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

fever | baldur's gate 3 | ota

[abhorrently]

[ooc: info and permissions. please also check her opt out as well! canon point is start of Act 3, spoilers will be marked.]

arrival.

She'd exhausted herself fighting the compulsion to follow whatever magic bound her, tried to restrict her movement - whatever it is, it's more powerful than her, and it's not offering any insight onto what happened as she goes through the motions without much choice in the matter. A strange rift in the planes? Something going horrifically awry in the chaos she just left? But all that said, there's one overpowering thing that leaves Fever in a daze above the sheer strangeness and absurdity of the situation, while she waits to regain her strength.

It's quiet in a section of her head that hasn't been silent for weeks now. Moving, stirring, active, its odd little communications - the tadpole is purely silent now, an empty space where it resided behind her eye. Both sheer relief and a deeply unsettled feeling twine in her, slow moving as she shakes her head. The others, of course they'll manage whatever was needed if they got to the right place, but if they ended up here too, or scattered to the winds?

Enough. Time to move, and figure out the hows and whys later. This isn't the smallest structure to comb for anyone familiar, and things still need to be done. She'll figure it out along the way, like anything else. But running over this entire ship is an extended venture, and at any given point, she's liable to be found staring at something - the variety at Photos at Sea, the statue in the Promenade, the infinite cheese shop - with the air of someone who couldn't give a damn if she's going to block the main flow of traffic. What in the hells is this place?

shadows play.

That's the third time that's happened. It's not a coincidence now, that going up the stairs has led to something snagging her as if they grabbed the edge of her clothes and pulled, leading her to stumble and have to right herself. There's something there, and just because she can't see it doesn't mean it's not around. Hidden, veiled, some kind of mischief that nevertheless she's not entirely in the mood to humor without knowing the reason why.

Stopping where she is, Fever keeps one hand on the railing, and turns to fix her eyes on the spot where the change happened. Is it just her, or are the shadows stranger there?

"You're very funny. Show yourself now, before I have to drag you out of hiding."

There's a note of force behind the tone, making it a promise instead of a potential.

unconventional training.

While it had taken a half minute to realize this was not some sort of bizarre training hall, something about the comfortable chaos of Cosmic Bowling is still attractive. It's a simple game, and it provides some opportunity to practice something she just hadn't considering doing in her downtime at camp, usually too keen on talking to others or dealing with the assortment of objects everyone picked up or handling some other matter.

Fever stands at the front of a lane, and a bowling ball seemingly hovers near her, her own hand raised a little before it flicks and a ghostly, phantasmal hand tosses the ball onto the lane, it rolling down to hit a few pins - a sorry showing all around.

"Oh, come on."

It rolls back, and the spectral hand grabs it, but she's too hasty - the ball slams into the wood this time, leaving it in a cracked dent in the lane. Whoops. Don't mind that she's going to pick it up and move to a new one. It was like that when she got here, she'll swear up and down.

wildcard.

Have a different idea? Throw it at me, I'm legitimately up for anything.

Arrival [Cheese Shop]

[crushed_pearls]

The infinite cheese shop is occupied. Specifically, it's occupied by a tall, raven-winged elf with a crossbow and what is either an unbuilt trap or the world's shittiest sling; she hunches over a table with a truly absurd supply of mozzarella, shaping it in her hands and checking each ball against the "sling", reshaping when they don't fit & neatly sorting them into a box when they do.

Erin looks up. This would be where awkward eye contact would go, IF SHE HAD -

[abhorrently]

Listen, it's not the weirdest thing she's ever seen in her memory. She looks over the winged woman, her equipment, her cheese supply, and while she's not familiar, Fever knows she at least has her attention.

Right. Can't just go around asking "have you seen a group of weirdos in armor" to a blind woman.

"Making your own ammunition?"

That's...what this is, right? Unless this is some part of the cheese making process that she's never been privy to in her life, which is equally viable. Mozzarella is simply obtained, not created.

[crushed_pearls]

Correct, cheese is primarily sourced from people one slays in mortal combat.

"Yyyyesssss," Erin says slowly. "Yes I am. And I'll thank you not to tell anyone else, it's a bit of a surprise."

Oh god she's catching awkward introductions off Ruby.

[abhorrently]

As if the awkwardness of any introduction can be any deterrent.

"They won't hear it from me. Though I wonder if they're still edible now."

Tempted as she is to just pick one up and bite, she manages to resist that particular line of thought.

"Have you heard anyone going past recently who seemed to be in a great hurry? Potentially armed or clanging around in armor?"

