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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.]
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Darcy shifts her weight a little, glancing down the hallway like she really does not want to be here right now, her arms folded tight.
"Just got here. I had to rescue him from the karaoke machine. He knows we can't die and can't leave, so you know, the important shit. He's also from- do you know Stede? Fancy dude, looks like a decorated cake. He's from his crew."
... Okay, it's notable enough that she has to comment on it, even if she can't bring herself to be chipper. She leans in and lowers her voice.
"Which is weird, ehn? If it was really random, it should be impossible for members of the same exact crew from the same exact world to show up. Maybe the Captain... likes taking groups, for some reason?"
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"I think there's a fair bit of chance involved in how he draws us in, but... I could see him preferring pirates." It's a Gentlemen Prefer Pirates sort of situation. "It fits with the ship theme, anyway. I... am not sure why he'd pick Stede, exactly..."
Oh, that sounded bad, didn't it? Better clarify for Lucius' sake. "Not that he's a bad guy, of course! He just... doesn't seem interested in the evil machinations of our captor."
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He saunters out of the washroom, regards the beds and the room in general, and then looks at his new skeleton roommate. Why the aforementioned skeleton is dressed in fancy clothing and a jaunty hat, Lucius has no idea, and he's not about to navigate the choppy waters of offending the dead right after he vomited on the doorstep. Besides, meeting Skulduggery is only, what, the fifth strangest thing that's happened to him today?
Maybe not even top five.
"He's...not going to show up shortly is he? Because I could really use sleep before I have to start working again," he asks and then furrows his brow and glances from the skeleton to the teenager. He assumes the teenager will have the better answer. "Can we sleep here? Is that a thing?"
God he hopes that is, in fact, a thing.
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Back on subject.
"Isn't that better for the Captain, though? Get plenty of people aboard who are varying levels of idiots, that won't try and interfere with his plans?"
She's really pulling no punches here, it's a real viciousness that Skulduggery may not have encountered in her yet.
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Hah. Got 'em. And now with that out of the way, both Darcy and Lucius can be party to his stream-of-thought process.
"Really, though. He probably prefers a challenge. Which, maybe that's exactly what this is?" He gestures to Lucius, the only one available to prove the point. "You take perfectly normal people, tear them from their comfort zone, and then see how far they can scrabble up the walls before they lose their will to live." He could go on down that particular train of thought, but... he's already being morbid enough around a newcomer.
Speaking of... he should probably try to soften Darcy's snark. A little belatedly, but it's the thought that counts. "Anything in this room is yours to use, except the bottom dresser drawer. That's where my guns are." Also stacks of traced images from the photo stand, but one thing at a time. "And I don't sleep, so the beds are both yours. Darcy's just being a bit testy. Probably on account of all the scorpions."
Double got 'em.
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"Don't open the private dresser drawer on account of guns. Got it. And you--" he rolls his head to the side slightly and glowers at her. "You're fantastic and I adore you, you little shit. Don't be a pirate."
He shifts his face back into the pillow and then huffs and rolls over to stare at the ceiling, resigned to scorpion death when he passes out.
"And if someone is looking to test the mettle of normal people, they probably ought not to have picked the likes of Stede Bonnet or, and I say this with utmost something something: you, dapper skeleton man person. I'd try a different guess," he drones idly, completely unapologetic about his eavesdropping. Is it eavesdropping if he's in the room? Hard to say given how the spin is rooming. "Are we sure this is a boat? Because tha's fuckin' wild. Not swaying at all--oh no wait--I can feel it--wait--no I can't--boo."
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But, despite every bone in her body protesting, the idiot did have a point.
"He's right," she grits, "we aren't exactly regular people. Even if he wanted a fight, you could just... get very clever or strong-willed regular people. Why bother with people like us, who actually stand a chance of doing something?"
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"I don't know," he tells Darcy. "I really don't. Maybe I'm being the idiot by assuming that anyone aboard could possibly be normal." Which is his attempt at apologizing without apologizing, because that's... terribly embarrassing to have to do in front of a stranger. "Nobody I've spoken to has had anything remotely resembling an average life. For all we know, Stede and his crew have some kind of as-of-yet-unseen magical powers."
Hmmm...
