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

[lordoftheozarks]

Erik crosses his arms in front of him and glares. "No. I think I've had enough of your companionship. I'll find Max on my own. Perhaps, if you mind your manners later, I will introduce you."

[lordoftheozarks]

"I know what you are implying but he was like that before I met him. When I trained him I merely played into his natural inclinations." It was far more effective that way.

"Yes, policed by. We have an Accord with them and there are consequences for breaking it. The consequences go both ways." If a human provokes, a vampire is allowed to defend himself.

"I find your preoccupation on fear and power to be more indicative of your own attitudes than any reflection on mine. I have plenty to occupy myself with. The running of a territory does come with responsibilities and duties like any position of power. I, unlike some, am committed to performing those duties in order to solidify my base rather than to be shirking the concerns of my people in order to chase more power. My ambition is not only to rule but to rule well."

[lordoftheozarks]

His eyes narrow dangerously as he turns to stare hard at her. Yes, he has died several times, but that is not what he said.

"How do you know that?"

[lordoftheozarks]

The cupcake confirms it. That's his Max. His decision to hold back seems to be paying off. Maybe this Wayne will finally take him to his pet. One can hope.

"A Max made of metal? I certainly haven't met that one. But I'd very much like to meet your friend. That cupcake looks a bit strange but also very good. He must be kind-hearted if he's been so eager to help?"

[lordoftheozarks]

"Just what do you hope to accomplish by chasing me?" he calls back to her over his feathered shoulder. He isn't slowing his pace to have a proper conversation, but he really would like to know what her end-goal here is.

"Even if you kill me, I'll come back again." It will cost him three days but it won't stop him.

[aurthor]

"No thanks, I'm not that interested in guys." Fun to drink with sometimes, but not his choice to go this far out of his way to meet one. Even if they were human. Even if they weren't. There was a reason Le Comte didn't take Arthur to the fancy pureblood balls.

"But good luck! Hope I don't run into him accidentally!" While looking for the rouge source. Or because it would mean Max was in need of a doctor.

[besixdouze]

He's got, a different owner now than he did before?

[The past-tense Rita uses does have him wondering now. Voyager supposes pets would change hands in this way sometimes...rather the same way Servants 'change hands' with Masters oftentimes, don't they? Or something like that, anyway. He wonders what happened to the first owner of that crab...maybe it was something that's made it so mad now...?

Rita gravitates for the stairs, and he readily follows suit. Absentmindedly, Voyager ends up doing a very floaty sort of hop from the top step down to the first landing instead of actually walking down the stairs like a normal person, which means that for a brief moment he draws ahead of Rita in this way. But he does stop a few seconds to wait for her to catch up, before he continues moving! Still thinking about knife crabs...]

I guess a pet crab would have a pet name.... [!! Maybe he can help her remember?!] Was it 'Crabby'? Or maybe 'Clawy'? Oh--or 'Snippy'!

[You know, with all the snipping it's been doing recently!!]

his nickname sense is adorable...

[myagic]

Yeah. His old one's...gone now. That happens.

[If she tries to just be factual and casual about it, she won't have to feel bad, right? (It doesn't work.)]

It wasn't anything uncreative like--hey, be careful!

[The admonishment comes out of her mouth before she can help herself, as he suddenly springs ahead of her, but--huh, he did not obey gravity the way a regular kid should. Her cheeks flush, but she carries right on.]

--Don't go doing anything weird until we at least wrap that up, got it?

[decohere]

"Because you wouldn't have been able to leave this path unless you completed the drill. The only reasonable explanation that you're still out in this hallway is that you've had to start over. Which... you mentioned being stabbed, and I see no evidence of blood. So. Death is a logical conclusion. Everyone's died a few times around here, no big deal. Sure you can get your revenge later."

[ablativeholopleather]

[Unfortunately, there's not a lot that he says that makes sense to much of anything. It's how he's been operating for months.

Wayne stands with one hand in his pocket, rubbing his thumb across his forefinger as he debates on how to explain. She'd only just gotten here after all, how much does she really need dumped on her immediately?]

Starting from the basic stuff, sometimes bad things happen here. It seems like it mostly happens when when people get idle in their day-to-days. Reality breaks a little bit to squeeze angst out of you. Don't worry too much though, it's not gonna kill you for more than a couple days. Food's basically free, and people are pretty nice when you get past how much everyone has been through. [A moment to glance her over.] You'll probably fit in pretty well actually. But uh, be careful who you swing that at. Not everyone's gonna take it as easy as me.

