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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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A wistful sort of sad-happiness, but he's mostly amused for the moment.
"I haven't seen him truly angry since he was a boy, though. We'll have to see if he still stomps around." Did he stomp around or is that bullshitting? It's César's big brotherly duty to never tell.
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Watson prefers not to think of his own brother. No love lost, there.
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If only he really could look forward to seeing his brother anymore. If only things were still happy back home. But this is a nice, normal dream to talk about.
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"You sound close to your brother," he observes. "There's a good deal of love for him in your words."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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."
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"Well, do take care then," he says, amiably. "It was a pleasure, César. I hope we speak again soon."
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"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."
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He raises his eyebrows meaningfully but he's still smiling.
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Is César joking or not? The world may never know. He's certainly not telling.
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"I suppose that I could, at that."
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He's joking. Mostly.
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And he turns to walk away, chuckling, and swinging his stick in a cheery way.
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... He'd better get some sleep. Watson is the type to remember to sincerely get him for tea.