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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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Erin cuts the tip of her own cigar with a belt knife; no sudden motions, and she sets the blade aside when she's done. "But I've started to look at it like this: are any of us from a world without suffering? This one's not so different in that regard."
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"Fish in a barrel." he mutters, digging into his pocket for matches. He lights his, then offers her the match while it's still lit. "We're being kept alive and content until this so-called god is ready to scale us for his dinner."
There's a long exhale of cigar smoke as he comes to this realization. "Fuck that. I'm no one's fucking meal plan."
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She turns in her seat to face Blackbeard with a wan smile. "Most of the details are in the Black Binder, in the library, or at least details as best we can tell. I'll admit, the idea of one of my personal idols taking a crack at this is enticing, but I gotta throw a complication into this puzzle: main force hasn't succeeded yet. We're not the first set of passengers. We're not even like, the second. All attempts to kill its god and master have failed to date, be they might, magic, or mayhem. Fun times, yeah?"
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"Then killing him isn't the answer." he replies with an exhale of smoke, "Fun indeed."
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Erin takes a sip of hers. A thoughtful sound floats from her throat. "...You mind if I ask a personal question, Captain? No deep dark secrets, just...one professional to another."
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"Ask away." he responds, taking a sip. She's been helpful thus far... he'll at least hear her out.
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He shrugs, giving her a confused look, "Because I don't fucking know. The coolest way possible?"
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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?"
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That's most of the story of course. There's something else. There's the fact that he'd met another man, one he gave his life for. He traded the legends in for love instead, and when wall was said and done he thought they could have one more chance- they could run off together and just be whatever they needed to be. Have their own happy ending. This of course, was a fantasy and one Edward never deserved. One he had been foolish to think anyone would want to have with him. He is not a good person. He is a monster... and that's all he'll ever be.
He cannot tell anyone this, let alone a stranger. Edward frowns, fingers taking the cigar from his lips and stamping it out in a nearby ashtray. "Changed my mind." he grunts, taking up his drink again and this time tossing it back in an impressive gulp, the glass slammed back down on the bar. "Not feeling up for questions..." he mutters, standing to leave.
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Speaking of: "If you have any further need of me I bunk in Cabin 134. Glad to have you aboard, Captain. I hope your voyage can become a pleasant one."
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He waves her off before pushing out of the room and out of sight, practically holding his breath until he has some privacy. It's only then that be allows his emotions to take hold... no one wants to see a grown man with a gun sobbing his mascara off.