[byletheisner1159]

When Byleth woke up, she could tell something was off. She neither recognized the bed she was lying on, or the room at all. The girl remembered all of yesterday; her morning classes and the spar she and Felix had after lunch. Then, she had a meeting with Seteth to report the student's growth over the month. When she hit her pillow that night, the woman felt tired; not physically, but talking to Seteth was always mentally draining for someone simple like her. Sometimes, it felt more tiring than planning an entire ambush on the battlefield.

Byleth even remembered that Sothis was in her dreams, but, like the most of the times, she didn't remember what they were talking about. Maybe this has a correlation with what is happening now?

The bluenette got up of the bed, going to every corner of the room, just looking at it. She tried opening the door, but it wouldn't budge. Near the door, a table with a simple letter was there. After reading its contents, Byleth furrowed her brows; she wasn't sure she knew what a cruise was... Maybe a location? Possibly. She heard the soft click of the handle, and when the woman tried to open the door again, this time it opened.

This got her nerves on edge. She didn't had her sword with her, nor something that could potentially harm someone. Well, she had her fists, if things got out of control. Byleth was sure someone put a spell on her, because everytime she tried to wander around the big corridors of the location, something pulled her back on track.

The place itself didn't had a threatening aura, but the strangeness of it all was enough to make her feel uncomfortable. Sothis hadn't said anything, either. She wondered if the goddess was asleep, or something happened to her. The girl gasped when she arrived at the deck.

There was the sea.

Byleth had already see it with her father on some of their missions, but she never saw this sea. Where she couldn't tell where it begins or where it ends. The magnitude of it made her stomach twist into knots. The spell was only broken when she noticed the stone faced individual also on deck, waiting.

The thing gave Byleth a lei, and before she could muster a word, it vanished into thin air.

Now, she was sure that it was some kind of spell.

-x-

The woman had been roaming around the cruise for quite a while, but she still had no idea of why, or how she ended up here. However, she learned two things; there was almost no one on this ship, saved for people that seem that worked here (strange, shadowy people?), and the place was massive!

While walking around and investigating things, she was able to sneak a little knife into her clothes. She also calmed down a little, however, she still couldn't muster any conclusion of why all of that was happening. The unnerving feeling was still present, even though a little subdued.

Her walk came to a hault when Byleth heard steps approaching her, the knife she found already on her hands. The woman turned around, ready to fight whatever was following her until that dead-end corridor, but she stopped the moment her eyes landed on the person in front of her.

"...Dimitri?" She called, surprised.

[maximumcake]

"You like the tropical weather here better? Honestly, me too." Even if it does make wearing a suit a little warm sometimes.

"Only once? That's a shame, they are really beautiful. I've driven through them a few times on a long road trip. It's funny, actually. My master's clan is called the Ozark Moutain Clan but the Ozarks don't actually even have real mountains. Technically, they're hills."

[guildmastermind]

"...this time. Is that a common occurrence under other circumstances?" That's a little frightening to hear, but at least if there is a threat, he's with another trained warrior of some stripe.

Still, things do seem normal enough and familiar enough, and as he occupies a table, he looks at the conveyor belt thoughtfully.

[ablativeholopleather]

"Yeah I think when they come into my possession they start taking on traits of things from my world if they're with my Things for too long. Still tastes good though." He would offer the one he's holding, but he sort of needs to keep it, just in case. It ends up back in his pocket with nothing seeming even remotely out of place about the action.

"Oh yeah man, he's basically the nicest person I've ever met. A lot of people here love him actually, I don't think anyone's gonna have an unkind word to say about him actually. There are a few people like that around here and people are good about closing ranks around the people they wanna protect, especially the young bugs and the soft hearts."

Peter "Parker" Yang | Malevolent | I'm so sorry this is just a voicetest

[bedrockfriend]

a. that's where we both belong

There are long, dark bruises around the man's neck, as he stands with a smile at the strange fucking initiation ritual with the lei and the fucking faceless woman. They wrap around his whole neck, mottled dark and blue and fresh, and despite his collar being popped up to hide it, he keeps rubbing his neck unsubtly, trying and failing to be okay with it.

But it's fine. Parker's totally fine. Whatever the fuck psycho cult bullshit is happening, this still isn't the worst thing that's happened today.

He's quick to pull the lei off as he walks away, though, eyeing it with unsubtle suspicion.

He's sharp, though, and when he catches someone looking at him he'll lift the lei in greeting. "Anyone know what's the deal with this tourist crap?" he asks: and it's a Boston accent, or adjacent thereto, light and easy as he smiles.

