TEST DRIVE MEME #8

[sailmods]

1. but times have changed for sailors these days

[you wake up.

it doesn't matter where you were before. going to bed? dying? opening the door to face a great evil? same result. you wake up in a soft bed with starched sheets in a cool, darkened room, sunlight peeking out from behind thick curtains. maybe you're alone; maybe you aren't. maybe you immediately notice the folded paper on the bedside table near your head. if you don't, you better fix that real quick: you won't be able to even open the door before you read it.

the note itself is written in a neat hand on white card stock; there is a stylized logo of a ship with the words SERENA ETERNA printed underneath. the note reads as follows:

Dear Passenger(s),

As your cruise director, it is my great honor to welcome you aboard the Serena Eterna, your destination for fun and adventure! We know you could have chosen any cruise line for your vacation, and we're very grateful you chose ours! On behalf of the Captain, I would like to assure each and every passenger that will we do whatever it takes to fulfill all your needs and desires during your journey with us.

At your earliest possible convenience, please attend the mandatory lifeboat drill by the end of the day. I'm sure everyone is very eager to get started on all the fun and sun, but safety always comes first! You can find your life jacket in your cabin's closet; carry it to your assigned muster station on deck one, where I will take you through the drill. If you can't find me in the crowd, just look for the gal with the winning smile!

See You Real Soon!

Sincerely,
Gal Friday

you walk to deck one. you have no other choice: every time you try to step in a direction some unseen being considers "not towards deck one," you find your legs no longer move, staying stock still, frozen. whether compelled quickly by curiosity, or delayed by pure stubbornness, the result is the same, and you are left milling around with other similarly curious or stubborn people.

you see someone in uniform near the front of the crowd. she seems to be a gal, but is missing the winning smile, along with most of her other features. she seems to see you, though, rushing to your side and placing a lei around your neck with great formality. a voice, cheery but artificial, sees to come from nowhere and everywhere.]

Welcome aboard! I'm so happy you could join us!

[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.

after the drill is completed, you are seemingly free to go. or, well, your legs work, now. and maybe that's as good as it's gonna get.]

2. tried to amend my carnivorous habit

[the space inside John's where the piano normally sits is mysteriously vacant today. as a matter of fact, the entire piano bar is silent, without so much as a muzak-inspired interpretation of Uptown Girl to hum along to.

the piano itself seems to have disappeared... for the most part. unlucky, unsuspecting passengers who enter the cabin hallway, step out onto the lower decks, or find themselves in one of the other narrow corridors of the ship, may find themselves suddenly facing down a silent, unmoving grand piano. it takes up too much space to squeeze by comfortably...

and then, the cover lifts, exposing what looks to be... teeth?

yeah. yeah, those are its teeth. and it's coming right for you.]

3. that American creation on which I feed

[it had been a difficult October for bahamanuel, the bahamanal. its territory had changed utterly, becoming alien and strange. new predators were encroaching on its hunting grounds. its position in the natural order is under threat. and so, nature finds a way.

the old timers know to be wary of large piles of clothes, but even they won’t think to look twice at the tiny lumps of garish kids’ swimsuits and sundresses - until they feel something latch onto their leg, and then several more things, and anywhere from ten to twenty balled up clothes piles try to take down their prey.

the young must learn how to hunt, after all.]

Comments

[graphomaniac]

Lev watches the bahamulet sail down the corridor with a sound like a tarp flapping in the wind and winces again when the little monster hits the floor with a flump.

"I've had plenty," he says. "Nu, cats that is. Real cats, ghost cats ... have a friend who's a tiger, too." He grins; whoever this friend is, they're clearly important to him. "Well, like, he wasn't always a tiger? Just lately."

[graphomaniac]

"I'm not like, really one for ships, nu?" says Lyubov, flapping a hand dismissively. "Well, like. Not on the Bones. And like, thou need'st not bother with the formality, love. I'm not that old, and whatever language we're speaking, 'tis still weird to be you'd."

