sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #3

Entry tags:

!tdm

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

[Like anyone could have gotten him to stay in the Field of Reeds without Steven. He doesn't care if that makes him insane or not -- if Steven can't have paradise with him, if he has to suffer like that, then Marc couldn't have been okay staying. He doesn't think wherever he ended up is paradise though, even if it's far from the Duat too. He's somewhere else, alone, and where Steven is finding some bright spot in all of it, Marc feels like he's sinking.

He feels like he's going to-- what? Lose it? Sink into some sort of despair he's never crawling out of again? He's failed after all. The world is going to be forever changed. Layla's probably going to die, and Steven is--

Steven is apparently right here?

He can pick the voice out of a crowd. The mild-mannered thank you, the bit of stammering that comes along with it. For a moment, it feels like Marc's been punched in the gut, with how his breath rushes out. It's the closest thing he's felt to anything like relief since he woke up on this fucking boat.]

Steven! [Steven. Outside of his body again, solid and in the flesh. Other people seeing him too, apparently.

His heart feels like it's crawled up into his throat as he makes his way towards the other man.]

Steven, what the hell, buddy...

[He's not frozen. He's not dead. That's really all Marc needs right now - to know he didn't leave Steven behind after all. Selfishly, that he's not alone.]

...Marc? Oh, Marc-- [Steven is just as relieved to see Marc in the flesh and he doesn't even question it considering they've been split into two ever since they started their journey through the psych ward. He doesn't care that there might be other people around - he goes straight for a hug as soon as Marc is within reach.]

Marc. [He can't help the small, choked sob as he holds Marc tight against him, crushing the lei between them. He hates that he feels so relieved to see and hold and talk to Marc again. He's supposed to be happy that Marc didn't get killed from the zombies and still had a chance with Taweret. He's supposed to chide Marc for being sappy, for being stupid enough to come back for him.]

You're-- on the wrong boat... [Maybe Steven shouldn't have left his cabin. He might cry out in public instead of in the privacy of his own room. It's just been-- so much. Too much for him to handle.]

[Marc doesn't care that Steven feels like he's trying to crush him with that hug. His isn't any looser as he settles his arms around him, holding on like he thinks Steven might disappear if he lets go for even a second. There's a relieved laugh as he ducks his head a bit.]

As far as I'm concerned, it's the right boat now, Steven. [He doesn't want the Field of Reeds if he's going to be alone. That's not-- paradise. That's not paradise if it won't take Steven Grant. How could anyone be more deserving of that crap? Or think that Marc is worthy of it in any sense of the word?

This place gives him the creeps, but... he'll handle it. They'll figure it out or something.

None of it matters right now anyway. He rubs a hand over Steven's back, soothing even if he knows it's probably gone on long enough. People are gonna gawk at the two idiots clinging to each other. Thing is, Marc doesn't really care right now.]

Are you-- you're okay, right? [He's not being consumed by sand anymore, so... that's a good thing. Gotta be.] I was coming back for you and...

[Well, this happened.]

[If they can pass off as twins to a hippo goddess, they can pass off as twins to anyone else. Very... codependent, attached at the hip twins. Steven doesn't want to talk about how he's not real and he doesn't want to give anyone the opportunity to so much as look at Marc funny. He deserves to be treated with dignity and respect and not like he's crazy or dangerous or unpredictable or with that kind of pity because he's in need of help. Everyone needs help from time to time. It's nothing to pity anyone over.]

You wot? [One eyebrow rises incredulously as Steven leans back and gives Marc A Look.] Are you mad? [Actually, don't answer that.] Why the hell would you do that for? You've got-- you could've made it. Field of Reeds. Or-- or back to life. [You know. Save the wife, save the world?]

[He'll probably earn those funny looks all on his own, twin and codependency aside. The first time shit gets too much and he crawls into the bottom of a bottle or something, maybe. Or maybe when he finally cracks for real... probably only a matter of time on that one.

But none of those worries are priorities right now. No. They've got bigger problems now that they're together... like getting the hell out of here, whatever anyone else insists.]

