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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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Izzy glances at Ed and, for a moment, looks exhausted before packing it tightly back and away with a noncommittal shrug. Where does he begin? Had Ed missed the whole thing?
Maybe he's just looking for a pinpoint.
"There was an explosion somewhere between that faceless witch snapping the storm goddess' neck and deck six falling into the promenade. I was pinned in the rubble."
Which is not at all sexy or interesting when he could had said it was an injury sustained fighting ghosts, which also happened, but it is what it is. Surviving the deck fall was a miracle, and he owes his life to two other real, literal gods. They weren't lying when they swore him safety. He doesn't regret acting their herald.
That collar sitting at his neck isn't just for fashion.
"It's a good thing you didn't come. Shit party, if we're being honest."
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Edward sucks at his own teeth for a moment, eyes scanning about as they walk along. Izzy’s been aboard long enough to seem to know this place in and out, and considering Edward's been here all of a day or so, the timeline just doesn't add up. This is a problem. How big, Edward doesn't know, yet.
"Perhaps I should take it up with our so-called Captain, mm?" he asks finally, throwing out a bit of fishing bait to see how Izzy responds. Edward still doesn't know enough about the Captain to take anything out on him, let alone his protective tendencies when it comes to Izzy.
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Ed's finally got his head screwed back on straight, or bashed it and this is what's happened. Either is good.
Izzy has been injured and Ed's noticed and cares enough to ask who done it.
There's no good answer, and so he's willing to pin that blame on the Captain.
It's been a while since Ed's been protective of him. God of sinners, it feels good, though. Staggering, actually, how one bare minimum thing can hollow him to the core. He's missed this. Pulls him up that little bit straighter.
"I can't stop you but I doubt he'll have much of an opinion. As far as he's concerned he just makes the game. What the players do is their own business so long as they feed his fire, last I spoke to him."
At that Izzy smiles and looks back with implication. With mischief. He's got something really fucking good.
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"Where are you taking me?" he asks plainly, hands clutching his weaponry belt, where they fall naturally. He's already fed up with all of these little secrets and being seemingly in the dark about everything just because admitting that he doesn't know what the fuck is going on would make him fucking vulnerable. He can never be vulnerable again.
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"My cabin. Captain has ears all over the ship but he can't listen in our cabins."
Maybe Ed was at the party. The fog machines were thick, it was difficult to know who was in attendance. Maybe he fell and hit his head. Izzy decides to go with that and just assume he has to explain like Edward's only just shown up. It's easier that way.
"And if you've got one of these laying around you should keep it," he says and gestures to the lei all passengers are given at their first muster. Feathers and bones and all. Izzy has his looped several times around the bottom of his baldric near the hilt of his sword. Out of the way but on his person.
"Magic, apparently. Supposed to keep you safe. Safer, I suppose, but I can't be sure."
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"Did you a lot of good." he replies, still studying the limp, the longer he watches it the more certain he is that Izzy’s toes are all intact. It's a concern, for sure.
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"That and the armor. I would have died, otherwise. I fell the height of a ship."
All ten fingers, all ten toes, fell from a height that would ave certainly killed a man, and all he's got is this lousy limp and fucked ribs. Not bad, all considered.
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It doesn't matter, they're both basically dead now- cursed to live here on this vessel until there's nothing of them left. At least that's how Ed has come to understand it.
"Say you had, you'd have come back whole?" he asks. Because if so, he doesn't see the point in the caution.
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“Mm, yeah. So it appears. I haven’t found out but I’ve seen others.. one died in my arms and she was restored the following day. Death kind of loses its meaning after a while.”
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"Then the protection is pointless. A pacifier of sorts to make us all feel safe." he sighs, "Most of this fucking mirage is pointless." Whatever. He'll save the rest of his commentary for behind closed doors where they can't be heard, anyway.
Either way, alternatives to death is something Edward is already contemplating, particularly for those who threaten him.
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"And whilst death may not be permanent, that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, so I don't recommend trying for funsies. It's the torture you really have to watch out for. The Captain is fond. You know he can't even sail? Unbelievable."
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"Who doesn't love a bit of torture, Iz? Can't blame him for that." he continues... it's as if Izzy had read his mind. At least he has that leg up on this Captain, though... Edward can actually sail.
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He doesn't particularly care for torture. Will he do it? Absolutely. But he doesn't take particular glee in the act. Torture is just another necessary tool of their trade. He doesn't find it attractive, amusing, or fun sport.
You really are so much like Edward, he's said to the Captain multiple times.
He makes a mental note to do his best to keep them apart, unable to imagine the carnage which may result. Then again...Blackbeard is a master. It might yield interesting results Izzy hasn't been able to achieve on his own.
"You may find common ground, then. Might come in handy seeing as there's so weapon aboard or passenger powerful enough to harm him. Not for lack of trying nor the presence of literal gods, I might add."
