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come_sailaway2023-06-01 03:36 am
moonlesstides) wrote in come_sailaway2023-06-01 03:36 am
[Open] This Used To Be A Small Prosperous Fishing Village...
Who: Grace and YOU (but also Helena and Valdis)
What: Coming aboard, trying in vain to practice reading, exploring the ship
When: June
Where: Places
Warnings: Grace is violent, she thinks of JACK THE RIPPER, YES, THAT ONE, as a close personal friend, and she may well discuss the Manor's violent and torturous death games without thinking much of it. Other warnings will be tagged as needed.
Moving Out To The Country [Closed to Valdis and possibly Max Maximum?; Cabin 105]
Congratulations Valdis, you have a roommate now and it seems she tends to turn in early. Grace is in her assigned cabin by roughly seven in the evening with a large number of children's picture books, many of them the big board book types with brightly colored illustrations and huge letters. She sets up on the bed, having no conception that she's got a roommate already, and sets about trying to tackle the power of words.
Grace reads with a look of absolute concentration, one claw-like nail tracing the pages. Her lips do not move - why would they, she's never been able to speak aloud, and still, technically, can't - but in all ways but the literal she's sounding the words out.
What she wouldn't give for a dictionary, even if the letters in it are so very small.
Deadliest Catch [Buffet]
The crab legs have been taken hostage. Grace hadn't realized just how hungry she was after her tempestuous introduction to the ship, including the failed hunt against that damned chatterer, and unfortunately for lovers of crab everywhere Grace eats A. seafood and B. nothing else. Her table setup is...odd. Technically everything is on a plate, but Grace has stacked the plates of crab legs on other plates of crab legs, making a diffuse Jenga tower of crustacean carnage, which she works her way through by cracking the legs open with her bare hands and delicately nibbling at the meat within.
She doesn't even have dip. She doesn't even have dip.
Edge of the Dance Floor [Various]
Grace hasn't had a lot of contact with people her own age. The list of meaningful friendships she's had with peers includes Helena aaaaaaaand that's it, end of the list. Are you a teen or young adult? You might catch a shy face across the room or from around a corner, staring with unguarded curiosity only to realize you've spotted her and try to duck away. Grace isn't going far; the fascination is difficult to ignore.
For those of you who like a sea view, you may find Grace in the sea, where she has come to the mistaken belief that hot dogs are a kind of fish. She surfaces every now and again with a fistful of uncooked hot dogs and just. Chows down on them, in front of God and everybody. Before these swims Grace lowers the lifeboat but doesn't cast it off, mainly so she can climb up the rope instead of trying to Spider-Man her way up the side of the ship. She's done that once already. Once was enough.
Laundry Day [Laundry Room]
Grace currently owns one outfit. She's not sure what she needs to do to get more clothing, though every now and again you might find her staring at the Tommy Bahama, wondering who to buy the clothes from. But that means she's getting sweaty, and salty from swimming, and generally dirty, and her clothes are too.
So when you walk into the laundry room you may well find Grace in the fucking washing machine, spinning gently while her harpoon clink-clink-clanks against the little viewport bubble.
Pursuit Music - Grace & Helena & YOU
An odd scene is taking place at the library. Here we have Helena, currently engaged in enjoying books; so far, so normal. Floating behind her is the tall, blue figure of Grace, lazily dragging her harpoon in one hand and firmly holding a standard ruler in the other. Grace floats there, silently, somtimes leaning forward or craning her neck to stare uselessly at the braille writing of whatever Helena is reading.
It's when Helena gets to the end of a given poetry collection or novel that the strange ritual occurs. Grace floats behind her, absolutely in Helena's personal space, and waits. When Helena has put her book away and selected a new one, Grace very slowly boops her on the top of the head with a ruler, makes a humming noise of satisfaction, and then picks her up by the back of her shirt with the harpoon. This accomplished, Grace then carries the blind lass to a new chair (and it's a new chair, every single time), sets her in it, and takes her position back behind Helena again.
Grace is gonna do this as long as Helena's in the library. She will spend hours here doing nothing else. Likewise, Helena seems committed to sighing about it every time, exhibiting her rare public expression of mild annoyance.
((OOC note: it might take Grace a bit to reply to someone who doesn't address her directly; I'll tag in as seems like, appropriate))
What: Coming aboard, trying in vain to practice reading, exploring the ship
When: June
Where: Places
Warnings: Grace is violent, she thinks of JACK THE RIPPER, YES, THAT ONE, as a close personal friend, and she may well discuss the Manor's violent and torturous death games without thinking much of it. Other warnings will be tagged as needed.
Moving Out To The Country [Closed to Valdis and possibly Max Maximum?; Cabin 105]
Congratulations Valdis, you have a roommate now and it seems she tends to turn in early. Grace is in her assigned cabin by roughly seven in the evening with a large number of children's picture books, many of them the big board book types with brightly colored illustrations and huge letters. She sets up on the bed, having no conception that she's got a roommate already, and sets about trying to tackle the power of words.
Grace reads with a look of absolute concentration, one claw-like nail tracing the pages. Her lips do not move - why would they, she's never been able to speak aloud, and still, technically, can't - but in all ways but the literal she's sounding the words out.
