come_sailaway | That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed

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That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed

CHARACTERS: Darcy, Skulduggery, Ava, Undine, and YOU?
DATE: Late May/Early June, post-pirate gathering but pre-shore excursion.
LOCATION: Various
SITUATION: Some swords, some levitation, some martial arts movies
WARNINGS: Will probably veer into the usual topics of death and associates

Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours? (Meta)

It’s been a productive couple of weeks since the party. The pirate get-together was mostly fine, with no singalongs, a fight narrowly avoided, and some interesting information gleaned from the captain. Lucius had delivered her a drawing of Undine as promised, which is sitting neatly in her notebook for safe-keeping. She had Kael’s martial arts movies now from the store for some reason. Considering she was still on an evil cruise ship, things were coming up Darcy.

Then her thoughts in meditation turned to Skulduggery’s powers, the air he manipulated seemingly almost without thinking. She mused on the sky, the still air atop the bridge, the span of the horizon and the imperceivable barrier keeping them stuck here. Discursive meditation was something she’d been introduced to back home by Terre Mère, the idea of turning your attention solely to something in order to understand it. It was usually boring and uncomfortable, but something kept her stuck on it this time.

When she returned to her cabin to brush her teeth and prepare for an evening patrol, the mirror presented her with a girl who looked like she’d been strangled to death. Face red, blood vessels in her eyes burst, and a thin angry scar that traced the circumference of her neck. After the initial panic, she recognized what it meant. The scar on her neck to go with the scar on her tongue from biting through it, the salt scars inside her lungs, and her broken heart from the pact she made. A new kind of hurt, and a new kind of power from it.

She tied the black ribbon Stede had given her around her throat to hide the scar, quietly thanked God that he hadn’t picked green, and set off to see what else she could do.

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound (Closed to Skulduggery)

It’s his turn to come across someone practicing on the pool, this time.

Levitation had been the first of her new powers she’d discovered, and she’d taken to it unsteadily, but by the time Skulduggery gets to her, she’s starting to get the hang of it. She traces spiralling fractals into the surface of the water, as if the pool beneath her were frozen and she were simply ice skating. There’s a grace to it that betrays her usual gruffness, the way she normally holds herself like a sledgehammer waiting to find a wall. It’s beautiful, and she’s… laughing to herself in delight as she showboats for nobody at all.

And every man knew, as the captain did too (OTA)

There’s a change in how Darcy trains, since the pirate meeting. She seems less angry while she’s working, less laser-like focus on it, as if her swordsmanship was the only thing between herself and death. She seems to be remembering the joy of it as she practices flourishes and moves her coaches definitely did not teach her. If anyone cares for a lesson, or a friendly bout, now’s a good time to approach her.

T'was the witch of November come stealin' (closed to Ava and Undine)

No time like the present to actually give Undine the present she’d asked Lucius to do. Which is why she’s totally not stalling by fixing up her outfit outside Undine’s door before they go get boba. She managed to brave the damn Tommy Bahama store long enough to find a nice black pair of jeans, so she’s not in sweatpants, paired with the button-up and turtleneck she was given for the party. Eventually after combing her hair for the third time since she got up this morning, she knocks on the door.

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait (OTA)

Being in possession of Kael’s white boy martial arts movies meant one thing; Darcy had something to do with herself again. The USB made it complicated, she couldn’t exactly plug it into her phone, but Rin had suggested she use the screen at the adult pool. So, from after dinner until the wee hours of the morning one night, lacking anything else to do with herself, she set up a movie marathon. All the perennial favourites; Enter the Dragon, Hero, Rush Hour, Kung Fu Hustle, Five Deadly Venoms. She would probably kill you if you accused her of enjoying herself, but there’s an odd nostalgia to actually seeing the movies that Kael never shut up about. There’s plenty of seats, join her if you want.

When the gales of November came slashin'

(Wildcard, go nuts)

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Skulduggery almost doesn't recognize Darcy as he appears poolside, although part of that can be attributed to her back being to him. He's not sure he's ever heard her laugh before, not like this; he certainly has never seen her move with the easy grace he sees now.

