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TEST DRIVE MEME #3
1. you're the only one you owe (GUEST STARRING:
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selenokinesis and creepyoldguy)[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 Passengers(s),
You'll be unable to leave your cabin until you read this note. Congratulations on making it past the first step. Keep reading if you wish, as I have information to share with you, as a fellow passenger stuck aboard this ship. Or don't continue reading, and burn the note. I'm not particularly invested either way, especially if you choose to throw away valuable warnings.
Watch out for the Captain.
Be cautious what you sign up for.
If you die, you'll come back to life eventually, though I would recommend you try not to die.
Your life is the Captain's plaything.
Do not think for one moment that someone isn't watching you.
With that aside, I am now contractually obligated to tell you the following: You will find a life jacket within your cabin's closet, and you are required to bring it with you to your assigned muster station on deck one. A companion and I will take you through the drill. If you cannot find us, look for a tall male with white hair and blue eyes and a friendly-looking man with unkept brown hair and a winning smile.
Respectfully,
Moon Master Ebalon
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 two people standing at the front of the crowd: an exhausted-looking man with white hair who seems rather displeased that he's been roped into this, and a man with a wide grin, bright green tips on his hair, and amber eyes. the latter is waving cheerfully, having an armful of leis. he quite happily puts them around people’s necks and while they’re distracted, attempts to dip them into a kiss.
as he’s basically a walking corpse, and smells like one to boot, it’s not exactly hitting the jackpot. but, he does at least listen to the word “NO”.
the tired-seeming man ignores this and announces over the drone of chattering passengers like yourself,]
Welcome to the Serena Eterna. Do try to enjoy your stay here; it is rather permanent in nature, huhu.
[and from next to his companion, the… er, overly-affectionate man who sounds as though he smokes ten packs a day rasps,]
You’re all doomed!
[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.
after the duo complete the drill, you'll find that your legs suddenly obey your command, for what that's worth.
welcome aboard, passenger. we hope you enjoy your stay.]
2. one by one they'll do you in
[it starts, as most things do, with a table lamp. floating down a hallway, or the length of the promenade. ambling at a distinct clip: one-two-three-KICK, one-two-three-KICK.
and that's... not immediately concerning. after all, things float around here all the time; usually plates and drinks, but maybe the shades want to mix it up a bit. the lamp is alone for about a half hour before it is joined by others. a pillow. some knickknack from the ship store. Friday's clipboard. an empty vodka bottle. all have lined up, one in front of the other, and lead a procession snaking around the ship, growing with each passing hour. anyone familiar with the concept would begin to recognize it as a massive conga line.
there is a small chance you will want to join of your own free will. most likely, you will not want that. this does not matter: something compels you, like pins and needles in your feet, to join the dance. and once you have joined in... your body fights your mind on the subject, even as it grows more and more tired.
you pass by a familiar face. they could help pull you out. or you could pull them in.]
3. the price of vice foretold
[the scent of citrus and coconut rum hangs heavy in the air. there is a new storefront on the promenade, tucked between Sand Dollars and John's in a place where you are very certain there was not enough space to tuck a store before.
the clothes for sale are... a lot. like, a lot a lot. but, there are quite a lot of choices, though they do seem to repeat a little, once you've gone in far enough. in fact, even if you actively attempt to find it, you can't seem to find the back of the store. you can see a wall, sure, but it never seems to get any closer, even as you walk towards it.
be forewarned: the infinite tommy bahama does not have food or water.]
no subject
She smiles a little as he moves to open the door. "Such a gentleman," she says as she slips through, briefly pausing to wait for him to come through the door himself. "I have lived through multiple upheavals, but nothing I would call an apocalypse."
no subject
"It's not fun," he admits. "Like, not to be too much of a bummer, but nothing harshes your buzz faster than nuclear hellfire raining down on you and yours." He shrugs, although it is a bit of a bigger deal than the move might imply. It's depressing, honestly, and if they're gonna drink, he'd rather not start off on a bad note.
"Uh -- right, if you tell the invisible ghost behind the bar what you want, they'll serve it to you. It's weird at first, but you get used to it."
no subject
She tunes back into the conversation, expression a touch more serious than it might have been. "I can't imagine it would be." She doesn't press the conversation any further, however. It seems like an uncomfortable subject. Instead, she tries not to show how unusual all this feels as she asks whatever an invisible ghost is for her drink. When it shows up, she pauses long enough to adjust to how strange it is. Before she was awake, she wouldn't have questioned it. Now? Well, she can't help but question everything. "Well, then." She takes a sip. "At least it tastes right."
no subject
"As far as I can tell, it's all legit." He takes a relative-for-him conservative sip of his own drink, which does indeed taste like whiskey. Good whiskey, too, not something blended together out of several nearly-empty bottles scavenged out of empty houses. "I dunno how they make it all. I haven't bothered asking. Sorta like looking a gift horse in the mouth, y'know?"
no subject
"I'm hoping it's nothing terribly nefarious, but I'm sure it isn't worth a serious investigation anyway." But it hardly matters. "How long have you been on this...ship? Or do they call it a boat?"
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"Yeah, I'll leave all the problem-solving for smarter people than me." He thinks the question over as he grabs his glass from midair. "Everyone's been calling it a ship, but I dunno what the difference is. I've been here, uh, like... maybe a couple of weeks? It hasn't been too long, but there's no real way to tell time." He used to be okay at that, using the stars and all, but the constellations here don't make any sense and there's no way to tell what direction they're going, making the sun equally unreliable.
"I sorta just woke up in my cabin after a party and, uh... there really hasn't been any sign of a way off. Not that I've been looking. My family's all good at home, and nobody's gonna miss me, so..." He shrugs.
no subject
“I suppose it’s wise to know your strengths.” But she’s still getting to know Sharky, so her assessment of his intelligence is still ongoing. “I’m not certain I know either.” She tries to will up a memory that might tell her, but she has none.
It’s a sad thing to feel that no one would miss you, but if she’s honest, would anyone miss her? She doesn’t like the idea of it and pushes it back as well. She also suppresses her desire to mention her daughter because there’s no good way to explain it without revealing too much. “I’m sure they would if they knew to. Most everyone I know is dead, so it’s hard to say if anyone would notice.”
no subject
The apocalypse didn't turn out to be nearly as fun as all the video games led him to believe. He'd sorta expected it, but that didn't make living through it any nicer. The only good thing he can think to say about it is that...
"Well, it's over now. For me, anyway. They can all, y'know, rebuild civilization and shit. I'm fine with being here, waiting for another Battle Royale or something."
no subject
She drinks the rest of her drink and holds her glass out for another. Things have certainly taken a turn for the depressing.
"I have something back home. Unfinished business. I need to find a way back for it." She can't give up on her daughter. She needs to find her. "And I'm tired of being controlled by others. It's been too long."
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"Can't argue with that," because you really can't. People aren't meant to be controlled, no matter what anybody says. Just because he's accepted his situation doesn't mean others need to roll over and die with him. "And, uh, for what it's worth, there are definitely people trying to get off the ship. I'm sure if you asked around, they'd be down to help fill you in on, uh... whatever it is they know."
no subject