TEST DRIVE MEME #10

[sailmods]

a. that's where we both belong

[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.]

b. and there's plenty of that down by the sea

[it’s strange to think about, isn’t it? how all those new passengers, the ones grumbling or shouting their way through the forced muster drill, have absolutely no idea what happened just last month. no idea about the labyrinth. no concept of why anyone around them would be a bit more hesitant around shadows.

they’ll learn.

sometimes a shadow is darker than it’s supposed to be. very rarely does anything come of that; just a vague sense that someone is watching you, and little more. sometimes, though, the shadows move. sometimes they grab at your ankles as you walk. sometimes they give you a shove as you go down the stairs. sometimes they pull your hair, or pinch your arm.

sometimes you feel something sharp cut into your lower leg.

that’s not a shadow, though. that’s a fiddler crab. you see the crab, sometimes. the cut isn’t from its claws, which don’t look very intimating; it’s not a very large crab. the cut is from the large kitchen knife crudely taped onto its back. it’s probably fine. it's not chasing you. there isn't evil in its heart. probably.]

c. think I'll go back to the Keys

[one day, in the atrium, two pedestals suddenly appear. on each is a large button: one green, and one blue. pressing the blue button gives you a little treat, popping out of thin air next to you. pressing the green button sends a small electric shock through your body. weird, but, hey, pretty avoidable, right?

except, it seems to be spreading. to every other button on board.

in the elevator. on the soda machine. the arcade. your phone. the bell on Friday’s desk.]

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

"Oh," says Edgar, who to many intents and purposes was born in a barn, and reaches to take the offered hand. "I'm Edgar."

(His palms and fingers are callused and rough, though not so much as they used to be; about two years of relatively gentle handling, over nearly two decades' hard use.)

[abhorrently]

"Right." She sips from her cup, rolling that one around in her head. "In that case, much as I'd like to let you talk as long as you'd like about coffee and teach me what I've been missing for as many hours as you'd like, I fear I'd be keeping you too long from everyone who'll want your time once they hear you're back."

Since she's assuming he has friends who will rush down the second they hear his name.

"But, I'm definitely still interested. And since I know my schedule's as free as anything..."

Violet Debenham | The Last Binding Trilogy

[strumpetlyduties]

Muster

Violet manages to get to the muster without too much swearing, or fighting the curse compelling her feet in one direction. But it's a near thing, and only because she doesn't want to raise suspicion amongst the other — presumably mostly unmagical — passengers.

Which just makes the faceless woman even more confusing, but at least it isn't one of those awful fog masks.

If she spends a little too long examining her new lei without moving, that's neither here nor there.


Shadows

She's just trying to explore the place, to build a map in her mind. This cruise-liner is entirely different to the Lyric, everything from the decor to the amenities is wrong in some way. She's expecting to be stopped at some point, questioned on why she wants to explore so thoroughly, she's not expecting the shadows themselves to reach out and trip her up.

She rights herself quickly, brushes off any dust and looks around for a culprit. When she finds none, she cradles a quick searching spell, grey-blue strings of light shimmering between her fingers until she flings it out into the surrounds.

And finds nothing out of place.

Great.


Buffet

She tucks herself away at a table in the corner to eat. She's not sure if she wants company or to be left entirely along, and it shows in the way Violet shifts between roles nearly between every bite. A delicate ingénue, a gruff ne'er-do-well, a wise woman with so many stories to tell, a brooding widow, a young lady drenched in scandal.

Who knows which will settle into place if someone approaches. The last is most likely, it's been the main one she's inhabited for a while now, why bother to change that?


Wildcard

(I'm still voice-testing, but please feel free to throw something else at me)

Sand Dollars

[ablativeholopleather]

Now, Wayne has smelled coffee before. He's familiar with it. He even enjoys it, though it tends to make him jittery. But he's pretty sure he's never smelled so much of it all at once, and it makes him think that maybe something has cone off the rails either down in the kitchens, or else at the coffee place, and so he ends up going to investigate.

And seeing a face he hasn't in months.

"Heeey, it's good-at-colors-and-caffiene guy," he quips, and his smile is broader than Bash is likely to have ever seen before. He also looks much more tired, but such is life around here.

Calgona

[dupli_arms]

Shouji is down here to use the gym more often than not, usually alone, sometimes with someone to spot or to spot him in turn. He's caught off-guard to actually see the spa portion being used for actual spa-type thing. For a moment he merely observes the unfamiliar man, though a small quirk of a smile comes with the smell of mild acetone. His nails hadn't been painted since Undine did them for him, and he remembers telling her about one of his best friends and how Tokoyami favored his particular shade of black. It's close to that that Bash is applying, actually, and Shouji can't help stepping a bit closer to see if there might be another bottle around for him to use. His plan for the morning is derailed; he's been hit in the nostalgia, what can he say?

