TEST DRIVE MEME #3

[sailmods]

1. you're the only one you owe (GUEST STARRING: 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.]

Comments

[gapmoe]

[ ah, it really is a terrible shame, that his face must be so uncooperative as to make returning the kindness in that expression near impossible. with the best that he can manage being limited to a softening around the corners of his eyes, ingo takes the offered handkerchief, though does not put it to use before he has made the extent of his gratitude clear. ]

That is most kind of you, sir... I shall have to accept the gesture. Thank you.

[ while ingo's first instinct is to firmly yet politely insist that would only be proper for him to wash such a fine handkerchief before returning it to its owner... even he has to concede that making a promise of this sort when he hasn't the slightest of ideas if there are any washing facilities on board at all may not be the best set of tracks to follow. he makes quick work of wiping his face, pausing only when the emblem catches his eye.

perhaps not what someone so dressed in black and tired in subtle ways would be expected carry, though it's quite cute. idly, he wonders: what sort of pokémon might this emblem depict? it resembles a hoothoot or noctowl to a certain extent, but not quite... either way, it makes him feel the slightest of connections with this young gentleman, as one who is often assumed to be far more gloomy and stern than he actually is.

he takes care to fold the handkerchief back into a neat square before handing it back. as he does so, he cannot help but notice the scarring of old wounds and burns. could it be that this young man is someone who uses fire-type pokémon? ]

Once more, thank you ever so much. I believe I've some disinfectant, should you wish to clean your hands, sir.

[ a little bit of rummaging through an inner pocket of his spacious coat— black and with stripes the color of rust —he produces a small plastic bottle. the label on it sports a peculiar little creature. ]

[anbruch]

[ there's always such mutual observations to glean from any interaction, diluc feels. he's only ever known to take stock of his surroundings and the way the people move, so it is instinctual that diluc picks up a little bit of himself in this man too. his still expression is reminiscent of a few he might name on his journeys, but there's something softer and more sincere in the way he comments. very polite. and very meticulous, as he accepts his handkerchief back. cleaning these and the gloves in his pocket (he remembers) as he stows it away are a problem for him to solve later. ]

Your effusive thanks are unneeded, sir. [ polite, as ever. he's walked this walk a million times and it shows. liyue, in particular, has a lot of exchanges like these. ] It's the least I could do.

[ but: ]

Diluc, [ he prompts, his name an idle little thing tossed to the winds. it holds no weight among people here and, in some ways, it benefits him. ] No need for formalities either, considering the circumstance.

[ he has a feeling he might have to correct him a few times. that's okay. he's done it plenty with former juniors of his. ]

Thanks. [ he obligingly holds out his hands, cups them neatly as though any child permitted to go rogue with such cleaning implements. after all, this is befitting of one who uses high proof liquors in absence of hydro for disinfectant. there's no true way to make that neat in the wilds. ] I've never encountered a bottle like this. [ he adds, eyeing the cute little... sea bug? and the snap(?) top? ] Is it a new patent?

[ fontaine is always coming up with curious things, but he isn't going to assume this is the same world he knows. leylines and other such mysteries have shaken him of the idea that time is stable line quite some time ago. but, back to fontaine: some inventions have proven useful to place stock in. he wonders if he could find someone to produce little vials like that for him? certainly, he has enough by-product to use as disinfectant... ]

SAME HAT... gets cute aggression over this thread!!

[gapmoe]

[ the brief salute he offers, index and middle fingers lifted to touch the band of his cap, is a routine he has learned so well that it is akin to breathing. ]

I am Ingo. [ yet something about this unfamiliar, salty ocean breeze throws him off enough that ingo forgoes including his title. he is at home underground, in his subway tunnels, not out at sea. ] Despite the peculiar circumstances, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Diluc.

[ and he means that, from the bottom of his heart. despite ingo's reputation as stone-faced at best and unsettling at worst, he truly enjoys meeting new people. even more so when he can be of service to them: dutifully, he flips the bottle's lid open and deposits the exact recommended amount on diluc's waiting palm.

what follows gives him pause, however.

for the first time since this conversation began, the shift in ingo's expression is not partiularly subtle, a genuine surprise plastered across his sharp features as the snap top closes underneath his thumb. ]

These types of plastic bottles are quite commonplace in my experience. [ enough so that he's been clearly taken aback by the revelation that diluc is unfamiliar with these things. while it is true that the fashion on display is not quite what he would've been likely to see back home in unova, at least not outside of certain hobbyist conventions, it... somehow hadn't quite dawned on him that they may not hail from the same time. or place.

perhaps because he simply didn't want to think about it, in the sense that doing so can cement the fact that his displacement is far more drastic than he had initially assumed upon awakening in that cabin. but the reality is here, staring him in the face, and it makes him feel a little light-headed all over again.

when he continues, hand still inside his pocket to fiddle with the bottle for want of a distraction to soothe his nerves, ingo's tone sounds more resigned than it did before. ] Si—Diluc, rather, forgive me for prying when we have only just met, but I must ask... if you would be willing to tell me the name of the place you came here from?

[ then, quickly on account of well-practiced propriety, he adds: ]

I will, of course, be glad to answer any questions of yours in turn, to the best of my ability.