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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.]
no subject
Voyager manages to get remarkably close, but there is a point there the flash of his scarf becomes impossible to ignore. Alex stops and looks up. ]
... Hello? Sorry, was I bothering you?
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So, when the music stops, 'disheartening' is a word for it. Interrupted, no less! That wasn't the song finishing naturally, surely!
There's a dejected sigh from underneath the floating scarf. Called out, a head of gold hair and a pair of wide blue eyes peer out from over the back of a seat, before a pair of small hands reach up to grip for purchase. Voyager tugs himself fully upright from his hiding place.]
Oh...no...I guess it's me, who's bothering you...I wasn't sneaky enough. [And he sounds quite thoroughly crestfallen about it.] ...It's really wonderful. That song you're playing. Could you still finish it? I only got a part of it. I'd really like to hear the ending...
no subject
But anyway, the kid looks really sweet and curious, and what does Alex play music for if not for other people? ]
Hey, it's alright. I can totally do that. Did you just walk in? If you want, I can start over from the beginning?
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The positive response, however, clearly sets Voyager's unhappiness at ease almost immediately. He perks up at the offer, entire demeanor brightening. (Literally--the ambient glow about his person brightens just a bit too, though granted in this exact moment most of that's still hidden behind the chair...)]
I came in, one minute and fifty-seven seconds ago. But, you're right, even from outside...I heard a bit...but not quite the beginning, I don't think so. You're okay with it? You wouldn't mind it? ...Then, yes, I'd like to hear the start too! The whole song.
[And this time he won't even have to hide, to try not interrupting! It's really quite a positive turn of events all around here. Excited for a second rendition, Voyager decides not to even bother with trying to walk all the way around this second row of chairs; instead, drawing back, he hops up...and up...quite literally briefly bodily floating his way over the chair in front of him, and maneuvering to land himself neatly on its seat instead. Putting him in the front row properly, to get a real look at the stage!
Voyager settles eagerly into his new position, leaning forward with elbows propped on the chair arms, staring raptly at Alex as he patiently waits for the music to begin once more.]
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[ Oh, the kid is floating... well as strange as he is, he's so eager and sweet, so Alex doesn't really think to worry even a little bit.
So he begins the solo again. There's a little bit of nerves now, to be playing for an audience, but he's done it a dozen times before in numbers much larger and much older than this. So he plays, and it's every bit as beautiful as the last, the notes precise, the intonation sweet, the tone delicate and elegant.
And when the last note is played and he lifts the bow from the strings, the turns to Voyager, a little grin on his face. He so does like to show off the one thing he can take pride in. ]
I hope you enjoyed that. That passage is part of a story, did you know? Have you heard of the ballet of Swan Lake?
no subject
It's a bit strange, perhaps, the intensity with which Voyager absorbs the performance. As soon as Alex begins again he's completely still in his seat save for the perpetual flutter of his scarf, frame bent slightly forward, eyes wide and nearly unblinking as they track the movement of the hands on the violin. A riveted sort of concentration on his features, as if every ounce of his focus is currently being poured into listening and committing every single note to memory.
...But then, at length, it's properly over...and the odd trance ends as well. Voyager stirs, sighs, and--remembers, a thing that people would sometimes do, at the end of performances. Sitting upright in his seat, he claps his hands: once, twice, three times. The gesture still needs some practice, but!]
Thank you! I did enjoy it. I really did. What a beautiful song. [He beams up at Alex, hopping off his seat. Studies the walkways around the stage, a moment, before idly starting towards the nearest one leading up a set of steps to join the young man up there. But as he goes...] Just a part of a story, is it really? 'Swan Lake'...I don't think I've heard of that story before.
[Humanity's come up with so very many stories. He wonders if he'll ever really be able to learn of them all...but, as indicated by the curiosity plain in Voyager's tone, he certainly doesn't mind chipping away at that count. For that matter...]
What's a 'ballet'?