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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"Why?" Is he going to write them up and file a complaint with the Captain?

"Well, you know. I s'pose they could be team-building exercises. For adults. But not if we're going to start killing each other." That would decimate morale. Maybe they won't die die, even if they're not already dead. But they might not come back exactly the same.

"You must tell me some things that've happened over the last four hundred and fifty years. I'm so curious! I want to hear all the stories." As if Steven's curiosity isn't painfully obvious as it is.

"Because they're stupid trees, and I want everyone to recognize the fact. And, I don't want to double over my tracks when exploring." A two-for-one burn, to be sure. "And nobody is going to start killing indiscriminately. There'll need to be some kind of catalyst for that to happen."

Some of the passengers would need less goading than others to start a bloodbath, but Skulduggery is confident enough that they would still need some kind of starting gun.

"Hmm... Well, the 1500s were fairly boring, all things considered. There was the Reformation, Martin Luther, all that -- but sorcerers don't care about mortal religions, and I was just a tot then. It wasn't until the late 1600s when we discovered gravity that things really began to take off... But of course, I was dead for about 150 years, there. Can't really tell you what happened during the 1700s."

So casual about it because, well. He did die, after all. That's why he's a skeleton now.

"Was there some last time? I guess-- I didn't think to ask, or check if we had enough food. Or if there's someone here who's not one of us, or anything like that..." That's how he imagines the fight breaks out. Artificial scarcity or some kind of foreign instigator trying to start something between them or something.

"You won't have any of that to worry about, of course... no meat on your bones..." Steven, on the other hand. He'll have to blame Marc for all those protein shakes when the time comes.

"So you were dead and... then someone brought you back?" Steven has no idea how that is supposed to work. Why anyone would do that. It-- seems a little cruel? But maybe that's just his perception of life and how it should be. "Was your name always 'Skulduggery Pleasant'?"

"Last time was a recreation of a novel called Battle Royale. You seem media-savvy, perhaps you've heard of it." If not, he'll be more than happy to explain: "Everyone was forced into bomb collars that would detonate if they refused to fight to the death. And then they... well. Fought to the death."

He seems to understand that part, so no reason to elaborate there!

"And nobody brought me back, precisely." He... doesn't actually know for sure, and saying that feels a little close to a lie. "Well. Nobody's come forth and claimed responsibility, anyway. I did it myself." He shrugs. "As for my name... I chose it before I died, and I saw no point in changing it." After all, it fits even better now that he's a skeleton.

"Haven't seen the movie but I've read the manga. Was always hoping there'd be an anime. You're free to be a bit more artistic and violent and-- wee bit messed up in those." That's definitely a motivator and Steven's pretty sure he wouldn't even last a day if he'd been through that. He would've wanted Marc to make it out of the island anyway, if he was given a choice.

"I like it, Mr. Pleasant." Not that his opinion would mean much of anything, but 'tis a nice name, he thinks. Very fitting of his current state and form indeed. And it's a little nicer than just. Picking out the name of a character in a movie. That's... well it's not really demeaning, but it's just. Not an exciting name, Steven Grant. And it makes him feel all the more fictional.

"Are you okay with it? Not dying properly, I mean. Not sure if you had a choice..."

"Well, there was a live-action adaptation, played out on screens aboard the ship for three days straight." Skulduggery almost manages to sound flippant about it, but not quite enough to hide how unsettling it had been. "When they died on the island, they woke up the next morning in their beds."

So it isn't so bad! Really. Except for the part where the captain is using their deaths to further his own research into deification. That part isn't so nice.

"I don't mind it, really. Being a skeleton has its advantages, after all. "I'm a fair bit harder to kill, this way, which is a benefit considering how many enemies I make as a detective. But it does make time harder to kill aboard the ship." Hence why he's going a bit stir-crazy here.

"So-- did they really die or how can you be sure we aren't in some kind of purgatory?" Steven asks anxiously. It's not that he doesn't trust Skulduggery, he just-- both kind of wants to know and knows that he won't like the answer so he doesn't want to know what's going on. He's only familiar with his own way of dying and waking up somewhere else, and this kind of feels like that.

"It seems to me like you can do things most people can do..." Steven leans a little closer and squints, resisting the urge to touch those bare bones. It just seems natural to him that everyone would love to meet Skulduggery, talk to him, get to know more about him, and he shouldn't feel excluded from anything, or bored.

"What do you find limiting?" Maybe there's some things he can't do. Maybe he can't swim or enjoy food in the same way or something.

"We are physically alive and present here," Skulduggery confirms. "The captain happens to know advanced magic, and he uses that to repair our bodies. I couldn't tell you the specifics -- he plays that one quite close to his chest."

The lack of personal space isn't ideal, but Skulduggery doesn't let it bother him. Curiosity is fine, just as long as he isn't poked or prodded like a science experiment. "Well, I can't eat, for one thing. Or drink. Or sleep. The three things that seem to be ideal pastimes for an eternal leisure crusie, basically."

He shrugs. "It isn't so bad, though. I have time to read, and there are plenty of ways for me to keep my skills up while aboard the ship. Although it's more satisfying to light things on fire when it isn't on an enclosed vessel."

Don't want to burn things down, right?