"Say, Lucius, you wouldn't happen to be able to summon fire in your hand or maybe... I don't know, cast charms on people? Maybe you're uncannily good with tarot cards? You can tell us if you're known for witchcraft." He is, unfortunately, desperately serious.
Their magical ability is to survive indefinitely in rowboats on the open ocean. V Specific.
"I have precisely three powers--" Lucius tells the skeleton with about as much seriousness as he can conjure. "Reading, writing--"
Oh, wait. He catches himself and picks his head up to peer at Darcy. Yes, she's still there. He pulls a strained face then turns that strained face at Skullduggery and lowers his hand.
"And aaaaah--we'll go with drinking," he finishes and is hit by a wave of vertigo. He holds his arms out, suddenly, to make sure he's not about to be thrown off the bed. He is not given that he is stationary and, for all intents and purposes, so is the ship.
(Drinking is clearly not his third power. He's not going to be questioned on this in mixed company, though, and continues:)
"It's just Captain and Blackbeard here, then? Easier, sort of. Captain is--so--if you get bit by a snake and die, it's venomous right? If you eat that snake and die, it's poisonous. Captain is...whatever the one is where if it bites you, it dies. Blackbeard's...maybe, I dunno, might be witchcraft? Who's to say?"
not to mention fantastic comedic timing
"Skulduggery! Since you don't sleep I was wondering if you'd have a preference-- Oh, hello Darcy. And Lucius. God..." He wrinkles his nose. "What's that smell? It's like lime puke in here." Bleh.
"Anyway. What do you think, Skulduggery...Well both of you. Teal blue or plain black? Which looks more badass?" He holds up two scraps of cloth that seem to have been cut out badly with poor scissors.
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Fuck it.
She stops trying to resist the Shroud and lets the silence and indignity of her death swallow her, rendering her invisible to a casual glance. Of course, Stede in the doorway means she can't leave, but she also can't be expected to do things like 'talk to her "captain"' if she no longer appears to be there. Darcy sits herself in the nearest corner and tries not to scream.
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"Thank God for scorpions," he drawls.
"Plain black," he answers after a moment, sounding just so drowsy. "Was that a napkin?"
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And now his teenage friend is invisible in a corner and Lucius is praying for scorpion death. Both of these things are very minorly his fault, which leads him to the horrifying realization that he might be the responsible party here.
This is the worst news he could have right now. He is not, generally speaking, known for being the responsible party.
First thing's first. "Obviously black," because he agrees with Lucius wholeheartedly on the matter. And then... okay. The invisible teenager might want a free pass next.
"Captain Bonnet, as much as I appreciate your company, I'd prefer it if you'd have the courtesy to knock, next time you come by." Because nothing says disappointed like calling a guy out on his impoliteness. "But since you're here, you might as well come in for a minute."
And if he's extremely gently applying a breeze in the hall to encourage Stede inside, to free the door for an invisible escape, well, who's to say?
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Then he blinks at Skulduggery.
"Courtesy to knock..." He says it as if savoring the flavor of a sentence he's perhaps heard before in a somewhat distant past but can't quite grasp the meaning of. Well-- nevermind, he'll have Lucius explain it later. He shivers at the sudden breeze.
"Gosh, that went right up the nightshirt. Weird how it becomes a wind tunnel in here. No, no, I can't stay. I just thought I'd pop by and ask." And because he has some sympathy. "Darcy, I look forward to your participation next time." That being said he does take a moment to slip across the room to...put the black nearish Lucius' hand.
"There you go. Safe and sound. Oh, and Lucius, remind me that we really need to go over death buddies before it's too late and someone goes on a murderous rampage." Pat pat on the bed and he beams at them.
"Well! Night all!"
And he'll go back out with the same flourish he came in, that is, if no one stops him.
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In fact, apart from the fabric swatch dropped by his hand and the reminder to schedule something about Death Buddies, there's no indication that Stede Bonnet was ever in the room.
Lucius blinks at the fabric and then looks at Skulduggery. He looks so much calmer now that he has a chance to sleep but, he's got to double check:
"Which drawer is it, then? The guns?"
