BATTLE ROYALE EVENT: SHIP

[sailmods]

[fortunately, not signing up for the shore excursion doesn't mean the passengers still on board don't get to have a little fun. on the contrary: they'll get to have some of the most fun of all!

about an hour after the tender leaves, at about 9AM, every screen on the ship, from the cabin TVs to the one above the pool, begins playing a live feed of the events on the island, starting with Friday's introduction video and transitioning to the passengers leaving the bunker. from then on, the camera (?) seems to always know where the action is, bringing close-up views of each fight, each death. when little action occurs, highlight reels play. there is no audio, however, outside of the droning, inane muzak of the stream and the kitschy sound effects of the reels; time to brush up on your lip-reading if you want the hot goss on scene!

in the atrium, near Friday's desk, is a large piece of construction paper, titled "PLACE YOUR BETS," showing a table with the names (some true, some not) of each competitor, with a space to write down your name next to who you think will win. the captain has already made his choice! what are you betting? don't worry about it.

the screens will play the game 24 hours a day. destroying the screens wholly will buy you only momentary respite. so, sit back, and enjoy.]

Comments

II

[saltwaterlungs]

[ Darcy's pacing, trying to both keep moving and keep herself away from the constant blare of the TVs. Hell, she doesn't even know most of the people who she'd be watching getting murdered, but that doesn't mean it's a fun time, plus the risk of seeing what few people she does know get hurt, like Prompto or Natsuno. With all that's going on, it feels like the world has been tugged out from under her. She keeps her sword on her, pacing around the perimeter like she's going to wear a groove in the deck. So Darcy's there to see someone trying to get onto one of the life boats. She staggers to a stop, one hand white-knuckling on the handle of her blade. ]

What are you doing?

[skaikru]

( it's probably for the best that first impressions on board this ship rarely end up meaning anything. sure, leave a sour taste in someone's mouth and it's likely they'd go out of their way to avoid you in the future, but in a living space this size, that still proved difficult. plus there's always, always — way more than was even remote reasonable — the excuse of circumstances. a fancy way of acknowledging that everything sucked, they were almost constantly pushed to the brink of life and sanity, then somehow expected to reign in the internal chaos and keep functioning. to keep living, like any baby fat around their fight or flight responses wasn't being ritualistically ground away by the constant threat of death hanging overhead.

anyway, when clarke looks up from her work at the knots securing the life raft to the ship, she sees another young woman with a hand on her sword, and immediately takes it as an... insult? threat? her arm had been cut off less than 24 hours ago by another girl with black hair, whatever survival instincts aren't currently dampened by drive and stupidity are still sending alert signals to her brain. but... it's just a sword. la pluma'd had a sythe, and blank intent behind her eyes. )

I'm going on a trip.

( and darcy gets a front row seat to how fear and pain easily fold in on themselves and present as biggest bitch on the boat. fabulous first impressions all around, it seems.

clarke's lips are trying to pull themselves into a sneer, and it takes a concerted effort to keep her scowl from becoming a full blown glare. the sass is very present in her tone however, as she again dips her head to fiddle with the securements of the lifeboat. )

Or if you mean specifically, right now I'm taking out... whatever this is.

( the harbor safety pin. one step closer to dropping this boat in the water and beginning her poorly thought out rescue attempt. )

[saltwaterlungs]

...On a life raft?

[ Darcy asks, looking at the dinghy and the woman currently trying to do her best impression of a cornered cat. Darcy presumed this wasn't a pleasure cruise, considering the bags she was taking, and- well, it didn't take a genius to work out where this lady was going, considering what was going on and that there was nowhere else to go. ]

Can we even get to where they are from here?

[ It's a genuine question, and Darcy draws a little closer to examine the boat. The woman's offputting demeanour wasn't anything she hadn't seen before. God only knew how many ghosts started off their working relationship by screaming at her and trying to kill her. ]

Do... you want help?

[ Sure, it was going to involve willingly being near her least favourite substance on earth, on what was probably a fool's errand that may end up with them both getting killed. But at least if she died, she'd die doing something, anything at all. ]

[skaikru]

( clarke neither wants to pause long enough to expand on her half-baked plan of action, or to again think on the fact the island was nowhere to be seen in the distance. nothing about this course of action she's set out on smells of success, but at the same time it feels much more productive to literally throw herself into the ocean than sit on board the serena eterna and watch people she's come to know die.

she doesn't even want to pause long enough to look up at the sword wielding girl, but dogged determination doesn't change the fact that it's virtually impossible to lower a lifeboat into the ocean with just one person, so...

hello for real, darcy. you eventually get her full and undivided attention, specifically in return for the last question out of those three. there's a strand of slightly shower-damp hair falling across clarke's face, and she very unceremoniously blows it out of her eyes before continuing. a split second decision, built on impulse, but... yeah. )

When I get in the boat, can you lower it down?

