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

Over Edward's dead body will Izzy keep them apart. He's been on this vessel for barely a breath and all he can think about is meeting this Captain face to face.

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.

It's that kind of talk which makes him shiver, smiling to himself as he forces his stupid bum leg up the echoing, metal stairway. Fucking stupid fucking stairs.

"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."

This Edward is not whichever Edward people keep expecting him to be, but there is one thing for certain- if any of his colleagues hatched a scheme without his involvement and hid it from him? Enough toes would be severed to cook a stew.

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..."

"I do, yeah," Izzy agrees and disappears down the side of his bed for a moment before popping back up with a book. It's nothing special, just some fictional something or other. It's an effort to get down and an effort to get back up, but he's not about to complain about it. Not here, not in front of Blackbeard.

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."

Ed watches patiently as the book is brought to him and the pages presented. The first one is shocking. Why would the ship's Captain sign himself over? There had to be thought or plan behind it. Ed wonders briefly if it's a trap.

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.

Izzy sees the hitch in Edward's breath and, for a moment, expects knee-jerk push back. For what it's worth, the only thing here that actually matters is the Captain's binding. To Izzy or to Ed, is doesn't really matter.

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."

The touch of Izzy’s fingertips against him draws an even bigger reaction out of Edward. He thinks for a moment that he stops breathing altogether.

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..."

It’s jarring, really. This Edward and this Izzy, with so much and so little time between them. The weight is shifted and turned back on itself over and over again. Neither understand but neither are willing to say, exactly. Ed to save his pride and Izzy in his blind gratitude for normality.

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.”

Edward exhales, this time more in relief. Business as usual. He can focus on that to carry him through.

"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."

Izzy tongues the inside of his cheek as he listens with all of his being. Plotting with his captain is like having a first row seat to a master's production. You'd think it might have lost it's charm by now, but it hasn't. Being included in the process, when that happens, as it is happening now, is just as exhilarating as it was in the beginning.

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."

What are pirates but just a bunch of men in different phases of screwing one another over? This isn't any different. This is politics. Alliances are all well and good, but the only person a pirate can trust is himself. Ed isn't even certain he can trust Izzy, at this point. He's still uncomfortably confused by him.

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.

Izzy abandons his shiv. It was only really relevant because of the bone talk, and it is, quite literally, Skulduggery's bone. He still isn't sure why he stole it. Boredom, maybe. And he needed a short range weapon. It was available. Shut up, don't @ him.

"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."

The look Edward gives Izzy in return is one that, in a way, sourly and perhaps a touch mockingly asks Izzy 'Like that worked for you?'- because he wonders, idly, if that isn't unlike Izzy’s behavior with Edward some twenty years ago.

"Not a terrible angle, but leaves too much to risk." he replies finally. Either way, this Mr. Pleasant should be questioned, but even that will meed to be handled delicately. If he has a greater plan, he's not going to just tell a stranger.

"Right." Ed says, clearing his throat. "We have some loose ends to tie before we can formulate a proper plan. For now, information is key. And Izzy?" he asks, giving his pet a threatening look, "Get your dogs in fucking line. If I have to tell one more of them to heel, it'll be you that has to answer for it."

Aaaand there it is. The boot dropping to get him right in the stomach, which drops considerably. Don't think he misses the look, either. May as well've said it aloud.

His dogs? He's only got a handful, who would have the nerve to come at Edward--

Oh.

No, actually, he can think of a couple. Goddammit, you useless fucks.

Izzy swallows and nods, getting up to retrieve the bottle of nice rum he's squirreled away for a self congratulatory party of one to celebrate his captaincy. There's about half left, and he pours them both a glass. Tea just isn't going to cut it and while he's proud of himself that he can work the kettle without issue now, a real drink would do much, much better.

Besides, his captain looks like he could use one.

"I'll do that, boss," he says and offers the glass. They mean well, he knows they do, but they haven't quite mastered their commands just yet. Puppy training, what a nightmare.

"Wasn't the French one, was it? Are they still breathing?"

Edited 2022-11-07 22:15 (UTC)

Edward takes the glass without question, because yes he really could fucking use it right now, keep it coming.

"Not the French one, no." he replies, taking a healthy drink of booze and letting it warm his throat. "Still breathing... but not entirely intact."

Definitely missing some digits in one case, in the other, well- he's not entirely sure how much damage he managed to do there beyond a new scar or two.

"Oh, Edward." In that tone. Really? Did you have to?

Izzy closes his eyes for a beat before sitting back down with a hard done-by sigh. Mm, yeah he needs this drink now, too. Maybe they should move to Tauva. There were some nice cigars in there he thinks Blackbeard would like. Izzy, personally, is partial to the skinny little black ones with the gold filter. Cloves, he reminds himself.

"That would be Pratt, then. His actual name, I know."

It is fucking hilarious, because the man is, also, a prat.

"Can't imagine Jinx would let you catch her for that kind of scolding."

Edited 2022-11-09 00:04 (UTC)

Izzy should be upset, Edward Teach has hardly been on board a day and he's already maimed two of Izzy’s crew members. And yes. He had to.

Pratt, yes Edward gave him a treatment similar to the one he'd given Izzy back home, his Izzy, anyway. Jinx, well... "That the mouthy young one?" he asks behind the rim of his glass, taking another sip of liquor. "If so, yes, they both got a taste."

Izzy grunts but holds him opinions to himself, at least for now. He's so grateful Ed is being normal again he can hardly complain about pushing the line a bit far. And if they were punished, then they must have done something to deserve it.

"The one with blue hair, yeah."

Seeing as how Darcy also counts for young and mouthy.

"I'd be grateful if you consulted me over the French one, should she get riled. I've put a lot of time into Darcy."

Read: Izzy is Very Weird about Darcy LeJeune. And he knows it's probably stupid to show that card, but also.. maybe he's gone a little soft. He should fix that.

Edward sets down his glass and waves his hand, "I've no issue with the French one. Useful. Knows her place." he mutters, "But the others..." he scoffs, "Liabilities. If either of them undermine me again, I'll feed you your entire foot."

He says this with a smile, teeth and all, but he doesn't smile with his eyes. He's fed the fuck up, Izzy. Shape them up or ship them out.

That.. that he hasn't missed so much.

Izzy swallows and tries to ignore the twist in his stomach that says he knows Edwards means it.

"Yes, Blackbeard. I'll make sure of it. Right away."

"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.

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?"

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.

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