It's not a particularly warm smile.


b. hole in the bottom of the sea

Parker's not a dumb guy. He's a bruiser, sure, but he was doing perfectly fine in the investigative business before he was done in by it.

And when you spend more than a few years in a city like Arkham, you learn which shadows are the ones you should be jumping at, and the ones you should be pretending you didn't see.

So he doesn't miss the strange darkness lurking in his peripherals, the way they seem a bit too intense. But that doesn't mean he can stop it when he feels a yank on his collar, or his suspenders get snapped from behind.

But when he feels one tug decisively on his holster, he beats the sensation to it and whips his gun out, spinning around to aim at-- well, whoever happens to be standing there is sure unlucky right now. But at least he doesn't fire?

yes haha yes!!!

[theotherright]

Arthur looks a lot better than he did when he first arrived in this dimension. He's eaten well, he's slept sometimes, his ratio of murders per day has gone way down. His clothes aren't fashionable anywhere except in the mind of Tommy Bahama, but they also aren't rags or cult robes. Physically, he's doing okay.

He still kinda looks like shit. Not as bad as he did when he was spending every day at or under a speakeasy bar, but close enough to maybe bring it to mind, hollow-eyed and head down. He's on a rare night-time soujurn out of John and Pratt's cabin, gripping a hand roll from Mikabo, skating his duct-taped cane in a wide arc across the deck in front of him.

The click of a pistol leaving a holster is distinctive. Arthur's a little too far away, and too busy listening to his cane, to consciously hear it -- but it hits a reactive part of his mind all the same, along with the scuff of turning feet, and he goes still, with an anxious feeling of 'what did I just hear?', cocking his ear to listen. Abruptly he wishes he'd asked John to come with him, even if only for a pair of working eyes.

"Hello?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Love warm weather, man, fuckin love it. 'S like heaven."

Out onto the deck now, and Edgar stretches his arms out and turns his face up to the blue sky, and gives a sigh of unalloyed enjoyment.

"Dunno if I'd say beautiful, exactly, about the mountains I saw? Might've liked em better if I wasn't busy trying not to fall off the edge."

Which way from here? He makes a move in one direction, or tries to and finds himself frozen to the spot again. Rolling his eyes, he turns the other way and starts walking again.

B

[ss_buttcrack]

John Crichton has the worst luck when it comes to timing. He's just coming around the corner with a drink in his hand, some kind of fruity cocktail.

"Whoa!" Crichton throws his hands up in surrender as the gun points his way, but he doesn't drop his drink. Priorities. "Easy there, tiger. I'm just passing by."

wildcard probably

[hadnoright]

Even if she hadn't overheard Erik's multiple encounters with Erin, between her sensitive ears and, more importantly, her familiarity with his scent after the time spent in his mansion, Daisy would've realised he was here quickly enough.

Her feelings about the vampire are— best described as complicated. Does she actually like him? Eh, not really. He helped her, and she's grateful for that, but he really does remind her a bit too much of Elias and the whole thing with Max makes her squirm. Does she hate him enough to want to kill him, even if she wasn't on parole? Also not really, if in part for Max's sake. Which all squares out to her not giving a shit if other people kill him, whilst being on her best behaviour.

Well, sort of. Her best behaviour would probably be avoiding him entirely, but she's never been great at letting sleeping dogs lie and so, eventually, she follows his scent and leans against the nearest surface, arms crossed and head tilted not unlike a predator sizing someone up.

"Bet you've met a bunch of people who know who you are when they shouldn't, already."

Which is one way to say 'hi, I'm another one'.

Fuck this, fuck this very very mu~ch...

[chipsahoy]

A loud, rattling sip resounds from higher up, a straw honking briefly as it's pulled slightly from its mooring, the hand holding the cup tugged by the unfamiliar woman's abrupt grabbing.

A head and more above Johanna, storm-cloud-colored eyes slide sideways under a messily chopped fringe of coppery hair. Lips extend to maintain their fish-puckered grasp on the escaping straw, determined to get the last bit of fluid from the bottom of the cup.

For a moment, no words are exchanged, eyes flicking between the darkened corner and the woman, expression suggesting the tall, lanky man thinks her quite mad. Only after he seems satisfied with getting as much from his drink as possible does he relinquish his lip grip long enough to lean down, stage whispering.

"By what? A Ghul? Onryo? Poltergeist? Thaye? Maybe a demonic infestation? You think it's something like a spirit with unfinished business or maybe something more sinister?" the Londoner asks, squinting slowly at the offending shadows.

