sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #10

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TEST DRIVE MEME #10

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.]

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"Christ, I hope it is." For just a moment there's a look of painful uncertainty on his face, looking at Max.

"Fellow I'm thinking of is called Max Maximum? Name was something else before that, not gonna say it out loud yet. Fuckin loves to cook, bake, anything like it. Made a cake for my birthday even though I haven't fuckin got one. Dresses up almost all the time, suits and ties and that. Works out every morning. Lived with ..." His mouth twists. "Fellow name of Erik, not gonna say anything else about him yet either. Am I right yet?"

Maybe his idea of anti-hero is different from hers. It's not necessarily a bad thing after all. They fall into the same category for him as the underground heroes, like his homeroom teacher and the guy studying under him. They're both the 'wear black and not bother being friendly' types, and they're some of the most talented people he knows.

The question gets a soft laugh. "No, the only one that fits the 'vampire' description is actually one of our instructors. Tokoyami's more of a corvid." One that might as well live in a basement Hot Topic.

Well, that would explain the assumption. "The idea that people are being questioned on their status as human in the first place even if they've said that they are is not particularly reassuring." Said in the tone of someone that's had to do it a lot. He'd just have to hope that if he has to have that conversation more often with people around here, he would be taken at his word...

"Brilliant! In lumine Tuo videbimus lumen." Columbia's motto: In thy light, we shall see the light. "Are you studying business then?" His reasoning is twofold, those who are always broke know the depths of its affliction better than those who never were, and why to fear it the most and willingly do what it takes to avoid succumbing, even if it means working so much harder than everyone else. Afgluwnt might go to study the arts, but a perpetually broke ambitious hungry type studied finance, and good on them for it. Secondly, Columbia in the Big Apple: the financial sector of the world, is well known for its business school above else. Cliches are only a cliche for a reason, and if she has full scholarship, she almost certainly has that potential to spread their reputation, as universities always scout. Thirdly, and privately, maybe it's wishful thinking. Theodorus is Arthur's best friend and a business genius. He doesn't miss him yet, but there's a reason Theo is his best friend, they get along so well! And cutthroat business leaders are the opposite of naive, always a relief in a potentially dangerous situation, however much he might be trying to lighten her mood and convince her to embrace the sunshine and motif.

"Always good to take breaks, pretty bird. Spread your wings and horizons. I'm Arthur, by the way," he offers her a handshake, shifting the life vest to do so. "Usually my holidays are more city affairs. It might be fun to try something new." It belies the anxiety threatening to bubble. Where are they? How did they get here? Where are his friends, his patron, Paris, his dog, the rest? Opposite Sherlock Holmes: Arthur will go out of his way to act hopeful to try to bring out smiles.

"Grace, what a beautiful name." He means it. Something he always felt the world desperately needed more of: Grace and beauty.

There's a wry grin, Arthur thought she might not know the meaning of vampire, hence the superfluous details. After all, they're not aquatic by nature.

"It means, dear Grace, on the brink of death, I returned, at the price of drinking blood, though you hardly need to fear me." Not just because she could clearly handle her own, but Arthur isn't prone to violence, and never against women. Admitted, he already saw that Rouge, which they call the consumable blood, is in steady supply. Although the mystery of how still eludes him for now. "Hopefully this gentleman is a friend? I'd hate to have made a poor impression already!"

~A friend...he was very friendly, after his manner.~ An undead being who drinks blood...how novel. Grace's thoughts go to the Undead she knew and avoided (his violent air and affinity for electricity always did put her off, but in fairness to his manners the Undead seemed happy to permit her the distance she desired, and never willfully intruded upon it), but, no, the gentleman does not seem to be the same kind of thing. He's much smaller, and if he's carrying around a generator Grace can't see it.

Her visible eye refocuses as she gets to the end of that train of thought: The gentleman Jack was employed for violent work, but outside of his duties he was, I am given to understand, unfailingly polite by the standards of the city-folk. He went out of his way to check up on me, and inquire after my health, and to tell me a terribly great deal about London. If I have a complaint it is only that I needed the help of several other people to get him to realize that I lacked context for his stories.~

He's known winged heroes in his time, so seeing Phil would probably actually be comforting. "Phil, Okie," he repeats, committing the names to memory. "I appreciate the help. This has kind of been a learning curve and there's still a lot that doesn't make any sense to me. Anything to make it easier would be good."

[Yes, accurate.]

