sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #7

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!tdm

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Crest Beast eh? Something about the way the newcomer says that reminds her of Dimitri (and, well, the accent a bit even if it's definitely not the same) but that's a later question.

Erin's ears twitch when she hears motion from deeper amidst the racks of Halloween decorations.

"Probably not, if my guess is anywhere near accurate, but still." Erin jerks her head towards the entrance to the infinite store and starts moving that way; her steps are slow and heavy, boots making more noise against the floor than they strictly need to.

Oh right, her manners. "Erin Peters, only slightly less new here than you are. This store is...I'm gonna say a magical space. Head towards the back wall and you won't reach it; there's always just more store, and something lives here that likes to pick off the unwary. If you think of it as a starving bear you'll be close enough to understand my concern here."

Dedue senses the urgency with which Erin scans the environment. Whatever is happening, conversation can wait.
Unsteadily he gets to his feet. He is hunched over and clutches the wall for support, but his 6'8 form still stands out.
He follows behind her, happy that her pace is slow enough for him to keep up.
"A bear I can understand," he responds. "Erin Peters," he nods, committing the name to memory. "My name is Dedue Molinaro."

"My pleasure. Do call me Erin. Once we get out of here we can get whatever wound's got you limping treated but I really do not wanna fight this thing again. If I have to light this store on fire a second time I'm gonna fucking lose it."

Erin turns when she gets to the entrance of the store, still on guard, and waves for Dedue to move past her; she's not gonna get close enough to touch him, not if he can walk on his own even a little, but it wouldn't do to just blithely stroll out and then hear the new guy getting eaten.

Oh. Now that she's getting a good look with the blindfold...

"My god, you're actually a few inches taller than me. Miracles do happen. I uh, hope you get on with short people 'cause you're gonna be meeting...a lot of them...here soon."

Erin's request seems reasonable to him, so he nods in response and keeps moving.
Once he gets past her, he pauses for more direction.
At her comment, he says in a deep monotone, "I have met a few short people on occasion." The tiny snort he gives afterward is the only indication from his face that this was supposed to be a joke.
He examines his travel companion and takes note of the blindfold. "I do not mean to be intrusive," he prefaces. "How are you sensing the world around you?"

"I do still have ears and skin," Erin answers in a wry voice. "But to actually answer the question, the blindfold...substitutes for vision." She lingers in the doorway for a moment before backing, slowly, away from it.

Good. The damn thing's not coming out. Erin relaxes visibly, and her hand strays to her saber, which she peace knots now that she's not inside the store and she IS in the presence of someone new she doesn't want to threaten. "It's a good sign that you're well enough to be curious but I'm smelling a lot of blood so...how hurt are you, buddy? And where?"

While she waits for an answer, Erin kneels and rifles through the pockets of her cargo pants, producing first bandages and then a variety of first aid supplies from them.

"Magic," he says. That makes sense to him.
He sighs. "I will not trouble you. I can patch myself up."

"Do people of conscience usually let hurt people 'patch themselves up' where you're from?" There's a sharp point in Erin's tone, underscored by irritation. "There's enough people on this fuckin' hell boat that give me the 'I'm not your problem' routine, so forgive me if I cut this short: I can treat you while you're conscious, or I can knock your ass out. Now get over here."

Dedue has nothing to say to that.
He is vaguely reminded of a certain other abrasive swordsperson he knows from back in the Blue Lions, although he is not certain that would be a flattering comparison.
He proceeds to 'get over here.'

Erin gestures for Dedue to sit. Near his feet she plunks down a water bottle before she kneels properly so she can work more steadily.

"Thank you. Get me access to the wound and please do not touch me even if I'm touching you. This month's been...an onslaught."

She moves bandages and antiseptic away from the general pile so she can have easier access to them. "So, welcome to the Serena Eterna. You're gonna be here awhile, buddy. You don't have to believe the stuff I'm probably gonna drop on you while I work here but I'm gonna say it anyway so you've got advice to work off when things get weird for you later. Whatever world you're from, this isn't it. We're on a ship the size of a small city, with no - scratch that, minimal - crew, whose population is honestly tiny. I don't even think we've got a whole village of people here."

That will not be a problem. Dedue does not exactly go out of his way to touch others.
He stands perfectly still while she works.
"This is a ship?" It's more of a confirmation that he heard her than an actual question.

"Mmhm. Goes several decks up and several down, ocean outside and everything. This part's going to sting."

Erin starts to apply the antiseptic and y'know, that shit? It stings.

"It's not a natural ship or ocean. As of now you are the captive of the Captain, not because anyone will force you to be but because you can't leave his dominion. There's nowhere to go. Literally nowhere to go. This is it; the ship, the sea, a bit of sky, fuck-all else. Good news: free food, water, and medicine, your fellow prisoners seem like pretty cool people to me, various entertainments are available. The bad news is uh...y'know. The prisoner thing."

Dedue winces a bit at the antiseptic but remains still.
Its at Erin's explanation that he starts to panic.
"How... far is this from Faerghus?" His eyes glance around nervously.

"So you HAVE been sounding familiar!" Erin's head comes up, excited, but she doesn't stop cleaning the wounds. Tendi can fix this lad better but a patch now can't hurt. "Damn, two nickels. You're the second Faerghan - actually is that the right word? - I've met here. Other kid's a noble, some kinda knight I - right you asked a question, my apologies."

