TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[sailmods]

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.]

Comments

Bucky Barnes | MCU | OTA

[worthallthis]

I. Strange Chateau

It takes him an hour or two to actually poke his head out of the tiny room, because what the hell, what the fuck, is this some HYDRA trick or is he hallucinating or did someone kidnap him from his tiny closet of a hideout, and if so, why? And why the weird note?

If you go knocking on doors, you might find him wedged into a corner of his room with a gun in one hand and the other curled into a metal fist, glaring warily at the door.

When he does finally go out, he tries to start looking around before answering the summons, but he doesn't move. So that's another half hour of just standing there, confused and angry, and increasingly terrified. A little help here maybe?


III. Devils I Knew

Routines are dangerous. He spends most of his time lurking, not trusting anything or anyone, trying to be in unexpected places where he can get the best view of whatever is happening in a given space with as few people as possible able to watch him.

The first time something launches at his head, he blocks it with a metal arm, and the plate shatters all over the floor in front of him. He stares at it in consternation.

When an apple rolls off the table as he's passing, he catches it, and looks between it and the table with a confused little frown.

When he starts hearing voices, he's pretty sure he really is hallucinating this time, but he can't help himself from trying to find them. So he's following whispers and flinching away from shouts, poking his head into various rooms-- not personal cabins, more like maintenance closets and shop doors. At least not at first, not until one of the warning voices sounds like the stupid former target and he can't not check to make sure he's not really there.

Sorry, if that's your room.

Devils I Knew

[businessorlibation]

Johnny's in his room with an evening cup of espresso from the promenade and a book from the sundries shop (some fluff romance novel) when the man who was once Bucky Barnes barges into the room. And immediately, he reaches for the revolver that's always under the pillow on the side of the bed he doesn't sleep on.

"Get out, we're not doing this tonight."

[worthallthis]

The gun comes out of his own holster to train on Johnny, right back. Maybe even before Johnny gets his gun in place.

But he looks more alarmed and afraid than actually aggressive, and though his metal hand is steady, his eyes are flickering around, like he's looking for something.

[businessorlibation]

"It's not very decent of a fellow to go bursting into people's rooms, pulling a gun on them."

He can't help but notice how different that gun looks from his very-early-1900s revolver, though. And while he's clearly handled his weapon before (no innuendo intended), he's less sure of himself than the asset is. He doesn't do this on a daily basis; it's probably just carried for protection, perhaps even intimidation more than actual fights.

[worthallthis]

"You pulled the gun first," he says, voice flat but a little distracted. It's not his fault Johnny is just slower on the draw than his unwanted visitor.

Johnny is the only one in here. But he heard him. Heard him. "I heard someone in here," he says quietly.

[businessorlibation]

"There's no one in here but me." His voice is flat, and he doesn't lower his gun. "And I wasn't even reading aloud."

There's the tiniest of glances at his book and the sad realization that he lost his place when he cast it aside to grab the revolver. He'll have to figure out where he was again.

devils i knew.

[rumorradio]

That- sure is a man who just burst into the laundry room. And with that wild look, however composed he's trying to be, it's clear to see: this place is getting to him. Sakura stares for a moment, half-caught in the jolt from his sudden appearance, and then tries to recompose herself.

"... I doubt you're here to do your laundry. So... did you need something?" she asks coolly, hands in her lap as the current load tumbles, tumbles, tumbles on.

[worthallthis]

He stops at the sight of... no Alexander Pierce. Because that sure is the voice he'd just heard ordering him to get out. He wasn't sure whether he was jumping in out of panic to obey, or whether he was jumping in to pull a gun and blow his handler's brains out.

All there is, is a girl with her laundry. "I heard."

He stops, doesn't finish his sentence, looks around helplessly at the otherwise empty room. She didn't hear it, or she wouldn't be looking at him like that. So it's just not real. Right?

[rumorradio]

He heard... ah. The whispers.

"... I didn't hear yours just now. But I've heard some myself. My parents, sometimes. ... They aren't here." Her hands move, gripping the edge of the bench. "And neither is your voice. I promise."

How does she know? She sees glimpses of the sources, and they... maybe they were human once. But not anymore. And not in a long, long time.

