TEST DRIVE MEME #2

[sailmods]

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.]

Comments

1.

[pianola]

It seemed rather unlikely that this very loud human woman was the only one who was unhappy to be here. Very, very unlikely. And yet, she was certainly the one making the most noise - of course Dorothy turned to look at her with narrowed eyes.

Which, brought about the question.

Dorothy was almost indistinguishable from human, especially at first glance - she's a little too pale, and didn't breathe, stood too still, didn't blink. But her eyes were slightly narrow and she seemed almost stern when she answered - calm and flat, "No."

She looked over the jumpsuit, and ... is that a note of judgement? "What are you wearing?"

[baubled]

Effie narrows her eyes in response the the question. "It's couture!" she shoots back, which is both true and untrue at the same time. And the while the outfit is certainly more visually interesting than a plain jumpsuit, the color is awful and it looks like she's escaped from a semi-fashionable military prison.

"What are you wearing?" she asks, mostly because she doesn't have any better comebacks for this particular scenario.

[pianola]

"It's ugly," Dorothy informed her bluntly, because there was no way around it. The human had attempted to accessorize it and dress it up, it seems - which is why she remarked upon it at all. If it was carried on her person with utility, like a uniform, Dorothy wouldn't have noticed.

But look at the way she's done her hair. And those rings?

"This is what I have agreed to wear for my job," Dorothy informed her, calm and flat. "The man who picked this dress has no taste. What's your excuse?"

[baubled]

Effie gasps. Sure, Haymitch has said nearly the same thing to her on multiple occasions but somehow this is much more offensive. She wouldn't appear in public like this if she had the choice but given the circumstances, she think she looks pretty good.

She can feel her temper start to boil up, and Effie smiles tightly like that might make a difference. Sure, she could storm off. But this time, she has what she thinks is a trump card. "I am political refugee!!" Effie retorts (which is, yet again, both true and untrue at the same time).

Ha! Try and come back from that, short weird lady.