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TEST DRIVE MEME #8
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.]
no subject
"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?"
no subject
With a strong arm she hoists Lyubov to his feet, with some difficulty due to his length.
"No, I don't know, that's why I'm asking. I don't know what it would mean enough to know if we call it something else."
no subject
"Oh," says Lyubov and frowns. "Nu. Well. See, a lacuna's like a hole in the Bones? Uh. In ... reality. And weird things, they crawl out of that hole, or the hole creates like, conditions for them to exist?" She shrugs.
"Unless moving piles of clothes with teeth are like, just endemic to cruise ships in this place. I wouldn't know, nu? I just got here."
no subject
"Like... a gate to the underworld?"
Give her literally anything to work with here.
"The Bahamanal is sort of native to here. I don't... think I want to know how the Bahamanalettes happened, but they're just sort of here now."
Huffs, "it's a long story. C'mon- have you eaten?"
no subject
"The Underworld is in the Silver," Lyubov allows, after a brief pause. "Uh. Look, sometimes reality breaks and things crawl out, and they're just as unhappy about it as we are?" She sighs.
"I ate not," she says. "I don't like, habitually eat breakfast? But— I mean, like. I could go for some tea, I guess. Hot tea."
no subject
Because yeah, that sounds about right, even if nothing really escapes from the underworld in Darcy's world.
"Sand Dollars it is. They have... basically any kind of tea, I think, and boba. If you like boba. Are you good with your cane or?"
She doesn't know if Lyubov's been injured, after all.
"Oh- and 'm Darcy, by the way."
no subject
"I'm good," Lyubov says. "Uh, bit shaky, I'm fare ill on boats ... but not much worse than on land, nu?" She gestures with the stick. "Lead on, then"
"And ah, I'm—" she looks Darcy up and down, twice, wonders about how likely a wrong assumption is to get her nose broken and then decides that Darcy wouldn't punch a cripple, no matter how rude. "I'm called Lyubov, at least by violets. If thou'rt a rose, I'm Lev." She smiles. "'Tis up to thee."
no subject
"I'm... a person? And not a plant?"
Is there some weird plant based gender stuff going on in her own world??
Darcy will lead on regardless, just... baffled.
no subject
"Of course thou art no plant!" Lyubov says, cheerily. "Thou'rt something like a starborn of the 'tophyte kind. And thou'rt also ... nu." She makes a vague gesture, hand flopping limply at the wrist. "The girl equivalent, if I'm any judge, and oy like. I'm nearly forty. In such matters, I better be some manner of judge."
She does not, it must be said, look nearly forty. Maybe a fresh-faced mid-30s, at most.
no subject
So when Lyubov limp-wrists at her, she barks. It's the only way to describe the sudden evacuation of air from her lungs, and immediately she covers her mouth with her hands. What a gesture to be the same across worlds.
"Yes, yes I'm- je suis un gouine. But I'm not really big into astrology."
She's pretty sure she's an Aries, not a tophyte. And it says a lot about her... excitement? To meet someone else like her- even if in another direction- that she doesn't even make a 'ha old' remark.
no subject
"Me neither, to tell thee the truth," Lyubov says, grinning. "My eldest daughter and youngest son have like, been getting into it? But 'tis a little too arcane for me, strange as it sounds. Not my type of mysticism at all, nu?"
She pauses, and her face grows somber.
"They're most likely not here, are they?" she says, softly. "The kids. Or Nyura. 'Tis just me?"
no subject
"No, if you're lucky they aren't. Welcome to the Serena Eternia, there's no escape just yet and none of us can go home. But... there's a version of you that's home with your kids, if that makes you feel any better."
It won't.
no subject
Lyubov bows her head, pensive. After some moments, she says, "Good. Then no one is looking for me, and the North-West quartal's missing no rabbi."
She looks up and grins, and it looks only a little bit like she's trying to put on a brave face. "Have I been replaced? Or am I the simulacra, and the original is none the wiser?"
no subject
Still, it's a better reaction than most have, and she's not going to call Lyubov out for trying to stay strong through it.
"The you that's back home doesn't know, no. From what I've heard it's like... do you have photography in your world?"