( she'd like at least a little help. )

[saltwaterlungs]

[ She knows she shouldn't be thinking about the living like the dead, but it's hard not to, considering the circumstances, and the irritating muzak and sound effects heralding death and slaughter like livestock at the edges of their hearing. This woman doesn't seem all that interested in her blade as assistance, and if this were a regular situation she'd be protesting, saying she could handle a bit of bloodshed, that she couldn't bear to be left as a survivor solely out of circumstance. But this isn't a regular situation, and this woman is just a ghost that hasn't been separated from her flesh yet, asking for a final act to be done in memory of when she was a person whose decision to try, to do what she could, mattered. And Darcy forgets herself for a moment, losing herself in the role of the psychopomp ushering the stranger to where she needs to go. ]

Yeah, I can do that.

[ She assumes the position, trying to remember if the safety briefing covered how to lower the lifeboats. ]

[skaikru]

( a ghost still clinging to her flesh and bones might be the most accurate description of clarke griffin that no one's ever said aloud. sometimes she feels like a full blooded human, full of anger and hate but still trying to stoke the flame of hope deep within her chest, and other times she just feels like a bystander. someone who's now died three times, though it honestly should have been so many more. with that loss of self, it's easy to throw oneself into action and call it selfless. clarke doesn't know what to do with herself on this ship, so she makes a half-hearted plan to get off it and calls it valiant because all she wants to do is row back to conflict and drag people from the jaws of death.

but, lacking noble ambitions aside, she doesn't... actually want to die.

again.

with the other girls acceptance of this ploy, clarke's abandoning the wires and knots and bolts that have been keeping the lifeboat on board the serena eterna and immediately hauling herself over the lip of the boat to fall between bags of blades and medical equipment. one inside the lifeboat, but before darcy can actually ratchet her all the way down to sea level, clarke has one more thought — )

And can I ask one more favor?

[saltwaterlungs]

Sure, name it.

[ Darcy's ready and waiting to ratchet the boat down at her command, but pauses to wait for what else she was going to be asked to do. Sometimes she'd spend entire evenings, days, or weeks chasing after the will of the dead. Passing on the combinations to a safe, weeding a garden, investigating a cold-case decades after it happened. Back home, it was her geist that spurred her to do this, him playing his role to advocate for the dead, and Darcy pushing back, staking out when she needed rest, or a break to handle schoolwork, or a night to cry to herself about the unfairness of the world and the weight of all the dead who died lonely and unloved. Here, without him, there was only her, having to advocate for both sides at once. It was no wonder she was getting mixed up, and even less that she didn't notice it happening. ]

[skaikru]

Put down a rope ladder.

( because as dead inside as clarke feels some days, there's still a pulse.

still a drive. still so much to do here. and if she fails to bring the people she cares about back from the island, she'd still like to climb back on board the serena eterna and raise hell. if they were all going to die on board this ship, it would not be for nothing. )

Or just a rope. I will be back.

[saltwaterlungs]

[ It's enough to snap Darcy out of the holding pattern she was in, to be reminded that this was a person going on a journey and not a ghost leaving to pass on and rest. There was no rest to be found yet, there was still too much work to be done, and the help she was offering was not out of the goodness of her own heart, but because Darcy wanted to make a difference too, wanted it to mean something that she was there and offered a hand. She wasn't dead yet, either, and even in this hell, something as simple as putting a rope down could help someone, tangibly, and not in the abstract logic that ghosts were governed by. ]

It'll be waiting, when you get back.

[ At Clarke's bid, Darcy ratcheted down the lifeboat, leaving the woman to her fate on the open water. If Clarke could hear over the sound of the winch, the muzak, the sound effects, the roar of the ocean, she might've heard the young lady whispering something, as if speaking only to herself. ]

Saint Jude, patron of lost causes and hopeless situations, pray for us, give what aid you can-

[ Just as soon as Clarke was on the water, Darcy departed to get the rope. ]