Not without you. [His brows furrow. He'd had-- words planned. Or maybe not planned. But he thought if he saw Steven again, he'd tell him just what he means to him, just what he's been throughout his life. Feels a little-- awkward right now, in a crowd of people.]

I'm not abandoning you, Steven... not when you'd always been there for me. Not when I've failed at keeping you safe in every other way. How could I? [How could he have lived with himself if he'd done that?]

[Steven's kind of seen himself as a bit of a cop out. In case of emergency, break the glass, press the big red button and hope for the best. He's helped Marc as much as he can. Told him what he thought he needed to hear. He's never really perceived himself as someone who is... worth coming back for. It's like-- doubling down on the madness when Marc could simply move on and start healing.

He's saying nice things which should be really worrying but it just makes Steven rub his eyes and sniffle.]

I wouldn't have blamed you. You deserve-- a bit of happiness. You do. [And Steven is only holding him back. For as long as Marc has him, he's always going to be unwell. He should be more okay with parting ways, with fuelling his own self-destruction. But it just-- Steven wasn't ready to die. He plucks at some unraveled bit of fluff on the lifejacket strap.]

It's not-- your job to keep me safe. It's my own. [Steven chews on his lip nervously. He didn't have a say in the matter, going to Egypt. But it had been a wonderful trip. And he chose to help them find Alexander the Great's tomb. Everything that happened wasn't Marc's fault.] I just-- wish we had more time.

[He's been the only source of comfort in Marc's life more times than he can count. Someone who had hope when he had none at all, someone who loved life when Marc's time and again wondered why he keeps getting up every morning.

... And maybe Steven deserves some nice things said to him right now, even if Marc's not the greatest at it.]

Yeah, well... See, I couldn't have been happy if I'd known you were back there. [He reaches up after a moment to rest a hand on Steven's shoulder, giving it a squeeze.]

And look, I promise-- we'll talk about that. And more. But not here. Let's blow this and go look around, alright?

[He drops his hand from Steven's shoulder and looks around.]

I think we've got a little more time, Steven.

I. Would have been alright. But-- thanks, Marc. I-- shouldn't say I'm happy to see you. But I am. I'd be happy if you made it, too. But it is what it is. [They're here now, with no easy or simple way to go back there it seems. Maybe they're sailing to another afterlife, like the one Taweret was talking about.]

But-- they seem nice, Marc. [Steven didn't seem to notice all the red flags and he's never been on a cruise before so he doesn't know what to expect. But he got a welcome lei and there's a lifejacket and someone other than Khonshu will protect them if they somehow die again - that all seems good, doesn't it?]

Someone who's just doing their job will get in trouble if we don't go through the safety briefing. [Don't make another Steven Grant's life difficult, Marc. He's not expecting their borrowed time together to get cut short just because they need to go through the drill.] It shouldn't take long. Then I'll go anywhere you want.

Nice? That-- what you get from all this?

[There's an incredulous look. Marc isn't sure he'd call any of this nice. It's just a different sort of mindfuck to the asylum. Man, he never thought he'd miss that place, really, but...

A muscle in his jaw twitches before he nods.]

Fine. We do the briefing, then-- we'll figure out where to go from there. [He's not looking forward to seeing any more of this, but... whatever. Can't take too long. Hopefully.]

I just want to go for a walk, Steven... Get a feel for the place.

Nobody's called us a disgusting worm yet or tried to kill us or tried to get us to kill other people. I don't have to worry about-- opening a door and violating something of yours. [That's the bar, apparently. Steven lifts up his lei a bit off his chest and dangles his lifevest in front of Marc.] I got given a present. And this is better than the Titanic already. Maybe someone will even make us food and let us shower and not try to stick an ice pick up our noses because we're a little bit mental? [Steven bites down on his bottom lip and shifts his jaw left and right.] Come on.

[He drags Marc over to the briefing and, alright, it's a little boring, but Steven manages to compose himself and listen and nod at all the right intervals. When they're done he heaves a sigh and resumes holding his lifejacket against his lower body, turning to Marc with a tightlipped smile.]

It's like we're on a real vacation. One last... hurrah before we go to Shhhhhwherever we end up. [Awkward non-save. Look, he can't help it if his imaginary mother that Marc gave him raised a good Jewish boy.]