She cocks her head to one side, a mannerism he's picked from his husband.

"I'm ..." she pauses, considers Goldenglow intently, and says, "I'm Lyubov, to thee." She's suddenly very conscious of her voice, and height, and well, her everything. The Talons commune is one thing, and this place might be something else altogether. But Goldenglow doesn't look like she might object; Lyubov just hopes that read is accurate.

[opheliac]

Gee, I dunno. Is it a weird question? I mean, look around ya. ( she spreads her arms wide as she gestures the entire boat. )

You suddenly woke up here, right? Juuuust saw a faceless woman and then there's me!

[takethatnature]

At least it doesn't have any bones to break, probably. It angrily flaps its tiny trailing sleeves at the two of them and shuffles out of sight.

"Can he turn back? I know this kid who's a spider, and he can't, he's just stuck like that now. Although he doesn't seem to mind it that much." Ignoring the part about ghost cats.

[graphomaniac]

"Uh, I guess he could, like, eventually?" Lev says, with a shrug. "It's been a few centuries, he might like. Be stuck like that. It happens with nefilim, nu?" He pauses, considering the rest of what Wilson said. For lack of anything intelligent to say, he carries on with what, to him, is the kind of polite small-talk you make with friendly acquaintances when the subject of alternate forms comes up, "and like, you know, my husband's eidos is a spider? Spider and peacock. It's very pretty, really. I'm a mantis." He sounds peculiarly gloomy about it. "Even like, my true silver'd self is taller than most things and made out of twigs."

[takethatnature]

"You sure are," Wilson says, responding to that last sentence on impulse before he's processed anything else Lev said, from a foot below Lev's vantage point. The added height from Lev's heels and Wilson's spiky hairdo pretty much cancel each other out.

Okay now the rest of it's caught up with him, as Lev can probably tell from the puzzled look on his face. Centuries? Nefilim? His husband's a spider? (Spider-person?) Is he a he? Wilson probably shouldn't have assumed; even aside from his own example of how physical characteristics aren't the most important determinant of such things, WX-78 got really mad about that when they met. And Wormwood didn't even seem to know what he was talking about when he asked.

"I'm a human, so I don't turn into anything, except a hairier version of myself in the winter. Uh... what should I call you? I'm Wilson."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's not taking chances. She retrieves a pair of nickels from a velvet coin purse at her belt (it's seen better days) and walks backwards in time with Percy. When the creatures twitch in their direction she makes a motion as if to throw and they retreat, hissing, into the depths of the store.

Once they're well outside the threshold Erin lets herself sink to one knee and pull up her pant leg.

"...Not too bad," she says after a moment. First aid supplies are retrieved from her belt pouches, starting with antiseptic that makes her hiss in pain. "You okay there, Mister...?"

[glittering_gleam]

Goldenglow shrugs and gives Lyubov a warm smile. "All right, if thou insists. Started working at a new place a few months ago - or at least what I remember as a few months ago - and nobody thous anybody there, 'tis all you this and you that. Suppose I've gotten into the habit. Thank thee kindly for this."

She looks up at Lyubov's expression, her sudden air of self-consciousness, and feels a moment of understanding stretch between the two. "Bones? Thou aren't well either, then? It's more in the nervous system for me." She snaps her fingers and a sudden burst of static crackles between them. "There are worse symptoms and I've got a mild case, I'm grateful every day to not be one of the poor souls with half their lungs crystallized, but it does make things complicated."

[cacophonish]

Oh no, somebody needs help!

Oh no, somebody's asking Jeff for help...

"Oh! Shit, uh, hang on--"

Like, he wants to help, but he's also shit in a crisis, and he's got, like, no animal handling skills, and he can't fight, and he's pretty much useless at anything other than performing music or being a hot mess, and--

--fuck, he can't just leave this guy to the bahamulets. Okay, Jeff, think fast...

"I can-- wait-- Cover your ears!"

