sail_ooc | 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

With all their years together, Ed knows how to get through to Izzy--knew this, if anything, would do it; but the reverse, for better or worse, is also true: Izzy understands certain facets of Ed that aren't openly shared, and knows how to pry out the side of Ed he wants to see.

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."

Faith is all he has at this point, and it is starting to seriously waver.

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?"

Back to business, and unfortunately Ed has little to offer in that regard. He's been crew-less and relatively unfocused for the time he's been here, bouncing between ideas and whims and various distractions (and he has certainly been distracted). He's been like a compass, spinning wildly to whatever magnetic pull Stede has on him--no idea if he's coming or going. And just when he thinks he might be getting his bearings...

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.

How disappointing.

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."

"Do you."

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?"

"Deputy Pratt," he answers at once, closing the gap between them a bit. More for secrecy than anything else, but it's nice to hold Edward's attention in full. Be in his space.

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."

"Met plenty of prats, haven't met him."

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."

Praise from Ed doesn't come often, which means it really counts when it does. Izzy smiles, something soft and just for him. The barest call back to young men and easy laughter. When their spirits weighed less. When it wasn't anguish to get out of bed and survive another day lest they fall and drown.

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."

TEST DRIVE MEME #4

True, true. I just really need to make him more icons, period.

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wow all those typos of mine forever immortalized..

oh that is a feel...

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