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

fashion is their passion!!

[gapmoe]

[ perhaps it's the... well. everything of the situation leaving ingo's one car formation not as firmly attached to the tracks as it would normally be. he's deep in thought, considering the least awful options for not soaking his uniform with sweat, if there should be sweltering weather on the horizon.

so deep in thought, in fact— staring at a rack of clothing with impressible intensity .—that he's visibly startled when this gentleman approaches, carrying clothes that are more in line with what ingo might wear at home.

a little dumbly, he blinks at first, owlish. then, the cogs and wheels resume turning. ]

Ah, thank you so much, good sir! To tell the truth, I was beginning to lose hope...

[ with those words of thanks, ingo accepts the offered hangers, looking over these simpler shirts with a far less evident degree of distress. though despite that he sounds genuinely thankful... the frown on his face isn't giving way to even the slightest hint of a smile. ]

\o/ (also shhh dont mind that i forgot im crau-ing this guy)

[goodweather]

[ Phil smiles, though he notes the odd demeanor. Did he do something...? No, but the man thanked him and everything, so... ah, well. He supposes some people are just very stern, and he can't imagine that being dropped suddenly in the middle of a weird ghost cruise is easy on anyone's brain. That's fine. ]

Took a while to find them, I'll admit, but this place is way bigger than it looks. [ It's kind of scary...? ] And I couldn't stand to not help out someone who seemed to be running into the same issues as I was. Uh, if those aren't your size, I can go back and look for ones that are.

[ (As he says "go back and look," Phil turns briefly as he gestures behind himself, and there's a flash of brown feathers--stuck right below his shoulderblades is a real as hell pair of owl wings, kept pressed against his back.)

As for the shirt sizes, they may not be. This dude is tall, but Phil is pretty broad-shouldered, and he doesn't super get the feeling that it's the same for him. ]

no worries!!! ingo is too polite to comment on the wings so it checks out anyhow \o/

[gapmoe]

[ pls pretend my tag wasn't littered with embarrassing typos if only his face was more... cooperative. though the wish to return this gentleman's smile is there, experience has taught ingo that it doesn't necessarily translate to action.

so, he tries to compensate with an extra helping of enthustiasm, hanging both shirts on one finger so he can get his coat out of the way to estimate the fit. ]

That is most kind of you, sir! However, I would— [ catching sight of the wings gives him pause, because that is not something he's ever seen before. like those of a noctowl, yet attached to a human. even if he catches himself fairly quickly to avoid being rude about a feature that may be perfectly normal to his current company, once again sporting that owlish stare in combination with the notable pause might give him away.

he clears his throat. ] That is to say, I would not wish to impose further on you, especially in a place of such bizarre dimensions. Perhaps you might be willing to show me where that section is?

[ indeed, ingo happens to be on the thin side, with fairly narrow shoulders. his coat is spacious enough to lend credence to the notion that he's wider than he actually is, but as soon as he shrugs out of it and drapes the garment over his arm, it becomes clear that he's very twinky slender. even before he holds up a shirt to his frame, it's looking like it might be a little baggy on him.

maybe comedically so. he just figured the least he could do was check to make sure. ]

[goodweather]

[ Wow, this guy is built like a pole, he thinks. And really, really polite. And… loud. ]

No, no, no, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll get them. I can come back and find you no problem.

[ You know, with the owl homing instinct or whatever that they totally have. (They don’t.) Either way, he’s not gonna send this dude into the Tommy Bahama depths when he’s more than happy to plumb them himself. And Phil didn’t tell him where, which means he can’t refuse, so ha! Uh, unless he decides to follow behind anyway.

Besides, it wasn’t really one section of lower-volume shirt patterns. Phil had to hunt like a damn scavenger, picking off one here and there wherever he could find one. ]

You can just sit tight. I won’t be long.

[ And if this stranger has nothing more to say, he’ll turn right around and dive back into into vacation-wear hell. ]

[gapmoe]

[ oh, such kind intentions... but unfortunately, ingo is hardwired to be Helpful and Proper, so that means as follows: while he ends up falling behind because of these less awful shirts was slipping off its hanger and he needed to right it, he does come following behind his benefactor soon enough, needing to jog a little. and it's kind of really obvious that he keeps glancing curiously at the wings.

but, you know. the least he can do for the (non-existent????) employees is to put these back where they belong! ]

While I am certainly grateful, I must insist on coming along to return these garments whence they came!