Time to find out if the bahamanal and its bahamulets are susceptible to bardic magic. Do they even have ears?? Jeff racks his brain for a moment, trying to think of a tune that's slow, relaxing, that he can hitch his spell to.

"It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside..." he begins, a little uncertain at first, until he finds his melodic footing.

Relax, little bahamulets. Go to sleep.

[thebadnews]

It feels strange, to think that there could be a place worse than how Whitestone was before Percy and the rest of Vox Machina had liberated it. Maybe it's closer to how the whole of Exandria would have been if the dragons were to win their conquest.

He can only hope that while Percy is here, they're able to keep fighting on, to bring down Thordak once and for all.

"Well, I'm here now, you don't have to go through this alone anymore." His face appears neutral, but there's a fierceness and determination in his eyes that he hasn't felt in quite some time. "The library. Sounds like a good place to start."

[hellonspectacles]

As often as he can, Palamedes tries to linger on the deck when orientation is happening. It’s never a very pleasant thing to watch, for the group invariably looks tense and wary, their eyes empty with shock or active with fear. Friday’s good cheer is always a bit macabre in contrast. Pal doesn’t enjoy this vigil of his, but he attends because he has a very important piece of information to share the new arrivals, something their orientation deliberately leaves out.

Hold onto your leis.

Thus, he winces slightly when the girl with wings (wings! how extraordinary!) bites directly into the bone medallion. Pal steps forward to intercept her once she has broken free of the spell that brought her to the deck in the first place. “You’re not meant to eat that,” he tells her matter-of-factly. For all he knows, the leis resemble some sort of food where she comes from. “But you should keep it on your person whenever possible.”

[fakefeathers]

Her head cocks to the side incredulously, one eyebrow arching way up on her fair forehead. She doesn't verbalize it, but everything about this posture is screaming one question: why?

For the time being, however, she does as she's told and leaves it around her neck. He's obviously a human so he'll be expecting her to do as he says. She can't believe she's actually missing her owner right now. Damien would step in on her behalf. Where is he?

[not_the_last]

You don't have to go through this alone anymore. Good words to hear from anyone; overwhelmingly more so, to hear from her brother, to the point where her eyes sting abruptly.

"Yes," is all she says in response to that, and takes his arm to draw him after her toward the stairs. If she clings a little bit harder than she needs to, well, no one but Percy has to know that.

"The library's on deck three. There's something strange going on with languages here, I suspect you've noticed by now ..."

[hellonspectacles]

The question is clear in her face, and Pal wishes he had a straightforward answer. All he can do is share what he knows. “It has protective abilities, though I am afraid that I haven’t been able to ascertain the specifics yet. Until we know more about it, I advise keeping it with you.”

The young woman is looking expectant in a way Pal can’t quite parse, but it makes him not want to leave her alone. “Would you like a cup of tea or something to eat? I can show you where you can get something.”

[fakefeathers]

Protective? From what? Is this place dangerous? Her lip thins into a worried line as she looks down at the odd arrangement of items strung together. If he says she should wear it, then she will at all times. It isn't any uglier than some of the things other Companions have been made to wear in the name of edgy fashion statements.

When he offers her tea and food, her gaze shoots back up and she nods eagerly. Finding out how to feed herself would solve one of her problems. Damien always said if she found herself alone, she needed to prioritize her basic needs over trying to locate him. She's bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously, but when she realizes that, she abruptly stops and drops her gaze to the floor, as if she caught herself doing something wrong. Even her wings seem to droop a little, no longer fluffed out with excitement.

[saltwaterlungs]

"What's a lacuna?" Darcy asks, extending a hand down.

"Yeah, tell me about it. It gets worse. You been here long?"

[serialskiller]

There have been worse ones. The mirrors haven’t tried to suck you in yet, right?

[Finally, one of the legs of the piano gives way, the entire thing tilting oddly. It looks sort of pathetic, still trying to drag itself along the floor.]

[thebadnews]

Feeling like they're finally out of danger, Percy holsters Retort back on his hip and breathes a sigh of relief. It's strange, out of all the monsters he's encountered -- and he's encountered quite a few by now, that might have been one of the strangest.

