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 says with the tone of maybe she should have known that. Except she doesn't really think of anything on the ship by its name. And of all the accessible locations on the ship... "Haven't really been there, much. Not my scene." She giggles at his imitation of the music though.

"Where are you from, then?" she asks, watching him pick up the coffee creamer with interest. Oh, that's going to be fun.

She hums in consideration. "I could. But. I'm hoping my date ends up going better than that."

"Ugh, it's nobody's scene and it hasn't been since 2003." Just like the rest of the boat, TBH, but Sharky's okay with that. 2003 wasn't an entirely shitty year. "And I'm from Montana. Regular old, y'know, post-apocalyptic Montana. Pretty much the most normal dude on the ship."

"Ohhhh, we're gettin' kicked out of the cabin again, aren't we???" He laughs loudly at that because, LBR, he already was planning on probably crashing by the fire for one last night of sweet sweet arsony.

"I'm sure there's somebody here from 2003..." Ava ponders uncertainly. There's plenty of time periods before and after her own time people have been pulled from, but she's mostly stopped trying to keep too much track once it became obvious there was no actual pattern to it.

But a lot of people seem to have some sort of apocalyptic story. It's not surprising that so many versions of the world have managed to collapse on themselves. "Montana, huh. I'm not even sure what the metric for normal is here, other than probably lacking special abilities." And even then.

"What? Ew! No, nothing like that," Ava protests.

That could be true... but they would have to want newer music, right? Or, maybe, uhhh, classic rock? Disco, obviously? Anything other than eurotrash.

"What!" Sharky is genuinely baffled by her protestations, "You're a hot chick, I assuuume they're a hot... person --" he is trying so hard okay -- "It's the natural progression of shit!"

Ava absolutely rather be drowning out this conversation with eurotrash music right now honestly.

"We agreed to take it slow!" She grabs the coffee creamer from Sharky and chucks it into the fire for a distraction.

"Whoa, hold on --" The whole can?????? OH NO!!!!

Just kidding, it doesn't explode. It does, however, cause the fire to flare up something fierce, enough that Sharky has to lean back before his beard catches on a cinder.

"Damn, alright! Point fuckin' made! Takin' it slow!"

Oh that's warm. And Ava just sticks another marshmallow into it. She likes them good and charred.

"We held hands." She's pretty sure that's a... you know, important relationship step.

Ooooh, they're taking it really slow. Okay. "That's cool, dude, you gotta go at a pace that's comfortable for you. Like, me? I'm easy. Hahah, super fuckin' easy. Someone walks outta the woods right now and asks to make out, I'm gonna do it." Vaguely waves at the woods. "But you're, like. Classy and shit. Slow is good."

She stares. "Just... anyone? Anyone at all?" That's absolutely baffling, what if it was somebody you didn't like or somebody you were just friends with or...

As is being called classy, but maybe in the post-apocalyptic era standards are real low?

Nope, the low standards are entirely Sharky's.

"Uhh, I guess? Like, if they're hot and DTF, why... not?" He shrugs, "I'm not picky, man, I just wanna -- you know." Be the object of affection. Have someone pay him special attention. "Get laid, mostly. That's like, one of my top five favorite pastimes for sure. Or it would be, if I did it more often." HA HA HA. He laughs to hide how that may be a little more TMI than he is comfortable getting this sober. Or maybe just because he thinks it's really funny.

"DTF..." Ava wonders quietly, not exactly up on all the lingo.

He's laughing and she's trying not to blush quite so much at the topic, even though Sharky isn't being overly vulgar about it. Just way more open than she's ever been. Or maybe her face is so warm from the fire. That must be it. "I've never actually... you know," Ava is staring very intently at her marshmallow until it catches flame, and then she withdraws it to blow it out. Nice and black and crispy. Perfect.

"Down-To-Fuck," Sharky says, before she says the other bit, which is when he sorta boggles at her like, uhhh, what the fuck????

"For real???" Totally confused. But! He knows you can't just be baffled at a hot chick's sexuality, so he quickly taps into the same conversation he'd had with Bean, oh... fuck, weeks ago. Before he ever came to the Eterna.

