come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

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Oh. Ava peeks over at her unexpected rooftop companion, then back down at who she threw a pinecone at. Who is indeed not Ginko if that's Ginko over there. She could apologize for the mistaken identity, but instead she shakes her fist at them so very menacingly.

"Fending off trespassers," Ava claims. "Are you... keeping watch?" How long had he been up here? He must not have been moving around a whole lot, or else she'd have heard something up on the roof. Unless he has super sneaky stealth abilities. No telling with this group.

Good to know you think so.

(Pow-pow didn't miss much anymore, and Ekko had been lucky to have made it through their last game. But maybe one day by the pool with some water guns they could settle it.)

I. Field (early morning, ota)

[Old habits die hard, and the current circumstances are no excuse to slack in one's skills. A blade only stays honed if it is properly sharpened, after all, and Ayato prefers to remain battle-ready at every possible turn.

The woods are still in the early stages of predawn when he quietly exits Scorpio Cabin, his steps a velvet tread so as to not disturb any of his sleeping bunkmates. He makes his way to the empty field, scoping the area out and nodding to himself absentmindedly; it had seemed large enough upon entry, and this close it's easy to determine that he should have more than enough room.

He launches into a well practiced calisthenics routine first and foremost, warming his muscles up to be more receptive to the later training to follow soon enough. Once he's sure he's properly stretched, he summons his sword forth to materialize within his grip.

Just the basics of swordplay today. It's never a good idea to become reliant on one's Vision, as having it stolen from your grasp is always a possibility. Eyes half closed in concentration, he begins his kendo drills. His footwork is well practiced, each swing of his sword graceful, and his posture is - as expected - immaculate as always.]

II. Mess Hall (open!)

[Later in the day, after the sun has properly risen and he's had the time to take a brisk shower to cool off from his morning workout, Ayato can be found seated within the mess hall. He seems to have raided the arts and crafts building on his way over; a stack of unlined paper, an inkwell, and a calligraphy brush having joined him at his table in addition to his breakfast. He's opted for a more western meal this day, as it is in his nature to try new things whenever possible. Eggs, bacon, sausage, and biscuits slathered in gravy... Occasionally he breaks to take a bite of one or all of the above, take a sip from his cup of tea, or simply give his hand a much needed break.

Looking over his shoulder, one will notice his penmanship is neat and well practiced, jotting down characters that are stylistically similar to Japanese hiragana, though are by no means a perfect one-to-one recreation. Those well versed in Inazuman script, however, will note that he appears to be transcribing poetry from memory.

A world of dew,
And within every dewdrop
A world of struggle.]

He's about to say no, but changes his mind at the last second because... kind of?

"Eh, I guess you could say that."

The roof is forgiving enough to let him sort of crawl/clamber his way up to sit on the very top of the roof, so he's not sprawling over it. His dignity died a while back, so he doesn't try to make it elegant or graceful, just efficient.

"This was the safest place to sleep. In case of bears." He kind of smiles at that, because it's all pretty funny now.

(jinx almost fumbles and miss the catch when she practically gawks over at him removing his shirt. but it's a good thing its in her hands -- it gives her something to really tighten her grip on while she stared at his build. her pinks wander each little piece of him even admiring any fade scars he may have from past fights he carries. she can't help but to wonder if some of those were made by her. it's quite possible, she feels.

and the more she looks over, the more her eyes shine briefly in excitement. not that she's aware, of course, and despite being around the serum back home -- jinx doesn't truly know in depth about it besides what she's seen. so the fact the drug has link to her emotions was something she never considered. and if ekko didn't know that about shimmer, well, he does now.)

(biting her lip, she finally moves and takes a few steps up to him -- a finger trailing from his stomach up to his chest.)

You really know how to blow my mind. It's what I like about you.

Watson moves back fractionally, automatically, not quite a flinch, but the sudden rush of adrenaline has his pupils dilating. He goes very still, though the hand on his cane tightens. A twist of his hand and he could pull out the blade inside, and while he can only assume Ed's killed more people than he has, he could surely get in at least one good strike to an important bit of anatomy. The femoral artery, perhaps, or a kidney. He takes a breath.

He doesn't look away from Ed's face.

"I'm not so cavalier with men's secrets," he says. "You only had to ask."

"That would be it. Though I've had to darn my own socks, once or twice. I thought if I could do one, I could do the other."

He hums thoughtfully, though. "Perhaps not a bad idea. We did have some notion of you showing my something of fencing, so perhaps we should revisit that."

( skulduggery's caution in approaching is rewarded by... not getting shot, and that's about it. despite the fruitlessness of this diligent effort for science, clarke still inevitably looks up at him like he's interrupting something; a flat affect, the slight squint of the eyes when the summers sun beats across her face, and a downward quirk to dehydration chapped lips.

is he... is he making fun of her? or their situation? or is this just an acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of a forest setting without the ambiance of birdsong or the irritant of mosquito bites? for clarke, it at least doesn't feel useless to try — natsuno had come back from the murder island and dumped a small, living crab into her palms for a brief minute. it's possible, it could happen. just not... probably. )

I found dirt, grass, dirt, some moss, more dirt, a few flowers, and — want to guess?

