sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #5

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!tdm

TEST DRIVE MEME #5

1. not subtle revealings

[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! 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. a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling

[the reflections are missing. all of them. in mirrors. in television screens. on the backs of spoons. nothing looks back at you.

then, figures do show up. not your own, like you'd expect. thin, wispy apparitions, people with pleading eyes and hands, reaching out to place their palms against the surface, from their own end. faces familiar and not, beckoning, mouthing words you just can't quite make out. help me, it might be. get me out, perhaps. just until you're close enough, until your skin warms the surface of whatever it is you're peering into. and then, those same hands wrap, all too real, burning-cold against your flesh, and pull, trying to drag you through the surface, making up for their lack of strength with desperation. any flesh unlucky enough to enter the reflection comes back bone-white and cold, all sensation dead, though it will fade within a few hours.

in retrospect, it looks a bit more like they were saying something different. something more like, better you than me. or maybe it's not even words at all. they look a bit more like they're laughing.]

3. complex mementos

[but, hey. sometimes changes are good! like, today, in Playback, there's a brand-new game available for all the children to play! it's an old-fashioned sort of claw machine, the type that's so large, a particularly dedicated kindergartner could wriggle their way inside. the prizes vary, and sit loose: bags of candy, stuffed toys, firearms, painfully early-00s electronics, actually that one just looks like a dead iguana, tiny ship-branded knickknacks... like all the other games in the arcade, the game starts up automatically upon being touched; lack of quarters shouldn't keep you from having fun! pro tip: they are loaded, and they will go off if you suck at claw games and let it fall.]

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"What--" Steven, what the actual fuck are you telling people? "So, let me get this straight... This guy over here saw a bunch of different faces, and you didn't see any, and somehow this led to you dragging him back here?"

For some reason. This guy seems kinda... intense, really. Marc isn't sure how to feel about him. "I mean... I'd say most people see things in mirrors all the time. Kinda the point of them, right?"

"Normally one sees oneself in a mirror," Erik points out, in case they don't actually know how they usually work. "And nobody drags me anywhere. He just seems like a baby bird in the wilderness, so I thought maybe you're the one that's got it together," he tells Marc.

"I was going to take Mister Lehnsherr to the restaurant!" Steven protests slightly defensively. Is it his fault that Erik wants to go wherever he wants?

They're both attacking him now and Steven deflates a bit, sitting on the edge of the bed with his mug of tea, sipping on it quietly. If he looks like he's being held hostage in his own room, it's. Probably just the lighting.

C'mon, Marc's not attacking him! He's just-- trying to figure out what the hell is going on and how. "Yeah, well... it's not that weird, talking to yourself in the mirror, is it?"

Maybe not normal, but who hasn't given themselves a stern comment or two, looking in the mirror?

He shifts his weight a bit, looks between Erik and Steven. "He's not helpless. You just said it yourselves, no reflections in the mirror. Anyone'd freak out."

Although maybe not so much about seeing other faces in there, not for them. Still, he can't help but feel a little like sticking up for Steven, just a tiny bit. Baby bird...

"I didn't suggest it was weird. I thought it was interesting. Like maybe he had the power to communicate with someone that way and just didn't want to say so. Maybe people have been less than kind about it in the past," Erik suggests nonchalantly, taking a sip of his tea, watching them carefully.

Steven chokes on his tea and coughs a few times, struggling to set it down so he doesn't break anything or spill it all over.

"Sorry. I inhaled some." Still coughing and wheezing a bit. And now tearing up and sniffling.

"Um. You. Talk through a mirror, often?" Steven asks, voice crawling up a full octave.

Way to be very casual, Steven. Not strange or suspicious at all.

"It's--" What the fuck are they supposed to say to that? It sounds like Steven's talked them into a hole and Marc isn't sure... how to cover it up, how to lie their way out of that.

"I don't think he's talking from personal experience on that one, Steven." He tilts his head, curious.

"But what are you getting at?"

"Sometimes people can do things that other people can't, and it scares the other people, but that doesn't make the ones that can do it crazy or wrong," Erik replies, watching Steven very carefully at this point.

Steven glances up at Marc, then down to the floor, then at Erik and notices that Erik is watching him. He quickly looks down again and nods a few times. He's pretty sure those aren't mutually exclusive. They could do things hardly anyone would believe they can do and they're also certifiably crazy.

Anyway. They can't do those things anymore. And that's probably for the best. With great power came really shouty and mean gods.

"Are you-- different. Like that?"

"What, you talking super powers?" He scoffs a bit, on edge. Mostly, he's wary of this guy. Not sure-- what to do with him or if he can trust them. But maybe it's better if he thinks they're absolutely insane, something to avoid if he's gonna be... prodding around.

"Look, he's--" Sort of a super power. The only one that's ever mattered to Marc in the end. "We used to share a body, kinda."

There. "So if you're looking for kindred spirits... it's probably not us. Whatever we could do, that's a whole other complicated story."

When Steven asks if he's different like that, Erik's lips quirk just a little at the edges, not a full smile but enough of one to answer the question.

Finally, as Marc rambles through his prevarications, Erik's attention turns to him, so it's fully on him by the end.

"What could you do?" he asks innocently as he lifts his hand. A teaspoon flies into it and he wags it at Marc. "And why can't you do it anymore?"

