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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.]
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Gwen blinks. "I mean, you're not— obviously you must have a skeleton, but you have. You know. Skin. And hair."
She even gestures helpfully between them and herself, flicking a bit of her own pink-tipped hair.
"So, I mean, I would've thought... a skeleton dad would have a skeleton child?" That sentence sounds insane even as she says it, but here she is. Is that how this works? How would a skeleton even have a skeleton child? Is Darcy... oh, wait. Obvious answer is obvious, but—
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"I mean- obviously there has to be some-" sort of vaguely gestures, "he's never-" they've gotta get Skulduggery looped into this as soon as possible, this is too fucking funny.
"Can you just-" and they tug their unfinished hand-wrap from their hand, retrieving their phone conspicuously as they duck outside the gym.
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Gwen sinks to the floor with too much grace for it to look like the slump it is, legs crossed, hands pressed together like a prayer in front of her face, and mouthing 'oh my god' to herself as she watches Darcy leave.
What just happened? Did Darcy actually not know? No, surely— but they looked...
You'd think a Spider-Person would recognise a bit when she sees it, but this is also the same girl who got herself stuck with the fake name Gwanda, so...
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girl with pink hair + undercut called gwenif she asks you never told me i was adopted and im having a huge crisis about it
After which Darcy rubs at their eyes and nose until they go a little red, takes a deep breath, and walks directly back in, phone already stowed.
"Hey- sorry, just had to um- anyway, do you like boxing? Or-" they're immediately reaching back for their hand-wraps and wrapping their hands a little quicker.
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Oh, god, their eyes are red. She shouldn't draw more attention to it, right? She should just... let this go. And not make it worse. This is why the only people she kind of counts as friends are other Spider-People. You already know most of the pitfalls with other Spider-People. No one asks another Spider-Person about their relatives unless they're ready for the reality.
"Oh. Um." Gwen holds her ankles, fiddling a little with the ribbons from her ballet shoes. "Boxing's cool. I'm more of a gymnast and a dancer than a boxer, though."
Nevermind that she can punch a grown man through a wall.
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"That's cool," Darcy seems to perk up a bit at the topic change, "I didn't get into gymnastics young enough but-" and just to showboat, Darcy stretches their leg above their head, resting their foot atop the punching bag, "-fencing also needs you to be flexible. For the lunges and shit."
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"Ballet, yeah. I was actually at practice, before, you know, waking up here."
Complete lie, of course, but it's a convenient excuse for being in ballet shoes and a suit that can pass as a very stylised leotard. She can probably come up with a production they were practising for to explain it too, if it came to it.
When Darcy demonstrates their flexibility, Gwen mirrors them by unfolding one of her legs to stretch it up into the air, shin up at her ear with only token help holding it there from her opposite hand.
"That makes sense. I bet you have to be very agile in general for something like that."
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A nod, in acknowledgement of the mirrored showboating.
"You should talk to Fio- my little sister, she's nuts about ballet. She's the only kid on the ship, so she's hard to miss. Pigtails, floating teddy bear, you usually can't miss her. And yes, her dad is also my dad, don't point the skeleton thing out to her."
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"IIIIII will not mention the skeleton thing to her. Promise." The last thing she needs to do is give an actual child that crisis, too...
She lowers her leg to re-cross it with the other and is quiet for a moment. When she speaks again, she's very careful to keep any particular emotion out of her voice besides idle curiosity. "Is it... common, for people to end up with their families here?"
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"I don't know how common it is, but I think it happens sometimes. One of the passengers before us showed up with her brothers."
Which is the truth, while also preserving the Bit.
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"Sometimes," Gwen says, neutrally. "I guess that must be kind of nice. You know, help with the inevitable homesickness and stuff."
That's what she says, while what she's thinking is more along the lines of panic at the idea of her father turning up without warning and her having to deal with what she's been running from. (Another, deeper part of her wonders if it'd go better, in this strange new place; that same part is the one now cradling the bundle of homesicknesses that is already expanding to cover her entire home multiverse.) But it sounds a little like they tend to arrive at the same time, maybe...?
She visibly shakes off the thought.
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It would be nice if Darcy had more memories of Skully or Phil in Lyon than just being rescued from their death. Maybe it would help more.
"It gets easier to deal with, though. And sometimes stuff shows up from home at the Sundries store, so that's cool."
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She perks up a little bit at that, actually. She hasn't been able to go back home-home for a couple months already, there was no way to get anything from there back, if it's possible here...
"Really? ...has anyone had anything, like, as big as a drum kit turn up?"
She's had chance to play in Hobie's world, and that's been good, but it's not her kit. (Her kit with the photo of her and Miles hidden in it, at that.)