Are they? [Oh wow, new psychosis unlocked. Fun. Arthur is trying desperately not to get competitive with... himself? An alter ego? All of the above? Yes. In spite of his best efforts, he can't help it. His curiosity bests him in the way it never does Sherlock Holmes.] What's your favorite part of it?

[Remove all cultural references and... Arthur has no idea what that would look like. His favorite part of Paris is the authenticity to adding more cultural references!]

[Okay, so it has to be authentic, but not specific. Something more universal, something that anyone from any walk of life could understand and not feel dazed by.]

You're a rare bird! Most people have no demand for nonfiction! [Thus him hiding all the mystery and police procedure in fiction, and to make people smile.] Your favorite genre is usually -- don't tell me, let me guess! [Practical like an American. Not economics though, everyone lives that usually, rather than read about it. He knows that from Theo even more than his short American travels. It's been a long time since Arthur's philosophy tours, but he's pretty sure it's not that either.] Travel, am I right?

[He hates being wrong, and won't enter a game he has no chance at, but he's a good read of people, and she had all the hallmarks of someone who preferred to be on the go and claiming her domain. Reminiscent of someone else...]

[Her words nearly lose him then. What is a spacer? How can companies own colonies??? She called him an Earther? That's mildly hilarious. Her ship sailed among the stars. Sounds flowery, but he gets the impression she means it literally. Utterly bizarre. For the first time in AGES, Arthur's gift of gab fails him, he's utterly lost for words.]

[Luckily she doesn't leave him floundering, instead giving him time to mentally memorize the lot of it so he can poke it with a pen later!]

And here I thought that was a nickname. Gal Friday, my man Friday, is a reference to an ... [Arthur doesn't latch onto other people's slang, using his late 1800s Scottish-English extremely outdated mix wherever and whenever he is, but he's trying to give her a modicum of comfort in return for the wealth of information and patience in dealing with him.] An Earther? [There's a telltale lift at the end, like he's not sure of its usage, and looking to her to see if it sounds right to her. But speaking of books puts him back on sure footing!] Novel called Robinsin Crusoe by Daniel Defoe. [The author is important. Everyone forgets the author for the titular characters. Not Arthur. He can never.] In it, a shipwreckd sailor gains a right hand man called Friday, and it's become synonymous with a friend or second that you can't survive without. If you do like travel fiction, you might enjoy it, there's not too many culturally specific references, if I remember correctly. [Not that he'd ever thought about it before, in those terms, however.]

[He can't help smiling as she derides the Captain's qualifications or lack thereof! She's saucy!]

[She just breezes by "interdimensional kidnapping" like it's obvious, and no big deal! He has to work to keep the grin from splitting any wider! Hilarious. And charming.]

Inventory. [By Jove, he's so not ready to meet Watson.] If you should meet with the other Doctor, just tell him-

[His words are failing him again. What would Arthur want conveyed to himself? About books and doctoring and--]

[He hates all of it, but he's struggling not to.]

[He actually rubs the back of his neck under the ascot.] The work is brilliant, if he needs more time for anything, [There's never enough time, literally why Arthur became a vampire!] I'll gladly play backup, his invisible man Friday, if you will. [Arthur gives her a wink, because it settles his nerves.]

-- And he's lost sight of them, though the tiny singing voice at least gives him a direction to run. He hops up onto a wooden bench fixed to the wall and leans outward, hanging on to a handrail for support, and spots the scurrying crab and its singing passenger.

"What are you doing?" he yells, already jumping down to try and catch up.

"I say this as someone who literally is blind - you blind, my man? What's it look like I'm doing?"

"...Well, since you're here, give a listen to the deeper reaches of the store. You're looking for a great deal of moving cloth; let me know when you hear it."

Beat.

"Or if it's close."

"Somewhat," she says, "I believe I do. And I know that one can't manage very long with no one else to rely on. Not well."

Arthur had already had his fair share of run-ins with the crab, but this time, seeing its tiny rider laughs with mad delight.

"Beautiful little fae, you should be more careful where you point your aggressive steed." He just carefully moves his expensive Italian shoes. He's been in this dance before! "You're not the only nonhuman on this ship and not everyone is so easily able to see the humor in crab attacks."

"Oh, good." At this rate, they have enough people used to this sort of thing to start a bowling league. "You'll get the hang of it in no time, then. Long story short, it's a long vacation that's sixty-five..." He wobbles a hand, "Seventy percent pleasant, twenty percent absolutely terrible, and ten percent nightmarish. But then again, I'm considered heavily biased in these matters."