It's a surprise and a relief all in one, and he finds himself loitering by the last row of loungers as he watches. The assumption at first is that she's using her abilities to manipulate the water, but there's something different about her moves here, something that makes him wonder if that's all there is to it. Is this a new skill, like the shadow walking? Or one more thing he didn't know about her before?

Normally, he'd interrupt her and simply ask, but it doesn't seem appropriate. She's happy, and he's happy to let her have that. But of course, that doesn't preclude trying to solve the mystery from the sidelines...

There's many things fencing has taught her; balance being primary among them, and responsiveness to surprises being another. So when she rounds the pool in a wide, smooth circle and spots him over near the chairs, she manages not to lose her concentration and drop beneath the surface, only slipping a little. Darcy seems to sober immediately, caught in a vulnerable moment as she was.

But she isn't unhappy to see him, not by any means. She drifts closer, as if suspended like a puppet by her neck, levitating a couple of inches off the ground.

"Like my new trick?"

Skulduggery casually approaches the edge of the pool once he's caught out watching. He's a little sorry to see her expression change, but is easily distracted by the strange way she moves toward him.

"Look at you," he says, audibly impressed to make up for his lack of a face. "Are you -- that's not water manipulation, is it? Are you levitating?"

Okay, that is cool.

"Nope," she beamed back at him, her own self-satisfaction evident on her face.

"This one's new. My usual thing is water and shadows, like I said, ehn? But I think... I've got another Thing now."

She carefully untied the ribbon to gesture to her new scar.

"I came back from meditating with this, and then all of a sudden, I can do air shit now. This, some air manipulation," she gestured to illustrate 'whooshy air shit', "all of that. It's pretty cool, right?"

"Very cool," Skulduggery is happy to agree. "I certainly haven't gotten the hang of levitation yet, and I've been working on that for years, now." He crouches down, reaching one hand out to feel the air in the space beneath her feet and marveling at the movement he senses.

"Although..." He raises his head to look up at her, fixating unnoticeably on the scar around her neck. "Why did it manifest like that, I wonder?" Because quite frankly, it looks a bit more like she'd been garroted by the mafia than drowned.

There's a moment of real excitement when she realizes she can do something Skulduggery can't, especially since it stemmed from her contemplation of his powers. But she doesn't gloat, instead balancing on one leg to gently show off her balance.

"No idea. I think- we tend to scar in places that show how we died, ehn? Like-"

She sticks her tongue out at him, to show the scar from where once she'd bitten through.

"And our powers come from our death. So... I don't know, maybe the ship or something made up a cause of death to go with my new power. Terre Merre said that the elemental ones happen from specific kinds of death. Water from drowning, air from strangling, fire from burning alive, and earth from being buried alive, like she was. The others are less specific."

Edited (forgot one single comma) 2022-06-02 04:44 (UTC)

Darcy's magic is both tragic and fascinating. Skulduggery often finds himself wanting to know more every time they touch on her abilities, which is difficult given her cagey nature.

He rises to his feet again. "Interesting. Does it worry you that the ship could contextualize your powers in such a way?" For his part, he doesn't sound worried about it. He's been discussing with Jade how different magical frameworks manage to coexist on the ship; here is just one more example to help them better understand that very curious problem.

"Not really."

She ensures she's firmly back on solid ground before dismissing the Caul, falling back to the ground with a soft noise. She pats him on the shoulder before indicating to the chairs, so they can sit and talk.

"It could just be that I'm tapping into what this place runs off, ehn? Ghostly shit."

A pause, as she eased herself down onto the chair.

"I should probably tell you what happened with me and Clarke and the Captain at the pirate meeting."

"Ghostly shit, indeed." He follows dutifully behind, although he remains standing for a moment or two longer after she sits. "Ah, right. I suppose I ought to congratulate you two for not getting into a fight with him. I expected one of you to pull out a butter knife."

But he wants to know, obviously, and so he settles down into the chair across from her. "What did you find out?"

"I also didn't fight Jinx. You know, in case you didn't notice."

