sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #7

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TEST DRIVE MEME #7

1. before she hung up, she said she was a skeleton

[there is no note in your cabin. no forces stall your legs if you decide to walk anywhere but the atrium. in fact, for the first time in hundreds of years, newly arrived passengers on the Serena Eterna are waking up with absolutely no guidance. nothing but your fellow passengers in the halls - or maybe in your bed.

perhaps you end up in the atrium eventually anyway. it is where guest services is, and where Gal Friday… actually hasn’t been in a few days. until today. and she is visibly frazzled, her hair uncoiffed, her suit rumpled, something a bit like a bruise blossoming down from her hairline and over her smooth features. more papers than ever cover her desk, and when she turns to face you, her voice is as cheerful as ever, but audibly strained.]

Welcome aboard the Serene Eterna! [a pause] You know how to work a life vest, right? Everyone knows that! You don’t need me to teach you that!

[a light bulb burns out behind her head.]

… I’ll get right on that!

[freedom includes the freedom to not know what the fuck is happening. maybe you should reflect on that.]

2. grandma went and can't stop screaming

[it’s something about the lighting fixtures, this month. has the Bellona always had a massive chandelier? maybe. who knows. don’t ask questions. either way, in the stillness of the night, or day, or late afternoon, there is a noise like a cord being cut, and the chandelier plunges into the audience below.

it hits nothing, of course. no one is ever in the theater. and that, perhaps, is what the trouble is.

so, the chandelier starts to… travel, one could say. it starts to hang in various rooms: the dining halls, the bars, the clubs… sometimes, if you’re out on the pool deck and suddenly realized you’re under a shadow, you can glance up and see it suspended 20 feet above your head, securely fastened to nothing in particular and yet remaining perfectly in place.

until it isn’t. until it falls, crystal shattering on whatever surface it lands on: floor, table, person… and, wherever the chandelier goes, a lilting childish voice follows it, singing without any obvious source.]

Ring-a-ring of roses, a pocket full of posies… ashes, ashes, we all…

3. jeff bezos murdered the infinite tommy bahama

[the lights of the Infinite Tommy Bahama go out three days into October.

barely an hour after its closure, the lights go on again, and a new banner is unfurled.

physically, it is the same store. you can even see the old signs hidden behind the new ones. however, long gone are the tropical prints and khaki dress shorts. now, one can purchase any number of officially licensed or legally distinct Halloween costumes, decorations, and various other haunted accoutrements, leading back as far as the eye can see, and then farther still. is that a Gal Friday mask? spooky! well, at least you’ll be good and ready for the Halloween party at the end of the month, which is absolutely just a normal party and in no way whatsoever anything even remotely resembling a trick. there are only treats at The Infinite Spirit Halloween!

note: bahamanuel is still here! somewhere! it kinda looks like dan bongino.]

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From Shen Qingqiu's point of view, this entire scene is...surreal? Shocking? Just plain awkward, maybe? The last time he saw Yue Qingyuan, the man was in perfect health aside from the broken heart after getting told to fuck off for the rest of eternity.

And yet here he is...still in perfect health, but apparently having become so heartbroken that he's acting as if it was Shen Qingqiu that had died rather than the shambles of their long-broken relationship. Taken off-guard as he is, he fails to move quickly enough to avoid the larger man's embrace, standing stock-still with gaping mouth as he tries to process what the hell is going on.

He hasn't received a hug - or any other form of affection, for that matter - since Yingying turned sixteen, nearly a decade ago; he feels weird, and embarrassed, and uncomfortable in a way he doesn't know how to describe; the freeze only lasts for a few short seconds before he regains enough presence of mind to shove off his shixiong (or try to, anyway) and take a few staggering steps back on legs weakened from imprisonment.

"What are you talking about? Too late for what?" I thought I told you not to come near me! he'd have added, if his dry throat didn't force an interruption through coughs.

