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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

2B. [Any Location] How do vacation; can you eat it?

One minute, César had been at work, doing things that made his heart sick. The next, he woke up in a room that wasn't his own. He read the note, bewildered. Bewilderment is joined by alarm when he can only go to the muster drill, during it, and after.

But he hides that by being quiet, expression only mildly worried. He watches the other people react normally. César knew this sort of thing is possible; it's not a worry. Instead, he worries about all the things left undone back home.

Ten minutes later, César regains his resolve, face set and determined as he begins a brisk walk. He doesn't know what's going on. So his first order of business is to memorize the layout of the ship and learn what else he can.

... Unfortunately, as careful as he tries to be while looking around and walking quickly, it's quite possible he might accidentally bump into someone at any point in the ship. Or, well, appear suspicious. It's not his fault he looks good in a goatee and quiff, all right?

2B. [Atrium] This, clearly, was not how to vacation; whoops

César's grateful he kept up with the gym. But even with that, he's definitely spent the last several hours exploring the large ship from top to bottom. While forgetting to do important things like drink water or eat anything, such was his hyper-focus. Such was his hyper-focus back on Earth, too, as he had drunk only coffee and water.

Several mistakes were made.

He'd be laughing at himself if he wasn't just dizzy and fatigue enough that flopping onto a comfortable seat in the atrium is about all he can muster. Right. All his physical cues to eat and drink were left at home.

César isn't the type to ask for help, but he's clearly not feeling too hot right now. Not badly so, but enough that someone could help him recover a bit faster before taking care of things himself.

3. [Library] Who gets in trouble if the library itself is loud?

Still not sure what to do about this, César decides to unload the problem onto his subconscious self. Which means distracting his conscious self. Books are a good distraction, especially since it's been forever since he's read one.

And it'll be a while longer, because the moment he reaches for an interesting sounding title, another flies from the shelf takes aim for his head. It misses because of the bad angle. The second book that flies off gets him right in the shoulder.

César dives behind a solid looking chair, peeks out from behind it, and then ducks back down when another book takes aim for his head.

Get Out.

César's eyes widen, his body stiffens. He even winces as another couple of books whizz by his chair. Yet, his voice is eerily calm. "Oh. This can't be good."

Also in the process of exploring, Watson strolls through the atrium in a cautious way. This is all very impressive, or it would be if it wasn't also very unsettling. So in that way, it's good to run into a fellow passenger, someone who seems remarkably real and normal, but on the other hand, he is, among other things, a doctor.

"Here, now," he says, stepping close, "you don't look at all well. I'm a doctor, you can tell me all about it."

Despite looking a bit poorly, César manages a light smile as he lifts his head up. "Well, Doctor. After several hours of a brisk walk, I've realized I neglected hydration during as well as nutrition before and during it. The fault is mine."

A nostalgic and entirely unprofessional smirk flashes across his face before Watson contrives to hide it behind hand and moustache. It's been a while since he's had this conversation, and it usually didn't go quite this smoothly.
"Well, at least you admit it. Can you stand? We should be able to find some place to get you sorted."

Watson switches his cane to the other arm so he can offer a hand. "My name is Watson, by the way."

César's amusement grows a bit more at the smirk; it's funny, he'll admit, and he's more practical for these sorts of things. "Mine is César. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He'll take the hand and shake it, making a note of the cane. "Standing and walking I can do, slowly. Deciding on where to go? ... Perhaps eventually. I'd greatly appreciate the help."

"I admit I'm not at all certain of where anything here is, but I believe I saw a little shop back there which may have something to eat."

He gives César an assessing look, just in case he's overestimating his ability. Satisfied, he steps to one side to give him room. "If you'll allow me to accompany you, we can see about sorting you out. César... That's Spanish, if I recall correctly?"

"Sí!" César chuckles, easily amused by himself..

He stands slowly, using the chair's arm to make sure he's steady. "I'll be happy for your company and the help. ... and you're right. There's a shop about 31.3 meters that way. Watson is English, I believe?"

"Anglo-Scottish, actually," Watson corrects with a smile, "but as I'm sure my accent is more conventionally London, I should say that's close enough."

He blinks at César's... incredibly precise measurement, though. "You must have a very good eye to judge that distance so precisely."

"Ah, I did base it off your accent." He gives a jokingly guilty smile, then actually looks a bit embarrassed as he starts to walk. "... I'm dizzy enough to forget I should estimate. I was getting an idea of how the ship's put together."

Oh, just an idea. You know.

"Should estimate? Nonsense, you merely surprised me. That's quite impressive, actually, that you have that good an eye."

Watson is watching him walk carefully, for the first sign of needing to be caught from falling, but he keeps up his gentle patter all the same. "Or is it a small trick, and were you measuring it before I arrived? I'll still applaud your thoroughness."

"Ha ha!" Yes, he just laughed exactly like that. "No, I meant that estimation means fewer strange looks. No trick: using a tape measure would've gotten noticed by everyone. But thank you."

Be Normal is hard when he's not fed and hydrated. He'll have to be more careful. This isn't Providence, but slipping back into his eccentricities will cause problems when he returns.

Watson smiles. "I think you ought to be proud of it, in all honesty," he says. "You remind me of a dear friend, actually. He had a similar way of knowing things you wouldn't expect him to know, though not measurements, exactly." He makes a rueful face, and adds, "And a similar way of forgetting to eat and drink when he was caught up in something. You have that in common, if nothing else."

Fortunately, 31.3 metres is not very far at all. A lot of the shop's contents are unfamiliar to Watson, but he casts his eye over the stock and spies a display of snacks and drinks. "Here we are. Now, we should find you some water and something simple."

