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TEST DRIVE MEME #6
1. took a time-traveling ride
[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! I'm so happy you could join us!
[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. so many dragons lurking out in the fog
[the cabins closest to the laundry room door will notice first. the steady hums and thuds of the machines, muffled by walls, are growing louder and louder, until it almost sounds like someone is bashing them against the wall. soapy water leaks from under the closed door, drips from the sides.
until someone is dumb enough to open it.
it’s a flash flood of detergent, a wave of foam and hot water feet high spilling forth and bringing down and along anything caught in its path. you’d think it would be a quick burst, that once whatever had built up in the room was released, the torrent would subside. but, it doesn’t. and a river of half-washed socks overtakes the hallways.]
3. I need protection from the things in my head
[The Infinite Tommy Bahama, everyone’s favorite destination for laid-back island sophistication, is a bit of an odd duck on the Promenade. and not just because it’s seemingly shoved between two extant locales, or because it’s a clothing store among bars and restaurants. for some reason, the unseen spirits that attend the other bars and shops, doing the routine duties necessary to keep such places running, seem to avoid this one, and it shows. clothes that are taken off the racks are not put back on again, leaving increasingly large piles of floral print and polyester blends in every aisle.
and that is where he is born.
there’s just so many piles. and they all look pretty much the same, each as tacky as the one next to it. it would be hard to notice that one has moved while your back was turned to it. difficult to realize that a singular pile has started stalking you through the stacks and racks. until it’s too late to turn back, until you’ve lost sight of the entrance, and the piles of discarded slacks and blazers seem to conglomerate into one massive beast, which rises from the polished wood floors and throws its weight upon its hapless victim.
the bahamanal strikes.]
Siffleur | OC | OTA
1. Time Travel Ride - Arrival
[Siffleur resists at every turn. Every step, he tries to take a different way out, wanting nothing more than to turn down one of the halls and find somewhere worth hiding in - somewhere high up, somewhere with a good view, or if he can't get that, then somewhere small he can hide in and have a single point to defend himself from.
Instead, he's forced to marched to the deck of a ship, forced to bow to let a faceless thing with a wrong smell hang flowers around his chest, and he's bombarded with loud sounds and strange instructions he can't make sense of. The smell of the sea is overpowering and also not right. This isn't anywhere Siffleur's ever been before.
When the spell breaks and he can move again, he does, running through the crowd of strangers as he desperately tries to find some kind of escape. He's concerned with getting out, and not with the people around him, which means he brings all of his giant frame to bear on whoever can't move out of his way fast enough. Siffleur hits the stranger with enough force to knock a normal person back a dozen feet.]
2. Things In My Head
[Salvation has been found in the form of a clothing store. There is something here that might be funny if he wasn't so unsettled. He usually hates stores, especially clothing stores. Always has. Even when he was little, and he would go shopping with his mother, he hated them. They made his skin prickle. It was too easy to be lost, and the music was always too loud, or it smells like perfumes or colognes. As he grew, they proved to be even more useless, as he had outgrown the sizes in most normal stores by the time he was fifteen.
This place probably does not have his size. These aren't the kinds of clothes he would ever wear. And yet, it's a relief because it's so big, so overflowing with fabrics, that he's found a place where he can hide.
He moves in deep as he can, until the entrance vanishes from sight and the discarded clothing piles high enough to remind him of mountain peaks. Just like mountain peaks, they prove to be unsteady, and the moment before the largest pile collapses, he hears the shifting of fabric as it rolls against each other, something deep inside collapsing.
Siffleur dodges to the right, narrowly escaping the avalanche of men's wear, and as he runs, he transforms. His bones crack and flesh rips, until he can drop to all fours and move faster. With that, he spots a check-out counter and jumps for it, landing on the unmanned space and coming to a stop. His ears flicker back and forth, searching for other sounds in this store. What is that? Who is that?]
3. Chew You Up
[There is a large cougar sitting on a stool at MIKABO, watching plates of sushi roll by. Occasionally, he spots something he likes and paws it off the conveyor belt and onto the counter, licking the raw meat straight off the plate.
There's a growing pile of dishes by his feet and no sign of him stopping anytime soon.]
3
no subject
This place belongs to neither of them. This forces Fleur to make a third choice, reluctantly picking the option humans do when forced to spend time near another: he waits for more information. He shows no pleasure in this uninvited company, but neither does he show outright hostility - yet.
