come_sailaway | My better self was always born tomorrow (open)

Entry tags:

My better self was always born tomorrow (open)

Who: Giles & you!
When: Early - mid September
Where: Various
Warnings: The usual changeling warnings + depression

As nights became obsessed with introspection (redbud, purple hyacinth) [Bobby B's]

What had meant to be a quiet evening to himself with a good book for company has quickly become something far more melancholy. He's ensconced himself in a back corner of Bobby B's, book long since forgotten as he stares out into space. Pen in one hand as if he might write in his notebook at any moment, though he hasn't found any words to write beyond the first line, put to by rote more than by thought. His other hand rests on the side of his neck, holding something hidden beneath his collar.

Should anyone approach, he hurriedly returns the notebook to his pocket. But a brief glimpse of the words 'My dearest Dot, might well be spotted before he does so.

The days a contravention of reflection (protea, ivy) [Library]

Mr Ainsel, the little black and white cat that haunts the library, is a little more insistent than usual. Meowing loudly at anyone that crosses its path, and slamming full-bodied into anyone it has more than a passing familiarity with. Demanding pats. And snuggles. And treats. And anything else it could possibly get.

Within the id a stranger I did form [Around]

He doesn't know where he is, well, having explored the place rather thoroughly he knows he's a ship. But he still doesn't know its destination, or how he got here. There's two logical explanations, either Oswald decided on a last minute trip to America or the like, or he let Dot talk him into something inadvisable again.
His money's on the latter.
Now if he could just find either of them, or anyone else he knows, everything might start to feel a little less... uncanny.

To any onlookers, it's almost as if there's a new passenger aboard. One that may look passingly familiar if not quite right. Like Giles, if he were entirely human, if he had dark brown eyes rather than piercing green, and if he were more than a foot shorter.

During the day, he moves between standing out on the deck, watching the ocean and trying not to think too hard about what exactly is going on, and searching the library for a single non-fiction book.

In the evening, he gravitates towards Stan the Man. Where he sits with a fancy cocktail he isn't really drinking, and pretends that he's perfectly fine. He'd much rather retire early, but he doesn't know what his sleeping arrangements are any more than how he got here, and if, as he suspects, he's not here for work, then it's where he'll be expected to be.

A lily on the waters of a storm (Wildcard)

Come find me in the discord if you want to plot something else out!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sharky's trying to avoid the flowers as best as possible, having already suffered from the massive clean-freak streak and a bout of miserable reminiscence, but they're kinda hard to ditch when they're growing everywhere. There are two things that will make him feel better about it -- drinking and making out -- but the first is way easier to score right now.

He almost doesn't recognize Giles when he walks by him, but there's something to the broody vibe that makes him do a double-take. The guy's a little shorter, a little less... magicky, but --

"Giles??"

Bugger

He doesn't look surprised or like he's been caught slacking off, but it's a near thing. If people know him by his surname, that means he's supposed to be working, and he'd been certain that wasn't the case.

"The very same," he says with a tight lipped smile, trying to size Sharky up for where exactly he falls in the scheme of things. It's always harder to tell with Americans. Better to play it safe for now "Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

Sharky squints suspiciously at him. "Sir?" He leans against the railing, further away than he normally would, but closer than he would to a newcomer. "You feelin' okay, babe? Need me to take your temperature?"

It's a heavy-handed flirtation accompanied by a cheesy grin, but he doesn't follow through with any action. There are a lot of weird things going on thanks to these fucking flowers, and a foot-shorter Giles looking at him like he just got caught smoking during his shift at Applebee's sure feels like one of those weird things. He should probably text Ossie, but there's no way to do that and not be suspicious as fuck. And what if Ossie doesn't know that something's up with Giles? Ugh, he does not want him to turn into goo again...

'Babe'? He accepts that Americans are usually somewhat less formal than he's used to, but that's too far for mere informality.

"I think- I think perhaps you have me mistaken for someone else." He can almost hear Oswald comparing his expression to a stuffed frog, but he persists nonetheless, "It's been known to happen, Giles is my surname, but it's far more common as a given name. I do apologise for any confusion"

Nevermind the fact that what Sharky had said implied he knows Giles far better than that and ought to know what he looks like, so a mere mix up of names couldn't really explain it away.

There's literally no way he's mistaken one Giles for another, unless Giles somehow disappeared in the last couple of days and got replaced by another version of him... but that would suck, so Sharky decides that can't be what happened.

"Mmmaaaaaybe," he waffles, realizing partway through the word that if Giles isn't Giles, then he's probably trying to keep the closet door shut. Sharky could pry it open, but that feels kinda mean. Maybe he can just wiggle it a little?

"The Giles I'm talkin' about is a tall, hot goth with magic powers. You're not as tall, and you're not quiiiite as goth... You got any magic? Or are you one for four on matching the dude I'm talkin' about?"