What she wouldn't give for a dictionary, even if the letters in it are so very small.
Deadliest Catch [Buffet]
The crab legs have been taken hostage. Grace hadn't realized just how hungry she was after her tempestuous introduction to the ship, including the failed hunt against that damned chatterer, and unfortunately for lovers of crab everywhere Grace eats A. seafood and B. nothing else. Her table setup is...odd. Technically everything is on a plate, but Grace has stacked the plates of crab legs on other plates of crab legs, making a diffuse Jenga tower of crustacean carnage, which she works her way through by cracking the legs open with her bare hands and delicately nibbling at the meat within.
She doesn't even have dip. She doesn't even have dip.
Edge of the Dance Floor [Various]
Grace hasn't had a lot of contact with people her own age. The list of meaningful friendships she's had with peers includes Helena aaaaaaaand that's it, end of the list. Are you a teen or young adult? You might catch a shy face across the room or from around a corner, staring with unguarded curiosity only to realize you've spotted her and try to duck away. Grace isn't going far; the fascination is difficult to ignore.
For those of you who like a sea view, you may find Grace in the sea, where she has come to the mistaken belief that hot dogs are a kind of fish. She surfaces every now and again with a fistful of uncooked hot dogs and just. Chows down on them, in front of God and everybody. Before these swims Grace lowers the lifeboat but doesn't cast it off, mainly so she can climb up the rope instead of trying to Spider-Man her way up the side of the ship. She's done that once already. Once was enough.
Laundry Day [Laundry Room]
Grace currently owns one outfit. She's not sure what she needs to do to get more clothing, though every now and again you might find her staring at the Tommy Bahama, wondering who to buy the clothes from. But that means she's getting sweaty, and salty from swimming, and generally dirty, and her clothes are too.
So when you walk into the laundry room you may well find Grace in the fucking washing machine, spinning gently while her harpoon clink-clink-clanks against the little viewport bubble.
Pursuit Music - Grace & Helena & YOU
An odd scene is taking place at the library. Here we have Helena, currently engaged in enjoying books; so far, so normal. Floating behind her is the tall, blue figure of Grace, lazily dragging her harpoon in one hand and firmly holding a standard ruler in the other. Grace floats there, silently, somtimes leaning forward or craning her neck to stare uselessly at the braille writing of whatever Helena is reading.
It's when Helena gets to the end of a given poetry collection or novel that the strange ritual occurs. Grace floats behind her, absolutely in Helena's personal space, and waits. When Helena has put her book away and selected a new one, Grace very slowly boops her on the top of the head with a ruler, makes a humming noise of satisfaction, and then picks her up by the back of her shirt with the harpoon. This accomplished, Grace then carries the blind lass to a new chair (and it's a new chair, every single time), sets her in it, and takes her position back behind Helena again.
Grace is gonna do this as long as Helena's in the library. She will spend hours here doing nothing else. Likewise, Helena seems committed to sighing about it every time, exhibiting her rare public expression of mild annoyance.
((OOC note: it might take Grace a bit to reply to someone who doesn't address her directly; I'll tag in as seems like, appropriate))
Laundry time
They follow the sound to its source: a running washing machine with an unidentified humanoid spinning around inside, holding a harpoon. Being submerged in soapy water doesn't appear to be doing her any harm, at least?
// Are you stuck? they ask through the glass, their quizzical audio tones distorted by the water.
no subject
Hopefully her new voice comes through. This person is already more articulate than Bonbon typically was around her.
~I am bathing! The machine will let me out at the end, or it has so far. Did you come to wash clothes?~
Look at her, applying things she's learned while on the spin cycle.
no subject
They shake their head. // The machine made a nonstandard sound. I was curious why.
Now they know the immediate reason: there's someone with a harpoon in it. She doesn't appear to be drowning like a human or getting detergent poisoning like a fish, so it does look like an efficient way to wash herself and her clothes as a single unit. Taking the harpoon along is more puzzling, especially since they can see rust on it.
// Why are you bathing with a harpoon?
no subject
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The fishing spear returns to Grace's hand, phasing through the glass again; there is more wiggling (RIP this machine), and then Grace is back to making those annoying noises of the harpoon knocking against the insides.
no subject
// Understood.
They reposition their limbs carefully, which takes a bit of maneuvering in the close quarters of the laundry room given their size, to bring their right arm into view of Grace's washing machine window. Where the left one is reasonably similar to a metal version of her own, the right one has most of a rifle below the elbow.
no subject
~That is the strangest flare gun I have ever seen~ she says at last. ~How do you even get the flare in it?~
SO SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT NORMAL GUNS ARE EITHER IS THE THING -
no subject
// It fires metal projectiles generated by my self-repair system. They will not be demonstrating indoors.
no subject
A conclusion is reached.
~A weapon? For hunting and slaying?~
no subject
They're not sure from how the conversation's gone so far whether the only kind of guns that have been invented in her world are the kind that launch flares, perhaps because she's from a world lacking in heavy industry like Dimitri and Dedue's, or if she's just never personally seen or heard of any other type. Bastion asks, curiously, // What experience do you have with flare guns?