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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Skulduggery, having been thoroughly humiliated by his athletic shorts, finds himself actually relieved to have a barrage of familiar-if-embarrassing questions hurled his way. He manages to hold in a laugh until right about the point when the man's voice rises frantically, only to die off at the most mortifying question of all.

"Remember to breathe," he chuckles, knowing full well that's just going to raise more questions if he doesn't cut them off a the pass. "I am what you see, with no internal organs. I can break bones and bang elbows, and it all hurts quite a bit. As for the other questions..." Well, it's the only answer there is. "I'm sustained entirely by magic. That's how I see, hear, smell, feel -- all of it."

"Magic," Steven whispers with a kind of childlike reverence. "I've never met an Irish skeleton before. I've never met any skeleton before. I did stick my hand down a mummy's throat before though. That was quite revolting actually. Oh, you don't think he could feel that, do you? I mean if anyone's magic it'd have to have been him. Oh. Oh dear." Steven wrings his hands nervously, eyebrows furrowed as he trips over a bit of root and rights himself, seemingly used to clumsily tripping over things.

"Can you-- this is going to sound like a weird request, innit? Um. Could you-- hold my hand? I want to feel you." It's an innocent kind of curiosity he has although it might come across as a bit inappropriate and obsessive.

He at least knows not to ask what happened, how the skeleton must have died and-- got reanimated or whatever. That seems like traumatic territory to venture into for the first three minutes of meeting somebody.

The wonderment is absolutely endearing to a man whose entire ego revolves around people thinking magic is cool, and Skulduggery is just such a man. Of course, he's also glad to not be the dead body getting hands shoved down his throat...

"Could always send a fruit basket," he suggests, to be helpful. After all, what says "I'm sorry I shoved my hand down your throat" better than an edible arrangement?

He does slow down a touch when Steven trips, not intending to leave him behind, even though his metaphorical eyebrows fly off his metaphorical face at the alarmingly intimate request. He's often offered up his hand for examination aboard, but usually not like that.

"I could let you examine my hand," he says slowly, faintly amused as he comes to a stop. "I usually like to know a person's name before the romantic overtures begin." Which is why he extends his bony, bare hand to Steven and says, "My name's Skulduggery Pleasant."

"Don't think it'll make it to Egypt..." Besides, the mummy won't be able to swallow anything anymore after getting a fist down his throat.

"Oh no I wasn't-- I--" Steven ducks his head and isn't able to suppress a giggle. "Boning. Dad joke. But I meant I had no such intention. I was just curious." He purses his lips and smiles before taking the bony hand and-- isn't quite able to let go because it's so strange that he's just grabbing bones.

"Steven Grant." Oh my god he's touching actual bones. It doesn't feel magical but everything about it from the way the hand curls around him to every joint moving and everything is just amazing.

"You sound like you're from Ireland. Have you heard of Ireland? I've met people 'round these parts who've not heard of London."

Skulduggery chuckles, unfortunately prone to enjoying both dad jokes and bone puns despite how much he might protest. "It's good to meet you, Steven."

The hand is, in fact, only bone; dry but not brittle, and moving without tendons. Skulduggery turns his hand palm up for Steven to prod at once the formalities are out of the way. If he pokes between the metacarpus, the fingers twitch, but it doesn't appear to hurt. It won't unless he starts actually trying to yank bones off, which... seems unlikely.

"I am from Ireland, yes." He tilts his head slightly. "There are quite a few people from planets other than Earth, so it's good to ask."

"I know aliens have been visiting but I've not met one in the flesh." He supposes it would make sense that other lifeforms from elsewhere have some death rituals and memento moris of their own. Nothing wrong with sharing a ship with people from everywhere really unless they're going around offing people.

He wrings Skulduggery's hand for a little bit but doesn't attempt anything strange or sadistic before letting his hand go.

"Are you the only skeleton you know?" he asks softly. "Do you have-- family back home?"

Skulduggery withdraws his hand. "Ah. I had a family, yes, but that was back when I was still alive." He says it flippantly enough; his death is a matter of fact, and while he doesn't often share the gritty details, the broad strokes are easy enough to address. "I'm the only person that I know of to manage to come back this way. At least as far as I know."

He gestures to indicate he's going to keep walking, if Steven wants to continue with him, and then asks, "Did you say your Earth has aliens?" That is so cool.