Is there anything the army can get right? One minute Henry had a one-way ticket to Illinois, and the next he was waking up on an all-expenses-paid vacation in the Bahamas. Lorraine's gonna kill him.

No one ever said he couldn't make the best of the army's mistakes though (or whatever this is). He's already been to the orientation (not sure what to make of the gal without a face but he's glossing over that for now), stopped by one of the bars, had a bourbon or two (or three), and now he's headed to the infirmary. It's just sort of the natural order of things, right? Doctors, clinics. Clinics, doctors. They go together like peanut butter and jelly. Vodka and soda. Gin and tonic. Maybe he should head back to the bar, actually...

He turns to do just that but an all-too-familiar voice catches his attention so he steps into the clinic after all. Pierce, of course. He should've known. If this isn't an army thing, it's a Pierce-and-McIntyre thing. And, boy, are they gonna get it... just as soon as Henry's finished enjoying the various luxuries this place has to offer.

"None for me, thanks," he says, looking like he's pretty sure he's about to crack the best joke in comedic history. "I need a trepanning like I need a hole in the head."

Edited 2022-11-09 14:46 (UTC)

[ There's a whole world that humans can't see, so he's not the least bit surprised. ]

Trapped, huh. [ Is he really? He's still trying to piece together what happened between what he remembered and waking up on this strange cruise ship. ]

I wonder if that's really true. Maybe we just need to figure out how the crab legs got here.

Shen Qingqiu shoves him back, and he goes, because he has always let go of Shen Jiu when he's asked, even when Yue Qingyuan hasn't wanted to. Has thought, in all the guilt and hope for Shen Qingqiu's happiness over the years, respecting those requests was what he had to do, whta was deserved, that maybe at some point it would make Shen Jiu happy.

It hasn't, he sees now. Not because he could tell Shen Qingqiu how to feel anymore than he could tell water which direction to fall, but because in all the silence, he never said what he must. Never acknowledged how, specifically, he's failed his first and oldest friend, the person he'd wanted to protect most, and only managed enough too late.

Tears drip without fanfare down his cheeks, his chest still locked in a vise, reflected in a tightness in his voice.

"Too late getting back to you," he says, and he watches Shen Jiu with dark, worried eyes, reaching out and halting his hands before they touch at the sides of Shen Qingqiu's hips. His legs are attached. He's standing, and the silly odd robes he's wearing shows uninterrupted lines of skin when he'd stepped back. His legs are there. There's an anger and grief in him that has nothing to do with Shen Jiu and everything to do with himself, and he swallows, fingers twitching back into closed fists as he brings his hands back down to his sides.

"From the Qiu's, or from Luo Binghe. I—" he says, cutting himself off after a moment. Swallowing again, and finally seeming to be half aware of the state of his eyes. One wrist comes up for a perfunctory swipe, and then he's staring at the smear of wetness across it, just staring. "I tried. I did exactly what you said not to do, the first time. I was reckless. I rushed. Xiao Jiu, I never forgot about you, I was qi deviating the year I was supposed to come back—"

Breaks that off again, because he doesn't frame that, doesn't know how to, looks up from his wet hand to stare at a face he knows, he knows, he's died without seeing again.

"I couldn't get to you in time." Not back then, and not in the present. "I'm always too late."

[That's a remarkably calm response to what Ari considers to be completely devastating news. She suspects that he doesn't believe her at all, but she isn't offended. It isn't something that anyone would want to accept easily.

His last remark causes a troubled look to cross her face, though.]

Someone kills crabs and chops their legs off? Hopefully in that order?

[Yes, Ari Tayrey is rather opposed to the idea of meat-eating. Just not quite so much that she doesn't see the potential contradiction. Hasn't she been told that there are no creatures in the sea here? Where are the crabs coming from?]

"A pleasure, Dr. Pierce."