"Well, that's totally cool, you know, you gotta only do that kinda shit when you're ready. Sex is supposed to be about physical and emotional pleasure and you can't get either if you're not comfortable with the partner in question. The best thing you can do is wait until you, like, understand your own boundaries and learn how to communicate your needs. Otherwise, you'll be all up in your head anyway, and truuuuust me, that is counter-fuckin'-intuitive when you're tryin' to get laid."

...Yeah, he definitely has practiced giving kids The Talk before. Because nobody else in Prosperity wanted to explain what orgasms were to the awkward late-blooming map kid.

Honestly it's probably the first time anyone's ever tried to give her any version of the talk. Ava obviously knows how it's all supposed to work, mechanically and biologically, but it's never exactly been anything she's had the opportunity to explore. Or much of a desire to do so, between her circumstances and various trust issues.

Ava appreciates it, honestly, as awkward as this whole moment is. "It's not that I'm a prude," Ava insists, licking marshmallow off her fingers. "But my body has been... messed up most my life. I don't think I'd have been able to really feel pleasure. I'm still trying to get used to feeling comfortable in it again, I suppose. Or comfortable with feeling... exposed or vulnerable."

These hot ladies and their licking marshmallows off their fingers, UGH. Sharky's life is a combination of misery and joy everywhere he turns.

"Yep. One thing I've learned from a whole lot of third-base shenanigans is that it's usually your own fuckin' head gettin' in the way of a good time." Sharky is speaking from experience, and for once, being the oldest dude around actually seems like a good thing. If he can ensure that at least one more person is boning down the right way, then he's done his civic duty as a red-blooded American man.

"Obviously, uhhh, medical issues are like, a different thing and I won't speak on that, but I bet if you talk to the dude or lady or whoever, they'll be like, totally cool about it. Which it sounds like you already have, soooo, cool, already asserting your boundaries and shit!"

Not her fault marshmallow is sticky, she tries wiping the rest off on her shirt.

"How do you get past that then. The overthinking?" Because she does. And she's hoping that maybe talking through it with somebody who is obviously not too wound up about it might be good for her. Stop thinking of it as this whole problem that she has to solve.

"I'm mostly fine now, I have it... under control. Except. What if I... you know, go through him? Or can't keep... focus and turn invisible. I don't think that's the sort of thing people get off on."

That's right! He saw her do that phasing ghost shit earlier. Damn, though, she can't always control it? That's gotta suck. What if she's drinking something and her hand like, goes intangible? She probably deals with broken glass all the time.

"I mean, if you're desperate: weed and liquor, do it quicker." A classic Hurkism, to be sure. "But otherwise, uh... sometimes when I get too in my own head I like to sing some Bee Gees, y'know, mentally, to kinda knock me outta the funk. Maybe you just need, like, a really good song to listen to. Or like, maybe he's a really good kisser and that could be, like, the thing you focus on instead of like, if you're being sexy enough or whatever."

Oh, but: "Uhhh, pretty sure there are a lot of people into weird semi-corporeal ghost-type shit. Depends on like, if you could maybe be invisible except for your hands, then..." That... is probably too much but okay, whatever, "The point is, maybe you just gotta ask if he'd be into it!"

Maybe the drinks wouldn't be such a bad idea, just enough to take the edge off her nerves. She's been figuring out which ones aren't quite so disgusting, at least. Mostly the fruity umbrella ones, but it's not like she's trying to impress anyone with her refined tastes.

Still, it's a lot to assume that they'd ever get to that point at all. What if Malcolm realizes that she- No, she's doing it again. Writing the worst possible ending before anything has a chance to even play out. Ava sighs. "Bee Gees, huh? Can't say I could name any of their songs." Even though she'd probably recognize one if she heard it. She doesn't have the largest musical repertoire.

But she makes a bit of a scandalized squeak, shoving at Sharky lightly. "How do you ASK something like that? Only... weird freaks are into that sort of stuff." Like her. Ava's a weird freak.

"Oh, like, Staying Alive? You Should Be Dancing? The point is, just like. Put on some music, turn that shit up so high you can't hear yourself and..." You know.

