sail_ooc | TEST DRIVE MEME #1

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TEST DRIVE MEME #1

1. now it's fun to wake up in a strange chateau

[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 Passenger(s),

As your cruise director, it is my great honor to welcome you aboard the Serena Eterna, your destination for fun and adventure! We know you could have chosen any cruise line for your vacation, and we're very grateful you chose ours! On behalf of the Captain, I would like to assure each and every passenger that will we do whatever it takes to fulfill all your needs and desires during your journey with us.

At your earliest possible convenience, please attend the mandatory lifeboat drill by the end of the day. I'm sure everyone is very eager to get started on all the fun and sun, but safety always comes first! You can find your life jacket in your cabin's closet; carry it to your assigned muster station on deck one, where I will take you through the drill. If you can't find me in the crowd, just look for the gal with the winning smile!

See You Real Soon!

Sincerely,
Gal Friday

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 someone in uniform near the front of the crowd. she seems to be a gal, but is missing the winning smile, along with most of her other features. she seems to see you, though, rushing to your side and placing a lei around your neck with great formality. a voice, cheery but artificial, sees to come from nowhere and everywhere.]

Welcome aboard! We're so glad to have you!

[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.]

2. messing with my mind was fun at the time

[freshly lei'd, your legs are forced to lead out onto the deck and towards your muster station. the same woman is there, carrying a clipboard. this time, she introduces herself as Gal Friday, the cruise director, before immediately going into the muster drill spiel. it is very boring, and you are not allowed to move, except when you are required to show you know how to put your life vest on. you could try to not do this, but Friday will move to stand in front of you very closely and just. look in your direction until such a time that you decide to do it. and I'm sure your fellow passengers want you to just get on with it, too.

but, once it ends? she reiterates her desire to welcome you aboard. and, then, you're free.

well, free to move about the ship at your own leisure, of course. which is a kind of free, and probably the best one you can hope for. you could try to escape, maybe, if you have the means to; Friday certainly won't be one to stop you. that's what the barrier is for, after all.

but, wouldn't you much rather have fun?

the buffet is full. the pool is open. the casino jingles and chimes.

welcome aboard.]

3. lots of mystery in the history of the devils I knew

[you were never alone.

a few days have passed since you first arrived on the Serena Eterna. perhaps you've made yourself a little routine, and settled in a bit. or maybe you haven't done that at all. either way, you're here, and it looks like somebody is pretty pissed off about it.

it starts small. sometimes nearby plates skid off tables, or a pool chair upends while you're walking next to it. and sometimes that chair is aimed right at your head. objects are moving with quickly increasing frequency, and a wide variety of styles: some are dropped, or pushed, and others and others are tossed, but a few of the items are thrown, with great force and odd accuracy. if Friday is around during the lighter moments, she simply titters and cleans up whatever mess is made. if a pot of soup sails off the buffet line and nearly drenches you in boiling minestrone, she simply walks away.

and then there's the voices. hundreds, maybe thousands, calling out. not all are intelligible English, but you seem to understand them anyway. some sound scared, or angry. some are screams, others whispers. some sound entirely strange, while others are achingly familiar. and they're all saying the same exact thing:

Get Out.]

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Not bad. Fought a big ghost, found a apathea.

[ He can tell. He can tell that Flynn is getting pissed off at him. He wants him to be. He wants Flynn to crack, so he keeps his voice as careless as possible, a low, bored drawl ]

These ghosts are nothing on that.

The first crack in his cheerful facade about Rex appears, if only for an instant before César can spackle over that flash of painful sadness.

He shouldn't say it, he shouldn't tell him at all. Mierda. César is cursing this moment if weakness in which he doesn't entirely hide the truth. The man's smile is wistful, happy and sad simultaneously.

"I wish that were true. We were close, but he got amnesia and we were... separated for a time. But I still love him with all of my heart. He's growing up to be a fine young man, and I'm very proud of him."

No matter what happens, César's love for his brother will always be simply unconditional and absolute.

