sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #10

Entry tags:

!tdm

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(Deep breaths Peters, our girlfriends are gonna kick our ass if we manage to literally die laughing and when they're done Ruby, Phil, and Peter will too.)

Erin heaves in deep breaths, still chuckling under her breath. Oh. Oh that was good. She needed that. That was the catharsis Greek playwrights all wanted. She wipes at her blindfold again before making a 'follow me' kinda gesture; when the two of them get out of Playback, she points out Sand Dollars immediately. "It's not the best tea on the ship, but if you want the best tea you're gonna have to make good friends with the people who have it."

She's not gonna name the personages in question to what appears to be a god of madness.

Not until she vets him, anyway.

"Don't suppose they have pastries as well? Oh, I could use a strawberry tart. We left them all at the Friday desk, after all." He keeps pace with her, via rapid but dainty little kittysteps.

"Oh, and cheese! Does the ship have cheese?"

"Down thataway is a store literally full of infinite cheese and cheese accessories, yes. As far as pastries..."

Welcome to Sand Dollars, madgod. It's. It's a cafe on a cruise ship. Nothing is quite fresh, all the tea and coffee come out of machines, and that cheesecake was "made" (big air quotes) at a Cheesecake Factory.

Erin orders one and a cup of boba tea for herself.

He orders a cup of tea and a slice of sickeningly-overembellished cheesecake, then realizes a problem that isn't actually a problem.

"Hmm. Ah. Yes, the plate is a bit big, isn't it? You need arms to carry things, don't you? Well, I'll just have to grow arms, then!" He makes a grunting noise like he's making a heavy physical effort. No arms seem to be growing.

All this being in contrast to the fact that he so easily and effortlessly changed shape earlier.

"You've got this buddy, I believe in you."

Sippppppppppppppppppppp.

After a moment, he gives up on growing arms, and instead hops up onto the counter with a mighty leap. Then he takes a couple bites of cheesecake, and afterwards proceeds to dunk his face into the cup of tea.

Because you cannot tell me that cats dunking their faces into a cup and getting their heads stuck isn't a form of madness, however minor.

"In the vain hope that maybe the rule of three is one you respect I am once again going to ask for your name, my guy. I promise I won't steal it, I'm not that kind of fairy."

Like yes this is objectively hilarious but also: pls.

He lifts his face out of the tea, face sopping wet, shaking himself dry with a fluffing of his gorgeous silver coat.

"A name isn't freely given where I come from, mortal. It tells others what we are, so we Daedra guard them jealously. But you may call me Sheogorath."

Erin inclines her head in acknowledgement. "I can appreciate that, and something to call you works just fine too. Been a pleasure meeting you so far, Sheogorath. But I'm afraid before the tour continues I've got some...pressing questions."

Sippppp.

"So long as they're not too pressing, mortal. I'd rather not be flattened, especially as I've no doubt this fluffy little body can die."

"When you say you're madness..." Erin almost visibly swerves into a new phrasing. "I try to look out for the monsters and madmen aboard, Your Fluffiness. I hope you don't take it personal if I say your existence is of concern to me in that context."

"It's actually quite personal, but not in a bad way. That just confirms to be what I've been suspecting this whole time: we've known one another long before this. I just haven't had a voice or a name or a body here until now. Now, there are some mortals that would chase me off, or try to content themselves with cursing my name, or flee into the tiniest little hole they could fit in to try and escape me. But you, dear, dear little damselfly, you approached me and engaged me from the moment you saw me. You barely mince words with me. You speak with me frankly, and you know how to lead me on a merry little chase. Why, you could be a prophet of mine, with wisdom like that. Actually, my favorite prophet was blind. Good old Arden Sul." He purrs fondly as he reminisces.

"...This is where I would blink at you if I had fucking eyes." Erin laughs in spite of herself, and finally goes at her own cheesecake. "I barely mince words with anyone, Sheogorath. Had a long career using deception to hurt people, selling off bits of my mental health and morals to die another day, and you know what? It sucked. I was made worse in all respects for it. So these days I'm just...me, even if I'm not always sure who me is."

Sipppppp.

"That said, can't help but notice you didn't quite address my concern there. You're not the only god I've had experience with, and the other ones..."

(...The gods of nightmare...)

"...Were worse than I used to be. Which is saying a lot."

"Hmm. Nightmare, you say? Well, my un-sister Vaermina can be quite a handful, though I suspect that's not the name your nightmares have here, otherwise I probably would have gotten into a fight with her already. Oh, there's an interesting story there, but not important right now. Maybe later over a honeyed gouda slice. But for now. You're concerned because I'm a so-called god wandering into your live, and you're thinking I'm here to wreak havoc?"

(Duh.)

Do you have to be a bitch all the time?

(This is a being-a-bitch kinda conversation. I wanna talk to him.)

...Fine. Fine.

Erin busies herself with the cheesecake, and...

(Listen, Mister Madness, you could be the most benevolent god since Baldur the fucking Bright and still cause problems. We just about jumped your ass for the cavalier way you dropped that you can overhear us. People here have shit going on that ain't anyone else's goddamn business and you just have access to it, to say nothing of your whole 'ha ha let's casually threaten the foolish mortal' routine, which, fuck you, by the by, for that, we get enough of that from our girlfriend.)

Do NOT bring Valdis into this.

(Whatever, Peters. Point is, what I - we - wanna hear from you is some knowledge that you know how to be a person among people. That a thing you can do?)

He smiles, an unnervingly human smile on a cat's face, only the smile has two rows of teeth, one squared and human, the other razor sharp.

"If I didn't threaten you mortal, would that make me any less dangerous?"

He curls his tail over his paws. This is going to be a long one.

