sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #9

Entry tags:

!tdm

TEST DRIVE MEME #9

1. tidal waves out on the sea

[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. I don't know where I'm-a gonna go

[something new has been set up at Friday’s desk. there’s a sign, but it’s not advertising the next excursion, or anything familiar like that. instead, it says, in big, bold letters, SUGGESTIONS AND COMPLAINTS, with a large downward-facing arrow below it, pointing at what looks to be an empty tissue box with the word “COMPLAINTS” hastily etched onto it. there is a pile of small slips of paper and some pens next to it, and Friday cheerfully informs you that you can submit anything you like, no consequences! and it’s weird that she has to specify, but, also, she really does, doesn’t she?

and there aren’t any consequences! the Captain doesn’t come out of nowhere and dome you instantly for the slight. Friday doesn’t give you the cold shoulder or a rude remark. now, an unidentifiable voice does start reciting your complaint or suggestion, with your name attached, over the loudspeaker at full volume every 20 minutes or so. but, that’s debatable as a consequence. probably. maybe. not actually.]

3. pretty soon we learn to fly

[this was one of the suggestions. apparently. that’s what Friday will say if anyone asks her about it. and they probably will. because surely there has to be some sort of reason why the floor in windjammer is, currently, lava.

like. actual molten magma-type lava, flowing in sluggish rivers around the tables and booths, the sections of the buffet. so, maybe you decide to go eat at one of the many other fine dining establishments aboard today, or at least until the floor decides to stop being lava. or, maybe you decide that those dinosaur chicken nuggets are worth the risk of life and limb. and thus, you climb, clamber, jump, leap - a perilous and terrifying journey, knowing you are only one false step away from an agonizing death.

until you fall in. and then you realize that, no, this is not actually lava at all, for all it looks exactly like it. it’s actually barely room temperature, and strangely watery. you taste sweetened tomato paste. it’s not death, but maybe that would have been a little bit better.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He joins him, leaning the tray against his side and chowing down. "Probably at the dining room, they'll pretty much serve you whatever you want. But the garlic bread from the buffet is fucking heavenly."

He should be getting a commission for how much he talks up the food here. "How's the muster drill thing? I didn't get one of these when I showed up." Not that he even knows where the life jacket that was in his room even is.

He makes a gruff sound around his mouthful of bread. It's very good.

"Loud," he replies around his mouthful. There was mostly a lot of milling about, waiting for instructions, wondering vaguely where the voice was coming from if not from miss Friday.

He's better at listening than making active conversation, so he continues to munch idly while looking out once more, eyeing what he's assuming are birds out there. "Been here long?" he asks, eyeballing the other guy and figuring him for an info source better than the official ones.

"Yeah about uh.. seeeeeeven months? I think? I shoulda been keeping track but I didn't wanna start putting hash marks in the wall like a crazy person you know?" Because the less people know that he actually is a crazy person, the better. "But I showed up a little before my birthday according to the calendars here, and it's after December now so yeah, seven months."

He wipes the grease from his fingers off on his pants before continuing, "Most important thing is: it's not as bad as everyone here is gonna claim. I dunno why everyone wants to harsh the vibe and be all miserable but man is it annoying. Infinite free food, we got actual beds, doors that lock, we're not dead - like... what else is there???"

Wayne finishes his first piece of garlic bread and goes for another, removing his gloves and tucking them into the back pocket of his jumpsuit. He really should have done that to begin with, but hey, it'll be fine. His gloves have touched worse. "A journal?" he points out, figuring it to be as legitimate a way to keep time as anything. It was something that another member of his crew did before returning to their archeological pursuits.

"Maybe they have somewhere to be?" He shrugs a shoulder. Not his circus, not his monkeys. He's fine right here. Maybe if he finds out about some threat that requires his assistance it'll be a different story but as far as he's concerned, he's retired. "Dead's not so bad. Nice to crash on the couch sometimes."

Lucky for him Pratt here will start rambling on with barely any prompting because he is quite literally forgetting things as he says them. So he's more than happy to fill the silence and drop the lore.

"Sure but they can't go back. We're not them anymore we're save states pulled out of the timeline. So like freshly minted and ready for that New Game Plus mode. Which is great for me. Was dead for seventeen years and that pretty much sucked - or well it wasn't anything and then I woke up here and get a redo on being on idiot. Er, to you know, not be an idiot. Obviously."

He gestures to the rest of the ship, "This place rules in some ways," he ticks them off on his fingers, though he's missing one on his right hand, "Infinite food, everything is free, instant housekeeping, and most of the people don't suck. Like I don't wanna stay here for eternity, but not bad for a bit."