It's the most roundabout way he's ever called someone hot. Honestly, he's kind of mad nobody's around to see how smooth he's being.

Well, he's never been accused of being tall before. That's new.

"While my work has sometimes been referred to as 'magical' by my employers, I can assure you it is entirely metaphorical."

The rest he's not going to touch, not least because it would let on just how out of his depth he is right now.

He waves his hand. "Nah, not that kinda magic. It's whatever, it's cool... Look, I'm not gonna make this any weirder for you than it already probably is," by either being too familiar or trying to mack on him right away, "But I bet you're, uh, feelin' lost and confused and maybe more than a lil' creeped out about everything here, including me. But if you let me buy you a drink -- or just come with while I get one for myself -- maybe I can, uhhh, demystify some of that."

He would decline, leave the headache almost certainly waiting to happen alone, but...

He's curious about what Sharky has to say that will supposedly 'demystify' things, and it never hurts to be on people's good side. The number of engagements he's managed to stop with just one well placed favour called in are proof enough of that.

"Alright," he says, still a little cautious but warm enough despite that, "One drink"

Oh, yeah, baby! He is in. When (if) he sees Giles for realsie again, he can proudly declare that he's 2 for 2 on meet-cutes with him.

"Hell yeah, brother, that's what I like to hear." He's gonna avoid "babe" for the foreseeable future... which is pretty much only foreseen up to his first beer. "C'mon, we'll hit up Bobby's, it's a real classy joint for a classy guy like you." He lifts his elbow as if to either prod Giles or offer it to him, but instead turns it into a full-body gesture towards the bars. "A whiskey or two and a round of twenty questions sounds good, right?"

'Classy'? What role is he supposed to be playing here? Servant or socialite? Neither seems to fit the tone, and he's already shown his hand by calling this man 'sir', he can't really backpedal from that.

"Right." He should reassert that he's only agreed to one drink, before that 'or two' starts climbing higher and higher, but he won't just yet, not until he's a little clearer on where he stands, "After you, then."

Edited 2023-09-17 06:48 (UTC)

Sharky will gladly take point, although he only keeps a half-step or so in front, so he's not quite leading Giles along. He doesn't wanna give the impression that they're on unequal social ground, okay! And he knows just enough about pre-fae Giles to know that might be a sticking point.

"Why don't you, ummmm, tell me what's been goin' on with you? Like, you go rollin' around in some flowerbed somewhere? Or do you remember wakin' up on the ship today?" Totally normal questions for a guy trying to figure out if Giles is memory-wiped or what.

"I most certainly did not 'go rolling around' in a flowerbed" Does he have stray flowers in his hair or something? He's not going to check. He's not going to check, he is not going to check, he is not going to check, he is not-

He runs a hand through his hair.

There aren't any flowers.

He's getting a headache.

"I... don't actually remember waking up, no." He says slowly, deciding that probably the answer to his conundrum of servant or socialite is, in fact, neither, and that instead he'd placed Sharky wrong in his mind and that he's working class, a true equal, rather than what Giles had first assumed. And if he's wrong again, well, he's already this far down the spiral, how much worse can it get?

"Just askin'... that shit's been going around." He doesn't clarify what "that shit" even is, figuring magic is the obvious answer.

He leads the way straight to Bobby's, which is currently almost entirely flower-free (aside from some pretty purple ones growing around the counter, but like, how bad can they be?), and gestures for Giles to pick a spot while he grabs a bottle and some glasses from behind the bar. Ghosts or no ghosts, Sharky knows what he wants!!

"If you don't remember wakin' up, what do you remember?"

He almost questions Sharky taking things from behind the bar without being served, but there doesn't appear to be anyone to do the serving, so he leaves it be for now.

"I remember... I'm not sure. Everything's a little hazy until a few a hours ago. I think I might have boarded with someone, but I'm not so sure of that anymore. I haven't been able to find him again." He doesn't know why he's sharing so much, he could just lie it might make things easier, but he's so out of his depth that it feels almost cathartic to confide in a stranger. "And I keep seeing the same flowers, forget-me-nots and something I don't recognise. I don't suppose you know why flowers seem to be growing out of things they shouldn't be able to, do you?"

Probably-definitely Ossie, but Sharky doesn't want to start texting him right in the middle of his conversation with Giles. It'd be rude!

"It's a small ship," he says, plonking the glasses down and pouring about three fingers of whiskey into each of them. Hey, if it's only going to be one drink, he's gonna make it count! "You'll def see him again. Probably soon! Not a lot of places to hide around here." Except the cottage, that is...

