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

[skaikru]

( that's fucked up.

but — conceal, don't feel. push an agenda. )

...Okay. So. Want to try something fun?

( help. )

[sictransitgloriamundi]

[eyes gleam]

Depends. What is it?

[skaikru]

I've got some ideas. But at the same time, you're the one we're all meant to entertain.

What's something you've never done before? Or seen? Or felt? You must have some sort of list.

[sictransitgloriamundi]

Not really. I've done everything but die. Unless that was your suggestion, but I am hoping you're a bit more creative than that.

[skaikru]

( don't @ her like that, yes it was and now she's just spitballing tbh. )

Hm. I'm really not. That's all I'm good at in the end, but you knew that.

( wanheda callout and everything, right? )

I don't believe you've done everything. I wanna see how your magic works, so. When's the last time you took something broken and put it back together while they were still awake?

[sictransitgloriamundi]

The other day. And a few hours from now, probably.

[jerks thumb at Friday's bloodless corpse.]

[skaikru]

( ouch, yikes, her heart hurts, jfc, sorry jenny but — )

I meant an actual person. Your over conditioned stress ball doesn't count.

[sictransitgloriamundi]

[considers...]

Can't recall. It doesn't sound very appealing, honestly. I don't like noise while I'm working.

[skaikru]

( again — help.

but might as well go all in. )

I want my kidney back. And I promise to be quiet.

[sictransitgloriamundi]

That's really weird.

[pause]

I'll consider it.

[skaikru]

( yanno.... she'll take it. weird isn't that much of an insult, all she wants is for him to consider something else while she painstakingly slowly reaches for a pair of lobster crackers on the table cloth to her left. a knife would have been better, but anything vaguely pointed will do. )

It's not that weird. You took something that belonged to me, and I'm curious as to how.

[sictransitgloriamundi]

You asked it in an objectively weird way. Also. [waves hand vaguely] Magic.

[skaikru]

So it's just science, right?

( she likes science, science is cool, science demands trial and error — like readjusting her seat on the table and crossing her legs in a way that allows the tip of clarke's shoe to brush against his knee. she wants to see if he's solid again. )

[sictransitgloriamundi]

If you're boring, I guess.

[solid as anything.]

i'm sorry cruiseparent

[skaikru]

( ah, solid. so, five second rule right?

"boring" this, you fucking pleb is the silent war cry as clarke goes from casually shrugging in agreement to absolutely trying to slam the heel of her shoe into the seam of his pants. this one's for Jenny.

two options follow: no response, wait for the fallout of the low blow.

even the slightest hint of connection and pain, those lobster crackers are coming up in a wild left-hand stab aimed at his ear — and with the desperate force behind the attack that aspired to crack his skull and bury dull metal implements in his brain. )

tw: head. wound?

[sictransitgloriamundi]

[there's a full five seconds, when he first noticed the crackers, when he thinks "actually it'd be pretty funny if that hits me."

so, it does. it drives into his skull with enough force to break the skull. except, that's not really the sound of a skull cracking, is it? it's too... thick, yet too liquid; viscous, like quicksand. and there's no blood. just a hole in the side of his head with the metal handle sticking out of a blackness so utter that it burns the eye to look at it for too long. the cracks of the wound barely impact his face, and he smiles.

the kick was a bit less impressive. it connected, sure! and there was a sound like a shoe hitting something solid. but, like Beetlejuice before her: bold to assume.]

head... void? anyway, cw: trying to fuck with the head void

[skaikru]

( somewhere halfway through her swing, the mask of calm diplomacy and willing self sacrifice slips. from then on, she's just the absolutely feral teenager that several other passengers have clocked her to be thus far, letting out a solid grunt at the impact of cracker handles against... well, not bone.

there's a hint of resistance, but then the implement sinks into his head with way more ease than she would have expected. and an alarming lack of blood. the dark radiating from his broken visage is on par with the dark moon energy ebalon had manifested into a blade the first time they'd met, but unexpected here — momentarily sends clarke reeling backwards with a hand up to shield her eyes. it burns, it burns...

but not as much as that smile. )

No, ( she half whispers, half snarls. then fully launches herself off the table and then she's just on him. grappling in an attempt to put get both hands on the protruding part of the crackers and push them in deeper.

as for dick kicking: sorry jenny, she tried. looks like he got the best of them in that department, shoulda expected the unexpected. )

[sictransitgloriamundi]

[there's definitely a point where the other end should be. y'know. coming out. except it doesn't.]

I'm not saying touching it with your bare skin will be immediately deadly. But, I'm also not not saying that.

[skaikru]

( a lot of things should be happening here — like his eyes crossing and his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and just... none of it's going her way. and it sucks. clarke griffin's no good very bad day. )

Shut up.

( with the last little bit of the lobster cracker joint still in her hand, she's absolutely twisting and digging into where he should have a brain. fighting the losing fight, but fighting it valiantly.

and up close and personal enough that, when she spares a panting second to make eye contact, she can spit — )

You know I'll figure out a way to make this work next time, don't you? And I'll make it hurt so much you'll wish you weren't some pathetic type of immortal.

[sictransitgloriamundi]

Promise?

[beat]

Do you want this back, or...?

[skaikru]

Yes, I fucking promise!

( baby's second f-bomb ever, let's pause to celebrate this moment by...

just. digging. the handle of that lobster cracker deeper and deeper into the abyss. it passes the point of being a functional murder attempt, and then clarke's just seeking vicious catharsis. and all of its coming up empty and there's an eventual point where frustration wins and she's just —

...yanking the full length of the lobster crackers out of his head.

then driving it in all over again.

and leaving it this time. still basically in his lap, hands disappointingly bloodless, and panting over the exertion, and internally raging for some sort of progress to be made here... )

I don't think I'm out of my league, anymore. ( your so out of your league, wanheda. )

I think you're just as pathetic as the rest of us, only you're too scared to see if you can cheat death too. You're just existing, and you'll never know what it's like to actually live.

Keep it.

[sictransitgloriamundi]

Okay, cool.

[pulls it out of his skull and immediately just starts playing with it. clack clack clack.]

[skaikru]

( hey, this sucks. this really fucking sucks. there's literally no blue ball worse than throwing your all at a problem and that problem just turn around and start playing with your murder tool like it's a fidget cube.

clack clack clack — and clarke just stares because what the actual hell.

eventually the moment will pass, though. she doesn't have anything else to say to him right now, and gracelessly clambers out of his lap. are the doors unlocked yet, because she's finally looking sideways at natsuno and jerking her head back to signal a tactical retreat.

let's GTFO. )

[ not looking, just cracked his lobster VERY loudly ]

[neverleave]

[ shut up natsuno she's in here ELEMENT and not at all in over her head ]

[skaikru]