Hey, at least he's honest!

"You can call me Skulduggery. And no, the name came before, not after the whole 'skeleton' thing."

If the words that come out of Brutus' mouth could be mistaken for anything but Australian, then Arthur should get his ears tested.

"I've had ramen before, but I've never had actual pork," having had enough conversations with others about the availability of meat here, his reaction isn't as dramatic, "never had any meat that wasn't lab-grown or hunted. Don't get the hype to be honest. Usually with perk they put the artificial flavourings right into it, this is just... squishy."

He wrinkles up his nose, putting it back in his mouth. He's not sorry for his table manners. If he's gonna feel like the born-under-a-rock career military man he is, he may as well act the part too.

"Not like 'm gonna turn my nose up at free food, though, ay?"

Erin deadass does a double-take. "You guessed quick my dude. And correctly, the fuck?"

As introductions go she's actually had worse! Not much worse, but, y'know.

Worse.

"Not a clue. Didn't even see the bugger until he was trying to stab the stool to death."

Brutus is rough around the edges, doesn't have much experience dealing with civvies or anyone who couldn't laugh off the idea of their own death, and in particular hasn't dealt with teenagers since he himself was arguably one. It'd be pretty easy to shrug her lack of reaction off as her problem, he's used to flying solo- DONNER pilots tend to self-select for being alright on their own anyway. But if he's here, and wants to break out of here, he's gonna need comrades, and that means probably sanding down his edges just a touch. Obviously this whatever-the-fuck is important to her.

"I was just fucking with yus, yeah? Wasn't gonna hurt the little guy. I like... animals?" he thinks that's what this is? "and all. Sorry. Haven't gotten used to dealing with civvies."

Well. That's a whole lot of a lot.

"Brutus," the hand that isn't on his cane goes to shake hers, "fuck me you're a good one to know, ay? Bloody clever clogs here all over the uptake."

The brick of muscle is, however, about as dense as the rest of him would suggest, so if she's going to flirt she may have to do it harder.

"Definitely gonna need a drink after all that though- where's good?"

And she's just gonna... float there. Cool. Pidge is doing her level best to focus on the problem at hand, but that's pretty distracting.

(She has, in fact, noticed the odd coloration, she's just making an effort to not bring it up immediately. It seems like something someone would want to know, though.)

She's about to open her mouth to say something else when there's a not-quite-voice in her head. "The elevator?" Pidge hadn't even gotten that far yet. "What made the buttons go rogue?"

César whistles, impressed. "Those will definitely be useful if we're up against something terrible. Which has happened before. We've had to fight zombies."

He makes a frustrated noise and follows. "I just fuckin took that knife off that crab, why the fuck would you put it back on --"

Said crab, probably responding to the inscrutable exhortations of its soul and not to Edgar's yelling, pauses and circles toward the guardrail. Is it going to try to climb?

"He also has those neat little claws, but still. Knife's pretty cool." She'd definitely be keeping it if she was in the crab's position.

Her eyes narrow at that. "Don't do that. And I dunno. You'd have to ask my brother." She knows, actually, it's just that she's not feeling terribly forthcoming all of a sudden. "What's sweet about it?"

How much is she going to regret asking? "If it's the buffet thing, I think I'll just leave him be. Not gonna stand in the way of the big dramatic revenge quest."

"I'm not...it was a war to save people from villains," Shinsou just shrugs, he's used to hearing people apologize in that sort of way. It's common in Japan after all. And he can tell she seems to mean well.

"Guess we just gotta make the best of it, huh?" Giving her a bit of a lopsided grin, even with the tired look of his features, Shinsou nods. He's a hero, he can't look worried or bothered by something. He has to have a smile, like the others. Like Midoriya.

"How long have you been here then?"

"Right...," Shaking his head Shinsou picks at his own plate a bit. So it really wasn't that different than what he was used to. Hearing of someone who is supposed to do something so taboo but refuses to does peak Shinsou's interest but...he doesn't know Wayne well and he doesn't know his partner at all, it'd be rude to ask.

"What about you? What's your take?" It almost feels like a good way to gauge peoples reactions to things, maybe he can figure out who won't freak out over his powers.

"Nah, I think we're the only ones." Shaking his head Shinsou tugs at his mask, grinning a bit at the taller student before he blinks once, twice...wait.

"Uh, Shouji...what's the last thing you remember?"

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TEST DRIVE MEME #10

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