No, but I might shove one up my own nose if this keeps up. [Getting tossed from boat to boat. C'mon, this isn't the afterlife he signed up for... if they're actually dead. You can't die twice, right? But then if they're not dead, then what are they? And how did that happen?

What a headache.

Anyway, he might be thinking about doing it once or twice during the briefing that seems to go on forever too, but unfortunately, there's nothing sharp to get at his brain with.

At least it's eventually over.

Just in time for that terrible save and it gets a predictable glower from Marc.]

Yeah, well, just don't let your guard down yet, buddy. That letter-- you got one when you woke up here too, right?

Yeah! The one about the captain being in charge and how we can't die? [Congratulations Marc. This is what happens when you have a psychotic break and make an endlessly optimistic personality up. He stares right at the red flags, points and says that's kind of sweet.]

Well. I mean. It would make sense. We're already dead... [Steven shuffles forward a little quicker to stay closer to Marc. It's really huge inside the ship and there's quite a few people milling around. Funny, they don't all seem terribly thrilled to be on the cruise. But, you know. Maybe they all just died too and they're worried about the people they've left behind, what happens at the end of the journey, not saying goodbye and maybe they left the kettle on and their house is going to catch fire. Steven's worried about Not-Gus too. And the world they failed to save.]

...do you think crocodile lady killed all these people? [Steven frowns, and he seems a little too ashamed to meet anyone else's gaze. This is all his fault. He breathes in and out, trying to quieten the inner panic, the guilt.]

I'm sorry, Marc. I should have let you go into the tomb. If I'd just-- gotten rid of the ushabti-- I killed all these people... [Steven clutches onto his life jacket a little tighter. He killed a dreamliner full of people. Everyone's going to hate him when they find out. Well everyone hates him anyway, but Marc will be a pariah by association too. Maybe they shouldn't be seen out in public together.]

Yeah, that one. [He wants to point out that it says try not to die. Look, there's a difference between being an optimist and running straight into a bad situation thinking it's going to be better than--

than what they had with Khonshu.

He looks around as they walk, no real destination in mind. His feet just carry him on as his mind races, not sticking on any one thing in particular.]

... I don't know, Steven. [But one thing's for sure-- New Gus is probably going to be added to his list of things he's managed to get killed or harmed in some way. He feels-- kinda bad about it. But they don't have the luxury of breaking down over fish or Ammit judging every soul on earth just yet.

OR he doesn't. Steven seems well on his way.]

Look, don't get ahead of yourself. We don't know if these people were here before or just showed up. There's no telling--

[He stops himself, looking over at Steven as he slows his steps.]

I was the one who got us shot. So just stop it. You-- did good, alright? Who was it that found the ushabti in the first place? [And it wasn't Steven who picked the worst time to have to explain what happened to Layla's father, right?]

[That's true. Maybe everyone here has been dead a while now. That's why that gentleman that kissed him smelled pretty bad. Maybe there's still time. Layla might-- be able to help them stop everything.

God, Layla. If he sees her here he's going to be Upset.]

...okay. [He lurches forward a bit, tries to stick close to Marc, internalise all the unhappiness he feels about dying and letting the world down. It's not busy like the tube during peak hour but it's not just the two of them either. They need to be careful, in case there's any of Harrow's spies in here. The note did say they're being watched...]

Look. There's your den of iniquity... [Steven looks over at the bar. He's not particularly interested in drinking, but. He wouldn't mind some hot food, if they can find a place to sit and eat. He's not particularly hungry, but a hearty soup is how he finds comfort where Marc might prefer searching at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.]

[The fact that Steven let that man kiss him just means they need to find a toothbrush and mouthwash ASAP.

... And yeah, no. Hopefully Layla or anyone else doesn't show up for this fun adventure, but he knows Layla. She'll kill herself trying to stop Harrow, trying to stop Ammit. He wants better for her. Hell, he wanted better for Steven too.

He follows Steven's eyes over to the bar. Steven's not-- wrong about what Marc wants right now. He's not sure he should, all things considered, but...

Fuck it. It's not like they're going anywhere, right?]

Seriously? [Steven gets a skeptical look over first though.]

