pleased to meet you

[sailmods]

CW: murder

[it is the morning of the 17th when the usual morning announcement is replaced with the sort of tentative, nervous tone that Friday takes on immediately before something insane happens.]

Good morning, passengers! It's, um... Well, I sure hope everyone had an interesting time on their shore excursion! The Captain sure did! In fact, he had such a good time, he's asked me to inform you all that, tonight, he's going to be hosting his usual captain's formal in the main dining room, but with a twist! This time, it's going to be a, um... victory party! For Natsuno! Because he won! [small laugh] And also to celebrate the opening of a new shop on the Promenade! Gosh, and that really is something to celebrate; I haven't seen that happen since he--

[LOUD STATIC NOISES]

-- Yes, well! The dress code will be cruise formal; everyone can find a new set of clothes in their cabin to celebrate the occasion! I-- Oh, right, we'll see you all tonight! 8PM sharp!

[the connection cuts off. today, for the first time that anyone can remember, Friday can't be found in the atrium. or any other room. smoke 'em if you got 'em.

at 8PM sharp, the door to the dining room swings open. it is mostly empty: the only tables left are a dozen or so under the main chandelier. there are name cards at each table setting, written in Friday's neat script; the seatings seem mostly random, except for everyone who was on the island, who will find themselves at a table with their killer and/or victim(s). except Natsuno, of course, whose name is displayed proudly at the head table, next to an unnamed place. once they are inside, all of them find themselves under the same sort of compulsion that they felt during the muster drill, and their legs will stop working until they have gone to their assigned seats.

Friday enters the room first, dressed up nicely, but with hunched shoulders and her hands clasped firmly in front of her. the door shuts behind her. she says nothing, and acknowledges no one, not even Natsuno, as she takes her spot behind the chair.

a few fashionable minutes pass. it starts as smoke pouring out from under the door, moving towards the table as it slowly solidifies into the form of... a rather normal-looking man. he sits, cross-legged, in the chair that Friday pulls out for him. he looks over the assembled crowd, visibly considering something... there is a flash of silver in the light, and the knife he'd had in his sleeve is across Friday's throat quicker than she can react, and she falls bonelessly to the ground, a spray of arterial blood across the table setting.]

There, perfect.

[he looks out at them again. and he smiles. the knife is placed back in his sleeve, and he holds his hands out, palms up.]

Well. Here's your chance. [he waves a hand lazily, and the compulsion keeping them seated fades like pins and needles.] Try not to embarrass yourselves.

Comments

[mooninthewater]

things just need 2 settle down is all
im fine
my friend here might b in a bit of a jam
but i wanna show him my support, so…
we'll see what happens

[baubled]

Effie rolls her eyes and gestures to the chaos unfolding around them "Here? You're going to sleep here? I'd like to see that, Haymitch." Actually she'd prefer he didn't and she would drag him home if needed but this is how their routine goes.

She grips at his sleeve more tightly. "That's him! That's the man whose behind all of this. I need you to pay attention!"

[skaikru]

( it's the difference between truly being an apex predator, and simply acting like one so nothing gets close enough to hurt, then. a type a personality and fierce drive to win can't truly compete against heightened senses and superior muscle percentage, but clarke does her best to put up a good fight. they're separated by the entire air hockey table, it's impossible to reach over and ruffle his feathers. so, instead she's just stuck in a loop of hitting the puck as hard as she can, being blocked, and subsequently scored on at lightening speed.

this continues for at least two whole games, clarke stubbornly insisting let's go again despite natsuno just continuing to rack up points.

then somewhere halfway through their third game, she catches on. just stares at him and lets the puck sail past her hand into her goal once more. stares, then squints, and almost asks if he's doing what she thinks he's doing. because that's rude. anyone can reach over and kick a fake motorcycle, not anyone could pull from a well of untapped supernatural skill to flex over an arcade game.

but then — no. nope. didn't need to call him out yet. and next time she goes to serve afresh, clarke absolutely digs her upper teeth into the scabbed over split in her lower lip from earlier. reawakening the wound, causing a fresh wave of black blood to bubble between lacerated, painfully stretching sensitive skin.

