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

[ablativeholopleather]

Well, he seems pleasant enough. So far, anyway.

"Apparently most of us are coming from way disparate versions of the same places, or from other universes entirely. Nobody here's from my world but the same is true of a good few of us. I would call you aliens just as much as you would call me. Couple of other kids that qualify for the title. A mutant kid from another Earth. Mostly we're all just vibing here figuring out how to offend each other as little as possible. Easier said than done." He looks out toward the water when they emerge into the sunlight. There's nothing out there of note, as always.

"What's your name, dude? 'm Wayne."

[dupli_arms]

He's rapidly learning that people here either have no idea how they might get home, or have decided that they're probably never going to and have resigned themselves to their fate. He hasn't decided where he falls on that yet. There just isn't enough information to go on.

"You must have some cheerful vampire stories where you're from, then."

[maximumcake]

"Like... friends?" If so, he'd really like to see if they could be again. If his other self liked Edgar so much that he told him all that, it's got to be for a reason.

"Your whole world? Oh... I'm sorry. I... I do want to get to know you, well, again. With a greeting as warm as the one you gave me, I know we must have cared about each other a lot. I'm just really sad I can't remember."

[allhonourablemen]

Brutus raises a hand to wave off the arm- he's not touchy-feely at the best of times, especially not with strangers and not in strange places.

"I'm a lancer, mate, if I got motion sick I'd be out of a job. You got a... like a mini-warp drive or some shit?"

[allhonourablemen]

...

Brutus makes a circular gesture with his chopsticks, "the outer rim. Y'know. Final frontier, furthest mapped space. And hyperlight like... the arteries of everywhere people have settled, y'know- non-relativistic space travel, warp gates- you don't know any of that?"

[decohere]

"Must feel rather vulnerable, knowing you can't get out of the way of anything coming toward you. Not even a step back," Ava muses, stepping closer in a way that might be threatening if not for her teasing grin.

"Lord, hm? No wonder," she doesn't elaborate. "Starr."

[allhonourablemen]

Brutus just sort of... squints.

"5016u. Last I checked. Trickier out on the rim because of how time works 'n all."

He has no idea where Japan is.

"Anyway, depends on what variety you get. I don't usually get a choice about my MRE's but back when I was shiny they'd give us... God, what was it- it was massaman curry flavoured, had peanut oils and spices in it, I got in at least one fight over it."

[allhonourablemen]

Brutus can't quite conceal the eye-roll that follows, explaining almost automatically-

"It's not what you've been through, it's the culture that makes someone a civvie or not," because he's had this fight with other lancers at MO&S before and it never gets less exhausting how self-righteous people get about their particular type of suffering.

"Is anyone going to tell me what kind of suffering or is everyone under some fuckin' agreement that you're all gonna be vague and poetic about it. 'm not a sphinx, I don't fuckin' do riddles, mate."

[aurthor]

Yeah... that's unmistakably Mycroft Holmes, all right. Arthur had even left the government position he held mysterious and open ended so readers could have fun guessing, since he was a double agent, and Arthur could get away with using that ambiguity to suit himself. This is officially the weirdest day of his life, even more than the first month after becoming a vampire.

Okay okay, smile. He's got this, it's just another game, and Arthur hates to lose. A giant beam, "Fortunate! Seems like you won't be working much at all then." Reflexively, his instinct is to provide some entertainment, a suggestion of things to do. Mysteries to get into -- and that's the last thing he's going to do now.

"Blimey," he makes sure the smile closes the sapphire blue eyes, because it gives him away even to the normally unobservant, and Mycroft is more observant than Sherlock! "I dare say that sounds exciting! I hope things won't get dull for you around here!" Eyes open back up and he looks around for the crab. "Sharp-implemented crustaceans notwithstanding." A head tilt. He's just an ordinary out of practice opthmalogist. Well, okay not that ordinary, but just a doctor. A Doctor who has too much fun with words. "I'll leave it to you then," there's an unmistakably wicked smirk about that. Something that isn't so much trusting, as just not doing business that would normally have fallen on him. "See, I've no idea how I got here, much less how to get back, but you're with the--" oh no, he just oh so cleverly backed himself into a corner. He was so taken with enjoying his little game, he forgot what a normal person would call the Parliament in this time. He almost dizzies himself over in politics and ideas and the turmoil of the Victorian era vs. his own memories and stories. Why is he making this so complicated? "Government, so I'll leave it you to handle that fussy legal and diplomatic rigamarole."

