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.]

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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.

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."

... 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?"

"I'm fucking Blackbeard." he reminds Izzy, fingertips tapping at his empty glass. "Of course I fucking escaped."

Izzy seems... glad? Edward could have guessed as much, he seemed in high enough spirits the last he'd seen him.

"Under a day." he clarifies, "Hope you weren't too comfortable."

"Fuck me," he laughs and cheerfully- yes, cheerfully- refills their glasses. Ed first, obviously.

"Course you did. That's a result, Ed, it really is. Must be a record."

Izzy wasn't in fine spirits that day, not at all. He was doing what needed to be done whether Edward liked it or not. For him. To save him. No matter the cost, and knowing full well Edward would be furious.

Bears asking about the elephant in the room.

"And what of Bonnet?"

Edward’s fingers leave the glass so that Izzy can refill it, but once it's filled he immediately brings it to his lips again. Somewhere-- deep enough within him, he recognizes the excitement he feels to see Izzy happy like this. Proud. It's so infrequent that this man seems proud of him, these days.

He's mid-drink when Izzy asks of Stede, and it immediately makes him want to spit. Why do you care? he wants to ask. You set his ass up. Sold us both out.

He doesn't say either of those things. Instead, he gently places his glass back onto the table, answering Izzy without looking at him. "Don't know. Could still be there. Could be dead. Doesn't matter." Matters even less now.

TEST DRIVE MEME #7

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