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He's in no place to desire Co-Captaincy ever again, but if that's the sort of deal he can strike? He'll take it. It's a start... not the end-game.
"He hasn't met me, yet." is his only response. He'll let Izzy imagine things from there.
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"No, sir. He hasn't."
And to be fair, Izzy was talking about going to see the Captain from day 1, as well. It just...it took him a while. He never imagined he'd do it acting as Stede Bonnet's second in case the parlay got hairy. Stede who had chosen Izzy over Edward to attend on grounds of being expendable. Who hadn't told Edward. Who had forced Izzy to silence. Izzy, who had to then spend the entire day reconciling the concept that he might die for Stede.
What a fucking nightmare that had been.
The small silver lining, if you can call it that at all, was having the Captain's attention in total. It was Izzy he'd offered a deal to. Izzy he negotiated with. And now look, it's Izzy who has him by the balls.
He's almost vibrating with excitement, forcing himself to climb faster and pull open the door to start down the hallway of identical doors. Ed would have woken in one of them earlier, instructed by letter to attend his muster drill with Friday the Faceless.
143 comes soon enough and Izzy opens the door, checking to make sure they're alone. Blissfully, Castor and Pollux are absent. Good. He isn't in the mood for a meet and greet right now.
The space is tidy enough, the way it could be with three people jammed into a bunk barely designed for two. Izzy's things are easily identifiable by their color. Pollux's by virtue of their femininity. And Castor.. who cares, he doesn't even officially have claim to the room but all his crap is white and gold. They get the fold out, Izzy gets the proper bed.
"There's a drink if you want it."
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For a good moment upon entering the room, Ed is taken back by the feminine items scattered about. He eyes some of them heavily for a moment before his eyes scan back to Izzy. Is he keeping a woman in here, or has he taken up a new hobby? Old Edward might have questioned or teased. New Edward (Old Blackbeard) would rather get to brass tacks, so after a momentary glare, he finds a seat, propping up his bad knee.
"Later. You wanted to show me something..."
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He grits his teeth and rounds the end of the bed to sit on the side of Pollux's fold out.
The Great Gatsby looks like nothing, but Izzy opens the book and furls through the pages until he finds two pieces of loose paper tucked between the pages. That's the prize. A letter and a contract, signed with a bloody handprint.
"This is a contract with the captain of this vessel, signing himself to our crew," Izzy explains with equal measures of gravity and glee.
The document is standard boiler plate for men at sea. Loyalty to their captain, duties, shares of booty should they get any, hand written in Lucius Spriggs' signature calligraphy. The sort of contract Stede had his crew sign back home. The kind of contract any pirate captain would. All very official for when it matters - and it matters now.
What matters especially is the adjoining letter, newly written in crisp, black ink.
I, Captain Stede Bonnet, hereby relinquish my captaincy in full to Isreal Hands. This applies to all contracts previously signed in equal exchange henceforth and grants him the same powers and indemnities as they have myself.
Stede Bonnet.
Israel Hands.
Next to both signatures are the respective person's thumbprint in blood.
"Contract law is considered unbreakable magic here, sir. I don't know why the Captain signed this contract but he did, and now we've got him."
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The second document causes him to feel a flare in his blood, which he tries to hide to the best of his ability. Ed swallows thickly and exhales through his nose, staring at it for a moment. It isn't just Stede's name that is causing this reaction. It's also that these documents are establishing Izzy as Captain and not him.
Now, had Edward not been present, and he hasn't, this would be one thing. Edward couldn't blame him. But Izzy and everyone fucking else present has repeatedly made it clear that Edward has been. Which he still doesn't fucking understand, by the way.
To Izzy’s credit, there are legally binding documents that name him Captain back home, also. But those documents aren't magically reinforced, and as a rule pirates tend to operate outside of the law, so they basically mean fucking nothing.
Ed's fingers run down over the document as he reviews it, pausing at the bottom over Izzy’s name. "You've got him, you mean." he mutters plainly.
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With Blackbeard here and active, there is no question who the captain between them is. Izzy wouldn't dream of challenging him. Doesn't want to. It's a small sacrifice to give if it means keeping Ed by his side. Izzy would do a lot worse for it. Has done. Would do again.
He leans forward, maybe stupidly, and briefly brushes his fingertips against Ed's wrist. Look at him.
"We've got him, Ed. You'n me against the world, poor fuckers."
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There's something very different about Edward's attire that he hasn't worn in ages. It isn't just the makeup and the lack of beard. It isnt the knotted cravat around his neck or the dangly earring shaped like a sword. its the full-fingered leather gloves that cut off all contact between himself and others. Edward, once the very example of physical-touch-is-my-love-language, has created a barrier between himself and others, and of all people, Israel Hands has broken it.