...admittedly, it's a tiny bit of a test. mostly a low blow, underhanded attempt to cause a distraction. but they'd never sat down and discussed what being a shiki meant in terms of abilities, and clarke wants to see how much of a stir a few drops of blood can cause.

and she really wants to score at least one goal! )

[neverleave]

[Natsuno can manage his instincts just fine. There's plenty of normal food aboard the Serena Eterna to keep him sated and hold back the empty hunger most shiki feel without blood. He has the special coffee machine for an extra boost when needed. A split lip isn't nearly enough to be appetizing - especially not when he was absolutely covered by the same blood a week ago and felt nothing but anger and nausea.

But it is enough to grab his attention.

His nostrils flare and he looks up at Clarke. Is she - doing this to herself? There's no hunger in his eyes, no animal instincts, just pure dude, what the FUCK?

But hey, at least he's distracted enough for her to score!]

[skaikru]

( she'll take dude what the fuck.

take it, hold on tight to it, and capitalize on the moment to just fucking sling the puck past his knuckles and finally secure her first goal of the game. really, the dude what the fuck just adds to her creed as a horrifying opponent, even in more mild situations.

and as if that's the winning shot on goal, instead of a drop in the bucket, the clatter of the puck in the goal sliver has her throwing up both hands and grinning wildly. the split in her lip stretches, stings. it's worth it.

yup, that's it, that's the end of the game, she's absolutely the winner. )

[neverleave]

[He blinks in surprise when the puck flies into the goal with a ping. Clarke throws her hands up as the scoreboard announces her first point, the grin swelling with a fresh whiff of blood.

Natsuno huffs softly and the surprise disappears behind the closed shutters of his usual stoicism. He let himself forget that his abilities, as useful as they are - as good as they can feel - come at the price of snapping to attention at the hint of human blood.

He lets go of the disc.]

Guess you win.

[techniques]

... Any names you wanna share, or is that also too boring to gossip about?

[makesomedeals]

Well if someone is powerful enough to launch moons at others, and he was defeated, then yes. I assume there are people powerful enough for such things.

I hope I get to watch.

[ruinously]

Wait. What?

[ Launch moons at WHO now? ]

[temmapathy]

[Emma faces away from the scene of the murder, holding Fio's face tight against her chest so that she doesn't see either. She can't really hear what's going on, so she'll just do her best to notice when the vibrations seem to have died down.]

[makesomedeals]

Ah, I take it you haven't met Ebalon.

[Having been killed by him means that Max feels entitled to not call him by his full name of Moon Master Ebalon. Also the aforementioned moon throwing probably speaks for itself on that part.]

[prodigalmess]

"I think it is, at least somewhat," Malcolm says, putting his hand up. "There are more of us than him, and most of us have magic or some kind of super power. There has to be something we can do."

He pushes the plate of lobster closer to her. It's hers if she wants it. "I've been watching and I can see what's clearly not working." That is attacking the Captain. As much as Malcolm understands why people want to do it, it's only serving to amuse the Captain.

[juststayalive]

He rolls his eyes in return but he doesn't pick up the glass that is set in front of him. At least not yet. "I am paying attention. So the ship does have a captain after all, and he doesn't seem especially friendly." He seems to be similar to a certain President Snow in temperament and hobbies, in fact. "Loosening his grip on the situation won't be easy."

[juststayalive]

"I don't imagine anyone does." The Careers never seemed to mind being trapped in the arena, but they hardly count. The experience had really been a game to them, and every one of them expected that they would be the one to make it out alive. "Sometimes it turns out in the favor of those who are trapped though. They have a reason to fight their way out."

[decohere]

She happily helps herself to the lobster, and his napkin to dab butter from the corner of her mouth. "My powers can't be the only ones to have been... limited, though. So I think he's taken that into account. However many of us there are, he invited us all at once. He knows he can handle a direct attack."

And yeah it amuses her too, in a way she doesn't want to outright admit. Seeing people jump at the chance to show off, only to get proven how ineffective their attempts. She has a lot of pent up resentments toward the hero types in her own world, after all.

[pillaroffortitude]

[It's less-so that he's feeling particularly morose and more-so that he's simply enjoying the quiet that comes along with minding one's business, content with idly observing the conversations around him rather than partaking in them himself. He does take the candy when offered, rolling it around in his palm and giving her a soft smile in return.]

