name. Sounded like somethin' you'd hork up in a bad cold."
oh that is a feel...
Must be a relatively new passenger, or else someone Ed doesn't remember from the whole Death Island. He nods at the assessment, filing Pratt's name away in his memory for looking into later. He'll see if Lucius has run into this fellow. Lucius is social...and seems to find most of the men eventually, right? Besides, thick as two short planks, a fighter--kind of sounds like Lucius' type.
"Something Greek-sounding? Yeah, I recall the guy. He's the star-man." Had no boats where he lived--weird as fuck, that. Ed didn't remember anything about the sorcery, but it seems that no longer surprises him. Who here didn't have powers defying logic? Maybe even Watson had something up his sleeves. "Bookish type; think he might be useful aside from the powers."
He smiles at his first-mate. "Not bad for only arriving a few hours ago."
no subject
Edward may be flirting with the idea of dying, but Israel Hands isn't ready. And despite his threat of living, he isn't ready to walk away and let Ed fall, either.
There's something poetic in the sentiment that Izzy doesn't have the force of will to put his finger on and parse out. It would mean confronting his idea of who and what Blackbeard should be. How he, and how Edward, fall into that great, looming shadow.
But he's signed himself away long ago, the promise worn with pride on his face.
Izzy Hands is two things: loyal to the bitter end- willing to do anything to prove it- and to his own disgust, hungry to be needed.
Two facets that help to craft the picture of a tired, vicious, stressed but hopeful man.
"Well, you know I. Someone has to keep things running, yeah. Can't let you have all the fun."
Another facet that can not go ignored is that he can not let himself be happy. He can not let this moment go so easily.
"Boss, you should know. I ran into Bonnet earlier. He-" god this is so fucking stupid he struggles to even say it.
One more facet to the gem: he does not lie to Edward.
"Grabbed my blade. Posturing like some...fucking child. So that's what that's about if he says."