"Yeah mate. 'ave you heard of the Avengers?" Through no intentional effort, Steven's accent is getting stronger the longer he talks to Skulduggery. "They're on all the lunchboxes and cereal boxes and-- just all the boxes. There was a hole in the sky in New York some years ago and a horde of aliens came schooshing through and wrecked the place. It was like, absolute nutters. Anyway one of the blokes on the lunchboxes, his name is Thor, like the Norse mythology Thor. He's from an Asgard that's in outer space. Innit cool? Maybe the Norsemen of old were onto something about life outside of Earth. Or maybe some people from Asgard took a wrong turn one day and Siri was like ReCaLcUlAtInG all passive aggressive the way she is, bless her heart, and then they landed on Earth hundreds of years ago and told everyone about their story? Anyway the Avengers were able to stop New York from imploding but wound up pretty bloody useless when like Thanos came down and made half of us disappear for five years. Have you heard of Thanos?"

Apparently Steven is really chatty and gestures with his hands a lot when he gets excited.

Given that he's normally the one to talk everyone else's ear off, this is actually a nice change of pace! Most people are rather reticent when it comes to their home realities, either out of politeness or some personal trauma, and so it's nice to not have to pull teeth here. Steven is like a personal, interactive podcast for Skulduggery's hike, and he's not going to complain.

"The only name I recognized throughout all of that was Thor." He's still a year out from Siri being a thing, and the only Avengers he's heard of have been picks out of Ava's book of names. "And he's an alien in your reality. Which makes sense, if Asgard is a planet. And aliens attacked New York. Okay." That last one seems oddly reasonable, actually. Where else would aliens attack? London? "Assuming I've got all that right, I would be thrilled to learn about who Thanos is."

"Oh yeah. There's a whole football team of them. There's Iron Man and Captain America and the Hulk and-- There's even another Steven, spelled with a 'PH'. I'm Steven with a 'V'. He's a mystic magician type with a cape." Steven reaches behind himself with one hand and flaps his hand to simulate a cape. Because a jazz hand behind his back is exactly what a cape looks like. "Calls himself 'Doctor Strange'. I suppose he is rather strange..." Not that Steven knows the doctor personally or anything. These are all just people on the telly, things he's read when Black Widow dumped SHIELD's files, the kind of rubbish that the Daily Mirror would write. They're not 'real people' to Steven, like how politicians and celebrities live on a different plane of existence with different kinds of problems, out of touch with reality.

"They're not all hostile. The aliens I mean. I bet some of them are really lovely! And some aliens would just want to visit Earth, try some-- poutine or wha'ever, have a pint, take pictures of belugas. But Thanos came to the planet and just. He turned half the people to dust." Steven wrings his hands in the hem of his shirt, getting anxious just thinking about it.

"Not us." He's referring to Marc and by extension, himself. "But people we knew. It was really sad."

"Ahhhh, Captain America." He doesn't know anything about anyone, but Ava has definitely mentioned that name to him before. From the way he repeats it now, it's clear he thinks the name is absolutely stupid. (Of course there's a Captain America, he'd said, and he still stands by it. Silly heroic patriotism at its... finest?)

He doesn't interrupt otherwise. The fact that his reality has magic after all is a fun surprise, and the sorcerer's name even sounds par for the course in Skulduggery's own reality. Interesting. He'd love to know more about the magical system in Steven's universe (HAH), but it's clearly not Steven (or Ava's) expertise. That's fine. Maybe he'll get lucky, and Stephen-with-a-PH will show up to help out.

It's the end bit that gets him, for obvious reasons. Steven says "turned people to dust" and Skulduggery immediately conjures up the memory of the Scepter of the Ancients, a tool that'd been used for that exact purpose. He approaches his next question with more tact than he normally would, simply for the fact that he's seen that happen first-hand.

"I'm sorry to hear that. If you don't mind me asking, how did it happen?" The out is there, of course, if Steven's anxiety proves to be too much; he can always go to Ava with any extra questions he has.

"Yeah. Wee bit gauche, innit? Imagine if we had a Captain England or Captain Britain. Everyone would be taking the piss. He'd be the laughing stock of all of England and the entire Commonwealth." It's just not the same, they don't have the same... militaristic zeal, and there's something problematic about the whole concept especially in relation to the British Empire.

"I don't know," he admits. "I just-- I think we saw people just. Turn to dust." Steven was probably just checked out at the time, let Marc deal with it, but he remembers bits and pieces. His memory is really spotty and he seems to have trouble recalling all the details now. "Then the news said it happened all over the world. There was a war in Wakanda or sommin'. I d'know."

"That is exactly what I said." Although he obviously used Ireland in his example, but this isn't the time to start an international incident! This is a time to mock Captain America.

