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

[conclusively]

"I wouldn't be opposed to it, so long as it doesn't inconvenience you, my good man. The bleeding isn't too terrible, and the wound can't be more than half a centimeter deep, but a trained eye is better than the untrained."

So, luck didn't want to entirely abandon him now.

"Be careful, however - that creature is still about."

[aurthor]

"Life is inconvenient," Arthur muttered, unaware he said it out loud, but digs into his suit pockets for the raided infirmary first aid supplies.

He laughs about the crab, "I'll make sure to parry him if he tries anything, but right now my first task is guarding my patient. Just a little bit of patience required, you know." It is pretty superficial, not even as deep as his vampire bites, though it wouldn't heal so quickly, of course. "Let's see.." Arthur stuck his tongue out sideways and took out a bandage and some cleaning ointment and medical tape before quickly making a small healing patch.

"Who knows what other things are lurking around here waiting to pounce?" He looks satisifed, unaware that there's no bacteria or germs on the ship (somehow) it's better to take precautions. "I'm Arthur by the way!" He offers a friendly handshake!

[conclusively]

The man's manner of speech and actions make him wonder what manner of eccentric he has put himself in the care of, but he can't deny the efficiency. If that's taken care of, then all he has to worry about is somehow mending the trousers, and that'll solve some problems on this ship.

"Thank you, doctor. Mycroft Holmes - I wish I could say it's a pleasure."

But being kidnapped onto a strange ship tends to put a damper on it being pleasurable.

[aurthor]

Knock him over with a feather!

Arthur stands a little shocked for a bit, then squints.

It's a weird joke... if a joke. No one would pretend to be Mycroft over his younger brother, and especially not looking so young themselves! A game then? Usually his fans sent him letters to the Holmes, not... pretended to be themselves. At least it was different.

"Well, I must say old bloke, it'd be a lot stranger if you did enjoy getting stabbed on holiday you didn't sign up for! Matter of fact, if you ever do start to like that sort of thing, let me know. Might be a starting symptom of something worse."

At least he's in the present, even if half of his mind is racing to figure out what to do. Pretend Mycroft is famous? Contemporary with Arthur himself? Grill him on weird things? He'd really rather not, so that's not going to happen. "Bit of a weird holiday, I seem to be working now more than I have in years! What is you do, Mister-?" Holmes. Mister Holmes. Mycroft. It could be a century out. A coincidence, some poor bloke named thusly by fan parents. Embarrassing, but nothing to overreact to! "Holmes." Arthur is definitely a little slow on the name, but he's trying. He'll brush it off as rusty bedside manners, since that is true.

[conclusively]

There's a very sharp gaze at that, a gray eyed look that on purpose, Mycroft does not care to make less unsettling. Why is this man so thrown off by his name? Of course, if he's in the employ of one of his foes, that would be something, but he can't be making accusations without reasonable proof. Still. Still. He puts nothing past a man like Zaharoff, at the least.

"I serve as the assistant to the War Secretary, sir. Though such a thing holds little weight on a leisure vessel such as this."

That his position is changed, he's not willing to hand out to a stranger. Better to feed misleading information and see where it's headed. Cardwell still owes him, after all.

[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."