sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #3

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TEST DRIVE MEME #3

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bugsy heard the guy meander up. He wasn't exactly being subtle, especially with his... choice in outfit. But hey, it's not like Bugsy could judge, he'd met changelings from further back than '81 before, and he was just assuming this guy was one of those Fairests whose thing was just being pretty.

"Who's asking, and can I get a laywer first?"

He rasps with a grin, his mouth a sharps disposal in that it was too pointy for comfort and you don't know what you'd catch from sticking your hand in there.

Well Stede had no intention of going anywhere near the man's mouth. He was not particularly inclined to raspy voiced individuals at the moment for his own reasosn, but this man seemed harmless enough for someone who seemed like they'd be home in the Republic of Pirates.

He also seems a man of wit, though Stede understands what he's saying, he has the feeling there's a joke here he's not quite grasping. The best thing to do he's found in this situations is pretend he understood with a soft laugh and change the subject.

"My name is Stede. A fellow prisoner." A wry smile. "May I see what it is you're working on?"

"Bugsy."

Fitting, what with all the bugs all over him. There's a big old fly tattoo on the back of the hand he's holding his pen in, with smaller gnats decorating his fingers, both prominent as he shows Stede the page he's working on. It's a quick sketch of the dining room, with backs of heads and some small details visible in quick ink strokes. The light glinting off a girl's glasses, the prominent nose of a man a couple of tables over. It's good work. Unlucky for Stede, Bugsy knows the ol' 'laugh vaguely if you don't get the joke' trick. But he's willing to chalk it up to being an old Fairest, again.

"You been here long? What's the court situation here?"

His voice is low like he's sharing a conspiracy, because he is.

Well he certainly fits the theme. That is a lot of tattoos. But a lot of charming inkwork too that gets his mind a'tickin'.

"Bugsy. Good to meet you. I like your expressive hand." And it reminds him of someone else with an equally expressive hand that has been perhaps empty far too long.

"Well about a month..." And then the lawyer talk again. This is some convoluted joke. More convoluted than he'd expect a man with those kind of tattoos to have! But it takes all kinds. Anyway Stede can also play this game.

"...and it's a complicated situation, if I'm honest. Can't really tell if we're coming or going but... of course we're all sitting in judgement." It's a weak pun but he's never been one for lawyers despite having a few. Having had a few. But they were more or less from his father's side, inherited almost, and they disdained him and perhaps rightly.

"Thanks, not the first time a man has complimented my hand."

A month was not a long time in Arcadia, but the fact that he knew it had been a month was odd. Time Over There ebbed and waned like poetry, a year and a day might pass like an hour, and an hour might pass like pulling teeth. He props his cheek up on his elbow at the... lawyer joke? With no mention of any of the seasons. It's possible that he was just the first escaped Changeling to be dragged here, but...

"Hey- I've got a really weird question. Been on the road a while, haven't really been able to stop anywhere, but I'm itching to do a self-portrait. Mind telling me what colour my eyes are? I think it's slipped my mind."

Red and compound to someone who could See, brown to everyone else. He was more than comfortable coming across as odd, if it meant he knew what was up with this dude.

"Really?" Did that mean what he thought. Was that code? Gosh, he hoped so. He would need to ask Lucius of the signs if he wanted to do this properly. Could Ed know them? He was generally pretty smart.

"What?" he's surprised and a little astonished at the question. "Ah- Well, I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding. I'm not trying to chat you up. Well I sort of am, but it's more for my boy- young man. He's an artist, like yourself, and a little lonely...and works too hard." This is harder than he thought! But he is determined to finish this out.

"His name is Lucius. Would you like to meet him?"

Well. It's not like he wasn't into dilfs- Bugsy was chronologically in his 60s after all, even if he hadn't lived all of them. But that was absolutely not what he was going for, despite the joke about him giving handjobs, and does not leave him any clearer about what's going on with this place. Worse is that apparently he's being fobbed off to this guy's son??? Or something??? Bugsy's always horny and lonely but this feels just a little insulting.

"Sorry- you're hitting on me for your son? Is that what's happening here?"