Wayne nods along, as if this all makes sense to him. Oddly enough a lot of it does, just because there were situations very much like that back home. This is really just more of the same, as far as he's concerned. Plus if they really do have unlimited food stores here, he might not even have a reason to go back besides the idea that maybe one of his crew might like to shoot the shit again one day.

"If I'm a splinter, then Main Run me is still doing pretty okay," he replies easily around his bite. He glances up toward the loudspeakers, as if expecting them to start up on more of their instructions in the middle of their talk. "If that's quiet, does that mean I can go? I wanna check something."

"Yeah you're probably doing fine. I'm kinda hoping that all us here are the bad end versions. So we're here, but the others back home are off living their best lives and doing all the cool shit that we would have gotten killed or failed at." That's... sorta an optimistic view anyway. For him it is.

"I think so. There's like some sort of magic that makes you come out here but then it goes away. They really take their safety seriously even though we've literally never used any of this..."

His ship had never had muster drills. Hell, they'd never had basic fire drills. Was he slipping or were they just overly cautious? Enh. Vague shruggy sounds.

"Cool." He's just going to meander his way back down along the walkway to one of the wider halls that would presumably have signage to lead him back to his room. He wants to pick up his instruments after all, and then go and find this dining hall and its Lava Floor. Maybe see what other denizens are lurking about. Maybe even be able to snag some stuff to go in case some other weird stuff happened. You never know when you'll need an emergency vegetable.

"Hey, can I take food? Or does it stay in the dining hall?"

"Oh dude, that is the best part." His grin gets huge because this is the best part of the ship and his favorite thing to tell newcomers. "Not only can you take the food with you it never goes bad. You can stock up and keep it around for emergencies. Or you know, laziness. Doesn't matter how many crumbs you get in your bed because the invisible housekeeping will just fix it instantly. It's fucking awesome."

His expression brightens subtly at the enthusiasm, and the idea of being able to re-stock his most useful Things. "Yo for real?" Guess who's going to have pockets full up cupcakes the moment he finds them... "Rad."

Yesssss. Finally someone who doesn't try and fight him on the food. He's been here for over half a year he knows what he's talking about!

"It gets cold and kinda hard but never goes bad. I keep trays in my room for when I want a snack. My roommate thinks I'm crazy but fuck 'em, I'm the one who gets eggplant parmesan for breakfast before I get out of bed if I wanna."

Which is the important part of all this. Can eat whatever he wants from the comfort of his own bed.

"This place has its perks. Can't leave and sometimes people die but food wise this is paradise."

"I'm taking stuff with me," he adds, already mentally calculating how much he might grab on the first run through. Maybe one of everything, provided they let him do that. No matter how long he's had it he knows he'll use everything at some point, even if it's just to hand it off to someone else that looks like they could use a coffee to shake off the lethargy of spores. "Get some food, get my instruments, I'll be set."

At least it seems like at least some people here aren't going to have any problem with the way he conducts himself. It's not like he actively goes around causing problems anyway.

"OH yeah, have at man. It's infinite and as soon as you take it it restocks. So take whatever you want. Highly recommend the mashed potatoes too. Can put them in those to-go drink cups."

Which is a totally normal thing to do with mashed potatoes. But this man is never without food.

"Instruments? Musical or like.. sciency? Oh no wait. Magic stuff?" Please be magic stuff, magic is neat. Unless instruments means swords because that is s-tier of things Pratt is interested in.

Edited 2023-01-28 08:55 (UTC)

Wayne would eat macaroni and cheese out of a coffee mug, let's be real. He is 100% behind this kind of culinary stupidity.

"Axe, guitar," he replies easily, though at the mention of magic he lifts a hand, making a Gesture of his own. "Closest I have to magic's the prescribed Gestures. They don't do much without intent though." The air in front of him warps and changes, seemingly becoming clay, though as he'd said, he has no target that could be affected by it, and so it simply disappears again without effect.

These two are going to be gastronomic calamities.

"Wait... an axe and a guitar? Or an axe that is a guitar? Because that would be so fucking cool. Some Brutal Legend shit right there." He's a bit more used to the kind of magic Rita and Skulduggery have where it's just instant fireballs or walls of air or making fountains in the desert. So seeing tilt-shifted blobs of clay appear out of the air and then fading into nothing is new and super weird. "Oh sweet. What would it do if you like... launched it?"

"That would be so righteous," he replies to the idea of an axe that is also a guitar. "I just got one of each, though. Not the best axe I've ever had but it works."

His smile quirks a little bit, head tipping back. "I have...bubbles, space shurikens, detonations... That other one was just a protection thing. Like, wrapping you in a barrier kinda thing. Usually it's either stuff to keep my crew alive, or something to blow up other stuff. I can kinda melt someone's skin off, but that takes a lot of Will."