[andrieski]

"I dunno about that. I mean, we have the monstrosity that is Twilight and whatever Anne Rice thing's happening. We also have actual vampires, but I don't really bother them unless I need to." And that's almost never. She already had to deal with the Baba Yaga as a landlord. She's not looking to be more annoyed than that.

[ligero]

"A sufficient enough distraction from our captors, first of all. A boat-- a stolen lifeboat might service, but it will not be easy. Provisions for a few days. Land within a distance of a few hours' rowing."

Cyrus, just a little deflated, hesitates. A few years ago, he might have said 'several'. Today, there are two fragments in his chest that would make that kind of exertion impossibly dangerous. Though it might make it harder, waiting for an even narrower opening to escape, if anything should happen to him-- what would happen to Mycroft? No: for his dear friend's sake, as much as his own, they cannot take any undue risk. "Four, at most," he continues quietly.

"However, this also presumes calm waters and that, upon making land, we will be in a country from whence we could access our funds and sail back to England." He pinches the bridge of his nose, wracking his brain. It isn't impossible. But it is all highly improbable. Desperate, even. "That is hardly guaranteed."

[aurthor]

"Blimey, you're joking, aren't you?" He's not. Damn.

It's almost reassuring that the world is still around in another 3000+ years. Would Leonardo and Comte be as well? Probably, if humans are. And not having meat (outside of labs) is hardly that terrible a price to pay.

"I'll be honest with you, I don't have the same appreciation for food as in my youth," because it literally doesn't do anything for him now. He can taste it, but it tastes a little off, and it doesn't satiate anything, being a vampire and all. "But I have a keen fancy to run around this room and fetch you different things you've never tried before." Arthur's own glass of 'wine,' (it's blood, yes the buffet keeps that on tap, nice and weirdly warm too) sits half drunk, nearly abandoned with his new interest for the other diner's experience.

Nooooo

[andrieski]

"You know how you see stars in the sky? And the moon? That outerspace." Really. It's been so long since she's had to explain herself to people who were from a super early time. Or just not from a world where space travel happened.

She considers something, doing a quick spell to sanitize her hands before pulling the eye out of her socket like it's nothing, which it is. She's done it so many times. It floats next to her and she's keeping an eye on it with her other eye. "Not an invitation for you to touch my eye. And I'm fine. It's been over a year since it happened. It's not even a big deal." But it is. She just won't admit that sometimes she hates it. After a moment, she takes the eye back, using another spell to sanitize it again before putting it back in her socket. "Tony's been keeping an eye on it." But if he's not here, then what is she going to do?

A beat. "Yeah. I'm an American, too." In case that wasn't obvious.

As he rambles about how beautiful a woman he would be, Marina just sort of zones out. Whatever that means, she doesn't actually want to care about it. She's just gonna let him go until he's done. Oh, and finally, he's done that part and onto things she cares about.

"Our Texas did. In Tumbleweed. And yes. It's public, but it's not here, is it?" She sighs about 'lass' before just choosing to ignore it. "I was in 2019ish in Texas. But I was in New York before that."

[light_mischief]

"Ah, no. Not really. The food used to generate constantly, but due to... certain changes, it now seems to stock intermittently. Never enough that you'll find yourself going without -- but you might not find your favorites on a consistent basis."

That's what he's gathered, anyway. He doesn't eat!

"Otherwise, it's all apparently delicious and edible. It also never goes bad, so feel free to stock up on muffins or, I don't know, buffalo wings. Whatever it is people like to eat more. Just make sure your cabinmate knows what you're up to."