Skulduggery knows so much about the captain, Steven is so impressed. He'll know who to approach now if he's ever as into the captain and what the captain might be up to as half of what Skulduggery is keen to find out.

"Oh!" He had no idea, he just thought it was all going to be magically possible. That would explain why Skulduggery wouldn't need to go to the bathroom though... avoid that awkward question. "I suppose that does make up a big part of the cruising experience..." Steven has been sleeping a bit, sampling some of the food. He hasn't jumped into the pool yet and he's not so keen on drinking, or gambling, but he likes the library too.

Steven falls back a bit while he considers what else Skulduggery could do to keep himself entertained, although he manages to keep up trailing a little bit behind. He had no idea how far this walk was and he's starting to get tired now.

"You could start a book club. Or learn things. Craft things, like what's being taught here. Or a musical instrument. Maybe photography? Or knitting..."

Skulduggery's recognized a few unmarked trees by now, and given Steven's slowing pace, he's got a good idea of how close they are to the entrance again. Maybe another five minutes and he expects to emerge right on the edge of the camp, directly opposite from where they entered.

Unfortunately, even though he ran into this exact problem with Darcy, Skulduggery isn't really cognizant of the limitations of the human body, so he doesn't bother mentioning their destination lying shortly ahead.

The suggestions for hobbies make him laugh, the idea of trying out a craft, or even more ridiculously, knitting... now that's funny. "I've taken to talking with other passengers to help pass time." He draws a line between the two of them with a finger. "This sort of thing is fairly common for me, nowadays. I enjoy learning about the other realities that are out there." Which is close to what Steven had suggested!

"Me too!" Only it seems Skulduggery has left a much better impression. Steven could learn a thing or three from his pleasant (pun not intended) and friendly and unassuming demeanour.

"It's quite mind-boggling though. I mean, I thought London was plenty big. And then I think about everyone on the planet. And then our solar system, how many galaxies are out there. And I guess you're not even-- not even from the same universe. It's mental. Can't wrap my head around it all."

Skulduggery laughs. "It is mind-boggling, isn't it? The fact that there are countless other Earths out there, each with their own bizarre eccentricities... Not to mention the countless other realities without meaningful interaction with Earth at all..."

He shakes his head. "It's enough to keep a person distracted for eons, I'm sure. One of the few benefits to our situation is that we've gotten to learn this first-hand."

Ah-hah. A tree up ahead bears a charred streak similar to the one he'd left earlier. "We should be back at camp soon."

"Oh, good," Steven breathes a sigh of relief. He's pretty fit thanks to this being Marc's body but-- well. Marc usually does all the running. He's the one who sits there and reads all the time and doesn't want to be disturbed or dragged outside. "You're a hard man to keep up with, mate. Felt like that went on for miles."

He spots the tree and visibly recoils a bit, eyebrows furrowing.

"Umh... did we pass that tree before?" Trees don't just randomly have burns on them. At least, not the kinds of trees he's used to.

This is good, character-building work, then! Skulduggery slows down to match Steven's pace, all the better to pat him firmly on the back. Chin up, man, it's almost over.

"Oh, no. I've been here before, but I've been circling through the woods a few times, now. I didn't actually expect to find myself on the same trajectory so quickly, though! Interesting. I suppose it isn't as big as I originally thought?"

(ZING!)

"The whole walk is about eight kilometers, and I'd say we're coming in at just about an hour, now. Good keeping pace, Steven. I appreciate having some company on these exploratory outings."

He'll collapse and let his legs turn to jelly later. For now he'll put a brave face on and breathe the encouragement in straight to his chest, let it sit in his stomach for a while and soldier on stumbling forward towards the exit.

"You've been through here a few times already?! Aren't you tired?" Maybe it's all this meat on Steven's bones slowing him down...

"Oh my word. Eight kilometres..." Well, you know what. If Marc can carry a huge duffel bag of equipment and do this easily, while getting shot at and being constantly paranoid about springing traps, he should man up and do the same.

"Well, it's been wonderful meeting and talking to you." A fruitful walk anyway even if Skulduggery might not have learnt anything new.

"Not yet. I'll rest tonight, probably by the fire, like a good camper." He thinks he's joking, but that will likely end up being the case. "You'll want water and some food, I think, but you'll find the next time, you'll be less winded. It just takes practice."

The treeline only partially obscures the cabins located opposite the camp from where they entered. Everyone seems to be having a good time, despite the looming possibility of something going catastrophically wrong. Hopefully, all of his paranoia will turn out to be for nothing.

"You take care of yourself this week. Keep a level head and you'll be fine."

"I'm doing fine," he insists. But his brave face is starting to lose a bit of its confidence, and his footing is even more uneven than before. He'll be glad to just faceplant at-- well. Not his cabin, because he's not allowed back there anymore. Somewhere, anyway. Maybe he'll go for a shower and sit in the mess hall and stare at a cup of tea for a while, or find someone else to pester.

"Thanks. I'll be alright. I think." That should have sounded a lot more confident, but at least it didn't sound too uncertain. He's hardier than he looks and sounds, honestly. He's just not so good at portraying that with any kind of conviction or confidence, but it'll come with time - more time on his own, less reliant on other people.

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JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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