( she's pilfered some industrial metal utensils from the kitchens and now holds up a firm mixing spoon with a small mound of earth nestled in the depths of it. super unremarkable, barely even damp despite her having dug at least six inches into the ground to scoop it out. )

"Maybe you won't need it, room full of teenagers. Or maybe you will. Might turn all Lord of the Flies in here awful quick and you're the fattest, slowest, juiciest one here," Steven teases. See? He can be mean!!

"You'll be running to me for help then." Fat lot of good he'll be able to do. But at least Marc won't be the slowest person in the room then.

(There were a few that despite the dim light could be seen, there were more than one near misses and close calls. But he had always managed to make it out, where as others made it to the wall. Some were from her, most of them weren't. One from careless experiments, one from a incident learning to fly. But compared to most, he'd gotten off easy.

When she stepped back over, he placed a hand on her side just above the waist. He noticed her eyes, the intensity that seemed to grow in them. It made her a little easier to read, though he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.)

That's all I ever wanted to do.

(a happy hum rumbles in her throat and even attempt to wiggle her nose -- despite whether or not that's something she can even do. jinx shifts a little and finally straightens out his shirt a bit so she can slip it on. and just like that, she is now covered for the most part and to be obnoxious, she reaches her arm around to slap him pretty hard on the back. if he stumbles over, good because that was her intention.)

So! — What were you doin' out here anyway? Lookin' around to see if any animals are about even though I've seen zip of those.

( with the same energy she used to sit at her mother's elbow and dutifully map diagrams of internal organs, clarke watches. counts the notches on that wheel, very rarely flicking her gaze to undine's face, but more avidly affixed to the pattern of the string once the other girl starts to explain how they're meant to criss-cross.

she'll reach out her hand after a brief absorption of the instructions. ) Can I try?

( it seems like a matter of weaving at varying degrees but equally, and she's always learned new weapons best by trying them out herself. )

( case number 774239 as to why the serena eterna needs a board certified psychologist: anti-anxiety grounding techniques, probably. but they're shit outta luck in that department, and right now compartmentalizing trauma and respecting anxious ticks is the best they can do.

it doesn't feel like she's helped much, but it's at least something. a place to start, and he seems successfully distracted. for a brief second she considers following him across the field, just to see this reunion through to the end, but... )

Good luck, ( clarke offers once steven turns his back and starts off towards blue camp. she spares a second to struggle to place what a chicago cub was, and what species of infant animal it could make up, but ultimately — she has a nonexistent item to pretend to retrieve from the bus stop, and then a lions den of strained relationships and her own ptsd coping mechanisms: survival proofing aries cabin.

her "help" only goes so far. )

( right, the twin's name was marc. and this is apparently what a chicago accent sounds like — maybe at some point she'll remember to ask what species a chicago cub is, and finally put to rest that unimportant question that's still be dogging the edges of her thoughts for the past few days. )

Here. First day.

( clenching ones teeth to battle down a wave of nausea equals short sentences, and also does wonders to break down the walls of conversational restraint. rude or not, clarke's main take away of steven grant was — )

He's a bit of a mess.

( she can speak from experience: waking up here alone is terrifying, disorienting, horrible and unpleasant. but the second someone you care about from home goes through the same experience, it somehow becomes a thousand times worse. guilt. for some reason it had been guilt that swarmed over her when bellamy blake showed up, as if some unspoken homesickness and the desire to see friends and family again was the reason he was now suffering right alongside her.

but before the meta can dive too deep into self loathing undertones, it's like someone took a record player and just threw it into the ocean. the biggest scratch-stop sounds in her head, and clarke's suddenly looking at kano with a mix of shock and horror.

it's school quickly enough, into something resigned but cautious. and she's taking a step towards him, crowding personal space as her voice drops into a whole new realm of seriousness.

keep? keep??? )

So you met him?

( dunno jinx, someone who deigned to throw tree nuts at her is literally hanging over her head right now, and — )

Camp's not over yet though, is it?

( they're day five of seven, and all it takes is one second for the mood in the entire camp to switch. clarke is still quietly waiting for some outside influence to force them all into survival mode — a spread of noxious gas, a wildfire, a mass poisoning... just because the captain isn't here doesn't mean she doubts his reach.

off handedly, with a vague jerk of her thumb back in the direction of camp — the red cabins specifically: )

There's a guy that can bust rocks out of the earth if you really need one.

Ah. Unsurprising, but disappointing nonetheless. [He'd sort of hoped maybe she had found something. A trace of an ant-hill, maybe, or perhaps some strange stones with magic sigils carved on them? That would be far, far too lucky, though, and Clarke doesn't strike him as one to look for lucky breaks.]

Will samples come back with us? I would gladly trade in all of my replacement clothing in favor of milk cartons if that's the case.