"Or maybe - just maybe, hear me out - you're very paranoid and there's nothing here at all more sinister ( but possibly the most sinister of all ) than some rogue AI trapping people on a multiversal, reality-faring Titanic traversing some alien ocean. Sinister is the word of the day, I've decided," the man remarks, giving the straw a quick test sip, only to wrinkle his nose when all he gets is melted ice water.

[bedrockfriend]

He's a steady hand when Crichton jolts to attention at the end of his barrel, but he's also unarmed and... wearing the dumbest get-up Parker's ever seen.

Still, he doesn't miss that drink, either.

He lifts the gun in a brief motion of surrender, before he holsters it again. "Begging yer pardon, friend. Whatever the hell this place is, it's got me a little on edge." And when it's away he smiles, wide enough that it hides his nerves. "You mind showing me where a guy can get one of those?"

Sicko mode ENGAGE

[bedrockfriend]

Parker doesn't make a sound, but his eyes widen, and his aim with the gun slips as his arms drop with the sheer shock.

Arthur fuckin' Lester.

The bruises around his neck throb, and for a moment he can't breathe.

Arthur Lester, that he found at the bottom of a bottle, pickling himself and hoping something would finish the job. Who loved and hated piano, who was running from something and fell straight into Parker's own arms - his job, his apartment, and ended their five years together with his hands around Parker's neck.

He swallows thickly, trying to push past the lump of pain and emotion in his throat.

"What the fuck are you wearing, Lester?" But the attempt at confidence comes out shaky, trembling with emotions too intense to singularly identify.

Dr. Hallewell | Dead By Daylight OC |

[chipsahoy]

a.

"You know, this is only a step off the beaten path of suburban horror. Surrounded by the trappings of civility made terrifying by the very nature of its broad-stroke mundanity..."

The tall, reed-thin man in slacks and a tweed jacket with elbow patches doesn't seem to be speaking to anyone in particular - maybe to himself, if one has to guess - until he looks up, making uncomfortably unbroken eye-contact.

"Do you know what the Stepford Wives are?" He asks in a tone that suggests it may be rhetorical, tugging the lei from around his neck and holding it up to sniff with a suspicious expression.

"I think this is Hell. Has to be, right?"

b.

Salt has started turning up in darkened corners, sprinkled here and there, the gritty piles really only a problem for whatever mysterious cleaning services exist. There's no explanation for it until one day, there is.

A coppery-haired man stares at an armed crab as it scuttles along, dipping fingers into the palm of one hand whereupon a pile of salt sits. He flicks salt at the creature, scowling as it goes, before turning to pour the remaining salt from his hand into the corner. A few chaotic hand gestures and finger-wigglings later he seems satisfied with the work he's done, glancing up and around in precisely the sort of manner one expects to see in someone pantomiming innocence.

c.

"Oh, piss off!" the Brit hisses, yanking his hand away from the fountain drink machine. Reaching in gingerly, he taps the cup beneath the service spigot, flinching in expectation of new pain, only to mutter a curse under his breath and snatch the half-filled drink up, immediately sipping from the contents as he glares at the offending buttons.

"Half a mind to break everything that offers up a shock at this point. Probably some sort of Milgram Experiment adjacent bollocks. Someone somewhere else is getting a biscuit and I'm here getting a zap," he grumbles, placing his cup back on the tray to try filling it properly; only this time he's attempting to use his elbow to press the button, as though it would change anything.

[theotherright]

Arthur drops his hand roll.

"Parker?" he says, voice wavering. He turns his head towards him, but not all the way, not looking at him but some way to his side.

He recognises the voice instantly, but can hardly believe his own ears -- not after what he heard in the silence at Christmas, nor after the illusions of the stone room and the slips through time of the memory rifts. On a surface level, he doubts because of all the possible tricks it could be; under that mask, he wants to doubt because of everything hearing Parker right now would mean. It would be better for this to be a trick of the ship than for Parker to be trapped here, in this miserable place, with the entity that killed him and the man who put him in a position to be killed.

"No," he mutters, like someone who's just taken a blow, "that's cruel. That's cruel. No."

But not wanting to believe isn't the same as truly not believing.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Yeah, this place will do that." Said with the dry tone of sarcasm one only acquires from being far, far too used to having guns pointed at them. "No harm, no foul." He lifts that drink in a cheers motion.

"Sure. We got options. This one came from Stan the Man. That's the name of the bar, not the tender. There aren't any of those anymore. Come on." He waves for the man to follow. "If you're new here then you're definitely going to want something strong."