You don't want to go sit at a bar while I drink, do you?

[No man, woman, bird or crocodile would want to kiss Steven so he wasn't expecting it and, well, he's not even sure what to expect really. It seemed nice though! But he's more used to a peck on each cheek, the way people greet their closer friends, like a... French kiss.

A French kiss?

A French kiss.]

I don't want to get lost in here. [He wants to go explore places with Marc, not on his own, and then not be able to find his way back to his cabin.]

Maybe they'll serve a clear vegetable soup? [Steven sounds a little hopeful, but then he tempers his expectations a little in case he sounds like he's expecting to be fed.] Or, I mean. I'll settle for some chips. Or a pack of nuts... [Bars have peanuts, don't they?]

[... No, scratch that. Steven needs a shot of whiskey to sanitize whatever germs might be living in his mouth now. They're each having a drink.

Maybe.

Much as he wants to lead the way over, he grits his teeth and hesitates for a moment. Steven sounds like-- he might be hungry. Marc isn't in the slightest, but it's hard to stamp out the instinct to at least try to protect Steven first.]

You want to go find food? We can do that, come back here.

[It doesn't cross his mind to split up, really. Steven is always just-- right there. And right now, he kind of wants him to stay that way. He nearly lost him once already, doesn't want a repeat.]

Yeah. Alright. You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach either. [Or drink at all, but Steven doesn't want to dad Marc. They can probably have a drink or two after these past few harrowing hours - no pun intended. He should probably return to the cabin, put his lifejacket away, but for the moment they can leave it on a spare seat at the table at the next food place they come across.

Which happens to be the Windjammer. Steven tugs on Marc's arm when he steps in, eyes widening in amazement.]

Oh my days. Look at this place! [There's so much food. Of course he can't eat most of it but any place that serves a hundred options means he'll have ten options rather than a pitiful one page menu and forcing him to ask the chef to hold ingredients he doesn't eat.]

Can we sit by the window? You can pick something out first - you've got a hundred different choices here. [He doesn't necessarily want to watch the water and make himself seasick but he does want a quiet little corner where he can talk to Marc without using his outside voice.]

[He'd beg to differ, actually. Drinking on an empty stomach is something he's done a lot of in his life. But he doesn't want that disapproving look Steven'd give him. So, food, it is.

... And boy, do they find food. Even Marc is staring in vague wonder at the buffet - though he has a feeling he's a little more skeptical about all this than Steven.]

Yeah-- cool. [What's the catch?]

Hm? [His gaze darts back to Steven at the question and he nods absently.] Sure, Steven. Wherever you want.

[He wants to tell Steven that he's not hungry, not really, and he should just go-- wild. But again, disapproving looks and all that.

He's not feeling especially adventurous though. Steven doesn't seem to be expecting him to stick to the vegan stuff either, so-- you know what, he'll just hunt out a burger and fries and call it good there. Something he can eat quick.]

All this food, they've got to have some vegan options, right? Let's go check it out.

[Steven dumps the lifejacket on a table by the window, just so he can free up his hands and they'll have a table they can come back to. And then he follows Marc over to the spread of food. All the seafood makes him feel a little uneasy, but they get to the vegetarian section tucked away in the corner and Steven makes a delighted little noise when he spots a few things he can eat. Unfortunately all the soup is creamy and the only clear option they had walked past earlier has chicken, but the szechuan eggplant sounds great! And roast vegetables. The salad is glistening and there's crispy-looking samosas as well.

Helping himself to a plate, Steven loads it up with just enough food to cover the bottom of the plate without piling everything on. He can always come back for seconds if he's starving but he thinks he's sorted with what he's got.

He's... not going to comment on Marc's kid's meal. At least it didn't come with a toy. If they don't arrive at their final resting place tomorrow maybe he can encourage Marc to have an adult lunch then.]

This place is wonderful. Where do you think they're taking us? [Steven asks as he sets his food down on the table and starts unraveling his cutlery from the napkin bundle.] Every culture has their own idea of what life after death might look like. I don't think we're going to that 'Ancestral Plane' that Taweret was talking about.

