come_sailaway | BATTLE ROYALE EVENT: SHIP

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BATTLE ROYALE EVENT: SHIP

[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.]

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Skulduggery has been doing his own watching over at Tauva, but his restless energy has overwhelmed him. He's twitchy, uncomfortable in his own bones, feeling a familiar tight burn in the back of his skull. He's angry. He's furious.

He can't afford to be angry. So he needs to move, needs to run, even if there's no way to run from himself.

Funny how he finds Stede with that thought in his mind, catching sight of him through the glass doors of John's. Staring up at the television while the piano plays a sickeningly ironic rendition of Only the Good Die Young, looking as sick as he might if he were on the island himself. Skulduggery pushes the door open, ignores the peppy sting from the piano, and comes to Stede's side.

"Captain Bonnet," he says. Tries to come up with something reassuring or witty, and falls hideously short. "You shouldn't be watching this."

He twitches a bit at Skulduggery's voice, clutching the pillow so that his fingers go bone white at the knuckle.

Oh my god. That man doesn't have a face! says Nigel faint and far away, like on the other side of a field.

Stede ignores him as Skulduggery's words echo around his skull.

He shouldn't be watching this. He shouldn't.

"And why not? Why not? There are people--" he swallows. "There are people dying out there." They'll be back but it doesn't change the fact that-- that it looks painful. It's more than just the bullet or the blade but that they'll have to look those who did in the face the next day and the dreams will stay with them.

"My crew is dying out there. John. Ava. They're dying and I'm their captain and should do something rather than sitting here being useless." Damn, there went his voice and his eyes feel raw again.

That's par for course.

"Piss off, Nigel!" God, it's bad enough. "So yes, I should be watching. I owe it to them to watch. That's the price that needs to be paid for..." He doesn't know. Not being there? Glad that he's not there? That it's not him and not Ed out there? Or Lucius? But he doesn't want it to be any of his crew so that's some consolation, bitter as it is.

Skulduggery's unsure whether Stede is drunk enough or scared enough to hallucinate, but he seems to be at that point either way. He latches on to Stede's frantic energy, glad for the distraction, eager to throw himself into solving somebody else's troubles. It will keep him from worrying about his own situation, about his own feelings.

He stares at Stede for a moment, and then slowly moves to stand partially between him and his most direct view of the screens. "We are both useless, here," he points out, his voice momentarily rough with emotions he refuses to focus on. "And their deaths should be private. They shouldn't be broadcasted to random viewers for entertainment and we should not be indulging that entertainment."

"Private death?" He wrinkles his nose. "What the hell is that? Private death. What they're supposed to die alone? Just out there? Knowing no one can see them? Their suffering is for nothing? I was at my grandmother's bed when she passed. She couldn't see or hear anything but she knew I was there. Someone should know someone is watching. You can go to hell with your private death."

"And your grandmother died surrounded by her family, who were there in person with her." He points back towards the screen and snaps, "She did not find herself murdered on television with a funny soundtrack playing over her decapitation. The whole thing is hideous."

He tilts his head, changing tactics hard and fast, feeling a bit more like boxing than having a conversation. "Who's Nigel?"

"Death is death whatever form it takes." He doesn't know what television means but that doesn't matter. He understands that it's some kind of joke. One he doesn't have a hope of understanding. "But even if they make light of it doesn't make any difference. People will make light of anything if you give them the chance."

He winces.

"I killed him. Sort of."

Barely.

"Don't worry about it." He can't explain it and had thought he'd left that ghost behind but maybe he never would. Maybe he shouldn't.

Skulduggery is too close to the concept of death, too affected by the idea of it to truly try to explain to Stede just how horrifying the situation really is. He can't let himself get too caught up in it, can't let himself think too hard about it.

So instead, he digs into Stede's problems with bulldog enthusiasm, stepping to further block the screen. "No, I will worry about it. You killed him, and then...?"

Stede has been fairly close to death himself even if he never tipped over the edge. It's still horrifying whether he sees it or not, but he'd prefer to see it than not. Alright he doesn't want to look but has to.

For the question, Nigel is oddly silent, which is somewhat worse. He's just standing looking straight ahead, sword through his eye. Stede rubs a hand through his hair. Something is flickering behind Skulduggery on the screen. He doesn't know what it is but a splatter of blood seems to make a strange sick point.

"I killed him and then he was dead. What do you want me to tell you?"

Edited 2022-05-12 02:40 (UTC)

Skulduggery hears a cheesy sound effect, but doesn't turn his head. He thinks he's memorized the reel by now, thinks he knows who's being killed behind him.

"If he's dead, why bring him up to me? Why tell him to shut up?" He wonders, briefly, if the captain brings ghosts to the ship alongside the living. If Stede is being followed by a ghost from his reality, somehow pulled through with him. Real or imaginary, though? Lucius was pretty skeptical about them having magic, but ghosts, well. Those are a universal constant, magic or not.

"Wh- I didn't!"

Nigel's eye slides to him in a quick darting way which makes him flinch and then there is another sharp movement from the screen.

"Will you just--!" He gets to his feet, stumbling a bit, lets weak, and grips Skulduggery's shoulder to push him out of the way-- but he sees something horrible that turns his stomach and he has to take in a shaking breath.

There is-- more pain than is just on the screen. Than is just here. That's what Clarke meant too. It wasn't easy for anyone.

He lets his hand move to Skulduggery's opposite shoulder, a light hold, one easily broke away from.

"I get it. I get that it's hard. That you can't stand to see the people you care about being so casually humiliated for...fun. For sport." He's fully crying now, or tears are streaming down his face, but it's not entirely grief.