[goodweather]

Ah--no, really, it's fine.

[ It's kind of a weak argument against, in part because this stranger seems to be the helpfully stubborn type--and because despite all casual appearances, Phil is sort of running at least a little bit on fumes right now, so he's not got the energy to really refuse. Who could blame him? He just got dropped into a ghost cruise ship with a dizzying Tommy Bahama. This is the definition of hell.

(Not to mention he's still got these stupid wings. And this guy is not subtle about the fact that he's staring, for as quiet as he's being about it.)

But even though he's journeying pretty much back the way he came, none of the store is looking familiar, so... this might be complicated. ]

Er. Hmm.

[ He puts a thoughtful hand to his chin. If they can't find anything, Ingo might have to go with oversized button downs for a while. ]

You know what, I could have sworn I'd found this right over there.

[gapmoe]

[ while this gentleman is, understandably, lost in thought... well, ingo is also a bit lost in thought from trying to: 1) make even the slightest bit of sense out of a swirl of eye-searing colors, 2) stave off the sensory overload headache he can feel is on the verge of blooming behind his eyes, and 3) not stare quite so much at the wings.

all this translates into a mild collision during which he walks right into the back of his would-be savior, and lets out a startled (and embarrassed) yelp as a result. ]

M-my apologies, sir!

[ he fumbles with the button-downs on their hangers, very awkwardly. try as he might, trying to turn his embarrassment-related aversion to eye contact into something akin to productivity isn't helping him spot anywhere to put them back. ]

Erm— well. At any rate, I think it would be difficult for anyone to navigate in here... perhaps I should simply take these.

[ so they can ride the next express line out of here. it's a nightmare. ]

[goodweather]

Oof. [ He doesn't yelp. Phil's not a yelper, he's a grumbler and a complainer and a harrumpher, which are all things he considers doing as he feels the feathers between his shoulder blades shift out of place. That's not very fair to the other guy, though, so he just turns a bit to the side instead. He gives Ingo an inquiring look. ]

Are you sure? I'd hate for you to have to settle.

[ Even as he says that, he's growing all the more unsure. Yeah, no, this definitely didn't look like this before. Even his acute hunter vision is failing him. It's all just tropical Kool-Aid colors as far as the eye can see.

There isn't a part of this ship that isn't some kind of pain in the ass, huh? ]

[gapmoe]

[ the look ingo offers in turn is... well, it's still stuck in that stern manner, as if made more of stone than of flesh and blood. however, there is this slight, vague edge of worry in his eyes as he shakes his head. ]

I cannot in good conscience keep you in here any longer, sir. [ it'd be hard to miss how unsure his company is growing, and the feeling is mutual. ] You've already extended a kind gesture my way... and clothing size is not so vital an issue that it warrants becoming lost.

[ there isn't any food or water, for starters. getting lost in here might be very dangerous. ]

[goodweather]

[ Alright. Alright, yeah, if the other guy is insisting and Phil is about to spend another hour and a half looking for a mostly-white shirt in the right size, they may as well turn around. ]

… I’ll come back later. Let’s bail. You know the way back?

[ It’ll probably be fine even if he doesn’t. The store goes in pretty much a straight line, right? ]

[gapmoe]

[ yes, this might be... a little much to deal with, coming in unprepared. ingo takes on a thoughtful look, humming as he considers the route they took to get here with one hand curled against his chin.

navigation, that he can handle. ]

I think we can solve this conundrum well enough.

[ he's just going to... gently hang these shirts among some clothing they clash the least with. then use a particularly horrid dress he remembers spotting on the way here as a marker to start heading back, motioning for his company to follow. ]

Would it be acceptable if I were to accompany you at later point, sir? [ you know, for an earnest attempt to locate those shirts in the right size. he can't let a poor man be subjected to this nightmare alone. ] My name is Ingo, and I can be found in cabin 138, for reference.

[goodweather]

[ To be honest, Phil was thinking about making the trip by himself and just dropping off a couple at Ingo's door as a surprise delivery, but if the guy wants to come along, that's fine too. It's probably better that he's there to look at them himself anyway. ]

Of course. It's your shirts, right?

[ He'd offer a hand, but they're a bit in single file at the moment. ] Hey, we're neighbors! I'm Phil. Phil Connors. Nice to meet you. Guess if you need me you can knock on cabin 137, but you might have to get through my roommate first, one Mrs. Lutece. Bit of a severe woman, but you shouldn't have any trouble.