Steven's eyes widen like he's just been shown a magic trick and he just manages to stop himself from reaching over to grab Erik's hands and inspect them.

"Y-you first. Mister. Magnet hands." Or maybe he can make everything float. That would be a really neat trick. Granted, there are weirder people out there with all sorts of neat little tricks...

Marc tenses at the show of-- whatever the fuck that was, eyes darting from Steven to Erik, brows furrowing. "Yeah-- how about you? How can you do that?"

Unusual abilities aren't that unusual where they're from, but-- he's seen plenty of rage monsters and gods and super soldiers, but not magnetic shit. Or whatever it is they just saw.

"In my world they call us mutants." He holds out his hand and the spoon stands on its end and then spins. And then ties itself in a knot. "We all have different abilities. From what I've seen here, people with... special skills exist with many different names."

He grabs the spoon out of the air. "And most of them come from worlds where the population of normal people oppress them in some way. They have to hide what they are or they have to work for the state or they're taught to be ashamed of what they are and what they can do."

Steven wrinkles his nose. The word 'mutant' sounds a little dirty. Although he's sure some people would think that Marc is a little mutated. He must be to spawn a hellish git like Steven.

"We're not oppressed." To say nothing of the shame Marc might feel about his condition. Steven is plenty oppressed in the real world but it's only because he's too nerdy and needy. "We're not-- superheroes. Not like you." They're just crazy. And sometimes see this Egyptian God that gives them nifty suits.

Marc isn't sure he'd say-- they don't carry some stigma around when his condition has caused him a hell of a lot in life, but he's pretty sure it's not quite the same thing as this guy's talking about.

"We served somebody back home. Came with some perks. Never heard of mutants before, but uh. There are people who can do some crazy crap back home, I guess."

Erik nods along to Steven's assertions with faint amusement. Steven is the unserious one, he's decided. His attention turns to Marc when he speaks.

"Superheroes," he assumes, wagging his spoon at Steven. "Where do they come from? How did they get their powers?"

Well excuse you. Steven is very serious! He's just prone to rambling a lot. Just because he's not tall, dark and handsome like Marc, being a man of too many superfluous words and is fine with being vulnerable enough to be open about his feelings doesn't make him unserious.

"I d'know. We're not mates or anything. There's people with their wee gadgets and aliens and wha'ever." He turns to Marc and gives him a shove that hopefully Eric won't see or make mention of. "And we don't serve anybody anymore. That was a-- stupid decision. It was abusive, and toxic, and manipulative, and we're glad it's all behind us now. We're happy to be here, on our own."

Oh, he's being very serious right now, shoving Marc, huffing about Khonshu. Honestly. It gets Marc to pull a bit of a face.

"I'm not really a guy who keeps up on the superhero nonsense. I know they tried to-- do something about all the senseless destruction, get'em to register and all that. Sokovia Accords, I think." But whatever happened to that? He hasn't cared to keep up, if he's honest.

He rolls his eyes before nudging an elbow into Steven in return. "Yeah. That's right. We're-- retired, I guess."

Oh, sorry, you lost him when you said the 'r' word.

"...Register?" Erik echoes. "They made everyone with special abilities register?"

"It was on the news," Steven confirms with a few nods. "Well, mostly because that lunatic blew up the UN and killed and hurt people when they came to ratify the Accords." Steven tries not to glance around because they're safe in the room but he knows said lunatic is on this very ship. Or had been. Steven hasn't seen him in a while... which doesn't negate the chances of him getting punched in the face.

"But you have to register to operate as a superhero and if you don't you're-- illegal, I suppose. A vigilante or wha'ever." He wrinkles his nose and lowers his head. He's not really sure how he feels about it. Everyone understands the problems that the Accords are trying to fix but everyone's got their own opinion of how to fix said problems. He's not sure Marc could have done anything about Harrow, or Ammit, if his name was up there.

"Hope neither of you put your name down on anything... these days bringing that kind of attention to yourself is nothing but trouble."

"It's ridiculous." Sure, he can understand the reasoning behind it and the problem superheroes or whatever pose, but-- registration rubs him the wrong way. It can't end in anything good.

"I've got no interest in registering." If he were alive. It'd make things too complicated for Steven anyway.

"Doesn't sound like this guy's even heard of it."

Erik watches them for a moment, then pulls up the sleeve of his long-sleeved t-shirt to reveal 6 tidy digits tattooed on his forearm.

"I'm familiar with 'registration'," he tells them before tugging the sleeve back down to his wrist. "And it rears its head every decade or so in relation to mutants, but I won't let it happen."

"...oh." Steven lowers his gaze and swallows the lump in his throat. Erik didn't look that old, Steven didn't think-- but he had met the Blackbeard. And the Nostradamus. And all these robots that are light years ahead of what the Avengers had fought in Sokovia. Of course anybody from any time in the past or future could be pulled here.

"I'm so sorry." Steven tries to school his expression into something less upset and more neutral.

Erik still doesn't get a free pass for being an arse. But it's the Marcs of this world, not the Stevens, who could have possibly survived what he did.

Fuck-- Marc looks at the tattoo before his eyes dart back to Erik's. He wouldn't have guessed. Wouldn't have known. The guy doesn't exactly-- look much older than they are, honestly.

But yeah, there are pirates running around, so what does he know?

"Alright, so I guess you know in a way."

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prefers_magneto - 2022-10-17 22:14 (UTC) - Expand

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