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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.]
Eddie Munson | Stranger Things
[ Serena Eterna. How uncomforting is that? Eddie still has the paper he's snatched up in hand, having rolled back over onto the bed, wavy hair over the pillow. He's still breathless, several tons of bricks on his stomach. The length of the message is irritating, and he only gets halfway through it before he's shutting his eyes, arm thrown over his face, crumpling the paper up into a ball. ] World's worst panic attack, Munson, you're fine.
[ The compulsion starts up though, and he's yelling at his own limbs for a good solid thirty seconds. Great, not a panic attack. Some trick of Vecna's. He'd been running from the demobats before waking up there, but apparently the evil fucker wants to play tricks on him specifically. Fucking fantastic.
He's walking, staring with a creased brow at everything he passes. There's not much to say as the whole situation plays out, no control over his own body, even as he touches the weird looking lei. Once he's able to move, Eddie's still frozen into place, eyes shutting hard as he wills himself to wake up. ] Come on, man, making me feel like a sheep on a cruise only rich fucks go on is indeed a targeted kinda torture, but let me go. [ Through gritted teeth.
That'll work, right? No? He stands there in place, not wanting to move, only wanting to wake up, to re-emerge back to the battle field where he knows Dustin is now alone. ]
[ ooc: new to the premise of the game, so just putting an arrival starter up to see how things go! hmu if you want to do something else, and I'll see what I can do ]
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Anything up until this is point is a basketful of lies obviously, so he'll ask this question of the man who is probably not real out of...that being the only option he really has.
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His accent will sound distinctly not-American to Eddie's ears; his tone is somehow simultaneously cheerful and deeply irritated, though the irritation isn't directed at him.
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"So." A small dip of his head forward, eyes widening and blinking in a delay before they rise to make eye contact again. "Feel like I'm stuck in a fucked up mindscape rather than any of this being real." Another beat, dark eyes going somehow rounder. "What do you think?"
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[ He knows that this might not be the same Eddie he knew. Judging by his reaction to the orientation, it probably wasn't. Everyone who'd already been here before and remembered it knew that it was futile to try and dodge the stupid orientation, and even more futile to try and get sent back home. ]
Yeah, it fucking sucks. Welcome to the shitshow.
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Plus, he's still on this not being exactly real, so he gives a labored sigh, staying still. ]
Yeah? Quite the elaborate shitshow. Who the fuck are you?
[ Rude, but facing down this mirage since what else is he gonna do? ]
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[ This definitely isn't the Eddie he used to know, but how does he even explain that? That he knew a previous version of him? This situation is weird enough as it is. ]
This isn't a dream or anything like that. It's real. So, like, don't jump off the edge of the boat trying to wake up or anything like that.
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It's been a little while, but she remembers enough of how her first day had gone to know that much, at least. She's not particularly happy about the fact that he's here again, though she'd be lying if she tried to claim she's not happy to see him. The fact that he doesn't seem to remember anything could be good, or it could be bad.
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His hands sort of catch his fall, but he does a bit of a crab walk a couple more paces away from her. "Chrissy?!" High, squeaky, eyes snapping shut again. God, fuck this. He'd do anything he could to enact vengeance on her behalf, but he doesn't want to look at her, if she's not actually real. Which, she can't be. Tears sting as his eyes, hand going up over his eyes as he swallows hard, head shaking desperately in place. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up." Through gritted teeth, a soft 'fuck,' thrown in at the end when it's not working, knows he's still on that same stupid deck.
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He looks about the same as he had the last time she saw him, all things considered, and Chrissy can't decide if that's a good thing or not. He also looks terrified, which is honestly not an incorrect response to this place. She's never actually seen him like this, so it's all she can manage to wait quietly until he calms down.
When it seems like that's not what's going to happen here, Chrissy crouches in an attempt to make herself seem less overwhelming. "It's okay, Eddie. What's the last thing you remember?"
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He moves, shifting so his back is against some hard surface, a wall, arms going to curl around his legs. Finally brown eyes open, wet and tears streaking down, looking over at Chrissy, pain striking everywhere in his body.
Dark curls shaking along with his head, he can't stop staring at her now, unblinking, lips like lead weights. He's heard the question, but what does asking it do? If it's part of some sick game, what's the purpose? His heart thrums quickly, anxiety and panic surging through his veins, lips parting gradually, enough to whisper out words. An answer, weak and vague, details that will sound weird, possibly unfamiliar.
"Bats, and...fighting. Vecna. Chrissy." Desperate, whiny, heart aching, throat hoarse. "Are you...real?"
Because, she just can't be?
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There's nothing to do but wait while he comes to terms with being here. It's something that every passenger has to do in their own time. Being patient is easy. Being stared at isn't her favorite thing, but can she really blame him for it? If what she's assuming is correct, the last time he saw her was deeply unpleasant.
When he does finally answer, it's about the same as what he'd told her last October. He's left out the part about dying, Chrissy notices, which means that either he doesn't know or he's trying to protect her from hearing something unpleasant. Should she tell him that she knows, or would that just make things worse?
She's spared that particular dilemma, for the time being, when he speaks up again. "I'm as real as everyone else here," she tells him. It's just not as straightforward as he's probably hoping.
"And we are here. It's not a dream that you're going to wake up from." At least as far as she knows. It's been almost a year since she woke up here the first time, though, so she figures something like that would have happened a long time ago if it was going to happen at all.