[crushed_pearls]

She shouldn't. Erin really shouldn't. It won't be helpful.

She's gonna anyway, but she shouldn't.

"Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?"

:)

[businessorlibation]

A sorcerer walks into a bar. Ouch.

Okay, more like she happens to enter what is legally distinct from Hurikane, but in a way Johnny will never choose to acknowledge, on a night where he's experimenting with some of the bottles that he doesn't know from his world and hasn't become intimate with yet. His Mantle will make itself clear as she approaches, in the same way Erin's did, though the sensations are different. Susurration and effervescence, emanating from nowhere in particular.

[abhorrently]

It's the same feeling as the woman in the cheese shop, the magic leaving its own peculiar tang on her senses, brushing up against different aspects. Odd, but not unwelcome. She wonders if it's a spell, or someone being marked in a certain way - there are gods at play, after all.

"Are you open for business?"

The fact that she doesn't have to pay is known, but the way he moves behind the bar tells her that he's familiar enough with things. Maybe it keeps him sane.

[businessorlibation]

"I can be, yes. It's not really business, so much as habit, for me to be here. Friday doesn't approve of passengers working, as such. You're new, though, so I will demand payment, in the form of an introduction."

He tidies away the bottle he's been toying with, something more viscous than liquor as most humans know it, brown in color.

[abhorrently]

"Then we'll call it a friendly drink, and Friday will be none the wiser. The name's Fever."

Her eyes study him for a moment, before a passing description from the immediate past rattles its way out of her brain. Dapper with odd eyes. It's worth a shot.

"Are you Johnny Summer?"

[businessorlibation]

"Ah, someone's warned you about me already." He smiles easily, not at all surprised to be recognized by description alone. "What's your poison, Fever?"

Arrival [Promenade]

[astrogator]

Ari Tayrey doesn't usually bother with the new arrivals these days. She used to, back when she thought there was a war for minds and hearts and she wanted to offer them an alternative to the Binder of Hopelessness. Now, she's past trying to convince people, or even really caring whether they agree with her. The division, as she has identified it, is between people who are doing something to try to get them out of this endless nightmare, even if she dislikes their tactics or ideological standpoint, and people who aren't. Who are content to stay in this prison. All the rest is ultimately irrelevant. Tayrey? She spends practically every spare waking moment working on a way home.

Including right now. The young spacer lieutenant is walking through the promenade, a familiar sight to most in her well-kept blue and silver uniform. She's holding up a little roll of thin plastic, partially unrolled in the middle so that it almost resembles a scroll, and staring at it intently. So intently that she very nearly plows straight into an unfamiliar blonde woman who is staring at the statue.

Tayrey stops short, catching herself just before the collision. 'Oh! I'm sorry.'

[abhorrently]

The statue is unfamiliar in any light, and she's summed it up in her head as disgustingly tacky, wondering who on earth would create such a thing. Why gold? Stone would be more tasteful, especially indoors, and the man's expression makes her want to gag. But someone is coming, her reflexes know, and Fever turns her way right before the young woman speaks.

"Nothing to apologize over. Are you alright?"

The newcomer has her hand up to prevent Ari from walking straight into her, but drops it when she realizes she has her attention. Whatever that odd scroll is, it's engrossing her enough that she's forgotten where she is, or something. Good books do that, but then, she usually just stops and reads where she is, standing.

One blue and silver, one red and black. A study in contrasts. It'll come to her mind later.

[astrogator]

'Sure, I'm just fine,' she says. She can't help up but glance up at the ridiculous statue. What a waste of gold! It reminds her of that cult statue she'd seen on that very idiosyncratic colony world. Failing to respect the statue had gotten Tayrey kicked off a diplomatic team. The locals had treated the thing as practically divine.

Perhaps she should be grateful that this gold statue isn't of their captor. He has delusions in that direction. She gives the thing a displeased little frown, and looks away again.

'I was trying to work through some equations,' Tayrey adds, 'and got too deep in that flow of thought, I guess.' As she speaks, she rolls up the plastic and puts it back in her pocket.

[abhorrently]

"It happens," she says, with the mild sort of tone that says that she perfectly gets it. No judgement, except with a glance towards the statue. "He looks a bit insufferable, doesn't he? Do you know anything about him?"

The frown hadn't gone unnoticed.

[astrogator]

'Nothing at all,' she admits. 'The statue just appeared here one day.' Looking back at the statue again, she shakes her head. 'I'm inclined to think, however, that anyone who commissions a giant golden statue of himself has to be an arrogant ass. To put it mildly.