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Now, finally, Darcy returns their other leg to the ground. It's starting to cramp.
"I'm guessing you play, then? What sort of music are you into?"
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There's just a touch more light in Gwen's eyes at just the possibility of getting her kit back. It would hardly save the situation she's stuck in, but the outlet might help make things a little more bearable.
"All kinds of rock stuff, mostly? The last person I played with regularly is, like. A proper punk. I wish I was half as cool as him. Those were good sessions..."
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"That's sick. I like a lot of local stuff- I didn't really get to go to a lot of shows back home, I wasn't old enough, but Johnnie Carwash is really good, Pencey Sloe, Cheap Teen, Pogo Car Crash Control- luckily I had my Ipod on me when I showed up, so I still have all my music from home. I don't, like, loan it out because I would probably die if it got broken, but I'm always up to hang out and listen to music. I have a vinyl player too, but the records belonged to a friend of mine from home, and his music tastes... I mean, Talking Heads is good and everyone likes the Stones but it's dad rock, ehn?"
one wikipedia diving later...
"Battle jacket and everything. Totally legit."
And that's not even touching on everything else about Hobie that makes him so very legit, because that would just complicate keeping her story straight.
There's just the hint of a laugh, too, despite something that twists in her chest as she says: "Definitely dad rock," before she breezes right past any associated emotion into more music talk. "I'd love to hear stuff from the scene over in— France, right? Like I said I'm from New York, so, you know, we birthed the Ramons, Patti Smith, Blondie, so on, old school stuff, but we're still in it. Worriers, Down For Nothing," Up for Nothing, in other worlds, "Iron Chic, Dog Park Dissidents... but I mean, that's not even half of what I've got hoarded. I actually had a small collection vinyl and other retro audio stuff, back home. But it's all on my phone, I think I have that with me."
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"Dude," Darcy half-laughs in delight, "you have no idea what it's been like aboard with nobody into my music. I mean- there's Vance, he's a metalhead, but he's from the 70s, so it's all classic Led Zeppelin and shit. Like- I mean, it's never a good thing to have someone show up, or anything, but. You're cool, it's nice to meet you and everything."
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If Gwen had a nickel for every time she ended up in a new universe and hit it off with someone over rock music—
"You've been living in a desert of good music taste for a year, and haven't lost your mind? Your strength, unmatched." Joking and yet also not joking, at all. "No, but, I get what you mean. I'd rather not have been copy-pasted across dimensions but— yeah, if I'm gonna be here it's nice meeting someone cool."
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"But I know, it's so hard, and yet I make it look so easy," a sigh.
"Don't let me keep you if you want to poke around the ship, though, ehn? Pretty much everywhere is free game. But if you go into the kitchen, keep it neat. Oh- and don't go too deep into the Tommy Bahama, there's a massive lump of clothing that eats people in there. His name is Bahamanuel and he's a Bahamanal. Or- I mean, I guess I keep calling him 'he', but he has, like, babies? Bahamaulettes? I don't know. I'm usually too busy trying not to get eaten to ask his pronouns, so."
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Gwen blinks, but otherwise seems markedly unsurprised by the whole concept. "A massive lump of clothes that eats people. And has babies. You know, I could hear that was happening downtown and not even be surprised."
New York in a world with superheroes: it's weird!
"Trying not to get eaten does seem distracting. Plus it gets more awkward to ask the longer it's been since you bumped into someone, right? Like names. So maybe if I stumble into him I'll introduce myself, try and ask before I get eaten."
You cannot separate the Spider-Woman and her stupid sense of humour, even when she's not admitting to being Spider-Woman at all.
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They've heard New York is weird, but it can't be that weird.
"But no, totally. Bahamanuel isn't really a conversationalist, but I'm sure he'll appreciate the introduction."
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Gwen laughs a little, brows raising. She could just tell them their friend was fucking with them, but also: "In my New York, we have a guy with superpowers who dresses like a Rhino and commits crime. Our sewer crocodiles are probably mutant, killer sewer crocodiles."
The girl got bitten by a radioactive spider.
Her New York kind of just is that weird.
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"Why a rhino? That's like, the least crime-oriented animal I can think of. Oh no, fucking, watch out for a goddamn rhino robbing a bank. They're herbivores. Why not, like, a cooler animal."
Critiquing this random supervillain is more important than mutant killer sewer crocodiles in this moment.
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Gwen has to hold back a that's almost exactly what I said the first time I fought the guy! "I have absolutely no idea. Maybe it's something to do with whatever his powers are? There's another guy who calls himself the vulture, which is better, right, because there's an actual metaphor there."
She has opinions on her villains' theming, okay. Luckily civilians are allowed such opinions too.
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Probably wrap soon?
yeah i think so
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