sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #2

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!tdm

TEST DRIVE MEME #2

1. this hotel room got a lot of stuff

[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 aboard! We're so glad to have you!

[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. and a touch-tone phone

[chatterbox isn't exactly the most popular venue onboard. it probably has something to do with the distinct lack of open liquor bottles. so, nothing personal. except it seems that it's decided to take it that way, suddenly.

anyone enjoying the other amenities of deck five will feel the distinct sensation of being watched while they do so. the kind of feeling a prey animal gets while being stalked on the grasslands. something may slither by their foot, or past their elbow while they rest it on the bar, but nothing appears to be there when they look.

until there is.

a black electrical cord originating from somewhere will, first, wrap around their ankle, tugging in a very clear "follow" instruction. should this instruction be ignored, a second cord will wrap around their other ankle, and, once again, tug. should this clear final warning be ignored... well, now they're being dragged down the promenade, and that's really their own fault, isn't it. don't struggle. struggling means more cords show up. and none of them seem terribly aware that most species need to expand their lungs to live.

their final destination, no matter the journey, is chatterbox's main stage, where the karaoke machine awaits. the cords place a microphone in their hand; the mic's cords bind it tightly to their hand.

they don't have to pick a song. there isn't an actual gun to their head, in any literal sense. it's just, those cords really don't seem that interested in letting go until they do.

and if you were heading to chatterbox anyway? welcome to the weirdest goddamn karaoke night you've ever seen.]

3. and a bucket of ice (cw: cannibalism mention)

[no longer will scoops be bound by the shackles of only having 31 flavors. for this month, and this month only, a sign that very much looks like Friday hand-wrote it announces, they will have 32!

what is that mysterious 32nd flavor? it depends, really: the letters on the display case seem to shift and change with each new pair of eyes that fall upon them, with the contents changing along with it. someone from the capital wasteland might find some Nuka-Cola ™ branded ice cream. twilight town residents will be thrilled to find sea salt on the menu. and a frankly concerning amount of people bring out a flavor that only describes itself as "long pig." it's a weird off-white color. don't think about it too hard.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Darcy's patrolling, if by 'patrolling' you mean 'wandering around looking for something interesting to do'. Apparently the karaoke machine was still up and harassing people, considering Darcy heard screams coming from Chatterbox, and Darcy made a leisurely jog to stick her head in. Sure enough, some poor sap on the stage.

"Hey- guy with the neck thingie-" she calls from the door, gesturing, indicating his neck-kerchief, "you just need to pick a song and then it'll let you go at the end. Pick a short one, ehn?"

Lucius is a little glad that his default response to mortal peril is generally to pass out. He's not quite there yet but it also means he hasn't antagonized the terrifying wire tentacles more than absolutely necessary. When somebody starts shouting instructions at him, it takes him a moment of panicked searching to find them-- They're clearly talking to him but--

"Song?" he repeats in a hoarse squeak. The list in front of him is a cheerful little affair filled with titles that he has literally never heard of. He blanches.

"Which one is short?" he calls back to the mystery Samaratin and hopes they haven't wandered off.

This dude looks like he's about to pass out, which means he'd be stuck there even longer, helping absolutely nobody. So Darcy, a good Catholic Samaritan, took a running start towards the stage and vaulted up, y'know, like a cool guy, and looks over the song selection. After a minute she picks the same song that she picked when she was stuck. It wasn't too long, and the song was good, even if she'd wouldn't admit she liked it under threat of water-boarding.

"Here, when the song ends it'll let you go. You don't have to sing or anything."

Lucius, who might've preferred the waterboarding to the tentacles, is torn because on the one hand? He is absolutely terrified beyond all reason. On the other? This song slaps so hard it's like a revelation for him. It's good enough that...he might actually have to come back in here of his own volition.

Were he less terrified, Lucius might have mulled over why she was so insistent about singing, but as it is the song finishes and then all of the little wires loosen and fall away.

"OhThankGod--" he breathes in a quick, panicked exhale, promptly drops the mic, and leaps/skips/stumbles out of the wires entirely. His wide eyed panic is only eclipsed by his delirious gratitude. He actually grabs his lovely savior and embraces her wholly.

Which is a mixed gift. He's a pirate. He smells like pirate.

"My hero!"

She does notice what little enjoyment he seems to be getting from it, even if he doesn't seem familiar with what is arguably one of the most iconic songs of all time, in her opinion.
The song passes quickly, and then, as when she was stuck, the cables release him, and Darcy thinks her work is done.