[worthallthis]

He's not sure if he wants that to be true or not. If it's true, then he's-- safe. No handlers here. If it's not true, then at least he might understand this place a little better. And possibly have a target to hunt. If he can convince himself.

She promised, though. Which means she has some kind of evidence, right? "How do you know," he asks hoarsely. There isn't the tonal shift for a question, his voice entirely flat, but it's clearly intended to be one.

[rumorradio]

"I can see them- the ones talking, sometimes. Just barely, never quite in my line of sight- but they're there, and then they're gone. ... It must sound unbelievable, I'm sure."

( or it would, if not for the poltergeist tantrums since a few days into this rotten stay.

tsukasa would break things. he'd find smaller, lesser spirits, and want to see what makes them tick. she's used to spiritual outburst- but she had the security to know that tsukasa wouldn't harm her, at least. now that's gone. )

Strange Chateau

[conjobs]

By the time Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome is out of his room, John had already been to the safety briefing, and while he has no idea how he came on board, who else is on the boat, why he's here, how does he get off-- well. One look at someone just standing there in the hallway not-hyperventilating and not-panicking and Constantine's pretty sure that's how he's getting off.

A whiff of fresh sea air carries with it deep, rich undertones of freshly harvested fear. He might as well have DAMAGED GOODS tattooed on his forehead.

"'ello love." Is that a metal hand? Constantine's betting ten quid on PTSD. "You look lost."

[worthallthis]

That'll be the easiest ten quid you ever won, John. This bad boy can fit so much PTSD in him.

He doesn't quite look at John, but it's clear he keeps him in his sights. He struggles for a long moment between admitting weakness and maybe getting help, but finally he grates out, "I can't move."

[conjobs]

"Course you can. Come to me." Constantine keeps his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to snap his fingers or gesture like he would to a stray cat or dog. But he's looking fairly relaxed and non-threatening - and not even really trying, at that.

"I don't bite until the second date." But he would if Mr. PTSD asks nicely.

[worthallthis]

Constantine gets his first actual, intentional expression, and even then it's kind of subtle. But he can probably pick out a baffled annoyance from the set of his eyebrows and mouth. He's a weapon. He doesn't go on dates.

Then the annoyance slides out for a second, leaving just confusion, as he wonders where he learned that particular slang. If he doesn't go on dates, how does he know what one is?

But it only lasts a few heartbeats before he tries doing as instructed. For one step. If Constantine is standing in the direction of "deck one", then he takes that one step, then hastily attempts to step backwards again only to find that also doesn't work. If Constantine is not standing in the direction of deck one, all he does is stand there and make a frustrated little noise. "Are you doing this?" he demands.

[conjobs]

Well they can skip the date and just go straight to the heavy metal handjob if that's what Mr. PTSD prefers. Constantine's more of a punk rocker himself but he's already a freak in the streets; you can expect him to be the kinkiest fucker in the sheets.

He does happen to be standing between the weapon and Deck One so it seems the witchcraft is working.

"I am. I'm charming and irresistible and a real shite magnet that way. Now come on, love. Can't be standing there all day. "

Devils I Knew

[ofmarble]

While she has been known, on occasion, to bring back small presents from her travels for her favourite analyst, or for Clint's children, Natasha has never really been the souvenir type. It's one part temperament and one part practicality - that apparently innocent piece of branded plastic is a visible tie to time and place, potentially damning and always revealing.

Which is, of course, the entire reason she's in Bric A Brac - the souvenir shop is, at least in theory, a small map of where and when this strange and haunted ship has been.

She hears the door chime and lifts her head, a small smile on her lips and a greeting of, "Do you think anyone actually wears these?" on her tongue.

The smile doesn't slip when she sees Bucky, but her eyes do widen a fraction, and there's maybe something like regret in the faint tightening at the corners of eyes and mouth. She'd last glimpsed him five years ago and several years in the future, and if he's here in that strange, floating purgatory...

It doesn't mean they failed, but it's certainly a piece of evidence in the exact wrong direction.

[worthallthis]

Oh shit. Oh shit when did the Black Widow show up here.