"Pardon me, is that the only black we have?"

hermit (alva lorenz) | identity v

[collegiality]

a. down by the sea
[ The crab is an unexpected touch. The mischievous shadows are ignored, but he bends down on one knee by the crab. After laying his staff down on the floor, he presses on finger down on it to stop it before reaching out to wrap his thumb an index finger about it, then lifts it up. He cants his head to one side, then the other, considering for a moment before simply using his free hand to remove the tape attacked to it. The motion is quick but careful, avoiding doing any harm, and he keeps one finger under the handle of the knife so that he can keep it from falling.

This sort of company is easier for him, but he doesn't hold it overlong. He scans the deck to make sure it's safe before setting it back down, and there is a faint frown as he watches it scurry off... It's small and easily missed, somebody might crush it... In fact, as he l;i there's someone now. ]

... Watch your step.

[ Alva's voice is soft, gentle, if perhaps a touch uncomfortable, but that's easily explained by randomly being dropped onto a ship and then attacked by a crab. He glances their way as he speaks, lifting his staff and pushing back up off the ground. ]

b. we'll go to the keys
[ He could do without the electric shocks, but there are worse things in the world.

True to his name, the Hermit prefers to keep to himself, but that doesn't mean he hates people. Thus, he'll pause to warn anyone who's about to touch a button that he knows to have been tampered with. ]

Please, allow me... You'll be shocked if you press it.

[ If allowed to, he'll do so himself, and with it comes the crackle of electricity and a white spark. It doesn't bother him.

And if his conversation happens to be on the younger side, he'll add - ]

If you press the blue button on the pedestal, it will give you a treat.

[ Not that one can't freely get those here anyway, but. ]

c. library
[ He does find that he prefers the quiet air of the library to some of the most bustling areas. He scours the shelves, running his index finger along the spines of the books as he searches them for something in particular. He goes from area to area doing this, sometimes looping back around to check for something that's simply not there.

It never will be, of course, since the ship does not have a non-fiction section, but that won't (immediately) stop him from searching. Help a guy out? ]

d. wildcard
[ Choose your own adventure! Feel free to find Alva wandering around wherever. He's pretty tall compared to most people so he's easy to spot. He tends to keep to himself and avoid people, but he's a nice guy. He won't shake his cane at you, promise. Also please be patient with me since I haven't played a recluse in forever. ]

C. Library

[moonlesstides]

There's a familiar face from around the stacks, Alva. Though Grace seems a little different here; she's dressed herself in clothing from the Tommy Bahama, the colors bright and tropical. There, on her wrist, a strange ribbon connects her to her harpoon; a different one, purple in color, is tied in a bow around her left wrist.

The Naiad slams the tip of her harpoon against the floor, a naked effort to command attention, and stares in a mixture of wonder and contempt.

One more change, from the Manor: she 'speaks', her voice rising into Alva's consciousness without quite crossing his ears, like bubbles up from a great depth. ~You. Hermit, hunter of the living...~ A mute snarl, sharp teeth bared. ~Welcome to your new chains.~

[angelofthenight]

"Community means people who care about each other, first of all. Why should a group of kidnapped strangers have any affection for one another? Is our mutual imprisonment supposed to be enough?"

library.

[decrypter]

[there's a quiet, regular, rhythmic tapping coming from one section of the library. a clicking like machinery, from where Helena's set herself up, typing on the device she has to continue working on her story, a few pages nearby in braille, and pausing to check what she's written so far. it's where she finds peace, when she doesn't want to post up in the cafe, and needing to make two copies of this work is going to be a bit troublesome. but progress is being made, slow and steady.

except there's someone else there, and a feeling that leaks into her heart - an unconscious reflex, from however many times those footsteps and that presence came near, and her hands still. carefully, she pulls her cane closer, and listens for a moment.

if she needs to start running again, she will. this place is mapped in her head, after all.]

[hadnoright]

Daisy's brow wrinkles in a loose scowl, but she bites her tongue rather than say any further incriminating things. Chooses to take an ounce of comfort that if Helen was still thinking of Basira as her only soft spot even at home, then she's still not got all the pieces.

...man, she should not be taking any comfort in having more soft spots than expected. Ugh.

"Sure. Good luck settling in, I suppose."