"Son? No. He's my scribe. My note taker. Valet and boy of all work. He's about your age, a bit rangy about the neck, his teeth are admittedly...very strange..." He looks off into the distance as he says this. "It's just all across, an even line. Frankly, it's astonishing he has teeth at all given well--" He shakes his head.

"But the point is he'd make a very good match."

Bugsy's tallying up the mental math as to whether this is significantly weirder than his last trip to Arcadia. He hasn't been forced to engage in cannibalism yet, so not yet, but boy is it getting there.

"Okay- you're hitting on me for your... employee?"

Significantly weirder! He's gonna tell this dude about unions when he meets him.

"Dude, you've gotta do better at actually making me want to talk to this guy. 'Weird teeth' isn't usually a selling point. Just- do me a favour, point him out and I'll talk to him and see for myself."

If only so he can talk to someone who isn't... this guy.

Edited (sexy genius disease (terminal)) 2022-05-28 02:24 (UTC)

"Employee..." He wrinkles his nose. "Sort of like that, I suppose. Six of one half dozen of the other. Let's see..." He takes a seat opposite him.

"He's very hyper aware, street savvy- he can be a snappy dresser." Not that you would see him at a fancy party, but Stede doubts he'd want to go. "He's good at calligraphy, a real people person and a crowd pleaser. Very dedicated to his work and to his friends....and to his...friends." A slight cough. "Besides which he is very pleasing...most of the time."

Lucius just...just wants to eat some lunch. That's all he wants. He wants a nice meal and to eat in peace before he has to go back to tracking people down and handing out satisfaction surveys regarding their last meet and greet. It's such a simple request that, frankly, he shouldn't be surprised when he turns the corner past the crab legs and spots Stede Bonnet standing at a booth chatting up some random fellow.

He stares and pivots, mid-step, to head back the way he came and leave this accursed place.

"Speak of the devil." Stede gets to his feet, heads off Lucius to take him by the shoulders and turns him around. "Have fun. I warmed him up for you." Helpful shoulder pats.

Well, he's sounding more and more like someone Bugsy wants very little to do with, being himself an unfashionable punk asshole. But a guy who's actually not that bad looks at the two of them with a look of horror and Bugsy cracks a shit-eating grin as Stede essentially wrangles him. Bugsy idly wonders if Stede does this a lot.

"Hey. Your not-boss's been telling me about you. Bugsy," he offers a tattooed hand, "I've got no gag reflex."

Stede marches him back by the shoulders and Lucius, carrying his notebook and tray, really wishes the floor would swallow him whole. Fantastic. Wonderful. Who is warmed up for whom? In the end he is deposited in front of the table with no idea why he is there.

The introduction is abrupt and Lucius's face goes from stark horror at the idea of Stede singing his praises, then curiosity, and then blank shock. He has been on this boat for weeks and hasn't met a single man who could take a hint. Of course he's going to promptly drop into the other side of the booth and set his tray aside.

"We have so much in common already," Lucius singsongs and takes his hand to shake. "Lucius."

Now that is a job well done. Stede flips his hair and walks out, completely forgetting why he'd come in. Gosh, it had been easier than he'd thought to set someone up.

Ed would be a piece of cake.

Though he'll have to ask someone what a gag reflex has to do with anything...

Bugsy gives Lucius' hand a shake, then pulls it back into his side a little to kiss his knuckle. What can he say, he's a romantic and being in someone's bed will probably help take his mind off being back in hell.

"You got a place here?" He asks, seeing no need for subtlety.

Oh. My. God.

Not only can he take a hint but the reciprocity is instantaneous. Lucius could not possibly be more delighted. It doesn't hurt that he has a very nice, rough and tumble charm about him.

"Absolutely, yes," he answers immediately and gives his hand an almost amazed look. What in the ever-loving hell did Stede Bonnet say to this man? He's fully ready to stand up but, frankly, he had been very hungry and his stomach interrupts the rest of him by growling loudly as he makes to.

"Oh--hm--lunch first?"