She glances back to the other woman. 'You haven't been here long, right?' There's less certainty in her tone than usual, since Tayrey takes much less of an interest in her fellow prisoners than she used to. It's possible that she might have been here for months!

Arrival [Photos at Sea]

[battlebyballad]

A presence subtly (oh so obviously) fills the space next to Fever as she looks across the Photos at Sea display, bright and beaming and twirling her hair.

"How do you think they made these? They're too perfect to be paintings, and it's hardly a worthwhile use of illusion." The woman beside her is the quintessential adventuring bard; brightly dyed and impeccably kept padded armor, well worn boots, a backpack to which is strapped a lyre, a flute, and a hand drum. Even the tips of her horn are dyed.

"I've been trying to figure it out for ages, hoping someone properly clever looking might come along and help me get to the bottom of it." Wink!

[abhorrently]

She's the first normal looking individual that Fever's come across - as normal as adventurers tend to be - and it helps her relax a little bit. This woman's the textbook definition of a bard, and it lets her know where she stands.

"And I look clever enough to suit your needs?"

It's harmless enough to flirt back.

"I'll give it my best go. Right now, I'm working with the idea of a spell that captures a moment in time, and puts it on some kind of paper. As real as if you saw it with your own eyes."

[battlebyballad]

"You look clever as a devil, you do. Enough to suit any of my needs you'd like."

Her tone is playful, gentle. All fun, no stakes, no expectations.

"Interesting hypothesis, love. A kind of divination, then? Or a divination and a transmutation? Either way, with this many of them, whoever's responsible seems a proper showoff, hm?"

[abhorrently]

Charmer. She likes her already. It's fortunate for them both that Fever's already sorted a few things out, thanks to a delightful human who knew to soften the worst blows with alcohol and let her process at her own speed. And that she's wearing her thinking hat for the moment.

"If you want me to get really into theory, I'll have to settle down and do my best to playact at wizardry - never was my strong suit. But anyone who goes and makes a demiplane like this - well, there's nothing wrong with them wanting attention. A few more spells to show off can't hurt."

Looking down the aisle, she plucks one at random to observe. This one is a young man and young woman, sitting together at a celebration, if she's to guess - the woman with a cane in her off hand, the man looking like he was shaped out of the sky.

"They look quite happy."

[battlebyballad]

Halfway through crafting a line of all the things they could do their best to playact at, her clever companion says something much more interesting. "Demiplane? That's some serious magic. Is that even a spell at that point? That reads more legend than wizardry."

She leans in closer than she needs to share a look at the picture, mindful to keep her hands clasped politely in front of her. Her smile softens as she looks, gentle and content. "There's no joy quite so sweet in any realm as the simple fondness of enjoying the company of someone who enjoys yours. It's the seed from which every love of every kind sprouts."

Shadows Play

[blindwatchersees]

He's not the shadows that were tugging at her, but a figure still steps out from nothingness, a faint smile on his face as he toys with a translucent malachite blade. The face he wears is that of a mer long-vanished, albeit with his hair faded to gray and his features tinged with the strangeness of Oblivion. He is tall, with an unusually broad and prominent jaw for an elf, in a way that suggests strong and immediate human ancestry.

"You're new," he comments rather casually, not taking his luminous indigo eyes off of her.

[abhorrently]

Like me, the thought flicks over her mind, a silver scaled fish that disappears into the river. Instead, she folds her arms across her chest, taking in the magic that practically pours from him, like he was dipped in the Weave and set out to dry. The arcana in her blood doesn't lend itself to a presence like this, but she refuses to be be intimidated for now.

"That I am, stranger. And you?"

[blindwatchersees]

"I've been here a while. Since the beginning, or maybe slightly after that. But having a face and a voice in this place is a new experience."

He sheathes the dagger, and it seems to vanish from his waist. The more Fever looks at him, the more obvious it may become that this elf is, or at least was, an adventurer. Though he wears the fine robes of a scholar-mage, they're hemmed short to allow for running and tumbling without issue, and they seem to be lined with thin, muffled pieces of armor.

He also seems to be developing cataracts, a pale mist filtering over his irises.

[abhorrently]

Only a fool would mistake that mist for thinking he was any less powerful. Anyone that talks like that smacks of the divine, or something like it, and it puts her on her guard. Just because there's no obvious threat doesn't mean there isn't a threat. But the look on her face is more scrutinizing than anything.

"Likely it's a little more interesting than not being able to talk at all. There's only so much in silent observation."

She's just guessing, with that.