César lets Watson see his genuine surprise, and its transition into a more relaxed smile. Even if he's rubbing the back of his neck in some embarrassment at the rueful smile that warms his heart more than he ought to allow. He really, really should keep himself under wraps, but he been seen. It's been over eight months since someone's noticed him like this, not since his parents—

"Well, at least you're used to dealing with people like us." Said with a chuckle that he hopes hides any deeper meaning Watson may try to find; it's easy to ignore how dizzy and almost nauseous he feels while talking with him. "Ah, a bottle of water and something like a granola bar would work to start. Then I could get some proper coffee and food."

"I am sadly resigned to it being my lot in life," Watson says, in tones that suggest neither resignation or sadness. He picks up a bag of potato chips and regards it with some scepticism before putting it back. Fried potatoes doesn't strike him as the sort of thing that might be any good in a cold, prepackaged bag. "Ah, here's some mixed nuts. How would that suit you? I think the best thing would be to sit and let you eat for a moment before we go in search of something more substantial."

"'Fate leads the willing and drags along the reluctant'; Seneca the Younger, a Roman philosopher." César can tell that Watson isn't really that resigned, and that's how he's calling him on it. "Mixed nuts will work well enough." He feels he's a little nutty, anyway. "And here's some water...."

It's so much easier to not think about how awful he feels the second he has someone to talk to. That's always fascinated him, honestly. Gaining energy from simply being in the presence of another.

Watson chuckles, despite himself. "I admit you have me there. Let us say that I know my strengths. Come, we should find a place for you to sit and eat before we go looking for a restaurant."

He glances warily at the ghostly clerk behind the register, not at all certain how this is meant to work.

Is César squishing the water bottle a bit? Why, yes, he is. Just not enough to make the water bottle leak or anything.

He puts his stuff on the counter and then... waits. The ghost doesn't ring up the items. César pulls out his wallet and looks for some money, because he doubts his cards work. "Ah... this should be enough?"

He puts down a $5 bill. The ghost doesn't take it. César glances to Watson and shrugs, then takes his items up again. That seems to be okay? No poltergeist activity?

"I think that we're good?" César's head already hurts enough, so he's just.. going to walk towards the exit.

"Deucedly odd," Watson murmurs, but he's not about to argue with the results.

The sound of the water bottle squishing causes him to glance down, and he frowns a bit, because it's dawned on him that he has absolutely no idea what the bottle is made of. Frankly, there's a lot going on right now that he's not sure what it even is, and this is just one more thing in a long line of really strange things that is currently in process. "I thought that was glass, at first," he says, and shakes his head. "Later. Let's find you a place to sit."

Casually, he takes César by the elbow and steers him in the right direction.

César's brow goes up slightly at that little murmur, having not heard something quite like that before (an oddity of itself).

That comment about being glass completely deletes their current task from his mind. You know. Needing food and water?

"Wait, you don't know what this is made out of? Plastic?" Thankfully, this distraction means he's imminently pliable to being led by the elbow, because his mind is now exploding with questions.

He's seen time travel work; he knows it's possible. The man seems to be dressed more old-fashioned and used some English that sounded... old? Wait. Wait a second.

"What year are you from? I'm from 2013."

"Is that what you call it, then?"

He's trying very much not to be distracted, because excuse you he has a patient here, but he does pause at being asked what year he's from. It's a very odd question, after all, the sort of thing out of a particularly fantastic yellow-backed novel, and the implications are a bit staggering.

"It was 1892," he says, without ceasing his attempt to steer César. There's some seating just a ways away, and that should do. "I admit that we might all be from different years had not occurred to me."

"Yes, although that's the conventional name. There's a lot of different types of plastic..."

And that gets deleted from his brain, because Watson just said something mind-boggling fantastical. "1892? I suspected that whomever brought us here might be capable of time-travel, but it's amazing to hear my hypothesis might have actual merit. You're really from 1892?"

Thankfully, César is so distracted by this that he's not only forgotten he's supposed to be feeling terrible but he's so easily led that Watson could lead him into a wall, and he wouldn't stop in time.

"I am. And... 2013, good heavens."

Fortunately, Watson would never lead him into a wall, at least not on purpose. And he does have the gift of being single-minded when it suits him to be. "Here, sit down, try the water before you faint entirely away. Quite frankly, so much here is so strange to me that it hadn't occurred to me that it might not be equally strange for everyone else."

"A lot has changed in over a century. You'd be surprised by how much." Then, his brain processes what their original task is. "Water? ... oh. Oh, riiiiight." He sits, because wow, he forgot he really doesn't feel that good.

The best way to keep himself from getting distracted further is to twist the cap off and starts chugging the water. He's, ah, experienced with water chugging. Look at him go.

"Careful, don't make yourself sick."

Watson's mouth twists in a thoughtful expression. "Given the advances of the past hundred years, I can only imagine that the century to come would bring even more drastic changes. I trust that medical advancement hasn't meant that regular food and drink isn't poor advice, at least." He gives a brief smile. "How... how normal does this place seem to you?"

"Don't worry, I do this all the time," As in, César has to tank water whenever he remembers it; this is said when he pauses for a moment to catch his breath.

It also gives him time to consider that question. "... to be entirely honest, this is less technologically advanced than where I work now. It's perfectly normal if you get rid of the 'ghosts'." At least he looks sympathetic? "If you think this is advanced, wait until I pull out my phone."

César Salazar | Generator Rex | OTA

2b

2B or not 2B: blah blah blah NieR?

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César, you are giving ME anxiety lmfao

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