come_sailaway | DECEMBER EVENT PART ONE: ALL IS CALM

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DECEMBER EVENT PART ONE: ALL IS CALM

early morning on the 23rd, Friday makes an announcement over the speaker system, cheerfully asking everyone who signed up for the excursion to gather in the atrium. when they arrive, they will find Friday, very seasonally dressed, who takes them down to the tender, which it appears she will be “driving” this time. during this particular trip, none of them lose consciousness, nor suffer any sort of physical aftereffects. however, it does feel like the trip takes about five hours of just. sitting in the tender in utter silence, with little light and still air. so maybe stop being little babies about the anesthesia???

when Friday opens the tender door for them, they find themselves stepping out into the lobby of a hotel - though, if they turn around, they’ll find there was no door at all, and any passengers they see after that will appear as if they are appearing out of the ether.

there is a clone Friday manning the front desk, and though, like the others, she isn’t much for conversation, she is very snappily dressed! she helpfully hands out keys to everyone who approaches her; they aren’t numbered, and are actually entirely physically indistinguishable from each other, but they seem to open up whatever room you want easily enough, and don’t seem to work for any others. weird. the dressers and closets in the rooms also contain suitably sized winter clothing, enough to last the few days they’ll spend there, and then some. weird.

once they’ve situated themselves, they’ll find that what lies before them is a realm much larger than others they’ve encountered; the land extends for miles in any direction, including upwards, though you’re more likely to hit a cliff before the hard barrier. there’s about a foot and a half of snow on the ground, and it continues to fall steadily. the forests lack all signs of life, but the foliage is rather attractive, as long as you don’t examine it too closely; coniferous trees are just easier.

all of the amenities are seemingly staffed by ghosts, though they give off even less of a presence than the ones aboard the ship do. there is also an industrial kitchen attached to one of the dining areas, though the meals served don’t seem to come from it, and it has a distinctly different feel than everything else around it, as if added in slapdash at the very last second.

there is one last oddity, however. every night, at about 2AM, the entire reality goes mute. voices don’t sound. snow doesn’t crunch under footsteps. even the winds are quiet. the effect ends at about 6AM. it’s probably fine.

happy holidays.

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He doesn't show up with bells on, but he does come festively dressed for the occasion. He also comes with a gift for Darcy (Fio and Ava got theirs the day before, at Fio's birthday), although for now that's just tucked in his pocket.

"Mmm. Smells good in here." Obviously, because it's a kitchen, but when you've been a skeleton for a century+ and haven't seen a kitchen in at least six months, the obvious is all you're gonna get! "Almost wish I could eat!"

"I almost wish you could eat too," Darcy confirms as she sets down a baking dish of potato gratin, smiling already to see him. Flicking the dish towel onto her shoulder, she sort of... tries to scope if he's going to go for a hug before she goes in for one herself.

"Thanks for coming, ehn?"

Not with her hands full, obviously! But when she goes in, that's his cue, and he returns the hug with a firm squeeze.

"Of course. Thank you for inviting me." It's less about the food and more about the people, after all; just because he can't eat doesn't mean he can't be here for Darcy.

He pulls away after a moment, scanning the rest of the space. "The last kitchen we had was... the camp's mess, right? Must be nice to have full run of a real kitchen."

Darcy stands up on her toes so she can make an attempt to give him un bise with her cheek to his cheekbone. She hasn't really kept up the practice- not when nobody else on the ship would get it- but it's Christmas and she'd feel weirder not doing it.

"Yeah, he didn't let us into the diner kitchen. Real cookware, real ingredients- I almost had to teach myself how to use a fucking knife again because I'm so out of practice. C'mere- you're sitting near me," there's no clear arrangements of names or any such, but she's Decreed it and so it must be so.

"And I have presents. Plural, because someone tells me your birthday is also coming up."

Skulduggery's European, so obviously this doesn't phase him in the slightest.

"You're in charge," he says as he dutifully heads to the indicated space. "And that someone was absolutely correct, although I haven't celebrated in a century..."

The kitchen access feels like more of a gift to the passengers than the murder-free vacation they've been given. If pressed, Skulduggery would probably put its entire existence down to Darcy's open interest in cooking.

"But plural presents for me? That's going to make my giving you just one rather embarrassing."

"No, I wasn't expecting to get anything, so getting me anything is better than I was expecting," she says matter-of-factly, in a tone that indicates she doesn't want arguments.

The rest of the presents she'll distribute over the course of the night, in accordance to when people show up and how busy she is. Neither of Skulduggery's are particularly big when she retrieves them from the pile, and she sets them both down in front of him.

"Joyeux Noel and happy birthday. I'm glad we ended up on the ship at the same time, ehn?"

"I accept those terms," he says. While she's grabbing his presents, he takes hers out of his pocket, offering it up when she sets his presents down.

"Ah, thank you, and a very merry Christmas in return. I'm not inclined to attribute it to fate, but it was uncommonly good luck that we wound up here together." Then he looks at the gifts. "I think this will make the first birthday present I've gotten in... at least five years."

Make it fifteen, and that's likely a whole lot closer.

Darcy accepts the gift with a glance towards the entrance- just to keep an eye out for arrivals- then to her phone to check the timer. Still a couple of minutes until she needs to get the next thing out of the oven. Her attention back to the gift, she starts trying to use her gnawed nails as best she can to tear the wrapping.