"Honestly, any time something weird as fuck happens around here, I figure it's magic." He shrugs. "Either the dude in charge decided to make things ~more interesting~ or some other rando messed up on a spell. Or maybe it's like the ant guy runnin' around and they're actually a new passenger too?" Man, that would suck if true. "But it's deffo magic. And it's probably designed to fuck with us specifically, because the whole ship runs on the worst vibes possible."

He smiles in thanks for the whiskey, but he's not planning to touch it or even acknowledge it beyond that. He'd said Sharky could buy him a drink, he said nothing about actually drinking it.

"Ant... guy?" He has no idea what Sharky is going on about. It's probably his fault for asking about the flowers, but that doesn't mean it makes any sense. And magic couldn't possibly be the real explanation anyway.

Let's be real, it's mostly for Sharky's sake rather than Giles'.

"Uhhh, don't worry about it. I'm gonna guess that you think I'm full of shit or somethin', because you're..." From a point in time where Giles wasn't magical, "You know, new around here. Or you're gonna think I'm full of it when I tell you I'm from 2035, 'cos you look like you're... nooooot."

He doesn't even realize that he's trying to goad some sweet deets from Giles. Man, he is such a good interrogator!!!

Well, now the question is: is this man delusional, already drunk, or playing some unfathomable game with him?

"Alright," he says with not quite a sigh, "I'll bite. What does the world look like a century and change from now, then?"

He grins. "I guess that depends on which world you're talking about. My version of Earth is like, soooo totally different from yours. I mean probably. I mean I don't know anything about yours, maybe you also have a nuclear apocalypse in 2018!"

Okay maybe he's not as good at leading conversations as he thinks he is.

"Buuuut probably not. You probably just get cellphones and the internet like most everyone else." He whips out his own phone as both an example and proof that he isn't talking crazy. "I can message anyyyybody I want with this baby." Which he apparently intends to prove as he types a quick message to Giles's phone. Not hitting send yet, because as soon as he does, Giles is going to see a couple of NSFW pics of Sharky's dick that he probably isn't prepared for right now...

Multiple worlds. Sure. Why not.

He's not sure he wants to know how the words 'nuclear' and 'apocalypse' could possibly fit together.

"How does it work?" He's fully expecting the answer to be 'magic', more than resigned to the fact that he isn't going to get any better answers, not here from Sharky anyway.

"I don't know like, the details, buuuut, basically they're like, mini-computers that send and receive information through like, cell phone towers and the internet and stuff. So, like..."

Okay, time to roll the dice. He hits send on his first message to Giles:

Hi :)

And then he sends a series of emojis to ensure that his dick is off-screen by the time Giles gets around to opening the message. He doesn't even know if he has his phone on him!!! But better safe than sorry...

He doesn't know what all of those words mean, the internet being nowhere near his frame of reference, and computers as complex machines being more theoretical than anything else, but it's enough to understand the gist without having to dismiss it as magic.

He extracts his phone from his pocket as it starts vibrating. It's easier to work out how it operates when there's a clear task to carry out, so there's only a little bit of fumbling as he navigates to the notification and text thread. He doesn't bother trying to read any of the older messages, isn't even aware there might be older messages to look at.

"Impressive. I can certainly see it being quite useful"

After a moment or two longer of fussing with it, he sends back a simple

Good afternoon.

He holds his phone up with the screen facing Giles after the text goes through, grinning. "And you didn't fat-thumb a word, man! It's like you've done this before." Teehee. He goes so far as to press the back button so that he can see how to access the other messages he might have. If he does, then Sharky can rest assured that Giles didn't disappear and get replaced. If he doesn't have more messages... well, damn, he'll go for round two!

"It's great, TBH. The phones here are way more limited than the ones before the Collapse, but like, for runnin' off bullshit magic, it sure gets the job done. Oh, did I tell you there's a camera built in too? I'd show you my gallery but, uhhhh, that's more like, second or third date content." Heheheheh.

There are indeed more messages on his phone, which is why it's probably a good thing that Sharky immediately distracts from it by talking about the camera. He's even less ready to see the casually loving texts between himself and Ossie than he is to see Sharky's dick pics.

"There's a camera in something so small? That sounds-" like an absolute nightmare, reporters were hard enough to avoid at parties without them having access to something that so easily hidden, "convenient."

"It totally is!" Sharky, being familiar with 2018, has long since come to terms with the intense lack of privacy that smartphones propagate, so he doesn't even think about that. "The more pumped up phones also have, like, games on them, and the internet, and... they're just super cool."

Now that he has an idea that this is probably flower-based, he relaxes into the idea of accidentally spilling some gossip. Something that might tip Giles off that there's something hinky going on, without totally freaking him out... hmmmmmmmm.

"So, like, any of this making you feel a weird sense of deja vu yet?" Yeah, that's subtle (as a brick). "None of this feels like you've been here before??"

My better self was always born tomorrow (open)

a stranger I did form (deck)

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