"My two favourite f words, food and fucking," Bugsy grinned. How slim must the pickings be if some old crust punk was able to get him to look that awed with a hand kiss?

"Pick out something good and I'll feed you in bed like a lil spoiled prince?"

Slim.

Unless one is a teenage girl into other teenage girls, of which Lucius is neither.

This man cannot possibly be real. Lucius recognizes with absolute certainty that this man, with his cute shaved head, tattoos, piercings, and blatant desire to fall into bed right this instant is probably a demon meant to torment his eternal soul. He is, without question, going to suffer torture in the near future.

Worth it though.

"Well, you're my new favorite," Lucius declares and considers his tray. Most of it is worthless knife-and-fork business, food he fully intends to abandon without a second thought, but there's a lovely bowl of grapes. That will have to do because he is not perusing the aisles of the buffet again. They are headed straight for the cabin.

Hopefully Skulduggery is out.

He has one free hand and Lucius uses it to grab his notebook and his bowl of grapes, clutching both like a debutante in a slim-fit fancy dress who refuses to bring a real purse to an event.

"Shall we?"

"That was easy," he jokes, "but it's not like I'm not."

One of the many benefits of going from 1981 to modernity was the sudden availability of people who were willing to legally fall into his bed, and hey, who is he to deny himself the enjoyment of a liason with someone who was interested in him?

With all the sleaze of someone who has never in his life stepped out with a debutante, Bugsy slips an arm around Lucius' waist and follows his lead.

Lucius may be just a touch overeager. Just a smidgen. He's not jogging to the room but he certainly isn't moving with his usual dawdling pace, either. He really should text Skulduggery and tell him to get out of the room but, frankly, he'd have to stop and free a hand for that and that's a sacrifice he's just not willing to make.

"So," he says, conversationally, and with a hint of worry as they approach the door. The sound of his question is underscored by the sound of him pulling the handle on the door. "My Boss didn't tell you anything...awful about me, right?"

"Nah, said some shit about you being a hard worker and fashionable, all that. Kinda sounded like he was doing a job interview more 'n anything."

Bugsy's not much better on the part of eagerness, pressing up against Lucius as they both enter, such that they're already in a more than slightly compromising position should someone already be in the room.

Skulduggery's paranoia has gotten markedly worse since the pirate meeting, unfortunately, driven by the ominously-casual reference the captain had made. He's checked the gauntlets in his drawer every day since getting them and nothing has changed. They're still dead, lifeless things, and while the scratching headache is still there in the back of his head, it's nothing like it used to be.

That's what he's doing right now, actually. Just standing there, staring down at the drawer with an unreadable expression on his face. (Get it...) The paranoia lurches up inside as he hears the doorhandle click, and he kicks the drawer shut just before Lucius can enter and see --

"Holy God," Skulduggery chokes out, literally not expecting the goddamn bug man that's currently attached to Lucius' side like a leech. Like a... mosquito?? He can't tell and tilting his head only really makes it worse, not better --

"Uh." Staring at Lucius, then at the... ...next to him. And he thought Stede and Blackbeard was above his paygrade... Hell, this is out of even Donegan Bane's paygrade. "Sorry. Lucius. You're... alright?"

That can be read as both: is this a consensual situation I don't have to worry about? and also DOES HE KNOW YOU'RE A BUG PERSON?, depending on who you might be.

Lucius hears the drawer being kicked shut hurriedly before he sees Skulduggery and he can't quite help the low curse that escapes him. He grins as they enter, Bugsy basically draped over him, and tries to be nonchalant about this. There is no easy way to ask a roommate to vacate so you can fuck, after all, but he can apologize later--

And then Skulduggery is just recoiling and cursing? Um. What?

Excuse?

He stares at Skulduggery with a look that is half reproach and half shock. He never took the skeleton man for judgmental--

"Yes..." Lucius says and cocks a brow. Do you not see the handsome face of this man Skulduggery? This man who is clearly down for a good time. But then, maybe he's misreading--he could have walked in on Skulduggery doing something...private and skeleton-ish? He tones back the expression to one of curiosity and asks: "Is this a bad time?"

TEST DRIVE MEME #3

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