"It would be fucking awesome. But maybe you'll get one? Sometimes random ass things show up here and Friday just kinda guesses who would like them. I seem to get all the cult shit and anything that would fit in my childhood white trash trailer. So maybe a sick ass guitar axe will show up and she'll go: Oh yeah this dude will love it!"

Which also uh.. reminds him, "I'm Deputy Pratt by the way. I kinda forget to introduce myself all the time cuz I'm from a small ass town where everyone knows everyone. Also, don't melt anyones skin off that's... extremely gross."

"If I can get a TV from home I bet other people could learn the Gestures," he muses, though he wonders if that train of thought would be such a good thing. Well, Pratt at least seems disinterested in melting anyone so maybe nobody else will want to either...

"Wayne," he replies easily, hands dipping into his pockets. Handshakes aren't exactly a thing where he's from. "I've never lived in a small town, but I had like, one neighbor and a vegetable garden. Really quiet you know?"

"We've got tv's. And there's DVD players in some of the bars, but they don't get any channels or anything. Which fucking sucks cuz I'm pretty sure we're gonna miss the superbowl. Fuck we might have already cuz I dunno what day it is. Ugh. That sucks." He's not even going to question learning magic through the tv, he just assumes it'll be Yan Can Cook but for magic. That makes sense.

Excellent because Pratt has a three foot personal space bubble that will have him freaking out if anyone gets too close. "That.. sounds pretty small though. Only one neighbor? That's awesome. I have a ton of neighbors. Apartment you know, though I almost had enough saved to move the fuck into a house. And then everything went to shit and now I not only still have neighbors, I have a roommate too. Major downgrade, even if other shit in this place rocks."

He doesn't know what a Super Bowl is but if it's something Pratt was looking forward to, that's a shame all on its own. "I wonder if you can ask someone about that. I saw a suggestion box on my way here," he points out, though he'd also seen someone abusing it by making it tell people that they just lost The Game.

"I miss my house. I haven't been back in so long I bet my garden died." He'd have to re-cultivate his whole vegetable patch, he's sure. "Somsnosa lived in a little place in the city, she had gripes with infestations of ambulant skulls. As long as you weren't dealing with that kind of stuff that's rad." He's never expressly had roommates, unless you count bunking down with his crew when they were traveling.

"Huh, is it by Friday? I didn't see that. I try to not bug her because she's sorta mad at me for attempting necromancy, but I swear it was for a good cause. I was trying to rip the soul of the guy who possessed my best friend out of the ship and put him into a cursed horse toy that I dug up on the beach." Not just a good cause but something that makes total sense and Pratt has no idea how insane that sounds.

"Aw damn, that sucks. On the other hand one plant might have taken over, like four acres of strawberries now. Guess you can hope for that since you'll probably never find out." He's the worst at meeting new people and dropping info about not being able to go home, because he legitimately forgets people wanna do that since he's dead and has nothing to go back to. "We have a walking skeleton, is that the same thing?"

That sure is a lot of words that Pratt is saying to him, and some completely sober nodding going on from Wayne because honestly, it's not the strangest thing he's ever heard in his life. The only things he ever questions are Where and How as determined by the amount of detail he's given at any given time.

At least the brighter side of neglecting his garden is legitimately an interesting idea. Maybe there'll be vines all over and he'll have enough to supply himself and his one neighbor for a bit in the event that he makes it home... At least until he parses that Pratt was saying that he might not. That's uh. Less than comforting.

"Uh...maybe? Hers were deadly to the touch."

"Oh. Different then. Well.. maybe. I've never actually touched the skeleton, though I did try to whack his skull off with a shovel, but he did some magic whoosh thing and it didn't connect." There's an accompanying hand gesture imitating the wall of air that Skulduggery used to shove Pratt away and survive a potential shovelling.

"I stand by that though, there was a fucking walking skeleton! What was I supposed to do??" He asks of the guy with the moon head made of clay.

"Skeleton with self-preservation instincts," Wayne concludes, arms crossing and head nodding as if this discussion makes absolute sense. "If you don't know what's up with it being ready's good. Hell I almost snapped on my best friend when we met because they were out in the middle of all the 'xylem'd folks." You just never know!

Finally someone agrees with him other than Skulduggery himself!

"Yeah, it's good people can take care of themselves. Well most of them can I think. Otherwise it would suck having to protect people when shit goes down. Which it doesn't that often but when it does it's absolute balls. I'm trying to remember that I'm dead which makes me automatically retired so I don't have to do Deputy shit anymore but well.."

He gestures down at himself where he is most definitely wearing a Deputy uniform. Has his name on it and everything.

TEST DRIVE MEME #9

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)