[Like Yuri, Lucy believes herself to be in some sort of afterlife, except she knows for a fact that she's dead. She's not exactly happy to be "alive again," though. She sort of hoped that death would be the eternal sleep that some people theorized about and then she wouldn't have to think anymore, or that her spirit could watch over Kouta, her lost love. Instead, she ended up on a fucking cruise of all things.

Still... It didn't seem like there was any way to escape and honestly - it's not like she had anything better to do anymore, so Lucy begrudgingly accepted her new life on the ship. Since she had arrived wearing nothing but the long coat given to her by Kouta, she's also bought more comfortable clothes from the gift shop: Denim shorts, black sandals, and a yellow tank top with a large circle in the center that has an orange and red sunset inside it with some maroon-colored shadows of palm trees. They aren't really her style, but eh... It'll do for now.

She's walking around the pool deck, exploring the ship, and of course Yuri's drink just happens to fall as she's passing by him. She didn't knock it down, which is why she keeps walking until he yells. She stops, turns around, and narrows her eyes at him, not at all intimidated by the sword.]

Don't look at me, I didn't even brush against your drink. Put that sword down before you hurt yourself.

[That last part sounds more like a threat than a warning, and it is.]

Yuri, this is serious. It isn't just about the ghosts.

[ He's so close: there is snapping anger in his voice, barely-controlled, and his boots echo off the walls. ]

Why are there ghosts? What does that mean for this ship? What does it mean is going to happen to us? Think, for once, past the near future!

Ah. Watson gives a sympathetic smile, and offers a gentle touch on César's arm. "I'm sorry," he says. "For what it's worth, I hope that some day you're able to reconcile with him."

He hesitates a moment, debating whether or not to mention his own brother's sorry story. He doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to.

It's with obvious reluctance in his voice that he says, "My brother and I were never close. We never had what you did. You're already on firmer ground than we ever were."

And that's all you're getting on that topic.

Edited 2022-03-07 01:21 (UTC)

Why beat around the bush? Why not have it out here and now.

[ the way he lingers behind is telling, as though giving some sort of weight to the idea that he'd willingly throw down in a crowded casino, damn anyone else that might get caught in the middle of it. whether it's because he's itching for a bout with Zhongli or the fact that he really is just that mad to so casually disregard anyone else is uncertain. it's probably a mixture of both, honestly. ]

I don't see anything wrong with making this our battleground. Of course, if you're scared that you won't be able to go all-out like you want to, I understand. [ he'll take a few steps in Zhongli's direction, but doesn't really keep the goading from his tone. ] After all, it's probably been a couple thousand years for you, right? You must be pretty rusty.

Oh, it's a decently high possibility, yes. [Unless the ghosts only have it out for Yuri, indeed...] Fortunately, though, I consider myself to be a very strong swimmer! And I'll have the raft in hand by that point, theoretically, so I'm sure we'd be able to manage some form of miraculous castaway survival.

[Wouldn't that be such an exciting icebreaker?? Theoretically, of course. Jade does tend to drift on moderately talkative tangents sometimes, yes, though admittedly he's tapping more into it lately than he would normally, proportionate to the number of complete strangers he's bumped into over the course of exploring this ship. Talking's a quick and easy way to get an initial gauge of somebody, what can he say? Even theoretical tales of ocean-tossed adventure could turn up something...though the thought is just kind of amusing in general too. Imagine if that were the actual key to getting off this vessel after all! (Shame it isn't.)

Anyway though, Yuri's indicating the self-serve aspect of the cafe, and Jade's nodding in acknowledgment in turn, shifting his attention to the counter and starting over in that direction. True, his diction and the sharp lines of his uniform are probably pointing in some kind of affluent direction, but the prospect of making his own coffee doesn't seem to visibly bother him...yet...?]

Self-serve, hm? All of these shops do seem to have a pointed lack of actual shopkeepers. Let's see...