[More accurately, he'll be taking samples from the flora in the forest. But he isn't going to waste time on a fruitless endeavor.]

"I'm the fattest and slowest, huh?" Oh, it's kind of nice seeing him willing to tease, to joke. He snorts, shaking his head-- and he wishes he could confidently say all these teenagers weren't seconds away from going Lord of the Flies, but he's actually not.

"Oh, I'm sure I will. Steven Grant, protector against... moody, hormonal teenagers. I'll gladly let them yell at you when they've decided I've somehow insulted their sense of independence."

"Nope." He taps a finger against his (unfortunately exposed) collarbone. "No digestive system. I sustain myself entirely through sheer force of will." And magic, but that goes without saying. "And some people find the presence of a skeleton at the dining table... offputting, to say the least."

Their loss, honestly. He's great company, and he never talks with his mouth full.

"I'll be more confident about our odds after tomorrow night. The horror genre tends towards slow burns, and the captain... seemed to be inclined to make things difficult for us." So far, however, the only difficulty has been accepting the change in wardrobe. "I suppose I'll be grateful for the peace while it lasts."

( disappointing is the name of the game, yet it's one she doesn't intend to stop playing. and with a sigh she dips the spoon to slide its contents into one of the remaining empty milk cartons. short answer: who knows? but it's worth the try.

slightly longer answer: )

Natsuno Yuuki got to bring back the flamethrower last time, I don't see why a few boxes of dirt would be against the rules. I think I'll try to get a few flowers and weeds by the roots. See if I can take them back and they'll keep growing.

( there's a moments hesitance, as if in debate but... ultimately she wants none of his clothes. and will simply pick an unoccupied carton from her left and hold it out to skulduggery. yanno, in case he wants to gather his own earthly souvenirs from their time at camp. )

(she falls quiet for a moment as she listens to the soft crackling of the fire in front of them -- her eyes exchange looks from each star. jinx is realizing now that she haven't had those "episodes" this entire time they're here. it's a great thing, sure, but it's still... weird to her since it's a daily thing up until now.

her mind trails off to curious thoughts. a thought maybe his positive aura that she tends to always rant and complain about might hold a little power after all. hmmm.)

Hey. Y'know, I've been hearin' that people believe the killin' might happen on our last night here. — Do you think so?

Skulduggery chuckles. "I suppose that's fair. I thought you might assume that 'building a world from scratch' would trump 'control over the elements.' But, no. I, unfortunately, do not have the ability to control and manipulate matter. Certainly not to the extent that the captain has figured it out."

Which is too bad. He wouldn't mind being able to design little dimensional terrariums as a pastime. Even if the plants weren't really plants.

"It's a shot in the dark, but do you happen to remember if they... sounded right, when you splintered the trees to hell and back?" He can't help but wonder if maybe they were... hollow or something. Different from how these trees are now. "Maybe you remember them being easier to topple than they should have been?" He doubts it, but it's worth asking.

He can't really look down because Marc's occupied most of his frontal field of vision. That's probably deliberate. Steven's lingering fears and uncertainties and perceived inadequacies are easier to see from that angle. He just can't help the feeling like he's not really worth what Marc says he is, that he's the most boring person to watch go about his life. But Marc keeps saying it with the patience of a saint, and Marc sticks around even though he doesn't have to now, he can go anywhere he wants without Steven, so there must be some kernel of truth to it.

"Mmh." He closes his eyes, just feeling Marc's hand on his cheek. It's nice. It's nice to be wanted. It's nice to be able to touch. It's nice to think about a world where neither of them are so painfully lonely, where they can just enjoy each other's company, not worry about disturbing the peace with his nattering, let Marc have the occasional outburst without feeling like he has to censor himself, keep it all bottled up inside.

When he opens his eyes again, Marc is still there. Steven manages a small smile and a few nods, hands fisted in the hem of his shirt. "I would too. I mean... I'd be really tempted." And if Taweret kept trying to change his mind, he would have really struggled to walk away. But he would have, even if it meant letting her down a bit. "But if I'm going somewhere nice, you're coming with."

Naaaah! I'm in too good of mood to do some killin'! 'Sides between you and me —

(she whispers to clarke but rather loudly since she's not at all close to her.)

I'm unarmed.

(then she returns back to speaking normally while swinging along still like a monkey germlin.)

No nothin' over here. Just me, myself, and good ol' I.

( the thought of returning to camp for boxes and food has clarke pausing, looking at the array of milk cartons still nestled in the dirt. not all are full, but barring anything new popping up, it feels like she's covered the bases: dirt, grass, bark, stones, leaves, moss...

so she kneels to refold the tops in an effort to secure them, before carefully arranging them in her backpack so they wouldn't spill much during their return to the main camp. )

We shouldn't need to. The rig would hopefully trigger the second something gets close enough to the bait. But it's good to check them religiously, just in case.

( is she very optimistic about the chances of success for these snares? no, not really. they haven't even seen a hint of bird poop out here but, after ody there was always a chance, right? and for that slim chance, they needed to try. )

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JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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