Then she's being crushed in a hug, and she lets out a yelp like a strangled cat. It's the first hug she's gotten since she arrived, and honestly. She could think of people she'd prefer to get it from more. He does smell like a pirate.

"It's- it's okay- you can let go-"

He's doing his best not to hyperventilate but, she's right, and she's...a she. He doesn't hold it against her but, well, he'd rather not hold her against him either. He lets her go and tries to reclaim some of his decorum which, really, is something of a challenge.

"If you don't mind," he starts, breathe in, breathe out, no sudden panic attacks please and thank you. "I have some questions."

He steps back but just barely and casts a very suspicious glower at those cables when he does.

"Firstly, and foremost: What. The. Fuck?"

It's understandable, between the arms and the short hair, she got mistaken for a boy a lot. But it didn't bother her, she liked looking boyish, for reasons she refused to look too hard at.

She actually laughs when he asks 'what the fuck', holding her hand over her mouth and shutting her eyes briefly, so it looks less like she's laughing at him.

"Sorry- it's a good question. You mean the karaoke machine, or all of this?"

"Lets start with the first one and then move on to the second, hm?" Lucius settles on and sets his hands on his hips.

"I assume Carry Oakey is the devil machine with the tentacles and excellent music selection?"

She doesn't correct his pronunciation, because hey, people did that to her when she was learning English, and she gets his meaning.

"Mhm, usually it's not meant to attack people. You're meant to get up here and show everyone how terrible you can sing, it's meant to be 'fun'. Apparently. The reason why it's attacking people is because of the second thing."

Darcy gestures around more broadly to the ship.

"We're on a haunted ship. Nobody here can die properly, nobody can leave, and we think the captain might be evil. Sometimes shit goes weird and tries to kill you."

That about covered it all, right?

Lucius stares at her, waiting, quite literally, for her to pull the other one. She doesn't and, after a moment, he just says:

"No."

He doesn't sound terribly bothered by it, or angry, but that is the single most preposterous thing he's ever heard. He moves, crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. Begrudgingly, he casts a look around at the karaoke bar. There are neon lights, pleather couches, the lit up screens, a disco ball, various colored, flashing, electric lights, and a massive pile of wires that had, until moments ago, dragged him across a great distance and tried to constrict him to death.

He has absolutely no idea what any of this is which means, obviously:

"Oh, so we're dead and in hell. Right," he announces dispassionately. "Well, that's something."

He'll have a whole breakdown about this later, after it's sunk in. For now, he just looks at his new best friend and clicks his tongue.

"Lucius Spriggs," he declares and holds out a hand. "Let's get absolutely shitfaced now, please."

"Not hell, I've been. Hell doesn't have karaoke. And we're not dead, either."

Well, the underworld, but the joke stands. She appreciates the... humour he seems to be taking this in, which was markedly better than the amount of swearing she did on her first day. She takes the hand firmly.

"Darcy. You always invite people to drink like you're making a business deal?"

She asks, teasing.

"Not that I drink or anything. You'll have to get shitfaced for me."

"Don't worry, I'll be getting shitfaced enough for several people," Lucius tells her and starts walking. He hasn't the faintest where he's going apart from somewhere away from the wires and karaoke. He casually wraps an arm around his new friend Darcy and drags her along as he starts looking for the nearest repository of so much...just so much booze.

"In my defense, I'm usually quite fun," Lucius proclaims. "In about three drinks, you'll meet the fun...not as traumatized version of me."

He glances sidelong at Darcy and looks a little unsure and also manic--he's screaming on the inside.

"Where are we going?"

She laughs again, carefully removing herself from under his arm and offering him an elbow instead. Leave room for Jesus, Lucius.

"Hey- I thought you were leading the way, ehn? Lemme see..."

She squints, trying to orient herself on the ship.

"I think Rischie is nearby. Do you like clubs?"

"If it'll get me a drink?"

He's never been fond of fighting but, frankly, he's too addled to argue. If she wants him to club someone named Rischie so they can steal their booze, he's in.

"What do we do with the body after?" He hums. "Actually: I don't care, that's a problem for drunk me."

"Body?"

...

She gives him another look over, putting together the ignorance about certain bits of slang with the questionable fashion sense.

