come_sailaway | Welcome To The Village

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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)

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"Your husband is very stubborn," Number 2 answers her. "But I am willing to forgive and forget if only he will."

Number 2 looks up at the screen with an almost loving gaze. "He told me, my dear. He told me all about his hopes and dreams. You are his entire world."

"He won't," Ava says stubbornly. "He rather die trying, than ever give in to you."

And how she feels about that? Him dying. The regret is written across her features.

"You haven't hurt him. Have you?"

"I'm afraid you might be right about that..." he says, tapping his finger against his chin pensively.

He very much has not answered her second question.

"If anyone could convince him that this is all for his own good, it would be you, 137. He would listen to you."

She doesn't call him Kevin in disrespectful defiance. She doesn't mock him, because there's no advantage to be gained. Because unlike the others that can freely exhibit how much they don't care, how much they're unwilling to cooperate, Number 2 does have something that she desires. A real way to hurt her if she doesn't play her cards right.

"He's warned me. Of what you and the others have done to him in this place. You're trying to use me to get through to him," Ava accuses, a touch nervously. She gets up from her seat, to move toward the screen. "I won't help you hurt him."

"Yes. I am." Number 2 opens his arms wide in a gesture that suggests he has nothing to hide.

"If you can get him to come around, I won't have to hurt him. That's what I'm offering. He's prideful. He would go against his own best interest for spite alone. But you can make him see reason."

Well at least he isn't denying it. But he does seem to have some sense of her having convinced Peter to take a less direct stance of rebellious action before if he's suggesting she do so again. For all the ways these situations are similar, they're so fundamentally different. Yet she can absolutely use that expectation of her compliance to authority to her advantage.

"You can't keep us here, though. The Captain will bring us back in the end. He won't let you get away with it," Ava insists. Challenge him on the offer he's trying to make, shows that she's at least considering instead of outright rejecting.

"But you'll... let me speak with him?"

"He doesn't have as much power as he's led you to believe. If you want to stay, I can keep you here. I kept the others from my own voyage here. He was going to dispose of them." Number 2 saw a better solution, and he made a deal to save them and himself.

"I'll let you see him, but I warn you he is heavily sedated at present. He may not be able to speak much."

"Only if we want...?" Ava wavers. Wondering if he truly believes she's the sort to fall for this. How long has he been here, entertaining his own delusions? But it's true. The Captain does have a long history of disposing of those who no longer served any purpose, cycling through thousands of souls without regard for what became of them. Maybe this was the only way, to save as many as he could. Even if it was within another prison, designed to serve his own self-importance. She understands the motives. But she still truly despises the man, trying to use her love of her husband against him.

She turns, fidgeting anxiously. It takes a lot of self restraint not to lunge at him.

"Please. Please, whatever you want. I just want to be with him. I haven't been apart from him for so long... I can't sleep. Every night, your guards drag me away from his home. I don't know what to do, without him..."

"Harder to keep you if you resist."

He taps his chin in thought, considering her words with a sympathetic expression creasing his brows.

"I know about those attempts to stay in his home after hours. If it distresses you this much, then I will tell them to leave you be. You can stay in his cottage on the condition that you let no one else in. If you misbehave, I will reverse this decision." Yet another carrot to get her to act the way he needs.

"I'll take you to him now, but I'll have to blindfold you and have you transported by my wardens. Understand?"

She looks uncertain of the easy offer, after how much struggle she's been giving his men she must be tempted over the right to his home there MUST be a catch. Hasn't she been warned by the man she loves not to trust anything? A guilty little frown, as she continues to twist her fingers into her sleeves. "I'm not good at behaving," Ava admits, caught between a defiant nature and a history of being punished. He read her file, hadn't he. He must know that she's always been labelled as difficult.

"But... if that means I can be with him. Even for a moment. I'll... I'll try," Ava gives in. Even blindfolded, she plans to pay as much attention as she can. How many steps, how long, any sorts of details she can pick up on. "But if you've hurt him..."

"I am aware of that. But, for him, you will, won't you?" For her beloved husband, she would do anything. The two love birds share that in common.

"All right, I've kept you in suspense long enough. We'll go to him." He pretends he hasn't heard that last.

Into the room come two burly men in striped shirts. They place a blindfold over her eyes and muffs over her ears to dull the sound. In the dark isolation, she will feel their hands on her arms, one on either side holding her and guiding her along for what feels like a very long journey over ground that first slopes down before evening out. At last, they come to a point where it seems to be going upward again. At the end of this incline, she's led onto ground that feels slightly different, more slippery like tile rather than the gritty concrete she's been on before.

She's guided into a chair and pushed down to sit. Only then is the blindfold removed, along with the earmuffs. The light in here is bright, especially glinting off the sterile surfaces of the hospital walls. She is in a very small room with no windows and only one door. In front of her is a simple bed. In that bed, tucked in under the sheets, is her husband. He doesn't stir.

"There he is, my dear," Number 2 says from over her shoulder, "Safe and sound, just as I promised."

Twice now he's avoiding acknowledging the matter of hurting her husband, and so it only allows her to believe that he's had by omission.

But she doesn't allow herself to focus on that, all the time he's had over these last days to freely enact whatever forms of torture his sick mind has conjured.

She doesn't allow herself to think of it, because it's a distraction from concentrating on the direction she's being led. The slope of the path, the changes in direction, the surface under her feet. Any pauses for doors. She counts each step, commits it all to memory so that she may try to map the location out later. She'll need an actual map to draw out her estimations, but...

That's for later. Because her blindfold is removed and she's finally in the presence of her husband, it's only later that she takes in any details of the room itself. "Peter," Ava calls out, dismayed. Knowing he's out and can't hear her at all. No doubt drugged. Ava immediately tries to get out of the chair, though expecting to be held back from getting over to his side.