Instead, he returns the fellow big cat's gaze until a bit of salmon rolls by. Then he breaks their staredown, quickly pawing the plate in front of him before the panther can. In one swift move, he licks up the fatty fish and the rice it's been draped over, and then turns back to stare at the panther.]
no subject
The cougar, so far as he's concerned, is likely not a truly wild animal, he probably would not sit on a stool if he was, and it also seems likely that if he was this would have turned rather violent by now - especially with all the staring Giles has been doing. So, either the cougar is from a world where the primary intelligent life is more animal than human in nature, or he's also a shapeshifter of some kind.
The panther shifts its focus finally, its gaze fixing on the moving plates instead. Trying to show that it's not interested in conflict now it's sated its curiosity. ]
It might interest you to know [ it speaks slowly, eyes still fixed on the endless circle of plated food ] all creatures have the capacity for human-like speech here.
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He opens his mouth and licks at his lips and teeth a few times before he tries it as well. What should be a few low chuffing noises comes out in words instead - a voice like his human voice, though with more of a rasp over it.]
Strange. I'm far from home. When I spoke with men's words, it was in a man's shape.
[One large paw reaches out to drag over another plate - this one with an octopus on it, tentacles curled delicately around it. He gobbles it up, and tips both empty plates onto the ground with the rest. And he tips his head to the panther, a motion caught between a cat's curiosity and a human's inquiry.]
Are you this shape always, or sometimes?
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[ The panther looks back briefly, if its mouth were set up for smiling that's what it would be doing. As it is it's more of an awkward baring of teeth than anything. ]
To my knowledge there aren't many of us aboard who can change their shape, I take it I'm to count you among that number also?
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The same is true for Siffleur, but the other way around. This is comfortable. The shape of a man is something to be worn when necessary. He does not completely relax, but he shows no signs of aggression either. This is a useful conversation, and he would be stupid to leave simply because he is uncomfortable.]
Yes. They brought me here as a man, but nothing has stopped me from changing. There are... other things here. I've never smelt their kinds before.
[Again, the tip of the head. Has the panther?]
no subject
[ Giles is just going to stop attempting to emote, it's clearly putting the cougar on edge. There no sense in causing undue distress, especially with someone that's certainly far more used to fighting with tooth and claw than he ]
You're correct though, there are all kinds of people here from all kinds of worlds. Gods, aliens, robots, undead, and likely many more besides that I don't know about. The Captain doesn't seem especially picky as to where he pulls us all from. It makes for quite an interesting cohort.
no subject
Don't like it.
[Ears flat, but the irritation is with himself, not the panther. Things to learn to control now include the sounds made in different forms. He'll work on that later. But for now, there is an easy solution. The panther beside him is a person, not an animal, and it seems less likely he'll be mauled at the sushi bar. The smell of blood hasn't been elsewhere on the ship, or corpses and bones.
So he stretches, and there's a crunching shuddering sound as he transforms. Siffleur's fur grows matted, then melts together and grows pink as it transforms into skin. The bones in his body grind and break as necessary, reforming into their other shapes, and his insides all arrange themselves to an upright hominid form. His head undergoes the biggest transformation, his face melting inwards, fangs drawing back into a very different jaw.
By the end of the process, there's a tall and naked man sitting on a stool. He reaches out with his hand to pick up a plate with maki rolls and to pop one into his mouth.]
My mother told me stories about those things when I was little. Never saw any. Thought she and the world made them up. Guess not. None of us here by choice?
[It's a question and not one. This panther has already answered in the way he said it. Siffleur pushes the other roll around on the plat. The Captain fills this place with things, and doesn't care where they come from. Does it know what Siffleur is? Maybe. As he has learned, powerful things have as much madness as small ones.
Time for a better question. This one's been here a while. He should have an answer. Or an agenda. The panther chose to approach him despite the danger. Which means there was no danger at all, or this is a man whose wants were stronger than self-preservation. Both would explain much.]
What do we really do here?
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It's not so visceral, the process of panther returning to man. More like a blurred image coming into focus. Black fur becoming deep shadows that quickly soften under the artificial lights, revealing the person underneath. He's not naked, far from it, his old-fashioned three piece suit in perfect condition as though he'd just stepped out of a fashion plate. But even though he's no-longer an animal he's still not entirely human, with slightly pointed ears, too-bright reflective eyes that would look far more at home on cat, and the teeth to match. ]
We don't really do anything. [ He shrugs, it's both a very simple and very complex question ] We're largely left to our own devices, there are excursions every month or so, but the Captain doesn't seem to care about what happens day-to-day.
That said though, to my knowledge, the reason we're here is that the Captain harvests energy from our emotions, especially negative ones. So we're kept in captivity with no way out. Even through death.