"This has happened before and it will happen again and it's so difficult to be strong and I'm glad you are. It's okay if you can't watch. If you feel absolutely useless. Whatever you feel just let it out and...don't be ashamed. I'm here."

Skulduggery doesn't move when Stede grabs him, still as the grave he crawled out of centuries ago. But as Stede talks, he feels that tension inside him... not ease, precisely, but it's cushioned by something softer that blooms at the sight of the other man's tears.

It's clear that Stede's falling apart, but Skulduggery hadn't quite realized how close he was to doing the same.

"Alright," he says, gently, lifting a hand to touch one of Stede's arms. "You're right. I... don't like this. I can't -- allow myself to focus on it. But you shouldn't be taking that burden up for me, either. I'm not asking you to, and frankly, I don't want you to." He gives Stede's arm a gentle squeeze. "It's designed to break you, Stede. It's designed to break us. The more you watch it, the worse toll will be, and we cannot afford to be at our worst."

A smile, though a watery one.

"I'm your captain. It's my job. When you take on the crew you take on the weight of the crew." And then a faint weak laugh as he rubs at his eyes with his sleeve.

"I've felt humiliated and weak and useless all my life. If I haven't broken in forty-odd years, I won't break now." The best thing about being at the absolute bottom was that there was nowhere to go but up.

He sniffs.

"But it's your decision. If you want to take care of this on your own, Skulduggery, I understand. Just remember if you ever change your mind...You know where to find me." He probably won't leave this spot. It's a nice chair and is already shaped like him. Couldn't ask for more really.

The resiliency is more astounding now that Skulduggery's somewhat cognizant of his own feelings on the matter. He still wants to drag Stede from the bar, pull him from the screens, but it feels less desperate now. Less about himself, and more for Stede.

But that's probably not going to happen, not from the way he's bunkered down. And while he could try to throw the man over his shoulder and forcibly drag him out, it wouldn't do either of them any good. It'd only be denying Stede his wishes.

"I... think I may have given you the impression I think that way about you," he admits, feeling just a little sheepish. "That I might think you're... weak, or somehow too delicate for this. But I don't believe that's true."

A faint smile. "You wouldn't be the first..." He sits down, he has to before he falls down, dragging the pillow back to his chest before self consciously holding it on his lap. "But it doesn't matter what you think of me--or anyone really. The important thing right now is them, isn't it?" He glances at the screen and shudders.

"It's such a cruel thing to do. Such a cruel cruel thing."

Skulduggery tilts his head, glancing briefly at the screen before deciding he doesn't need to see any of it right now. He's been watching for too long, letting it get to him. It's obvious that's the point; it's all designed to keep their attention, to try and force some suffering from them.

"It is. They'll... they will come back," he offers. "I know it's a cold comfort, but they'll be back here soon. We'll... We can figure out what to do about future situations once it's over."

They can figure out what to do about the captain once it's over. But he doesn't say that, not directly. He's not sure what's listening to him, and he's already been transparent enough about his distaste for the situation.

"Yes... yes they will... But it doesn't mean it won't hurt..." Though what does he know? He's not out there.

Coward. You'd detonate yourself in seconds

He rubs his throat. He would or he might or he would run and he would die. And so would others. And then come back to do it again over and over. He holds the pillow up to his chin as he watches.

"It won't be over though..." he murmurs this half to himself. "Will it."

There's no good response to that. Nothing that can help to reassure, because it won't be over. Not really. They'll have to deal with this again, and again, and again, until they figure out a way to break free and return home. Just like the last war he'd fought, there will be more losses in the future, and he can't deny that.

But he knows, too, that one loss doesn't equal the end of the war. "...There will be a period of rest, between the battles. And the next fight will be different. They'll keep happening until we can find our way free, but until then... we'll simply have to weather the storm."

A slightly mixed metaphor, but he's exhausted and thinking of somewhere very far from here, so it can't be helped.

"Hm..." The storm of this. How many others? He was in a storm once or twice and it was terrifying but the crew were capable and they made it through. He's not sure if he's strong enough to go through this again-- but he'll have to be won't he? There are people who possibly may be counting on him-

"Oh god." The scene he sees makes him curl further into himself, clutching the pillow hard. On the other hand, Clarke is right. Maybe the only way through this is alone.

Skulduggery doesn't bother to look at the screens. He's already tried destroying them, it does nothing. And if he were to unleash right now, with Stede the way he is, it'd likely only scare the man more. That just makes him want to destroy more, and the need to move, to pace until his thoughts shake free, nearly overwhelms him.

He uses it to his advantage for the moment, pacing to the bar and summons up two bottles of liquor, neither of which he looks closely at. He brings them to Stede's side, setting them down within easy reach. "If you're going to watch," he says, "You ought to have enough liquor to handle it."

Worst comes to worst, he'll drink himself to death and wake up tomorrow feeling better. There's not much longer, now. It'll all be over soon.

"Thanks..." He murmurs it not even taking his eyes off screen. He manages to get a bottle open and drinks it down without looking away, not even for a moment.

Skulduggery nods. "Yeah." He takes one last look back at the screens, then says, "I'm... going to go for a walk. It's a good way to get distracted." As good as any method can be, anyway.

"You... ought to come with me." Even though he knows the answer is going to be no, he still thinks he should offer. It'd be good for Stede to get out of here for a while, and it'd be better still for Skulduggery to have somebody to distract him. But from the man's traumatized face, it's unlikely he's going to get what he wants.

He doesn't hear him, not really. His mind is on other, terrible things. It's such a horrible price to pay, but as captain he has to pay it- the only way he knows how.

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BATTLE ROYALE EVENT: SHIP

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