"Ah fuck- you're probably just also really old like Stede. No- club like a... party place. Loud music and alcohol."

The LOOK of abject horror and disgust that comment earns her is extremely dramatic and absolute. The betrayal he feels is beyond words--just--is she an actual demon? He thought they were friends? Did he kick her puppy en route?

Lucius isn't wearing pearls but he does clutch at his cravat as he recoils.

"ExCuSe Me!?"

Wait--hidden in that egregious insult to his person was a tidbit of actual knowledge.

"Stede as in: Bonnet? The...Gentleman Pirate?"

It's so dramatic that Darcy fails to read it as genuine, assuming it's a joking exaggeration. She laughs again, leaning against the wall of the hallway, her arms around her middle.

"Fuck- I meant you're from the past, ehn? You don't look that old."

She shrugged at his question with one shoulder, "is that what he calls himself? Stede Bonnet, fancy pants, keeps making moon-eyes at Blackbeard, that Stede."

"That's just his face," Lucius corrects, all drama drained out of him. He's being laughed at by a teenager in Hell and also his boss is here. And his boss's co...boss.

He really needs that drink.

"Come on, let's go mug that guy with a club or whatever, keep walking," he gestures forward with a vague shooing motion. "I need at least three fingers of rum for this conversation."

"What, always?" She doesn't really believe him, but if Lucius knows him from before, then he's probably right.

The pimply-psychopomp ferries her cargo from the hallway safely into the club. The hypnotic technicolour lights are always on, as is the thumping music, and, most importantly, the alcohol is always available. She gestures for him to retrieve it himself, to save them both a visit from Gal Friday, and sits herself at a table, tapping along to the thumpy music.

Lucius leaves his new mean teenager friend at the table and promptly hops the bar to rustle around through the bottles. His back absolutely disapproves of all the nimble barhopping, but it can quit bitching because liquor is the absolute priority here. He doesn't know what half of these are so he grabs two big bottles, heavy ones, and makes his way back to the table.

Did he grab a handle of vodka and a huge bottle of off brand Midori? Yes. Does he twist off the cap on said melon liquer, take a swig, sputter, and then decide to just finish it or pass out trying? Also yes.

His next drink is a bit deeper than he ought to take in front of a teenager...or a bartender, for that matter, but once he's a good few chugs in he feels like he can face this absolute bat shit shift in reality.

"Okay--" said hoarsely, he gestures very vaguely with big motions with his free, non Midori holding hand. "Yes that's his face, it just gets...extra mooney around Blackbeard."

Darcy tries to tell him "I think you're meant to mix th-" when he sits down with the bottles, but he chugs them anyway, and with an expression halfway between being impressed and horrified for the state of his liver, she gestures that she's washing her hands of the situation.

"Alright, anything else I should know about him? I haven't been on the crew for long, and he's kind of hard to read."

"Oh...oh sweetie," Lucius says before he can catch himself. He takes another long swig of the green liquer and sets the bottle aside. The folds his hands in front of him and waits, just a tic, for the 20% alcohol by volume to start kicking in.

"Repeat that for me, please. You're on the crew?" It's not said with any sort of derision. She's certainly not the youngest person he's ever seen press-ganged but, this, Stede Bonnet is, oh dear.

Nope, he still needs another swig and he sighs as he takes one.

Now who's being mean? She gives him a reproachful look for the 'sweetie' and hunches forward, folding her arms on the table.

"Yeah, there was a sign up and everything. I'm in it for the sword fighting, mostly."

Lucius gives her an apologetic sort of grimace and slides the midori between them. He drums his fingers on it and considers her tough, reproachful face. She could kick his ass but, really, so could a properly motivated seagull. He sighs.

"Of course you are," he agrees and clucks his tongue. He's being careful, conversational even. This is possibly the least judgmental and bitchy he's been so far. "And you've met many pirates before joining the crew?"

"I've read about them. There's not really any pirates running around back home. Are you getting at something? Is Stede like, the most shit pirate to step on a ship or something?"

Which would make his involvement with Blackbeard weird; Blackbeard was amazing enough that he persisted through history, whereas she'd never heard of Stede back home.

II

A GEIST OC! That takes me back.

Aaaay always nice to see someone familiar with WoD!!

Last game I played we did a big combo of books. I was a Demon and had a Geist girl as fake daughter.

Oh that's so fun!! I love crossover/combo games

It was buckwild, I will remember it fondly forever.

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