She's preening a little under the praise for not attempting murder. It's a low bar to clear. But she still kind of wants headpats for it.

But this bit is something that she's been trying to figure out how to phrase for a while, since leaving the get-together. She gnaws on her top lip for a moment, then gestures broadly-

"This is going to sound like I've been possessed, but I don't think killing the Captain is the right solution to all of this."

"I did notice that, although I wasn't sure that was her name until now." Of course, he's not going to mention his attempt to smooth things over. That had been mostly for his own sake than Darcy's.

But! More important things are afoot, as Darcy says something Skulduggery genuinely hadn't thought he'd be able to convince her of.

"You... don't," he repeats, carefully, like he doesn't want her to change her mind. "What brought on this change of heart?"

Aw. Well, Stede gave her headpats, and that'd have to do.

"Well, he's hard to stab, first of all. But... look, Clarke fucking hates him. And so do I, obviously. But... I realised I hate him differently than she does. She hates him like he's... a person, who's doing all of this for no reason. But I don't... think he is. I tried to bargain him into honesty, which he took- he likes cool knives, by the way- but he kept dodging our questions. About like if he's stuck here, or if anyone wanted to help him before now. I think even if he's not a ghost, he's acting like one, and if we keep doing the things he's used to, we're also going to stay stuck here; it's not like people more badass than us haven't probably tried to kill him before. Which means working out how to kill him shouldn't be a priority. As much as I do still want to."

Edited 2022-06-04 01:52 (UTC)

"I agree with you." It bears getting out of the way immediately. Skulduggery has been balancing on the edge of violence for almost as long as he's been here, but everything Darcy says stands between him and actively trying to start a fight.

"He's happy to talk about himself, except when it comes to his past. By his own admission, he doesn't remember who he was... I thought it was more to do with his age, but maybe it has something to do with the way he gathers power?" That's what supposedly happened to the other shades aboard. Maybe the captain's somewhat susceptible to his own power, and the ship is taking from him as well.

"Either way, I think you're right. Killing him isn't the solution." Punching him won't help, either, but at least they can probably get away with that one.

"Y'know when someone else says it, I want to disagree. It kind of sucks."

But they're at least agreed on it, and there's some small amount of pride that someone as clever as Skulduggery agreed with what was frankly a batshit conclusion for anyone to come to, especially herself.

"Maybe that's something about the lotus pods then, ehn? So we don't forget ourselves like he did."

A pause.

"What did he talk to you about?"

"Hmm..." It begs the question -- who in the hell made the leis? Did they know what Darcy and he are only just now speculating?

But that discussion is pinned for the moment as Darcy's interests turn on him. It's unusual to feel put on the spot, but... part of the conversation had been sensitive. He's not in the position to discuss all of it with her, nor does he want to.

Thankfully, there's more than enough there without discussing Vile. "He wanted to gossip about Stede and his family, to start. Apparently, Stede calls him Hiram." Exasperated handwave, "Ancient king of Tyre, bonded brother of Kings David... He had a list of accomplishments lined up. But of course, that's not who he is, really. Not likely, at least." Skulduggery tilts his head and finds himself admitting to Darcy the conclusion he'd come to at the end of it all. "He has no idea who he is, no idea what he is... he doesn't even have a name. Even Friday has a name. He has no soul and he's convinced that he never did, but... I don't know."

He shrugs. "It's a little tragic, really."

Edited 2022-06-04 04:15 (UTC)

"I think that's why I keep thinking about him like a ghost. He's like... an action that never ends. Like he's only still doing all of this because he thinks he has to, and not because he actually wants to. That he's only still having fun because he's getting the input he'd need to have fun. Like... a sausage machine."

Suffering in, fun out, as a process and not out of any genuine enjoyment.

"The issue is that I don't know how to help him. Back home if a ghost was doing this sort of thing, we'd like... find what was keeping it here and help it with that, or just. Stab it until it stopped. Maybe eat it. But we can't help 'Hiram' with apotheosis, it's impossible."