"Let me tell you something about Daedra. Some call us gods, some call us other things, and few really understand what we are. Even we Daedra ourselves hardly understand, and the one of us that understood the most went mad in the knowing, or so they say. Ha, lucky fellow! But what I can tell you is that Daedra aren't people the way people are people. Oh, we have our customs, sure, our ways and our laws, but it's different. It's change and permanency rolled up into one, every one of us looking for a way to move mountains and mount movements while we stay where we are, etched on the ever-expanding parchment of reality."

"Oh, but I know people. I know people better than most Daedra. I love you little mortals, really. Perhaps it's because I'm already in each and every one of you. Have you ever hummed a song you've never heard? Caught something out of the corner of your eye that was never there? Laid awake at night, worrying about things you had no reason to be thinking about? Tasted a dish and known exactly what color it tasted like? Been brought to tears by a nostalgic smell you can't place? Carved off a piece of your mind because the frustration and anguish were too much, your world drowning in a sea of red? That's me."

"The point is, asking me to give you assurances is like asking a bolt of lightning to please not strike your house. Oh, sure, you can try to appease the lightning with a big metal rod, or make your house more resistant to lightning strikes, but most of the time, the lightning is going to go where it will, whether or not it wants to. Because sometimes it wants to go somewhere else, mortal, and it can go somewhere else, but it's so very, very difficult to pull yourself away from what you are in a way that matters. Maddening, you could say."

"There are times when I'm going to be cruel. There are times when I'm going to say things you don't like, say exactly the thing you don't want to hear. I'm going to trick you. I'm going to test you. And I'm going to talk to you, and ask you your worries, and invite you to tea parties. I'm going to bring you sweet music and teach you how to hold a cloud."

"I will give you no assurances of what I am or am not going to do, mortal, because not even I know. I make it a point of not knowing. My unbrother-shadow made a point of trying to perfectly predict everything that ever would be, and I am the furthest from him that I could be. What I am, mortal, is delusional enough to think trying to be a person is worth doing, delusional enough to think it can be done... and sure enough of myself to know that I can't be sure it will last."

(Listen fucker -)

"Hush," Erin says out loud, in a tired voice. "We can't ask him to be other than what he is. But -" her ears swivel in Sheogorath's direction. "Unlike lightning, you get consequences for your actions here. So I'm gonna tell you somethin', and ask that you give it your attention. There are people here like me, except they are clad in masks. They didn't choose those masks, but what they are beneath it? That's their business, and no one else's. You keep that to yourself, and we're all square, but if I find out you've gone and blabbed to everyone you and I will have problems. That sound fair enough?"

He purrs. It's a gentle sound.

"Let me let you in on a little secret." His voice grows quiet, and even though he's still sitting on the countertop, Erin can feel as if he's whispering directly into her ear.

"I'm a different Sheogorath to everyone I meet. No one knows me quite the same, not even if everyone is standing in the same room. To some, I'm more often than not a rambling, dithering old man. To others, I'm some flavor of poet, sophisticated and full of flowery words. To others, I'm the cat, unnaturally smiling and strange and a little too quick to break things for fun, without a thought to the consequences. A time or two I've been a merchant of hats. I'm a mix of all these things and more. But it's a terrible lot of work to be someone else's Sheogorath. Everyone has their own, to keep to themselves, and I'm more than willing to keep it that way."

There's a lot of contemplation of that. The head voice goes quiet, as it does at times, and finally Erin nods. "I don't think I can ask fairer than that. I appreciate you hearing me out - the last two gods I had conversations with here were...intense. Intense will be the word I use." Erin pops the lid on her boba so she can pluck out the tapioca pearls and chew 'em one by one. "But fair's gotta be fair back. You got something to ask me or request of me?"

"Yes, gods do tend to be intense. Especially Meridia. Oh, I do hope you never have to deal with Meridia. She's controlling to the point of unbearable, that one."

A butterfly's proboscis suddenly emerges from his mouth and he takes a proper sip of tea.

"And I'd say what you'd given me in return is more than fair, mortal. You've given me something to think about. You've given me an honest conversation. Do you know how often my unbrothers and the other gods wave me off? 'Begone, ranter-raver,' they say. 'Be silent,' they say. 'When can I have my son's severed head back?' they say. It gets tiresome."

She can't not.

"Sounds like they've really lost their heads over it, really."

"To be fair, I don't think Malacath ever had a good head on his shoulders."

"...Every time you describe one of your peers to me I'm gonna have to play a fun game called 'is he fucking with me or is this person actually this stupid in a manner unrelated to their nature' aren't I."

"Well in fairness, Malacath's a special kind of stupid. See, he used to be this oh-so-perfect spirit of war and might named Trinimac. Or so I've heard, the jury's out on whether the rest of us made that up or not. Point being, Trinimac, well, he was a real piece of work, wasn't he? Played a part in tearing out another god's heart, then dragged that god's name through the mud once he was dead. 'Course, then my un-brother-sister Boethia made a meal of him. They say Malacath's the resulting pile of dung. But what would I know? I wasn't even born yet! Which is sort of funny, because we've all been around since the dawn of time... I think." He swishes his tail dismissively.

"But that's neither here nor there nor anywhere nor neverthere."

"...Yeah, that makes entirely too much sense to me," Erin admits with a world-weary sigh. "I ain't tellin' this story now, but find me sometime and I'll jaw with ya about the nightmare lands and the gods of nightmare. They suck! A lot." This will also give Erin the time to mentally prepare to receive a great deal of what promises to be wild shit.

TEST DRIVE MEME #10

no subject

humgry kitty

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: decapitation mention

Re: cw: decapitation mention

no subject

no subject

cw: dismemberment mention, also a god got eaten in a backstory, it's weird, spirits are weird

no subject

(no subject)

Wrap?

Wrap!