When she does finally look around the room, the one thing that may stick out to her is a sigil drawn above the only door. It looks similar to others Ava might have seen, but not one she'd recognize. Someone she knows may, however.

"Ah, 137, please no sudden movements," Number 2 cautions her when she starts to stand. He doesn't prevent her from going to Number 6's side, but his warning makes it clear that she won't get far if she tries anything.

Number 6's fingers twitch in response to her voice, but he doesn't open his eyes. If she looks closely, she'll see small traces of black smeared on his fingers, like ink or... paint.

Ava's gaze tries not to linger on the sigil, but after having carefully drawn so many into her notebook to study she knows it for what it is but not for what it does. A protection or alarm, she guesses, based on its location. She knows there aren't many upon the ship that know such things, and files it away to ask Skulduggery about later. If she'll need his help to undo or disrupt it once she finds her way back here.

Ava holds her hands up at the warning, because she isn't intending to try anything at all. She knows right now isn't the time to do so. Won't get her far. But she does take slow steps forward, to kneel next to the bed. Pressing her cheek against her husband's, and breathing out shakily. "I'm sorry." Her fingers entwine with his, not noticing the paint at first as it transfers to her own.

The longer she looks at the sigil, the more she may begin to notice the dried red tint to it. Like blood.

Number 2 doesn't stop her from kneeling at her husband's side, nor from taking his hand in hers. They all arrived here without any of their belongings, so the ring that should be on his left hand is currently missing, yet the slight pale line from where the skin has been protected from the sun is still there.

"Ava..." he murmurs when she speaks softly against his cheek.

"Darling," she murmurs back, relieved to hear his voice as weak as it is. There's so much more she wants to say, but cannot. Not under the watchful gaze.

But against his palm she taps out a gentle 'i love you' in morse.

She notices the line from the missing ring first. And then the smudges of paint next. A small glance back to the sigil confirms it's not the same substance. But asking the questions aloud will surely gain her no answers.

She looks over to Number 2. "I can't convince him while he's like this."

Number 6's brow furrows, like he's trying to fight the drugs so he can wake and see her, but it's no good. His struggles come to naught. Yet, somewhere in his mind he can feel her message, he knows she's there. He knows.

"I know," Number 2 says sympathetically. "Another time. I'll bring you to see him again if you can behave. I'll make certain he's awake next time."

"Please..." she holds Peter's hand tightly in contrast to her pleading tone. "Anything you ask. To see him again. I'll do it."

She wants to know what's expected of her, what Number 2 considers a win. What he wants, if 'information' is no longer relevant.

"Good. That's what I wanted to hear," says Number 2 approvingly.

Number 6's fingers tighten around hers, almost as if he's trying to tell her not to give in.

"All I really want is for you to help Number 6 settle here. Help him understand that things are different now. I want to give you both the peace you've been longing for. To do that, he will have to learn to trust me."

She feels his unconscious worry, and Ava lightly scratches an X into her husband's palm as an attempt to convey her secret intentions. The last thing she wants is him believing that she's falling for such a scheme. In his right mind, she knows he'd never. But under the influence of whatever they have him knocked out with... perhaps he's more susceptible.

"Are they different..." Ava asks uncertainly. "Why should either of us trust you?" But oh how she sounds like she wants to believe. "He's told me all the ways you tricked him."

The tension in Number 6 seems to settle in response. His breathing evens out.

"That was then," Number 2 says, hanging his head slightly. "We had different roles to play, then. Here, we can be unified. Here, the utopia I told him of can finally be realized. I wanted him to be part of it all along. Now, you both will be. You'll be given powerful positions. You'll have a say. You can help me shape this world for the better."

"A powerful position...?" Ava asks. "No, I don't want anything like that. All I want is my husband to be happy." Free. She wants him to be free, off the ship and these realms and out of anyone's control. That'll never happen here, by nature it can't. The idea of a controlled Utopia is far too contradictory to those who value their independence above all. And one run by his captor isn't negotiable, no matter how he tries to spin it.

"If there's no Number 1. If you're not trying to get information from him anymore... maybe, maybe it is different."

"Suit yourself. I won't force you. But, I am told that your husband ran for the position of Number 2 here once, himself. He may have further ambitions. I hope you can support him if he does." What this Number 2 is not saying is that the entire "election" Number 6 participated in was just another elaborate ruse.

"It is different. You'll see. In time. Now, I think it's best if you go wait at home. You can wait in his home if you would rather. You can rest assured that he is in good hands here with us."

He'd do a far better job than you, she thinks. And she doesn't just mean that her husband is a better person. She thinks in such a role, he'd be far more effective than this self-serving buffoon. Everyone's rather lucky that together they're focused more on simply trying to achieve a quiet future for themselves, and nothing worse.

"I'd... I'd support him in whatever he wishes," Ava nods, hoping that her husband can pick up on the true meaning.

She clearly doesn't want to let go of his hand hand, doesn't want to leave his side. But she soothingly smoothes out his hair, places another gentle kiss to his forehead, before standing. "Please be good to him," even though she knows they won't. They won't, and she hates having to play along pretending that she believes 'in good hands' means anything.

"I... you'd let me? Stay there? My place is so awful." And she's sure he knows that.

"You are the pinnacle of a devoted wife," he praises.

"Yes. I'll let you, so long as you keep your nose clean. Is that understood? Set a good example for the others. Before you know it, you'll be sharing your happy home with Number 6 once more. Until then, I'll have a car take you back."

The goons from before have returned.

"Oh, and, you'll have to put that blindfold back on now, I'm afraid."

<3

decohere - 2024-01-02 00:49 (UTC) - Expand

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Welcome To The Village

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good to wrap on your tag

<3