[aurthor]

He didn't state an opinion, but Arthur just smiles quietly.

"You owe no explanation to me ol' chap!" Arthur busies himself with looking for coffee, and more importantly, the source of the blood and the rest. There are infinite potatoes in this kitchen. And are those American hot dogs? Bizarre. "But maybe one to Max. Try writing him a letter. If the humans and others," because this ship has all sorts of fantastical creatures on board! "Are getting in your way specifically, they can't stop a letter."

Okay, now his inner asshole is showing. "Of course if you're illiterate, you might need to send a courier instead." He knows the vampire isn't illiterate. Not that he'd care terribly if he was, Jean d'Arc is, but the only reason Arthur isn't helping him is because the Frenchman wouldn't want Arthur's help. But usually vampires can't get away with anything less than the highest aristocratic values. Comte's 'children' were an exception, hardly the rule. "Terribly romantic." His outer asshole is showing an obscene level now. "Like Cyrano de Bergerac." Wait. 1897, what year is it again? He reflexively goes to check his dates mentally before remembering, he's not in Paris, this is fine. "A trusted courier conveying well wishes of ownership," it's a wonder that the missing sarcasm is so loud in its unvoiced subtext, "Just make sure they aren't prettier or it will end up so very Twelfth Night." Ew. Stupid Elizabethan rotter, he shouldn't have mentioned him. Forget Shakespeare.

[busball]

"You would if they were here and you were a pincushion or having all your limbs hacked off." He laughs. "What's that? Instructions unclear. Talk more? Sure. I can do that for you."

A beat. "Okay, but it will get more blood on your suit and that's probably even worse for you than the dying, isn't it?" They are just gonna do a few more stabs. "This is actually great for my stress right now. I've been planning my wedding, you know? And it's just soooooo much. It's really a lot of work. I've never had to plan a wedding before, so you know. I didn't realize how much went into it. Now...I did officiate for my brother's wedding. Luther. Fell in love at the end of the world, you know? The wedding was..." Chef's kiss. "Tres magnifique, you know? Great. Five gave a speech about familial love. It was touching." There's a smile here as he send the knife in a little harder than necessary between a couple ribs.

"But planning my own wedding? Stressful. Neither of us have been married before, so you know...I want it to be perfect. I'm sure you don't know anything about that because you're just too boring for marriage, but I guess not all of us are meant to be married."

This is divine punishment for playing chatterboxes.

[aurthor]

"But you don't mean flying." So further out than air travel. Well, that seemed appropos. Space. A new concept. He wants to write about it so very much now. He'd been obsessed with fairies towards the end of his days, but this is... New. So much more extreme.

It's a good thing he's a doctor, or he'd really be freaking out.

Spoilers: he's absolutely freaking out. Inside.

He freezes up for a moment, but he crouches down so his own eyes are level with her hand. There's no wiring, it must be all internal. Battery operated? For the first time Arthur can think of, he wishes Leonardo were here to analyze the mechanics for him or even just bounce back and forth on ways to make it work. If anything, the greater vampire is usually one of people Arthur avoids prolong company of, since Leonardo is the only caliber of dashing that rivals Arthur's own, when it comes to courting young woman, but since that wouldn't be applicable here... Plus, if Leo were here, Arthur could also argue the math with him on his female dimensions. An odd errant thought he SOMEHOW maintains his wits enough to avoid mentioning out loud whatsoever.

"Thank you," he's not sure if the eye on hand can still work when it's not in place, so his own blue eyes meet her good organic one, pure gratitude. It's a rare gift, even if she doesn't know it, and rarer and more precious still if she does it know it.

For the body not to reject it, it must trick the body, possibly the mind as well, into simply accepting it as part of itself.

"2019," A quiet closing of his eyes, and once again Arthur takes his glasses back off. "I suppose 120 years isn't that long to wait for." That's an odd statement when he's pretending to be not a vampire, but whatever, he was distracted. Sebastian is about from that time, isn't he? The butler must really love something about le Comte's mansion to live so far into the past when the technology just took faster than a bullet. 9/10ths of Arthur's mind is also off racing thinking about the stories he could make with all this! Cyborgs and outer space and mechanical eyes, and if they have eyes, hearts must have come first! What else could they do with all this?!