Watson shakes his hand, his grip firm, eyebrow raised at 'handsome,' but it's more invitingly playful than really concerned. "Ah. Well. I haven't had to perform any operations, but we've had our share of other injuries. Cuts and bruises, broken bones, once an amputation. When it's bad, it's bad. It's been me and Tendi, mostly, and she's not quite a doctor, but she certainly has the medical experience."

[ He isn't doubting that she believes it, because she told him. If he is trapped, he could be resigned to be, but there's very little that could actually trap him. He could be needed, that would be different. He'd remain willingly if he was. ]

Typically, that's how it would happen. I've never known a crab to just drop its legs and keep moving on.

[ He has no opinion one way or another on people eating animals, but he knows they do. ]

I also got here...somehow. I don't remember that, but there has to be some kind of entrance. And where there's an entrance...

Ed exhales again, taking the drink as offered. He's not used to someone mixing him a drink, but anything that feels elevated is very much in his interests.

"Ask away." he responds, taking a sip. She's been helpful thus far... he'll at least hear her out.

Ed has made a similar assumption, but he doesn't know what else to do. The gun stays for a moment longer, his grip only weakening after she speaks. He's never had anyone show him sympathy. Not since Stede Bonnet, himself. It feels dangerous. Ed refirms his grip.

"And what makes you think I'm esger to discuss this with a fucking stranger?" he asks through his teeth.

"What is it about me that looks like I'm excited to chat with a fucking stranger?" he groans, hands resting where they seem to naturally-- his weapons belt.

Alcohol is more promising, but he still wonders if he's going to be expected to open up to this weirdo.

"Blackbeard." he responds. "Where's the fucking booze?"

"...What was your exit? How'd you want it all to end?" There's a frank curiosity in Erin's tone; not a fangirl to her idol but more like a young sailor who dreams of being her own captain. "You built a legend that made your shadow larger than any other man's on the sea to the point where hundreds of years later we still speak your name and no one ever asks 'which Blackbeard'. There's only ever been the one. But no one can wage war forever, right?"

Ed feels the blood spatter onto his face and yet he doesn't flinch. It's like an old friend. It's meant to be there. It floods his system with adrenaline and Ed feels a rush. At one point, it can't be determined whose laughing is louder, his or Pratt's.

"I said open your fucking mouth." he grunts through his teeth, pressing the weight of his entire body back, and ready to shove that finger in his mouth one way or another.

Ed squints, "I don't know what you mean." he answers into his drink before placing it back down. "Are you asking me how I want to fucking die?"

He shrugs, giving her a confused look, "Because I don't fucking know. The coolest way possible?"

"While you're at it, brief those trustworthy on our next steps." he mutters, swirling his glass, "Anyone you find particularly useful, I'll want to eventually meet. I want to know what we're working with."

The expendable ones he could give two shits about. Izzy will know the difference, Edward doesn't need to explain.

It's about all the business he thinks they can tackle at the moment, but he'll stay at least to finish his drink.

"No, no no, though uh, noted." Erin considers informing him that he got a pretty fucking legendary death and then decides against it. "I'm talking life after piracy. Bowing out, y'know? Or, you know, not, there's been pirate emperors before. That lass out from China..."

Erin smiles over her drink in fond memory of beloved stories. "Anyway, that's the question. Y'know, a mercenary hopes to save up enough to retire and buy land or make a fortune and go merchant, a soldier wants a home to go to...what were you aiming at?"

Izzy nods again, mind already making lists for himself. He's needed this. He's missed this, more than anything. Being at Edward's side with clear orders and a way to execute them. It's fucking exhilarating.

And as a little, extra, special treat, they get a moment of just them time, as well.

Almost a shame to ruin it by speaking, so he stays quiet for a while, but..

Well. He does have to ask.

"Edward.." seeing as business has concluded, "I do have to ask. The beard n' war paint. What's changed?"