Be a weird freak, he guesses? "Ouch!" he exclaims, taking almost-but-not-quite actual offense at the term (and the shove, hey, rude!). "Hate to break it to you, girlie, but every fuckin' dude out there is a weird freak about something in bed. Besides, you're so hot he probably won't think twice."

"Ah ha ha ha, stayin alive?" is Ava's best guess, and also the only lyrics from that song she can recall off the top of her head. And the other she can't figure out from name alone. But it feels like a lot to think about when they haven't even kissed yet.

"Fine, then what are you a weird freak about?" Honestly it's helpful pushing past the mental blocks she has toward the subject, the ingrained idea that intimacy isn't meant for her. Sharky makes it all sound so easy. "And I'm not... I'm not hot," Ava protests, because that goes so very against her self image. And how little importance ever placed on her appearance, when her value was always in being not seen. "He likes me for... me," she insists. "Because I'm... fascinating." That's what he'd said.

"Oh, like, all sorts of shit! I'm into like, doin' it in public, doin' it in nature, hand stuff, foot stuff, I got a fursuit back home that's, uhhh --" Mmmmaybe that's too much though. For her, not for him. "The point is, like, people are totally fuckin' weird and that's a good thing!"

But like, again, she is totally a newbie and is clearly doing the whole going-steady thing first, so he'll reel it back. Just a touch. "I mean, you are hot, but you're also pretty cool. Super rebellious, got that whole 'fuck authority' vibe that's like, totally sexy. Fuck yeah he likes you! Totally makes sense to me."

Shrug! What, is he supposed to not tell people the truth? Like some kind of liar or something?

That's a lot of information to take in at once, just let her process that for a moment. Hand stuff sounds fairly normal, she's sure hands are meant to be involved. Foot stuff doesn't seem all that far off either. But. "In public? Where anyone could just- aren't you hairy enough already?" Bless her she doesn't know what furries are.

And he's calling her cool so she's pretty sure Sharky just tends to have overly positive opinions and that's okay, just more a reflection of him and his willingness to make out with anyone.

"And he works... worked for the authorities," which really isn't as offputting as it normally would be for her. "Stopping serial killers and all, not just some speeding ticket asshole. So I figure he's dealt with a whole lot worse, right?"

Heaven forbid he break her fragile mind; he is most definitely not gonna get into the finer points of his yiffery right now. And you know what, yeah, he definitely has low standards and a generous opinion of other people, but that doesn't mean it's any less true! At least to him, anyway.

"I mean, it's a thing to practice in places with, y'know, less people -- look, the roads in Montana are basically empty all the time, and technically when I'm in my car, I'm on my own property --"

He's definitely had this argument before. Fuck, he definitely had this argument with Pratt, didn't he? "Nevermind, it's like, whatever. Besides the point. The point being, ewwwww! You're gonna date a cop?"

He thought you were cool, man.

Okay she's not sure that counts as in public if it's secluded. Sounds far less daring than the idea of getting it on in front of a bunch of strangers. (Or people you know, that's even worse.)

"He's not technically a cop," Ava defends both her own tastes, and Malcolm's honor. "He actually got fired from the FBI for punching a sheriff." See? Totally acceptable dating material. "And I once punched an FBI agent through the heart and stole back an entire shrunken building. So it's like we were made for each other." Something like that.

"Oh, that's solid, then." And then he laughs because, hahaha, fuck, he didn't even mean to make a joke about her punching a guy through the heart! "I guess I can't complain, one of my buddies back home was a cop before the Collapse. Uh... and another one showed up, like, right before we left, and he's... technically still a deputy? I mean, the timeline's all..." Wibbly-wobbly, he makes a hand gesture to indicate, "But you get me. Sounds like you guys got a lot in common!"

Exactly like that, he totally buys it and doesn't question her reasoning.

Edited 2022-06-22 23:46 (UTC)

"Timelines are nonsense," Ava comments in agreement, because she has a lot of thoughts about the contradictory way everyone from her own world comes from rather differing points. "What caused the collapse?" She always appreciates a good society crumbling under the weight of its own sins story.

"Also he's really cute. In a... clean cut way that I never realized I was into." Being a bit of a I-woke-up-this-way type herself.

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