So the disaster was more widespread than Skulduggery's had been. Less of an isolated incident and more of an apocalyptic event. And from the way Steven talks about it, it was a particularly confusing moment. There are probably only a handful of people in his reality who know how it all really went down, in true heroic fashion.

He decides to slide the conversation another way. "You mentioned we a few times now. Did you arrive on the ship with somebody else from your reality?"

"Oh." Steven visibly reacts to that, recoiling a bit. He licks his lips, chews on the bottom one. "Yeah. Uh. Marc. We're--" His pupils drift to the liar's corner for half a second before he turns to look back at Skulduggery and manages a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes like all the others that came before it. "Twins."

He was the one who said 'yeah sort of' the first time someone asked if they were twins, while Marc had flat out said 'no'. But he wasn't sure what he could have said at the time. Anything else would have been outing their condition somehow. Marc's condition, as it turns out. If Marc wants to talk about it, that's his prerogative. Steven's not going to bring it up.

"Weeeeeee've been together. Through a lot of things." Which can hopefully explain away the unhealthily overtuned levels of codependence and the separation anxiety. Steven consciously puts an effort to stop wringing his hands, but he doesn't look any more natural rubbing his hands down the front of his shorts.

One thing Steven will eventually find out about Skulduggery is that he deeply understands the idea of a complicated magical relationship. He could probably tell Skulduggery exactly what was going on and only get a surprised huh in response. As it is, the twin angle being an obvious cover doesn't phase him. It interests him, obviously, because he's as nosy as a man without cartilage can be, but that's about it.

"It sounds like there was a lot to go through." He nods sympathetically and then addresses the anxious elephant in the room. "You seem a bit nervous. Are you feeling alright?"

He really hopes Steven isn't actually the secret murderer he's half-expecting there to be. That would really be a disappointing first meeting!

"Yeah. Yeah I'm alright. I'm just--" Steven breathes out a sigh. He's a little caught up giving the impromptu Ted talk about the abridged version of his universe that he has no idea where he is or where they're going or what they might encounter next. If anything he's followed a serial killing skeleton into the woods and been completely oblivious to everything the whole time.

"It's really quiet." Not them, they're walking and talking but there's no bird noises or cricket chirps or anything.

"And everyone told me to be on my guard. That this place is dangerous. To not trust anybody. Keep my eyes and ears out. I'm not-- I'm not like that. I've managed to annoy half the people I've met, must've been something I said, but I'm not-- We're already dead, y'know? I just wanna make some friends in the afterlife," Steven sulks.

Skulduggery decided to put aside the idea that this is the afterlife, just for a minute, and focus on the more pressing issues at hand. That is, reassuring Steven that everything is going to be fine.

"The last excursion was a highly-structured battle to the death, which has left everyone understandably nervous as to what we might encounter here. The lack of structure so far indicates that we're most likely not dealing with another death match." Probably. Maybe. He actually has no idea, but he's going to say it confidently enough to hopefully give somebody else peace of mind. "The reason it's so quiet, why there aren't any animals or insects, is because the magic here is limited. Nothing is alive here, not even the trees."

He tilts his head, thinking over for a second, and then nods. "And you haven't annoyed me yet. I'm enjoying your company." It's probably the first thing he's enjoyed all day, honestly.

"Magic? Wot?" Steven looks around at all the foliage and other bits of greenery surrounding them. "You mean all this isn't real? You can tell?" But everything looks and feels quite real. There's a certain plasticky matte sheen to fake things. A certain kind of unnatural symmetry. He didn't pick up on the magical nature of their surroundings.

"I can't believe it. I'm talking to a magical skeleton who actually enjoys my company in a magical forest." This is the stuff of fairytales. Or the stuff of nightmares depending on how you look at it.

"All I need is for Totoro to come roaring out the corner and that would just. Make my day."

"Anything coming roaring for us would probably be something worth running from," Skulduggery points out, not being a consumer of quality animated movies. "But so long as putting it like that makes it more tolerable, I'll take it."

After all, that was the point. Oh, and the other point, "Also, we're not dead. Some of us may have gotten close to death before being picked up by the ship, but the captain has the ability to resurrect the dead." Which doesn't sound quite as nice. "He's not able to create life from scratch, however; all of the foliage here is just an attempt to mimic the real thing. They aren't actually alive."

"Well. Yeah. Most things." Not Totoro though. Totoro will protect them. If he had known that Skulduggery isn't familiar with the friendly forest spirit, he would campaign for a movie night once they're back in the cruiseship, marathon some of his favourite Ghibli titles. Marc hasn't seen any of these shows either.

