sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #3

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!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

[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.

[He reaches over the table to grab Marc's hand. Yes he feels pretty real right now. A solid, warm presence anyway. A light in the darkness that doesn't know his own effervescence, but perseveres anyway even when the going gets hard. Especially when the going gets hard.]

I'm glad I could be there for you Marc. [He wishes he could have done more for him. But that's all in the past now and why dig up all that pain? People are supposed to be at peace when they're dead.]

I'd rather be kissing you. If you keep that up I wouldn't be able to help myself. [He flashes Marc a teasing little smile.] You were never in my way. You saved my life in the gents. Let me live out a little slice of normal fantasy, for a little while. I couldn't see it then, but. You gave me everything I could have ever wanted.

[That doesn't mean that Steven is no longer upset that Marc lied to him, about mom. Made him feel like-- he keeps trying to defend her, in his head, try to make sense of it all, but she was terrible to Marc - to them. And Marc made him think Steven made him up. And all this while he made him think he had a sleeping disorder, kept up this façade - kept taping the door and pouring sand on the floor and everything. It's a lot of gaslighting to do to a nice, unintrusive little British man living in your head, Marc.]

I want to be there for you. And I want you to want this life - or, what's left of it anyway. I don't want you to throw away anything else you deserve for me. I want for you to not be afraid of happiness. Promise me, Marc - you'll stop running. You know I love you too much to keep-- watching you hurt yourself, like this. It's upsetting. [And he can't really help it. Marc made him full of love, and joy, and wonder - all the things Marc's denied himself, and not afraid to express any of it even though it makes Steven vulnerable, raw, prone to getting hurt. He can barely contain it all sometimes.]

And I'll promise you, I'm not going anywhere. I'm just-- I'm here for you now. Can't be there for you, that's all.

[He twitches briefly when Steven reaches out and touches his hand, but it doesn't take him long to relax under the contact. It's just not something he was expecting, that's all. But maybe he should have.

Steven's too nice for his own good. Too loyal.

He lets out a huff, lips curling up in surprise amusement. Looks like Steven's still the best at getting him to smile when he doesn't feel like it.

Even if a kiss ]

Yeah, well. No kissing until you scrub that mouth out, buddy. [He turns his head enough to grasp Steven's in return, giving it a careful squeeze]

Still failed at protecting you... but I'll try to do better here. [He can't promise he won't fail. He's just-- good at letting people down, at hurting them. But he can try.

His expression tightens a bit, brows furrowing. He wasn't expecting to hear it, maybe. With the way Steven's looked at him, with the things he's said -- none of them really wrong. He does ruin lives. He is a-- murderer. He wasn't expecting love. He's not sure he deserves it. Maybe he was hoping that Steven would realize that along the way.

And maybe he's glad that Steven hasn't. Selfishly.]

No, it's not like that. I'm not throwing anything away. I want to be with you. I don't... know what I'm going to do now. But I'll-- try, alright? I'm just not good at that part.

[He's not good at slowing down. But-- he's maybe not incapable of happiness. He had it with Layla. He's-- had it with Steven.

It's hard to feel worthy of it when he might have just fucked the world though. Maybe Steven will remember that's another reason to be disgusted with Marc.]

I mean, I guess this is a step up from the asylum, yeah?

I'm here in one piece, aren't I? [Steven brushes his thumb over Marc's calloused knuckles, trying to calm him down, soothe him.] Any place that cooks beetroot through can't be all that bad. You wouldn't want me kissing you getting beetroot stains everywhere either. [Honestly, Marc is too worried about all these things. And that's saying a lot, coming from Steven. He's supposed to be the master worrier between them.]

Nobody knows what they're doing. I don't think anyone expects you to have all the answers. You're too hard on yourself mate. I don't blame you for anything. [They're dead now - not that Steven is going to bring that up again. There's no zombies here. Nobody's tried to forcibly take their food or split them up or hurt them. Maybe they can just take things a lot easier for the rest of the way and not worry about everything anymore.]

This cruise ship seems nice, Marc. [No killing the captain and commandeering the boat!] Let's just take things one day at a time, okay? Get some food in and-- go to your bar and. We'll see if there's anything interesting scheduled for tonight? There seems to be lots of facilities. And none of them actively trying to kill us.

You can keep your beetroot stains to yourself too. [Look, this is some weird shit they've landed themselves in. He has no idea what's coming... it's hard to not feed on the paranoia, to get antsy about what's coming.

But Steven's not wrong-- they're not finding all the answers today, or figuring out what the hell they're doing here.

... But killing the captain and commandeering the boat is an option, he doesn't care what Steven says.]

Don't jinx us, Steven. [He nods towards his plate.] Finish eating, then we're checking out that bar.

[He's not sure how he feels about these activities, but... maybe if Steven doesn't drag him off for anything ridiculous.]

Just don't suggest something like a couples' spa visit or I'm gonna think about throwing myself overboard.

[Well, maybe not really. Not if they've got a sauna or something.]

No kisses for you then. I'll just have to save myself for all the dead people we come across, get into some necrophilia. [Not that he's implying he's never done anything of that nature with anybody or anything like that.

Steven tries to hurry through his food, realising Marc is done with his happy meal and is waiting on him for drinks. He actually quite likes the idea of a spa day with Marc. What's wrong with a little bit of post-mortem pampering? But since Marc is so against the idea of relaxing and trying to enjoy himself, Steven might have to make a new friend who would be willing to accompany him.]

I'm almost done. [Steven drags Marc's plate back in front of him.] Finish your chips or go steal a butter knife to protect us with. You watching me eat makes me nervous.