[Alas, the truth is that Jade does actually know how to make his own coffee, it being a skill picked up well before his adoption into the Curtiss family. Honestly, even nowadays he'd rather cook his own food in general too, though it's not like Yuri's assumption is completely off-track; most in Jade's equivalent status would normally leave such things to servants. But it's all just a branch of chemistry you can eat at the end of the day, you know? And doing it yourself's usually a surefire way to vet against potential poisonings too! You know, as you do.

All that to say: though the coffee machine is an odd shape and of interesting component material, the containers of available beans and grounds remain self-explanatory enough, and said machine doesn't seem impossible to figure out. There's a lapse in chatter as Jade canvasses the counter, and starts reaching for the utensils to measure out said coffee, and--

Scattered whispers, low and resentful, here and yet not. A measuring cup slides just out of hand's reach. Assorted spoons scoot haphazardly across the countertop.

Back turned to Yuri, though, and small as the disturbances are, the clattering might be easy to mistake for Jade himself fumbling with things from a distance. Jade's initial reaction is a thoughtful sort of noise, too, which does nothing to help the illusion of coffee-making-confusion he's now probably inadvertently creating anyway. No thanks to rude ghosts afoot...!]

...Hm...

He pauses, himself, and then gives Murderbot a more considered glance. Still nothing remotely like eye contact, but there's more direct examination there. Then a little of the tension in his shoulders goes out. It's only ever humans who hurt him and forced him to kill for them. And if this person is like he is... well. He's okay with knowing someone like that.

"Huh," he says. "Okay."

That doesn't leave much for Murderbot to say, does it. Sorry, Murderbot. At least he doesn't sound disbelieving, just thoughtful.

It is so very strange to see a human relax at learning it's with a non-human. Murderbot lets silence hang for a moment. And that's awkward, but perhaps more comfortable than filling the air immediately with questions.

It offers a couple answers, instead. "I'm a SecUnit. A security construct." Beat. "I'm a cyborg created to protect assets owned by a corporation."

A SecUnit. Security Unit, probably, is what that stands for. Which means wherever this guy comes from, they probably have more than one. Weird. That has to be a very different experience from being the only one. (Well, only one besides the stupid former target, anyway.) He's not sure if that would be better or worse.

"We don't have people like you where I come from. We just have me. I'm the only cyborg I know of, there." He shrugs a little. "They called me the asset."

“Is ‘asset’ what you would like to continue to be called?”

It leaves names outside of the conversation entirely, because of course it does. No one here is going to hear the name Murderbot if it can help it. But SecUnit, that’s acceptable. And it’s used the alias Rin with a few people (taken, of course, from Sanctuary Moon).

"Not really." He looks down at the admission, shoulders hunching up some, like he expects someone to hit him for making it. He's not supposed to have opinions. He knows HYDRA isn't here, but that doesn't mean the feeling goes away.

He finishes, "But I don't have anything else." Shut up, stupid former target. He doesn't know if he wants that name.

“Ah.”

It pauses, and then decides it isn’t going to solve the problem for him, not without being asked, but it will offer a little insight. “Whatever you let people call you doesn’t need to be your name. If you pick something, or let someone else pick something, that doesn’t make that label who you actually are.”

What does it say about his emotional state that such a small touch brings so much comfort? He doesn't know this man. It's impossible to tell if he can be trusted.

At least the touch prevents César from reacting more strongly in the next moment. César's eyes only widen slightly at the word 'reconcile'—had he given him some sort of clue? He forces his brows to not knit together, listening quietly to the rest. No. No, it was just a projection, likely, considering what Watson says next. Perhaps he shouldn't mention Rex, even though that'd mean no one would be looking for Rex besides himself.

Firmer ground. A funny thought, that.

"I'm sorry you didn't. Those memories are my strength." He's saying too much, too much, but he can't stop the impulsive need for any connection at all. "... but why did you chose the word 'reconcile'?"

César is doing his best to keep his body language open, but there's a slight shift in his shoulders. He has to see if he gave clues that he needs to avoid next time. Watson seems a kind enough fellow that he's unlikely to be some sort of spy for Black Knight. The gentle people save himself left Providence long ago.