There's a gun in his hand before he's even registered he probably shouldn't fire it. He's told himself he doesn't do that anymore.

But it's the Black Widow. She tried to shoot him in the face and garotte him five minutes later. ... justifiably. But still. He'll probably put it down in a second. Probably. Provided she doesn't do anything rash.

[ofmarble]

It isn't that she never does anything rash. For all her training and self-control, Natasha Romanoff is still a human being, and the one thing that unites all human beings is their capacity to occasionally make spectacularly stupid mistakes.

But having a gun pointed at her? That's not new ground. That's Tuesday, differing only in that she hadn't arranged or expected it.

She has a split second to decide how to react, to recognize that the gun's pointed, but she's not bleeding, and given what she knows his reaction time is like, that means that whatever this is, it's not like D.C. or Berlin. He may be willing to do her violence, but the outcome hasn't been decided yet.

So: room to de-escalate.

She sets down the shirt she'd been inspecting, and raises her hands, palms turned outward to show they're empty. It doesn't make her harmless, not with her Widow's Bite at her wrists, not with her training. It's still a declaration of intent.

"It's the hair, isn't it?" she says, conversational. "I didn't think it was that bad."

[worthallthis]

The hair. The hair is different. Did she decide to dye it right after the fight...?

She looks a little older. Thinner. What the hell.

The gun comes down and he stares at her, not with eye contact, but definitely at her face, brows coming together like he's trying to work something out. "What happened to you," he finally asks, voice hoarse and low.

[ofmarble]

I died sticks in her throat. It isn't something she's come to terms with quite yet. It was one thing to make the decision to sacrifice herself knowing it would mean Clint's survival, would mean that her family, her friends might be brought back from oblivion. It's an entirely different thing to have woken up with the memory of impact and the sound of bones breaking ringing in her ears.

That's going to take a while to process.

"It's been a rough couple of years," she says instead.

And not just for her. It didn't register immediately, not when it's been five years since his death and less than five hours since her own, but he doesn't look like he did when she'd glimpsed him on the battlefield in Wakanda. Less put together, less assured. Raw.

"For both of us, looks like. How long have you been here?"

Strange Chateau

[wotches]

There she is, sitting criss-cross applesauce on her bed, minding her own goddamned business while mending her leather jacket. Look. Her wardrobe is limited. She needs something a little more tropical to wear. She can't just conjure something out of mid-air. What kind of magical world do you think she's from anyway.

There's good news and bad news for the person formerly known as Bucky Barnes.

Good new for the Winter Soldier: she isn't expecting anyone to burst in which is the only reason he isn't hit immediately with a curse. Moody would have her arse in a sling for her lapse of constant vigilance.

Bad news for the Winter Soldier: her wand is in hand. It doesn't take her a second to recover from being startled to lobbing a leg-locker curse at him.

[worthallthis]

The good news for Tonks is: the former Winter Soldier has absolutely no experience with magic beyond whatever made it impossible to move, on his first day here, when he didn't immediately go for the security briefing. So he doesn't block, avoid, or otherwise break the curse. In fact, taken so by surprise, he topples over when his legs snap together like that.

The bad news for Tonks is: he is also the former goddamn Winter Soldier and he handles surprise threats like the professional he is. He can't unstick his legs, but he can roll into a kneeling position with his knees together and pull his gun on her, which he does. He's breathing hard, though, and looks more panicked than one might expect someone familiar with a simple and annoying curse to be.

What the hell is wrong with this place??

[wotches]

What they have here is a standoff. Sure, sure. It's not as dramatic as the Mexican-named one but it is still a standoff. It could prove incredibly dangerous to the both of them. He has a firearm, fireleg, something that shoots projectiles incredibly fast. She has her wand. It is a question of whether or not she can say a curse before he pulls the trigger.

He hasn't fired which may be a good sign. She's not going to lower her wand but she is going to speak. "Oi, Metal Arm. You mind telling me what you thought to accomplish by busting into my room?"

[worthallthis]

"Didn't know it was your room," he growls low, not lowering the gun but, as noted, not firing. He's not going to lower it until she lowers hers. "I heard. Inside." He heard the stupid former target, is who he heard, but this person won't know who that is. No one knows who that is.