I gotta draw the line at necrophilia, buddy. [There's a twitch to his lips though, something bordering on amusement.] But saving yourself, huh?

[Marc isn't surprised at all, actually. He just wishes Steven's sights weren't set on his wife. At least she isn't here for Steven to try his luck...]

Mm... [He rolls his eyes and grabs a fry. Fine. He'll pick at what's left.]

Makes you nervous... Happy now? [A butter knife will only annoy someone, Steven, come on.]

[She's-- their wife. Well, was. Now it's awkward with the two of them split up into separate entities.]

It's a little lonely, being-- a bit annoying. [Steven manages a small, brave smile, but it is a topic that brings him down a lot. He is a little nerdy. Isn't well liked by anybody. An easy target to bully. Doesn't always know what to say. He wants to make friends, but he doesn't have any redeeming qualities. Especially not compared to Marc. Marc is an Old Spice ad, everything you wish your man would be like and all that. On top of that he's overprotective of Steven.

Well, at least Steven doesn't have to worry about all of that anymore. There's a certain kind of freedom in death. No expectations for him to be... less of a loser.]

Wouldn't kill you to have a piece of cauliflower either. But I'll settle for you not drinking on an empty stomach. [Steven finishes his last samosa and glances up. He snickers and reaches over with a napkin wrapped around his finger, dabbing a bit of ketchup off the corner of Marc's mouth before folding the paper over and cleaning himself up.

Hey, that's practically kissing in another culture you know. Don't give him crap for his loneliness, Marc.]

Alright. Let's find a corner barstool you can leave me at while you go get something disgusting.

[Yeah, well, he doubts that'll stop her making eyes at Steven, really... especially if Marc's gotten her killed.]

You're-- not bad. Don't listen to the assholes you worked with. They didn't deserve you. [Or anyone else who's treated him like that, honestly. If they can't see the kind, thoughtful man underneath the awkwardness, or show respect to him? Then they didn't deserve him in their life.]

Maybe next time. [He's not going vegan though. Steven better get that one right out of his head...

And oh. He hadn't expected the napkin thing. It gets him to arch an eyebrow at Steven before he just shakes his head. Napkin sharing is not practically kissing.

But he gets up and reaches to tug Steven along.]

You just haven't tried anything good. C'mon, it's not all disgusting...

[Steven is... doubtful. If all his coworkers thought he was a problem, then obviously he's the problem, not them. And also - yeah, he's not expecting anything less than disgusting out of Marc's favourite kind of haunt, either. He slinks quietly onto the seat and tries to get away with ordering a water to be there. If he gets a funny look he'll try and get something a little more exciting, like...]

A sparkling water please? [Steven glances over at Marc and wrings his hands anxiously at how much he's wanting to drink. He could better tell Marc to take it easy when he was inside him (?? That phrasing will need reworking) but now that they don't seem to be sharing their body, he feels a little less empowered to tell Marc to look after himself.]

No I don't-- want anything else, thanks. Marc it's-- a wee bit early in the day, innit?

[And there it is. He brings his glass up to his lips and gives Steven a look.]

You said we should enjoy ourselves, right? Well, I'm enjoying myself.

[Which is... debatable, really. If this is actually enjoyable in any sense of the word for him, or if it's just a way to numb things down a bit. Either way, Steven's the one that said they're dead now, so he ought to relax. He's just trying to do that.]

Have you figured out what you want to do next?

[He also said it's upsetting to watch Marc hurt himself like this, but. Here they are. Steven lowers his gaze to his gassy water, running his blunt nails along the side of his glass.]

Well I was-- going to be responsible. Look for a change of clothes. Some toiletries. Go back to the room and put this back there. [He doesn't feel like lugging the lifejacket around everywhere he goes. He's not even sure why they would need it if they're already dead.

Anyway. He can't exactly tell Marc he just wants to go back into the room and sit on the bed and cry. Even if that's how he'd cope where Marc would prefer to stay here all day. One is socially acceptable and one is humiliating to talk about.]

Guess I could be irresponsible, go look if there's a library...

[There are worse ways he could be hurting himself. He's not picking fights, he's not trashing things around them or losing his shit quite the way he was back in the asylum. Mostly, he's just-- tired. Some sort of bone deep wariness that's hard to ignore. He doesn't regret turning down paradise if it means Steven's-- here. Alive.

But he just wonders how many more hits he can keep taking on the chin and still keep getting up after. It's not the first time he's wished he could be as hopeful as Steven is about things... that this is in any way a good thing, or that he even deserves good things. Maybe tomorrow will look better.]

... Alright. [Alright. He tosses back his last drink and puts it down, nodding. Better stop while he's still able to walk... in a mostly straight line, at least.] Let's save looking for clothes until tomorrow, okay? But-- we can see about toiletries. Some toothbrushes, at least...

Marc-- [Steven rushes up to meet his chest, catching him before he walks into a glass door, slipping his arms low around Marc's back. No, he doesn't think it's a good idea for Marc to be going anywhere. Not like this. He doesn't want Marc starting a drunken brawl with anyone on their first day here.]

How about we go back to the room? [Steven's already walking the both of them that way. He's surprised he can hold Marc up as well as he does - he doesn't always know his own strength.] We've had a tiring-- getting murdered. You can get some rest and I'll bring some toiletries back, okay?

[He will also bring back a half-empty bottle of whiskey, because Steven is a lot weaker than Marc says he is. And a few slices of pizza, make sure he eats. And there'll be books when he does find the library. But he doesn't really want to go exploring much beyond that without Marc - sober, thank you!]

TEST DRIVE MEME #3

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