I'm talking from experience, you know. At least on the island I could sort of see what I was dealing with.

[The words could come off a little defensive, but the way the traveler brightens up to see the oni is clear as day. So many people he knows... what more could he ask for?

(He knows what more, but he's not inviting that misery into his life right now. There are more important things.)

His brows furrow with not-quite-suspicion at the presentation of candies. If Paimon was here, he's sure she would have already have grabbed half of them as some kind of fee...]

Where did you even get all those? I haven't seen anything like most of them before.

Watson blinks. "Why should I not? I cannot tell if you and your brother might be reunited, as I know very little about this place and what it might hold for us, but also I know that there is tragedy in being parted from your loved ones, whatever the reason."

"... oh!" César chuckles at himself. "That's what you meant."

Oh thank God. He was really worried for a moment that he had given things away. César stops walking for a moment and pulls out his phone. A bit of going through it before he holds it up for Watson to see.

It's a picture of him and Rex when they went to Mexico, and an old building wall is behind them. César has his arm around Rex's shoulders and doesn't have a beard. Both are smiling, and the smiles are achingly similar.

"We visited a family friend about seven months back. This is a picture of us on the trip. Will you keep a look out for him? He can take care of himself pretty well, but he has a tendency to... react instead of think."

Rex could accidentally sink the ship. He's not going to mention that, though.

[In a conversation like this, either one person manages to out-stubborn the other, or they end up in a stalemate. Since both of them are too stubborn to simply give in, it's of course the latter.

Maybe, after a few more days--for the situation to really sink in, to realize that they are kind of in this together, that there are weird forces at work that she can't explain--Rita will start to come around. Maybe. (Or she could just dig in even more stubbornly, particularly about the ghosts.)

For now, she shoots Clarke a dubious look, because so far it doesn't really sound like Clarke actually plans to wait around to find out--and neither does Rita, but that doesn't automatically mean they can trust each other right away--but she still automatically retorts-]

Wait all you want. I'm finding a way back before that happens.

What a very peculiar reaction. Watson notes it, and resolves to remember it. It might be nothing, but sometimes trifles are important.

He looks at the picture, struck by how different it is from the photographs he knows: the colour, the broad smiles, the casual nature of it. "You look very similar," he observes. "Yes, I'll watch for him." As distant a chance that seems.

What--what the hell do mean, locked away?! You're saying the Adephagos has just...been there the entire time?! The ancients didn't actually get rid of it?!

[What the hell was the point of sacrificing all those Children of the Full Moon, then? And about Estelle supposedly causing calamity--the calamity was already there.]

Oh, those idiots... And how the hell could Alexei have been so stupid?! He went and screwed everything up, and now we have to clean up his stupid mess!

[Yeah, she's not quite done insulting Alexei, sorry Flynn. But she's probably got it out of her system...for now.]

Hey, you said the Adephagos was...in the sky or something, right? The record we saw in Myorzo showed this...giant creature, like, eating the whole planet, and it just...didn't seem like something of that scale could be real.

[And she knows ancient murals and reliefs aren't always meant to be taken literally, but if this one was accurate...]

No! Don't note it! It means absolutely nothing at all, honest!

"It's still surprising how much alike we look now." How things change when it comes to technology, eh? "Thank you. I appreciate it. Rex isn't the type of person who likes being alone."

He puts his phone away and gestures down the hall. "Ah, I think I see my door."

He's going to mention it in his diary, César. His diary is very exact, if only because it's often case notes. It will be remembered.

"Well, do take care then," he says, amiably. "It was a pleasure, César. I hope we speak again soon."

No, that's even worse than a journal! Why?!

"Indeed, it was most pleasant experience of dehydration and hunger I've ever had," César jokes. "But I'll take steps to prevent it from happening again."

When he come to his door, he offers Watson his hand. "Thank you again, Doctor Watson."

Watson shakes his hand gladly. "Any time at all, my boy. Now, go rest up. I insist upon it."

He raises his eyebrows meaningfully but he's still smiling.

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TEST DRIVE MEME #1

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