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The man isn't fully human either, though it's easier to think of him as such. Siffleur isn't stupid enough to let his guard down over small gestures, but he still finds himself warming up ever so slightly at the inhuman features - the pointed ears, the bright eyes, the teeth. Though Siffleur has no points to his ears and his teeth are human, his eyes are yellow and he still looks at the man as a cat might.
He eats his other roll, chewing as the man explains things. His face doesn't change much, remaining mostly blank except for the slightest wrinkle in the middle of his forehead when he says the Captain eats their emotions. Inside, beneath the placid exterior, he feels his organs all go cold. Captivity with no way out. But he has to get to the Yoho. He isn't meant for cages.
Blank can be good though, especially since if he were a cougar, his face would have showed his confusion at the last strange little sentence. His features smooth out almost imperceptibly as he mulls over it. Even through death. He must mean more than this place keeping hold of their corpses. That would be expected. Souls then, if those are real. The panther did say there were other things. His mind serves up images of body parts in jars, thick coils of copper, thoughts dictated over computers. Terrible.]
No escape. Left to ourselves. [He confirms he's listening and understanding, as much as he can. This panther has been very helpful. What does he want? Maybe he's one of those humans who just likes helping. It might be safe to keep asking questions.] How through death? Does he keep our... souls? Minds?
no subject
I don't know quite how it works, there are any number of different systems of power he could be drawing on to do it. In my world it would likely be contract draw up with Death itself, to relinquish any claim over the fallen in his domain. Or perhaps he has possession of our souls and it is simpler to keep them in our bodies than any other vessel. Whatever the method, the effect is the same:
When someone dies here, their body is collected, and the next morning they awake in their bed as normal.
Thankfully it is not something I've had to endure, but I know of some who have. It does not sound a pleasant experience.
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But what doesn't happen is coming back to life. He sits up straighter and there's an expression on his face besides blankness. Were he in his other form, his ears would be perked forward. For now, he settles a finger against his chin, the corners of his mouth pulled slightly upwards.]
Huh.
[The fear of death is one that has hung over him most his life, as it hangs over all things who call the woods their home. So often, he has been forced to retreat, to give way to the bigger beasts, the more savage men, to give up comforts and territory and move on again. He fought when he had to, and sometimes when he didn't, but always he was forced to be aware of his own mortality.
Not here. And isn't that interesting.]
You said the Captain eats emotions? Does he give punishments to those who kill?
no subject
[ He's staring again, piercing eyes trying to see through skin and bone into the soul underneath. Trying to put together the pieces of what's starting to become a rather worrying puzzle.
Perhaps it's only a question to satisfy curiosity, and nothing else. Or maybe it's merely because accidents happen when you spend time as a big cat. Simple answers to the puzzle, ones Giles has to believe before his anxious mind runs away with the far less savoury options. Though he'll still pick his words carefully.
The rustling grows louder under his voice, and there's a slight chill in the air despite it being a closed environment. ]
He might.
So far as I know I've never met someone who's been on that side of things, though I doubt such a person would make it known. After all, we must all still live with eachother afterwards, and perhaps that's a punishment in and of itself.
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There is something about the man's voice that gives pause. He is reminded of autumn frosts, how they creep in slowly but deadly. This man has manners and dresses like a soft creature, but he isn't. Fighting him would be dangerous.
But, if death means nothing here, then perhaps he will do it sometime. Not now though. This man has given Siffleur assistance, and he will repay that debt with mercy and restraint.]
You're right. Isolation is enough punishment to prevent that. If not, then the inconvenience that comes with it.
[Another plate of salmon comes by and he picks it off the belt, scooping it and the rice into his mouth to chew and swallow. The thrill of the hunt always tempts him, but he does feel very content to sit here and have food brought to him for now.]
Does the Captain seem well fed? Or ravenous?
no subject
Well fed I think.
[ He takes a plate for himself finally, picking delicately at it with chopsticks more than he is actually eating ]
Or I hope so, there's no telling what might happen if he's not.
no subject
But again, the man has been helpful, so Siffleur will play his game. He will be polite and they will pretend the answer isn't obvious together.]
Worry when you cross that bridge.
[He turns more to the man and holds out a hand to shake, since anyone dressed the way the man is probably cares about being human. Siffleur's fingers are very long and his palm very wide, ancient scars from old knives and claws here and there on his hand.]
I'm Siffleur.
no subject
[ He turns to Siffleur with a warm smile and shakes his hand just as warmly. His hands aren't exactly soft, but neither are they rough. A few callouses and the odd scar built up over a lifetime working, but gentle labour, nothing overly strenuous. Though that could just as easily be guessed from the way he dresses. ]
I go by Giles. It is a pleasure to meet you, Siffleur.