Oh. Thank you. Is this your favorite kind?

[skaikru]

( she's not usually one to lose herself in the delight of a such a silly little victory.

...usually.

for a beat, clarke misses the downright frosty shift in the air between them. ) We can do another round if you wanna even things out. ( brash, blatant sarcasm — look, she's pleased to have scored, but that doesn't change the fact the running tally is still something like 35 to 1. but he's letting go of his disk, even as she's gesturing around the room with hers still in hand. )

Or do you want to play something else?

[pillaroffortitude]

Quite the fiasco, wouldn't you agree?

[He has also been keeping to himself for the majority of the evening, merely watching the events unfold into utter chaos from minute one. Best not to get involved, especially when one can instead sit back and get a better general read on the others present. He's broken a rather impressive stint of silence to speak with Wanda, tilting his head with a soft smile.]

I must admit, getting out to get some fresh air away from the clamor is something I find myself looking all the more forward to with each passing moment.

[pillaroffortitude]

[If he's completely honest with himself, he had expected something along the lines of "pure chaos" from the moment he heard the summons. He hadn't expected things to go so south so quickly, however, and he could certainly file this away as a reminder to always prepare for the unexpected.

That being said... Well. Given the commotion and the over all state of things, Ayato himself finds that he is entirely content with sitting back in his assigned spot and not involving himself in any of it. Fighting with the Captain seems like the least productive use of his time, especially now that he's given the chance to observe the strengths of those present.

He's taking mental notes over the rim of the champagne flute that he leisurely sips from.]

I find myself quite glad that I abstained from the journey to the island. [It's a soft comment, absentminded and aimed entirely as an idle observation to himself.]

[neverleave]

[Natsuno lets her smugness and sarcasm fly right past him. The scent of blood brought him back to the reality of their situation, and now the arcade looks like a noisy, ugly-lit mockery.]

Not really. I'm done.

[skaikru]

( he's — )

...what?

( a good chunk of of that competitive glee slips right off her features at natsuno's declaration. the mood had shifted for him a minute or two ago, but it isn't until the thin veneer of playtime is dismissed with four simple words that clarke begins to follow suit.

she spares one last look around the arcade — had wanted to try the shooting dinosaur game, and was intrigued by skeeball, and somewhere there's a ticket counter with chinese finger traps and bouncy ball prizes — but... if they're done... )

I mean, really?

[neverleave]

[Apparently the mood shifted so much that Natsuno is now past words, and simply hums an uninterested confirmation. He sticks his hands in his pockets and starts heading out of the arcade.]

[skaikru]

( woah. woah. oh hey wait, okay!

clarke's dropping her own air hockey disk and makes a direct attempt to follow after him. it's sudden, not the most graceful chase — she clips her hip on the edge of the game table and winces, but powers through that to jog and catch up with natsuno right as he reaches the exit to the arcade.

level and at his side — )

Hey. Hey.

( but... also having grown familiar with the teenagers sulking mood throughout the last three months, eventually pushing a step or two past him in order to plant herself in his path and force him to stop walking. bringing them face to face, with clarke's features back to her emotionally tight, perpetually wounded. )

What's wrong?

( what changed? what outside impact so quickly turned his mood sour — because she's still not connected the dot that it was her own stunt with the bloodied lip that's turned his stomach. )

[neverleave]

[What's wrong?

Everything's wrong, or maybe nothing is wrong and he just needed to remember how things are supposed to be.

It's tempting to just shoulder past Clarke and move on, but she won't back off and honestly... sullen as he is, she still deserves a semblance of explanation.]

You're still bleeding.

[skaikru]

( s...till bleeding? stiltedly, clarke brings a hand up to her mouth and runs the pad of a finger across her split lip. drawing it back, sure enough, there's still a streak of black falling into the wells of her fingerprint. her brow is still furrowed in confusion until, absently, her tongue darts out to lick at the tiny wound. and the distinct copper flavor floods her tastebuds and... oh. )

...this is because I bit my lip?

( this, the curtain being sharply drawn on their temporary escape from reality. this, the death of fun and his hasty retreat. clarke doesn't entirely get it — how could she really, ever get it? — but can scent natsuno's sour distaste as well as he can scent her blood in the air. )

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin the game.