"Perfectly fine," he insists, and then, after a beat. "Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third." He flashes her a wry smile. "But my friends call me Percy."

[crushed_pearls]

"Percy eh -"

("My brother's went white before twenty...")

Erin does a double take with her leg halfway bandaged and blurts out: "Oh shit, you're that Percy! I might be dating your sister."

(PETERS.)

Shit fuck wait we can salvage that it's not too late -

It's too late. Erin's face turns bright red and her mouth stops producing words entirely.

[graphomaniac]

Lev looks Wilson up and down, critically, considers making some wild assumptions, and then thinks better of it — after all, Eli wears waistcoats with fancy shirts, and his sister-in-law would absolutely deck anyone who dared assume anything about hir.

The name's no help, either. For one thing, it's totally unfamiliar to Lev, who's only vaguely aware that there's a distant relative of Ormic languages somewhere all the way on the opposite side of the conglomeration of plena he's from, and he has never read a W sound pronounced outside of the Temani way of davening ... and "Wilson" doesn't sound like a Temani name, either.

So he shrugs.

"How dost thou refer to thyself?" he asks. "See like, nu—" he hesitates, and decides Wilson probably doesn't yet want a lecture on subcultural slang from a very long way away, "girls, if they like other girls, can call me Lyubov. To boys like me, I'm Lev."

[graphomaniac]

"Oh, my bones are awful," Lyubov says, and rather inexplicably, grins. "Nefil privilege, nu? But nah, like, I meant ... uh, sorry, thou look'st like thou might be local to me, but like. I meant the Bones, as in ... the part of the world what isn't a dream." She looks away, suddenly self-conscious. "I've been to the Silver like, a lot? And in the Silver, have we got much strangeness! Including like ... cruise ships. Ghost cruise ships."

She pauses, and then adds, hastily, "I'm sorry about thy nerves. And the lung thing. That uh, that sounds. Bad."

[graphomaniac]

Lev dutifully drops his walking stick and covers his ears before boggling at Jeff's antics. He's known plenty of musicians and drag queens and actors in his nearly forty years, and he knows what a well-placed (or strategically misplaced) note can do.

The bahamulets turn to stare at Jeff, as much as creatures with only notional eyes can stare (one of them is making do with some very shiny buttons from a particularly gaudy children's Hawaiian shirt). And then, one by one, they lie down and fall mostly still, the only movementthe rhythmic rise and fall of mid-slumber breathing.

Lev looks at Jeff and raises his eyebrow, as if to ask, okay, can I resume hearing things now?

[graphomaniac]

"No need to you'st me, nu?" Lev/Lyubov says, taking Darcy's hand and peering up at the teen — trying to decide which name to offer. "I'm no committee secretary. And like— I've just got here. This, like, morning?"

Once upright, Lyubov adds, "and a lacuna is ... uh, like. Thou know'st not? Like, thou livest somewhere stable or do they call it something else where thou'rt from?"

[hellonspectacles]

Palamedes is beginning to wonder if the girl is unable to speak. She can clearly understand what he says to her, but she has yet to say a single word to him. Perhaps they communicate in other ways where she comes from, or perhaps she has a medical reason for remaining silent. Either way, Palamedes’ curiosity is piqued (isn’t it always?) but he is polite enough not to pry quite yet.

He’s about to lead her to the elevator when, seemingly without reason, her whole demeanor changes. “Is everything all right? If you’re concerned about the food options available, I can assure you that the buffet is remarkably accommodating. It caters to any dietary need you can imagine, and a few you probably can't.”

[pinballer]

Simpleton?!

[ He's ready to throw hands over that, but it's been a while since he's gotten into an actual fight and, as skeptical as he is about this whole being a better person thing, he's trying.

So he just sighs and rolls his eyes. ]

The Serena Eterna. Yeah, you've kind of been kidnapped. No, you can't go home. Sucks, huh?