[decohere]

"You don't have to care about anyone you don't want to," Ava assures. She sets her plate down, spreads out a few napkins for the mess she's about to make of the crab. She has an extra plate ready for the shells.

"I certainly don't care about most people here on any individual basis. Collectively, yes. But not as I would my friends. But I think the common theme is most of us came from worlds where we were outcasts or exploited. Where we were treated badly for being different. And now we're among people that understand that. It's nice not to feel alone anymore."

She cracks a crab leg with her bare hands.

Buffet

[businessorlibation]

Now, Johnny Summer is a man of many faces himself. Tidily dressed in a grey suit with a mustard yellow vest, hair slicked back, it's likely that Violet will immediately notice the sort of aura about him. The air turns slightly effervescent, as if breathing in champagne (in a way most people find pleasant), and there's a murmur in the air, like hearing pleasant conversation at a party a few rooms away. It's a whole thing. It might even distract from the face that he's short (less than five and a half feet) and pallid and his eyes are disconcertingly gold.

He smiles as he makes his way to her table, setting a hand on its surface. "I'm certain I'd remember your face if I'd seen you here before, miss. Are you a new arrival?"

a

[serialskiller]

[The person approaching (for values of person that are still sometimes debated in the recesses of its mind) is tall, broad, built like a military propaganda poster and is wearing a crop hoodie with pink cat ears on the hood with its cargo pants and stompy steel-toed boots.]

His name is Ody. The crab, I mean.

[There is no attempt at eye contact, and it pauses at a more-than-polite distance from Alva.]

[midnightroads]

"There's a like glittery metallic black on the wall, but this is the only solid black. Why, you wanna go goth too?"

Bash notices the mask, and then gives an up-down look to the rest of Shouji before smiling and kicking out the chair across from him gently.

[midnightroads]

"Hey, it's the bananahead!" He means it fondly, really. "Want a cup, sweetheart?"

[midnightroads]

"What have I missed over here? It's October--better or worse than the last one?"

He hasn't gotten the full lowdown from anyone yet.

[midnightroads]

"I'll get around to seeing all of them, eventually. Or they'll find me, once they smell what I've done." He waves a little, dismissively. "Right now, you've got me."

[midnightroads]

Bash's grip on the hand shifts, as he pulls it closer, to kiss Edgar's knuckles. His eyes glimmer with mischief. Is he this kind of dashing gentleman? Well, he pretends.

[abhorrently]

"Then by all means, Bash."

She wants to learn, and she has the time, and more than that, it'll give them both someone else to talk to. Pressing him on his past time here will only make him more defensive, but it might come out eventually.

[hadnoright]

"Not easy prey," Daisy agrees, with a very deliberate, honed sort of edge to her voice. Her tip-toed stance remains perfectly steady, there's no shaking from what would usually be the strain of holding the position. "But things get boring when they're too easy. Always liked a challenge."

[takethatnature]

"I don't want to do maintenance on my fingernails," Wilson gripes. "Can I have a regular nail shape?"

That's a lot of physical contact from a guy he barely knows! Is he being flirted with or is this just part of the nail-painting process? Wilson has no idea, and he's not sure how he feels about the possibilities besides 'awkward'. He's wearing black arm warmers with a thumb hole; a fairly substantial scar pokes out from the fabric covering his left palm, and some smaller ones dot both hands, traces of the nicks and scrapes he got in between the final time he died chasing down Maxwell and the moment he took the Nightmare Throne.

"I don't think I caught your name."

[maximumcake]

"What? Afraid I might squish ya?" Valid, honestly.

"Here I go!" Max bellyflops down into the center, then rolls over on his back to look up at them both. He cackles with glee seeing Ash straight scoop Bash up, with a slap on the ass for good measure. Fuck, why did he make that rule about no orgies in the pit again?

[not_the_last]

"... Honestly I don't know," she says with a sigh. "Things were so much worse than I knew, for most of last October. Things have been strange on board, and the excursions have changed somewhat ... I don't know what to make of it."

She'll give him a general summary, if he wants one.

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar's grip slackens a little in surprise, but -- to judge by the similar glint in his own eye and the crooked smile that spreads on his face -- not in displeasure.

A touch lower: "Oh it's like that, is it?"

[midnightroads]

"Oh, only if you want it to be."

Duplicity left him with a very loud need for consent from partners, a need for them to be enjoying it on all levels, rather than just the physical. But it is so, so easy to slip into the role of dark, seductive stranger. Only question remaining is if Edgar wants him to be the Dominant he was assigned to be, too. He's practiced in that role. So very practiced.