"Good luck, fate, God, coincidence, it doesn't really matter in the end, ehn?" her money is still mostly on coincidence with a few dollars on God just to be safe.

The first gift is a knife, bearing the words 'may all your wounds be mortal' on the blade. She's been holding onto this one for a bit, considering it arrived during one of their fights. The other is a little toy Bentley, just like his.

"I guess I can imagine not wanting to do birthdays when you get as old as you are. But they're sort of for other people anyway, no?"

Always bet a few bucks on black, just for the good soul's sake.

Skulduggery unwraps the knife first, leaving Darcy to get to her gift when she's ready. He of course talks while he does, because that's how he handles gift exchanges. Talk your way straight through them so nobody knows how embarrassing you really are.

"The other people up until this year also were in their hundreds. We all unconsciously decide at one point or another that birthdays are more effort than their worth -- ahhh, now this is nice." He unfolds the blade and reads the words. "'May all your wounds be mortal.' Now that is the appropriate level of edginess for a gentleman of my stature."

And then very seriously as he turns his head to her, "I love it."

Darcy catches maybe half of what Skulduggery's saying about his fellow old people and birthdays- it's present time, and her attention is squarely focused on her gift. Her expression of concentration softens at the unveiling of it, her thumb smoothing across the whorls of filigree and the curve of lily's petals. Lilies are the emblem of France, but they're a Marian emblem too, and the ring is beautiful without being too overly dainty or feminine. It's perfect.

She looks up from it in time to hear Skulduggery's praise for his knife, and she beams, reaching into the neck of her sweater to pull out the simple gold chain she's taken to wearing.

"I'm glad, it suits you. And it's never a bad thing to have a knife handy, ehn?"

Darcy undoes the clasp of the chain and threads the ring onto it. Far more secure than wearing it on her fingers, and close to her heart.

"Thank you- it's perfect, genuinely, I love it. I don't know what to say, it's just... perfect."

He watches her unwrap her gift, and despite being used to this by now, he's still surprised at how briefly anxious gift-giving makes him. It's weird! He should be great at this. And from Darcy's expression as she reveals the ring, he is great at this!

"It does suit me. And I think the ring suits you." He's particularly touched that she'd put it on her necklace like that, although obviously there's no indication of it. "I know that lilies are a symbol of renewal. Or for condolences... which is funny, if you think about it. Because we're dead." Haha. Get it... "I'm glad that you like it."

"Not back home- chrysanthamums are our grave flowers back home. But they're one of the symbols of Mary- ones with three petals are a symbol of the trinity the same way the shamrock was for St Patrick."

Which is too many words about it already, but she likes the ring for reasons beyond the aesthetics. It's a good gift, probably one of the best she's gotten.

"I'll save you from the rest of my rambling about it as part of your Christmas present."

"Oh, thank God." He says it with a mild laugh to disguise the fact that he's actually super grateful to not have to get into another conversation about Catholicism. How far must an Irish pagan go to get away from the big man and his priests?!

He closes the knife and tucks it away in his coat's inner pocket, where all good concealed weapons go. "Do you want me to hold on to the other one until my birthday? It's only a few days away."

"You're welcome."

Further than dinner with the ship's resident devout Catholic, that much should be obvious. If she's a little disappointed he won't be opening it tonight then she doesn't show it- presents are nice, but the fun part of Christmas was always family time for her. Or it used to be, anyway, distantly, when she was someone else, and again now she has family to celebrate it with.

"Go ahead. Not like I can make you a cake or anything."

"You could, but then you'd be obligated to find people to eat it."

But he's nothing if not mildly impatient -- or maybe that's just rubbing off on him from the Captain -- and so he does go ahead open the second gift, complete with a brief (and mildly embarrasing) noise of surprise.

"Oh, look at that! It's like my Bentley, but pocket-sized." He absolutely uses a finger to spin the wheels, are you kidding, that's the first thing he does. "That's delightful."

"Happy Birthday, I shrunk your Bentley down with ghost magic."

Absolute straight face and deadpan voice, because her Christmas gift to herself is this Bit.

He immediately stops spinning the wheels.

"And I've just completely ruined the suspension."

...Ahhh, one more time, for old time's sake!

"I suppose it'll be cheaper to fix when it's this small." Unless the pieces are custom order...

"The hard part will be finding a mechanic that size," she jokes back.

"And shrinking the money down to pay him. I don't think borrowers take credit cards."

"And after I took so long to get used to my last mechanic..."

He even sighs when he says it.

"Well, at least now she won't be left in the garage all alone." He tilts his head and offers her a sincere, "I do love it, Darcy. It's great."

"I'm glad," and it feels a bit like she's repeating herself, but there's no better way she has to express it. It feels good to earn his praise. The joy of having an adult in her life who cares for her, whose approval isn't impossible to earn. That's the source of her anxieties around naming it, really- every time they've danced close to the subject of what he is to her, shit has gotten awful and awkward and felt like it'd risked damaging what they do have. So no naming it, no 'dad' to his face, even if he knows it and she knows it and she says it to other people as the simplest explanation of what's happening. And 'I love you' is something said to him a hundred ways besides the straightforward one.

"And hey, now you know for sure I'm not going to ride on the roof again."

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DECEMBER EVENT PART ONE: ALL IS CALM

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