come_sailaway | Welcome To The Village

Who: Everyone who was signed-up for the excursion
What: The Village December Excursion
When: Dec 1st - Dec 23rd
Where: The Village
Warnings: Involuntary capture and confinement including immobilization and restraints, violence, injury, maiming, possibility of death, torture, coercion, gaslighting, mind control, drugging, scientific experiments, and extremely inaccurate depictions of mental health facilities/hospitals, among other potentially triggering themes. Please mark all threads appropriately.

"Good morning, good morning, good morning!" A voice that sounds very similar to Friday's chirps over a loudspeaker outside your character's home. Yes, their home.

Overnight, all the passengers who signed up for this excursion have been transported to their very own personal cottages. They will awake in a bed that is familiar to them. While this home of theirs does not necessarily have to resemble the place they were born or raised, it will be a perfect replica of a place they truly thought of as their home, down to the most minute details.

The cottages are self-contained, the size of a large studio apartment so, in some cases, they may only resemble the bedroom and living room of a person's home with a shrunken-down kitchenette and bathroom adjoined. But the heirlooms of their past are here. A favorite doll? A treasured family portrait? Trinkets you have long forgotten about? All of them will be here, somehow. (All except for weapons, that is.) They are indistinguishable from the real item, down to the molecule.

After that wake-up call, the voice continues on to express that the weather will be warm and sunny, with no rain forecasted. A brass band concert is announced, to start at noon on the lawn next to the living chess set. And once that bit of news is wrapped up, lively marching band music will begin to play. And it will continue to play. All day. From every speaker...including the ones hidden in their home.

Welcome to Your Village

It only gets stranger from here. Characters may be dismayed to find that they are without any of their original clothes or belongings. They awake in conservative button-up pajamas. The closet in their home is full of the latest Village Fashion to choose from. Everything is The Village label brand, including the tin cans of food that stock the kitchen and any of the groceries you could get at the General Store.

Your ship phone rings. When you answer it, you will be greeted, once again, by the voice of Friday. "Your number, please? Of course, you have a number. Look at your badge." If they look down at their chest, they will discover a small round number badge has been pinned to their pajamas. Was that there before? It bears the symbol of a Penny-farthing Bicycle, with a number in the spokes. This is their number.

"No names here," the voice of Friday chides, "Only numbers. Number 2 would like a word with you at the Green Dome. He requests you come for breakfast. Thank you!" Before they can protest further, the line goes dead.

Some Notes:

No matter how many times your character tries to take off and disregard their number badge, they will always find it re-attached to their clothes again the moment they look away and look back.

Your characters still have their phones but now they can only make calls instead of sending texts. They also do not take or store photographs anymore.

If your character destroys or damages anything in their home, or in The Village it will instantly repair the way things used to on the Serena Eterna.

The noise from the speakers can be muffled by covering it with pillows or other creative items, but cannot be stopped entirely. (Sorry Phil)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Watson lingers on the step outside his new cottage, looking absolutely furious, and smoking a cigarette and absolutely not looking back into the open door behind him. It's a snug little room with a decidedly 1880s look to it, a nice little place for a bachelor or two, and it's entirely too familiar to bear at the moment.

And the familiarity infuriates him.

"The cheek. The unmitigated gall," he mutters.

Relief breaks through César's grim expression. He's learned to deal with smoke well enough that he thinks he can walk up to Watson and kiss him immediately before he can fully process the angry expression.

And then he has to break it off to cough, turning his head from Watson.

"Oh, love."

Watson leans away to tap out his cigarette on a handy bit of brick. "You can, in fact, ask me to put it out before you kiss me. I'm rather glad to see you in one piece, at the very least."

"Worth it." César memes with a coughing laugh, waving off the concern. "Sorry. I noticed the smoke but didn't notice you were angry smoking until it was too late. I'm glad you're in one piece, too."

"I'm not angry smoking at you," Watson points out. "Come here and stand besides me, if you can bear it. You make for some very desirable company, just at the moment."

He sighs. "Though I'm curious if you, also, woke up in a room far too familiar for comfort."

"I can take it so long as I'm not second-hand smoking through your mouth." César lines himself up next to Watson and reaches over and takes his hand, frowning slightly as he has to once again notice they're both without their rings.

"Abuela's house. Or part of it. Altered slightly. ... I'm taking your rooms hail from London?"

They need to find Johnny, but a moment to compare notes should be fine.

He nods. "It's a variation on Baker street, where I lived with Holmes. It... ought to be comforting, and perhaps it would be under different circumstances, but at this moment, it feels more mocking than anything else."

He squeezes César's hand. "Though, frankly, I'm not sure I've ever seen it so clean."

A soft laugh at that last bit. "... mMM, it does feel like mocking. To rip up the foundations of what we consider home in our hearts so we can't rely on them for stability."

He looks around. "Orwell and Huxley mixed together. Never thought we'd have to deal with a more hands-on application of those texts."

"I'm not sure if it would have been better or worse if it had been the house I'd shared with Mary." A sigh, a shakes of his head. "At least it's a place with some good memories in it, but it isn't how I would have chosen to revisit it."

César can feel the panic rise a bit in his throat for a moment. He's not sure why. It's certainly not about Mary, but about the fact they can reproduce things to such detail. Squeezing Watson's hand restores enough calm that he can stay focused on his husband.

"I'd like to see it when you're ready. ... and well, you did want to have your way with me on the bed back home, didn't you? We can do both."

Welcome To The Village

Watson OTA

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