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And he tries to smile. It's at least sincerely meant, even if the expression is clearly one he rarely makes and never quite got the knack of.]
Yes, it's been nice to meet you too. You're very helpful.
[He sets the eel beside Giles and gives it a nod.]
Try this one next. It's good.
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[ It's said modestly, but it's true nonetheless. It gives him great satisfaction to help others, so he does what he can, and a new arrival is one of the easier things to help with. ]
Mm, this is good. You certainly know your fish.
[ He'll take a moment just to enjoy the eel, eyes closing to focus on the taste. Once he's had a moment though, the curiosity is back ]
If you don't mind my asking, what's the place you come from like?
no subject
Giles' question makes him stop and reflect. He has already lived between two worlds, but they were the same place, just two different ways of existing in it. How to understand where he came from against other places? He no longer knows what other people would consider 'normal'.]
I don't know what ordinary is to you, but it felt ordinary to me. Cities full of people. Wilderness full of animals. I lived in both but mostly in the wild. Mostly as an animal. The only person who was ever like me was my mother. Everything else stayed in one shape. I read stories about creatures like me, but not me - werewolves, skin changers, shapeshifters. Never could be sure if they were real. Never met anyone who could do magic. Lots of technology - cars, computers, cell phones, planes - but nothing felt impossible.
What was your place like?
no subject
He spends a moment deciding on his own answer, always hesitant to give away too much despite the necessity of secrecy not applying here as much as it had in his own world. ]
Similar enough to yours I think, a level of technology about on par with what the ship provides. Just with a little more magic, although that's not exactly the positive thing most would take it to be.
Most of the world believes magic to be something that only exists in fiction, and those of us who know the truth of the matter form secret societies in parallel to the mundane. For our own protection, as well as that of the general public.
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3
So April instead sits a few stools downwind, which unfortunately puts the cougar nearer to the start of the conveyor belt.
Which is fine, he's leaving plenty for April to pick at, like tamago or unagi or avocado rolls, but April came to this place for the raw fish and she's still waiting. Just for some salmon, please, something good and fatty and marbled.
But again and again, the cougar slaps away the thickest, meatiest cuts of fish, and April is trying to be as polite and patient as the presence of an apex predator demands. But then the see an absolutely beautifully plated tray of salmon sashimi, garnished like an art piece, complete with a rose made from thinner slices of salmon and roe, and April knows in their heart what's going to happen, but hopes foolishly anyway.
An aside: April's ability to slide out memory has been there from the start. Once an innate piece of camouflage, like an octopus changing colours under a passing shadow by reflex, as they experienced the world and expanded their hunting grounds they noticed this automatic part of themselves and began to work on it, like one learning to control their breathing.
Over decades, they learned the ins and outs of what made them stick or slip, of the power of expectations and assumptions, of what people dismiss and where, the nuances of environment and role and society, the location of the collective blindspot of humanity, putting effort into pushing and pulling on these borders of awareness until they landed back on the other end of the horseshoe, so practiced at this art that it functions on routine and (figurative) muscle memory such that April forgets it's 'on'.
If this cougar didn't expect company, and isn't actively trying to smell a human he thinks is there, then he will be in for a shock when after batting his next batch of salmon someone whips a pair of chopsticks into the counter and shouts over the clattering of cheap bamboo: "OH, COME ON!”
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Which means that he is completely unaware that there is anything else in this dinner, until the moment he puts his paw on a plate with some wonderful smelling salmon and roe and a human voice appears directly to his right to yell at him.
The reaction is all instinct. He leaps straight up, twisting to find the source of the voice, the sudden unseen predator that's come into his space. The plate falls to the ground, shattering and scattering salmon everywhere, roe rolling across the floor. He is still in motion, huge paws scrabbling as they make contact with the counter and the conveyor belt. He slips on it, knocking over a dish with sweet eggs and another with shrimp onto the floor, and then falls behind the counter.
Half a second later, Siffleur springs up again in a clattering of dishes, knocking over plates waiting to be filled and others waiting to be washed by unseen (and unsmelled) staff members. He lunges forward, over the counter, through the hibachi grill where one of those not-chefs was about to do a trick. Siffleur ends up with egg on his face (literally, not figuratively), and with one more powerful coil of his legs, he springs forward, dashing out of the restaurant and away from the danger.
no subject
They're still left with enough tears in their arm and on their leg from shattered plates and god knows what else that they'll need to make a visit to the sundaries store after this for some scotch tape. Fantastic, and, there's a pileup on the conveyor belt.
Fuck it, they'll make the trip now, so maybe Mikabo will be reset by the time they get back.