"Ah, of course." Deification is such an obvious plan, and a few days ago, Skulduggery would have assumed that was it. But now, the idea takes a slightly different meaning. "When I spoke to him a while back, he told me that he is 'what he's perceived to be'. That he hasn't had any say in who he is. It was odd, then, but now I'm wondering if I missed something deeper."

In his defense, he'd been distracted by the novelty of the situation.

"So he began all this in a search for godhood... His memories, he says, go back further than the construction of the boat, but he doesn't remember who he was. He's pretty sure he never had a soul to begin with, but there is a very soul-shaped hole in the universe where he stands. And now he seems to be doing things because he's used to it, rather than in true pursuit of knowledge..."

"So... what, we made the Captain?"

Darcy huffed, pushing her hair back. It'd started getting floppy in the month or so since she arrived, she probably needed to pick up some bobby pins. And then work out how to use them.

"I hate that it makes sense. Like... if we were just all on the ship without someone to blame, we'd go fucking nuts. And I don't know, godhood is just vague and pointless enough that he can keep working towards it forever and it never matters that he doesn't make any progress on it. To keep up the appearance that this... means something."

"All of this is starting to sound awfully similar to something Max mentioned to me a few days ago..." He doesn't want to say it and potentially let the theory get away from them, but it bears repeating now. "He suggested that, theoretically, there could be something... bigger than the captain entirely. I don't know how to feel about it, but at this point, we ought to consider every angle.

"So, either the captain has been doing this for so long that it's become a hollow, meaningless routine, or he's doing this hollow, meaningless routine because something else needs appeasement. Or, the third option... He's an egotistical sorcerer who dug himself a hole and he's too proud to stop digging."

"Well, that second one is terrifying."

Better the devil they knew than some potentially larger, more frightening foe they had yet to encounter.

"I guess the question is, assuming one and three... how do we get him to stop? What can we offer him, that's better than godhood? Or how do we get him to give it up? He doesn't care about us. If he did, someone would've stopped him by now."

"No, he doesn't care about us." That much is true. He's fascinated and entertained by their antics, and certainly, he finds some of them more fun to poke than others, but it's all out of selfish desire. "But he does care about himself. And it's clear to me that it bothers him, not knowing who he really is. It would bother me, too. I wouldn't be able to rest until I rediscovered myself."

Which makes the solution clear, even if it's still an impossible feat. "Maybe, if he has to face up to who he actually is, he won't want to continue this way. If we're very lucky, maybe we could find whatever soul he was meant to have and force it back." He's been without one for far too long.

"Oh sure, that sounds easy. I'll just crack open the underworld for us and we'll go looking in the lost and found department for his soul."

A small affectionate eye-roll, but it's not like it was a dumb idea. The difficulty was going to be in actually finding it.

"Either that or Captain Bonnet suggested we hug him until he lets us go. Just in case we can't find his wallet and ID."

"My guess was Rumplestiltskin, so I'm afraid we're starting from the absolute bottom, here." Of course, that had been a joke. The suggestion that the captain's soul might've been stolen or sold off by his family had been just slightly less so.

He finds himself laughing and adding, "I suppose we were always circling back around to friendship being magic, weren't we? Although, I wouldn't recommend grabbing him. He... did not react well when I touched him the other night."

Why was he touching the captain? That's irrelevant. Who cares!

"Hey, it's a good as guess as anything. Maybe we just go down the list- Koschei the deathless, Bluebeard, the Devil, the Devil but again-" she chuckled, adding- "I read too many fucking fairy tales trying to work out the feather thing. The Devil shows up so much."

But that piqued her interest, and she squints at him.

"Why were you manhandling the Captain?"

"Why does everyone insist on using the worst possible descriptors?" Seriously, it was hardly a manhandle. It was barely even a grip!

He cannot possibly dodge the question without turning the conversation toward the first part of his talk with the captain. That doesn't mean he won't try, of course. "There wasn't a reason for it. I sat in front of him because I'm taller than him and it would be funny, he poked me in the neck, I grabbed his hand --" Ugh, "For a moment, and he... didn't react the way I would have expected."

There had been a lot less bone-breaking than he'd anticipated, for one thing.

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