[Hey, it's not a kid's meal-- it's just very American. And if it doesn't poison him or something, maybe he'll get a little more adventurous. Though you'd think if they're dead, they wouldn't need food at all, right?

He shrugs his shoulders at the question.]

I don't know, Steven. Doesn't make a lot of sense, does it? You, in the Duat, me in the Field of Reeds, and now suddenly... we're on our way to some place else. Any sort of Ancestral Plane doesn't sound all that great to me.

[He looks around them, just scanning the area thoughtfully.]

I don't think we'll find out where we're going anytime soon though. I have a feeling, we'll be on this cruise a while.

[It's surely the only thing that makes sense? That's why he's on the outside. They can't-- somehow have come back to life and then just randomly woke up on a cruise ship. Otherwise, they're inside another part of Marc's head? But it's full of people that he doesn't know and Marc doesn't seem to recognise or want to socialise with.]

So you did make it?! [An unfortunate victim goes flying in his excitement, a piece of lettuce hitting the table. Realising his exclamation might have been a bit loud, Steven shrinks back towards the windowpane, glancing around warily and then leans in closer to Marc, unable to keep that small, knowing smile like they're sharing a secret off his face as he whispers:] What was it like? Tell me everything!

[Three second rule. He picks the lettuce up off the table between thumb and finger and tilts his head back and to the side, popping it into his mouth.]

[There's no explanation that makes a bit of sense, really. None of this should... be a thing. Steven shouldn't still be sitting pretty on the outside like it's no big deal. It's maybe the only thing that's keeping Marc somewhat level though, instead of him just having... some sort of absolute breakdown he might not be able to come back from.]

Mm. [He takes a fry and pops it into his mouth before he looks out the window for a bit.] Just for a second, Steven. It looked-- pretty peaceful, not gonna lie. Not like something I'd experienced before.

[It looked pretty good, but--] I didn't want it if you weren't going to be there. That's not actual paradise. Besides, I don't think it had buffets.

[Steven is happily picking between his carrot and pumpkin roast vegetables, not really too bothered by their present circumstances. He's either accepted that they've died and are on their final journey or he's accepted that coexisting with Marc comes with these kinds of confusing episodes all the time.

Every time he has fronted for Marc it has always been like this. Marc leaves him stranded in a scary place amidst a sea of strangers and he has to figure things out on his own. This particular scary place just happens to be rather marvelous.

What Marc says does have his eyebrows going up and his hand slowly putting down his fork though. And not the part about buffets.]

You came back for me. Marc I'm-- I'm not worth it. I'm not even real. [Steven glances around as though the real gestapo are waiting around the corner to catch him and take him away.]

[Yeah, no. He really needed the alcohol to do this. Or to be facing down death and desperation to get back to Steven, maybe. Sitting here, trying to shove food down his own throat and not feel sick from it or watching Steven happily eat away like all is well in the world while scolding him about coming back.

It makes all of this too-- weird. He's not good at talking about the real stuff, not even with himself. Or the closest to a friend he's got that happens to live in his head, whatever. He's already been stripped pretty bare. He already feels like an exposed, raw nerve after the asylum... why not keep going? What the hell. Steven's seen him at some of his worst points already.

He idly nudges his plate aside and shrugs his shoulders, eyes falling to the hand he leaves resting idly on the table just to avoid meeting Steven's eyes for a moment.]

You're real to me. [He doesn't care what anyone else thinks right now. Steven is too... vibrant to not be real.] And if it hadn't been for you, Steven, I'd never have survived it. Any of it. If I hadn't had you all the way since we were little kids--

[He stops himself, idly works his jaw as he forces his eyes from the table to meet Steven's.] I knew I wasn't alone as long as I had you. You were always full of hope... happy. Made me feel like I could get up every time I didn't think I had it in me. And you never once left me or abandoned me. You think I'd ever do that to you? Because I won't. I don't care about paradise if that's the cost.

[Which is still-- pretty selfish, probably, and not something to shove on a guy who's made it clear he wants his own life without Marc, huh?] Anyway, doesn't matter because look at you right now. You're outside of me. You're real, Steven... you can do whatever you want and without me getting in your way.

Even if it's frenching a guy who reeks, I guess.

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