Swab. Dab. For all that her casual attitude is at least a little prickly, her delicate fingers are so very gentle.

"...I'm not sure how to describe it. Why not say...as far as dreams are from reality?"

Dedue blinks in confusion. Sylvain? Ingrid? Or someone else he is not familiar with.
As far as dreams are from reality. Dedue does NOT like the sound of that.
"I have to go back," he blurts out. "I cannot stay here."

"You're not going anywhere until I'm done," Erin says firmly. "And I'm getting out a knife to cut bandages now, don't be alarmed."

Deed follows word; Erin takes out a sheathed knife and sets it down, measures the wounds with gentle touches to be sure, and then starts cutting lengths off the tightly-wound rolls.

"...This isn't a place you can leave, Dedue. You can jump into the ocean but the world just stops existing past a certain point. If you can fly you can go up but the sky just stops too. Teleportation won't work. Dream-walking probably won't even work and I've been rather too cautious to try it. You're stuck here. But if it's any consolation your home won't notice you've left. There's still a you there, handling your business, as if you never came here. That much we prisoners know for sure."

Don't tell him about the copy thing yet. It is so far from time for the copy thing.

"...Believe me, you're not the only one who was in the middle of something important."

That might be true for others, but is it true for him? Dedue was on the brink of death before he woke up here. He's healed enough to be able to stand and move, but he remembers how he felt before. His Highness was gone, and he had been completely alone.

If what Erin says is true, that he has been taken from a point in time, then there is the possibility that he was taken moments before his death.

He had saved His Highness, but what of himself? And if he is not there... well, he saw the state of mind Dimitri was in. He can envision a future and it does not look bright.

And in truth, it is easier to focus on His Highness' fate in all that than it is to think about what this means for Dedue. He had spent so much time shrinking into the background, trying to become invisible. Would... would anyone have noticed?

He stays quiet. There is a deep sadness in his eyes.

Erin checks her work before scooping up the water bottle. When she stands she offers it to Dedue.

"Twist the cap to open it," she says in a gentle voice. "Pure water, nice and potable. You lost a lot of blood, buddy."

Mention Dimitri?

(Hold up Peters. The youngblood said Faerghus is full of civil strife. Don't go pointing a potential enemy at him.)

"From the looks of things someone was kicking your ass pretty hard, youngblood. Who were you, at home?"

"Youngblood?" he asks.

He opens the very oddly built canteen and drinks slowly, despite wanting more. He does not want to overwhelm his system. He closes the canteen. His bottom lip, which he now remembers has a cut on it, stings harshly.

"Yes. I am the sworn vassal of the prince of Faerghus. He was imprisoned on false charges for the murder of his uncle. I came to rescue him. I succeeded, but in the process, we were separated, and the guards attacked me. I woke up here."

Well that's simultaneously very honest and completely unhelpful. Still, Erin nods. "I've been told Faerghus has a bit of a civil war habit. Sounds about right."

The prince. Hrm. Dimitri had spoken of being a leader but was he, what, a landed knight? A duke? A baron? The fucking legally distinct Pope?

Oh right she skipped his first question again didn't she.

"It's just something I say - youngblood, that is. A person or professional who's younger or less experienced than you. You don't seem all that much older than my friend here, so, let me just lay it on the table and hope this 'honest person' impression I'm getting from you is right. Here's my worry: you're new, and you just came out of a bad place. I say his name, and he used to be your enemy? I don't want you going after him. There are no vassals here, and you'd be best served by letting old grudges die. But...if you were his friend, his comrade-in-arms, something like that, then I'd be deeply fucking wronging you to keep you from him a second longer than I have to."

"So. If you can trust that you're not my enemy even if you were his, think you can gimmie something to work with here?"

Erin stoops down to collect her supplies again and squirrel them away into her pockets.

"A civil war habit is an understatement."

Dedue quietly listens to her speech. Then, he says, "I do not have the luxury to act on personal grudges. I may have my own opinions. But, if things are as you have said, then those opinions are no longer relevant."

Erin stands. Sighs. Dusts her pants off to collect her thoughts.

Alright. We test this the hard way then. "Understanding that I will throw you back into the store to get eaten if you try to hurt my friend after the month he's been having - is a young lord by the name of Dimitri known to you?"

Dedue's eyes widen.
It's His Highness? But he is not known as a prince here? ...There may be good reason for that.
But he is *here.* This makes everything different.
Dedue tries to keep his expression level as he nods, but it is much harder to maintain a neutral face than it usually is for him. "Yes. He is."

"Cool, progress. Which side of that beat-down you came here with was he on? I can arrange for him to meet us where the food is and you can let him catch you up while you also get some food for all that blood loss, and then y'all can go find a doctor or something 'cause what I just did there is just to stop you from dying."

C'mon youngblood.

Erin's ears twitch in anticipation and faint worry.

"He was on my side. ...I would like to see him. Please."

Erin visibly considers those words for a moment before she nods. She makes a 'stay here' gesture with her hand before moving Some Distance away to have even the semblance of privacy while she whispers a speech-to-text message to Dimitri:

Dimitri. Please drop all non urgent activities less important than someone dying and proceed immediately to the buffet. Good news incoming I believe. Realize I am a giant fucking hypocrite to say this given that I never use one but please also bring your travel buddy just in case but repeat pretty sure this is good news.

This accomplished she waves for Dedue to follow her as she Leads The Way.

Re: A Vassal's Duty Is Never Done

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TW: Talk of death

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