Izzy, toes seemingly intact, is for once not challenging Ed's every step. Has seeming done a complete 180 from making Edward feel so rejected that he'd redonned his leathers to begin with and is now saying things like 'You'n me against the world'. He doesn't think Izzy has spoken to him like this in a decade, and he has never been more fucking confused in his entire goddamn life.
While that confusion shows on his face as plainly as any other emotion, Edward's brain works quickly through it's short-circuiting to formulate the proper response, his other hand clapping leather over Izzy’s fingers. "Brilliant, Iz." he replies, his eyes meeting Izzy’s momentarily before drifting back down to the page. "What next..."
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But neither of them are blind, are they. They know it’s there, a great swarm of shadowy questions. Some are just obvious questions.
Izzy, for his guilt and sins alike, is electing to ignore everything and mentally reset himself as though it’s all new to Ed. And perhaps it is?
Perhaps, for whatever reason, that horrible nothing place where the souls of this ship go wasn’t strong enough to keep Edward Teach asunder.
That fits, he thinks. This is mercy. This is all he could ever fucking ask for until the day comes when they’re able to really, truly free themselves from this hell.
Maybe it’s an olive branch from the Captain. Have your man back, get out from under his toes in return. It’s not a bad bargain, really. Too bad that’s not gonna happen.
Izzy leans into the touch, however small, like it’s a lifeline. All tiny little micro expressions and movements to glean every last scrap of affection before it ends without being obvious.
Too obvious, anyway. Another thing they know but don’t. Talk about. Haven’t for a long time. Maybe could again, some day. He doesn’t take his hand away.
“I was hoping you’d know. I’ve got a crew ready for mutiny. They’re snarling lunatics mostly, but they’re loyal and willing. A few leads on getting out of here and a million questions. I’ve been here ages and every answer comes with ten more blank spaces.”
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"Mutiny as we're used to won't do us any good, here." he stated plainly. "He's too protected from harm. So take violent insurrection off the table." Disappointing, but still.
"This is the move, if contracts are really binding, then he merely needs to be narrowed into a corner where he has no choice but to surrender the ship to our control. Here lies the problem."
Ed looks back to Izzy pointedly. "I have no misconceptions that we can run this ship without him. So the fact of the matter is, we need him. We need to know him in and out, as one of our own. We need him to divulge his secrets to us, and we need to know what keeps this entire spectacle afloat. Which means, we need to uncover what gives him his power and how, as well as what he cares about most. All men are driven by something, and at his core, he's just a man."
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He marvels how quickly Ed's found his bearings and read into the Captain. What he needs, how to be approached. It is, of course, the direct opposite of the plan Izzy's been trying to brute force, and he doesn't love that, but in comparison...yeah. This makes sense.
His plan has been 'The Captain Is Powerful But I Can Find Someone More Powerful' and he has, sort of, with results, sort of. He may need to rethink his agreement with Guabancex.
"Fuck me..." Izzy says, luxuriating in the awe of just how clever Edward really is. Never gets old. Never, ever. Finally, he sits back and takes a breath, thinking about the information he has and how he can facilitate this new plan of action. Old school won't work, violence won't work, he knew that much, but this is...emotional warfare. They grew up in that carnage, won't be hard to summon up a Hornigold Special or two.
"Yeah, yeah okay. Then you need the ear of Skulduggery Pleasant. More a cursed set of bones than a passenger, but he's in bed with the Captain and under the impression that friendship is magic enough."
And because that isn't a super weird thing to say, Izzy pulls a bone shiv from the inside of his waistcoat and considers it. A human rib, sharpened on one end and decorated with delicate scrimshaw down the other. He's had time on his hands.
"I assisted them on a raid not long ago."
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Cursed bones, fine. Ed has spoken to people without faces, people who can phase through walls, seen the poltergeists aboard the ship. Everything here is out of a fucking sailor's tale. The shanties write themselves.
"What's the nature of that relationship?" Ed asks, watching Izzy play with his little bone shiv. He thinks he knows a thing or two about giving up everything for a man he's known for no more than a few weeks, for love-- but this sounds too easy.
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"Skulduggery and the Captain?"
A little shrug.
"Bessies, I think. He says cuddles and sunshine with the man will make him let us all go," Izzy says and gives Edward a flat look. He doesn't believe it and why should he? That doesn't work.
So as far as Izzy sees it, Skulduggery is just as much of a scoundrel as the rest of them. It's not real friendship, it's manipulation. Mr. Pleasant crewed Izzy for the mission as a favor for their captor and didn't deny when Izzy accused them of sharing a bed. What he doesn't know because no one fucking tells him anything, is that he was correct to the letter. It's romantic. Skulduggery is either fucking ruthless, or an idiot losing sight of his own plan.
"Unless it's some clever plan to starve the beast. His power feeds off his captives' malcontent."
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