Izzy’s question brings Ed's eyes back to his, looking at him from beneath dark lashes. What's changed? Izzy doesn't remember. It answers a lot of Ed's questions, but also brings about a whole new set.

Ed doesn't answer immediately, wondering if he even should, if he should ask his own questions. What is the last thing Izzy remembers? Why does he wear the gold collar? What were he and this 'other Ed' up to before he disappeared? He doesn't ask any of this, not yet. Instead, he takes a long drink, finishing his glass before responding.

"Everything."

Ah, yes, of course. Because an answer any less dramatic would be impossible.

He doesn't roll his eyes, but he very, very much wants to, and gives a flat look, instead. That's how we're gonna be, is it.

"Right. Well, can we pick one thing and start there?"

... There's a small flicker of hurt across her features, a blur of motion as Ava takes a step back. To an unfamiliar distance, her hands lowering. "Stranger?" Ava repeats.

"Just because I resigned from Stede's silly crew? Because I was sick of talent shows and..." she tightens her hands into fists. "After we braided beads into each other's hair back at camp? After I helped you read! Strangers?"

Ed winces as he watches her throw question after question at him. Again with this. He's so fucking tired.

The pistol is lowered, Edward giving her a bored look. "Stop. I've literally never seen you before in my life." he grunts, "And fuck you, I can read."

Ed doesroll his eyes. Because it feels fucking ridiculous to tell a person what happened when that person caused damn near all of it.

"What are your last memories-" he asks, "Prior to your little side-quest here?" This should be good. Should be absolutely fucking absurd, he thinks. He can't wait to hear it.

Ngh. Yeah, real good. Izzy visibly tightens and tongues his teeth behind his lips. Nervous? Maybe. He's been dodging this question for five months.

And he doesn't want to fight, he really doesn't, so bask in the absolute pain of forcing himself to be candid.

"The last thing I remember.. is you signing yourself to the king. And then you left."

Left him, squandered the beautiful fucking deal he'd managed to make happen, chose servitude to be with that fucking-- threw everything away!

Edited 2022-11-10 00:35 (UTC)

Ed doesn't move. He's not even surprised. He knew something was off... could smell it. This Izzy hasn't seen Ed weak. Hasn't looked him dead in the eyes and told him that he wished that he was dead. Wished that the English killed him... because what he was repulsed him so much he'd rather his head be taken back to the King on a spire.

It's no good telling Izzy about that part. It does him no service. Izzy should never see him that fucking weak again. Ed would rather die, he thinks. Make good on Izzy’s wish. The story doesn't matter, of course. All that matters is that in the end, Izzy Hands got what he wanted. And this is it.

"Mhm..." Ed hums, leaning back in his seat. "I'm what comes next."

Her face turns into a rather nasty scowl, and that's the only warning he's given before she disappears into crackling static. Before rematerializing right in front of him. Not quite in his face, because Ed's much taller in a way that's never annoyed her until now, but it doesn't matter because Ava gives a rather rough shove of her hands to his chest. She's a lot stronger than her small frame would suggest, but it's not as violent a gesture as it could have been considering she could have put her hands through his chest instead.

"No! Fuck! You! Are you not Blackbeard? ARE YOU ANOTHER IMPOSTER?" Because she is. So. Done. With the possessions, with the skin of her friends being worn by the vengeful spirits. She doesn't want to go through this again. "I'll tear your spine right out."

... huh.

Izzy isn't sure what to make of that, really. What to do with it. As far as he ever knew he was the one farthest into the future. Or whatever shit story you want to spin, he understands it but he doesn't like thinking about it. So many secrets to keep and dodge and navigate. Fucking nightmare.

Edward seems...in a bit of a state, truth be told, but it's a far cry better than what Bonnet was doing to him, so he'll take it and take it gladly.

"How soon? You escaped?"

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Page 42 of 50

TEST DRIVE MEME #7

icons are for the weak!!

go straight to hell boys

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... we all weak--

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he'd have to know what that is to make them

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