"I'm definitely dead. Like, bullet holes in the chest dead. You're definitely dead too. And I've met other dead people... but I didn't think there were live people either. Oh dear. I've been telling everyone they're dead... Wait, but does that mean the Captain brought me back to life? Why would he do that?"

Steven pauses to pick up a fake leaf that looks and feels pretty real to him, and then he hurries a little bit again to catch up with Skulduggery. There's no point gathering samples then... but at least they make for nice bookmarks? He twirls the leaf between his fingers, not really watching where he's going, tripping and stumbling and hurrying to catch up with his skeleton friend again. Mostly it makes for a break in the cadence of steady footsteps, with him slowing down and rapidly shuffling like that.

"No. I'm definitely dead. I wouldn't be here if I was alive..." he mutters to himself.

There are remarkably few truly mundane people on the ship, which makes Steven sort of stick out. Skulduggery isn't going to rule anything out, obviously. The man just admitted to being shot, and even the most normal passengers tend to have led outrageous lives. But it's clear none of this is familiar territory for him. Even with the story about sticking his hand down a mummy's throat.

"I can't say what your situation is back in your reality, but here, you are very surely alive. I was taken from a... nebulous moment in my own life, but I promise you, I was very much alive when I last laid eyes on my home." Alive, but for how long? It's not worth considering right now.

"I'm not sure why we have to be alive, but the captain seems to need us that way. Maybe it's easier to siphon off of our souls if they're attached to a mortal form?" Shrug. He's got no idea. "Or, maybe he's practicing on us. Since he can't make life himself..." Ew. Not a pleasant thought, really, being some crazed magician's guide to anatomy.

"I got--" ...Steven's not the best liar but the shifty eyes is probably just indicative of how he's trying to summarise everything without launching himself into another Ted talk. "mugged by an evil magician cultist. He came to harass me at the museum I work at. He seemed alright at first. Seemed genuinely interested, like he wanted to help, but. He wasn't." It's. A minor oversimplification, but it's not a total lie, at least.

"But I was told that people died last time, on the last outing I mean, and came back. They couldn't have died, could they?" It somehow... made a lot more sense that they were all dead than if they're actually alive. Steven's eyebrows move in a way that tells a story of its own. He's so confused.

"Have you met the captain? What's he like?"

"Seems a reasonable enough mistake to make," Skulduggery offers up in response to Steven's extremely brief description of his death. Truthfully, it sounds pretty on par with a lot of things Skulduggery's dealt with. Hm. He's going to have to readjust his opinion on Steven's mundane nature.

"The people who were killed during the last excursion did die. You can die on the ship, too. He has the ability to fix the damage and, somehow, return your soul to your body." Well, other people. Skulduggery hasn't had a chance to experience the resurrection process himself. He isn't sure what would happen if he died. Maybe he'd wind up being too much trouble to put back together?

"As for the captain himself... He's dangerous. An arrogant magician with powers that he is most certainly undeserving of. He designed this forest, the ship, all of it, to siphon energy from our souls, fueling his ascent to godhood. Why, you might ask?" Skulduggery shrugs, lifting his hands in a mocking pantomime of helplessness, exasperation weighing down every word. "Because he wants to, that's why! After all, what better reason to be deified than I was bored!"

He could very clearly go on. He very well might, if Steven doesn't stop him.

Wow. That escalated quickly. Skulduggery could work on stage if this magical detective gig doesn't work out for him.

"You seem to have found out a lot about the captain!" Steven marvels. "All I've done is sampled all the vegan options at the restaurants, steal some clothes and read in the library..." And cuddled with Marc, a lot. But that's awkward to talk about when people start getting the idea that they're like, incestuous twins or something really messed up.

Apparently that's what Steven does when he's bored. He's maybe not ambitious enough for all that?

"We were on another boat before we got here. Marc wanted to kill the hip-- the boss lady and steal the boat. You two might get along," Steven huffs with a small laugh.

He would heave a sigh if that weren't more effort than it was worth to simulate, so he settles for a short nod. "I've been here for a while now." Which, while true, doesn't fully explain why he's seemingly so invested in the situation. Like Steven, however, it's hard to fully explain the situation without things starting to come off as... awkward.

"There's nothing wrong with not engaging with the captain," he adds. "If anything, I'd recommend staying away from him whenever possible." That makes him a raging hypocrite, but of course, he doesn't care.

But of course, moving the conversation away from that guy is always a welcome distraction, and Skulduggery is quick to grab hold. "I do enjoy the idea of stealing a boat," he says. "Did he come here on the excursion with you?"

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