Focus. "I dare say that makes a great deal of sense. With that much going on globally, probably not much need to keep everything secret anymore." Wasn't making vampirism public somebody's desire? Hmm...

"You're the second woman I've met who was living in New York. I don't suppose you know a 'Clarissa?' Studying at Columbia? It's a big city, so it'd be more surprising if you did know her, but this is a very strange day. And I don't believe in coincidences." He was very fond of Texas, they loved guns, loved the NRA he helped work on, and more fun for him: loved card games and boxing. They even invited him to join their tournaments! An honor! He didn't do it, purely because he was getting old, and if he had joined, everyone expected he'd do something exceptionally naughty to rig it in his favor, (and that temptation was a real danger!) but he loved how much it fired up his and everyone else's imaginations. Still, she's not interested, he can tell, and he's more interested in her. Not even romantically, or professionally at this point, but intellectually, extremely.

[intersected]

"Vibe...is that like 'chill'? Because I am down to chill, honestly, I'm down to chill harder than I ever have in my life." He rubs a feather between his fingers thoughtfully. "Because I need a vacation like crazy."

[flashedglass]

Clarissa looks him up and down. He does look a little bedraggled.

"Yes, 'vibe' is like 'chill'. And while I'm not sure about missing classes, I'm pretty happy to just...do nothing for a bit."

[intersected]

Chuck needs a little downtime, even without the whole...Thing...with Shaw and the Ring and the Intersect and his dad and, and, and...

...honestly, he's needed a vacation since the day Bryce Larkin lied about finding stolen tests under his bed. That's eight, count 'em, eight years of the poor man not having a stress-free day.

"What're you studying?"

[flashedglass]

"Oh." He's the second to ask her that, "I haven't...I was thinking Political Science and Business."

Not exactly a lie, but it wasn't what she planned to do with her life. It was just a path to money and also interesting.

[intersected]

"Ah, social sciences," he says, and scratches his head. "I'm a hard sciences guy myself. Engineering. Computer science. That kind of thing. So, uh, can't say I'd be a whole lot of help there." He shrugs. He knows political science, sort of, but the information's not exactly at his own beck and call.

[lightconductor]

"Not that I have met," he says.

Watson draws his cigarette case out of his pocket, and lights one, because he's been distracted enough to not do that, and he certainly feels he needs it for this conversation. "At least, not yet. I haven't been quite able to make up my mind as to whether it's more or less implausible than any other stories I've encountered here."

[flashedglass]

"People are interesting! I like people. And well, with people you can change things that technology can't. We will always need people."

Not that she cares about making the world better, because she doesn't. She just wants to make her world better.

[skaikru]

Oh, that eyeroll was so totally caught. And today there's not a gracious bone in Clarke's body, and no attempt to sympathize with the upheaval that comes with suddenly waking up on board. This guy just sucks.

Ody is safely held in just one hand now, as Clarke holds up the other to tick suffrages off on her fingers like re-viewing a grocery list.

"Dying. Dying painfully. Dying and waking up to find out part of you went missing in the reanimation process. Almost dying and suffering a gut wound or dismemberment until the next time you actually die. Watching your friends die. Watching your friends be possessed. Killing your friends because they're possessed. Killing your friends because you were possessed. Being separated from your friends in a room full of hundreds of mounted heads and made to go through a door to your own worst nightmare one by one. Being forced to vote on who to murder. Knowing you could always disappear into a void of nothingness, knowing you'd be conscious and stuck the whole time. External torture. Internal torture. The special kind of torture that is watching Skulduggery Pleasant make eyes at the Captain. Food shortages. Some weird supernatural plagues. Zombies. Clowns. And the worst thing of all —"

Yeah, she absolutely ran out of fingers to count on, but can at least now point down at the floor for dramatic effect.

"Is the futility of knowing we're stuck, and there's probably no way out of this alive."