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Just in case somebody was thinking of killing himself... or somebody else. Skulduggery heaves a sigh, which is accompanied by an undeniably tired headshake. "It's not so bad," he comments, partially to reassure himself and maybe a little to reassure Lucius. "Of course, the entire situation is absolutely wretched, and we're all likely going to die repeatedly at the whims of the sadistic being who brought us here, but..."
Um. He had a point here, he's sure of it. Man, he should probably plan out these pep talks more.
"The point is, despite the situation, we aren't alone here. It might seem like a hopeless situation, but it isn't. Not as long as we remember to stick together."
Drunken encouragement feat. Lucius Spriggs
"First her now you," he grouses. "I may have gotten fitshaced after getting here, but I was attacked by a tentacle Carry Oakey and found out I was dead probably and also my boss is here--alcohol is a reasonable reaction--"
Wait, this isn't his point. He props himself back up and looks at the skeleton in the jaunty hat. It's not really worth mentioning that he is a skeleton with a jaunty hat and that his presence alone merits more alcohol. Put a pin in that.
"As far as Hell goes, this isntsobad," he slurs and gives Skulduggery a look. To make his point he awkwardly arranges his hands in front of him and starts counting off points on his fingers.
"First--free booze. You can jus take it. Second, so much space? It doesn't even smell terrible! Third? Beds. These are very good. You know I once slept in a trunk for like a week because this person was debating stabbing me to death--
"Things used to try to kill me all the time, every day, scurvy, or Spanish Jackie wants our noses, or there's a big fuckoff navy ship, or Buttons tries to eat me? And there was no free booze. Not good booze. Definitely no fluffy pillows.
"Hell? Not so bad, really." He pats the bed in drunken invitation and then flops back again. "Come on, enjoy the pillows until the scorpions show up."
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Skulduggery can't help but be momentarily stunned, because quite frankly nobody has come at it quite so positively as Lucius is currently doing. Then again, most of the people aboard are used to the modern conveniences aboard; it's no wonder that Lucius is capable of seeing the upsides.
He does approach but instead sits on the second bed across from Lucius. It's nothing personal, of course -- he just really doesn't want to risk getting vomited on. "You know, most everybody here is from... comparatively modern times, so they don't tend to share your outlook. I've got to say, it's refreshing. For what it's worth, drinking is a perfectly reasonable reaction to the situation. And there aren't really any scorpions."
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Because, honestly, he's too tired to decide whether he believes it or not.
"But if we don't have to murder and pillage to eat? This much future is fine. Except Carry Oakey. Fuck Carry Oakey."
There's a long silence and Lucius might be asleep, but then he asks:
"So--are you a skeleton who was always a skeleton, or did you used to be not a skeleton?"
That question was going to bother him, he knew it, so it's best to just ask it now and get it out of the way.
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The silence is just long enough that Skulduggery almost gets up, but of course, the question comes before that happens. "Ah. I had the rest of it, at one point. I had hair, sort of... you know, nice like yours, and eyes in the right spot... all the good stuff. But it's been a long time since then, and I've adjusted pretty fantastically." He likes to think, anyway.
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Lucius gives up on the idea of the scorpions and just rolls onto his side and hauls part of the bedspread with him. Egads this is comfortable.
"You seem fine. Well dressed. Funny. Who needs hair and eyes?" Lucius mumbles as he gradually winds himself into a cocoon. "Goodnight. Kill the scorpions please and thank you."
And with that nonsense, Lucius is out in a midori fueled haze. Luckily, at least for Skulduggery, he doesn't snore.
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He's been in this position before, more times than anybody would probably believe. It's Gordon who taught him to leave the ice bucket by the bed to save his shoes from the later horror, and Gordon again who got him into the habit of leaving water on the nightstand. The curtains are a lost cause, but at least the lights can be turned down.
One thing he does is special for Lucius and his delicate old-world sensibilities. Lucius' key and phone are left on the desk for him; the phone in particular has a piece of paper stuck beneath it with basic instructions accompanied by quickly drawn buttons. Nothing complicated, of course, but enough to get him going: where the contact list is, how to select a contact, and which direction to hold the phone so he's actually speaking into the receiver.
He also goes ahead and puts his & Darcy's contact information in. You know, in case the scorpions come and he needs help fighting them off. And then, because he's not going to deal with the sick or the torn up room, Skulduggery gets the hell out of Dodge.