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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Yeah, that's what she expected slithering under such demeanor.

Ava allows her wrist to be caught, whimpering in surprise as the phone clatters to the ground. It's not ringing anymore.

"Don't you dare accuse me of such infidelity! I'm a married woman, and the only reason he's not around to- ow!" Knowing even without her powers she could easily take him down, it's difficult to resist. But she doesn't.

"W-what are you going to do with me? Same as you did with 69?"

"Oh married, loose, it's all the same. Ugly, wretched, lustful creatures," he yowls, lifting her wrist above his head. Oh, it's been too long. Been too long indeed. Since that wretched meddling priest kept butting in where he wasn't welcome. Oh, if only he still had his knife. At least now he can think without that damnable telephone ringing in his ear.

"Hardly had to do nothing to her, no, the boss took care of that," he grins, "oh, but I can't wait to see what he decides to do with you."

And he stands from the table, wrist still in hand, picking up his whistling once again.

She fakes hurt by such wild accusations, but honestly the words don't affect her at all. Not her fault he's clearly sexually repressed. She'll have to tell Sharky about this later, with all his teasing of her being a prude.

"But I haven't done anything!" Ava protests, pulling back with just enough struggle to act as if she's not completely ready to get escorted to the asshole in charge.

"I wasn't snooping! Number 2 said if I behave...!"

Number 2 said plenty of things about behaving to Ava, but nobody in this reality or the next can ever ask the same of Skulduggery Pleasant. Behaving just isn't in his vocabulary. Subtlety seems to have left the building too, as he turns the corner to cut them off, phone in hand.

"You should probably remove that hand before you lose it," he says, in the same tone most people in the Village use when greeting one another.

Oh thank god Skulduggery got the call... having to put up with this creep's behavior in order to keep him stalled long enough has Ava questioning her own methods. But she immediately yanks her hand free of his grip and backhands him in the process.

"Oops."

Powell makes a noise like a struck animal, yelping and holding a hand to his face. He removes it to strike back-

For an exact split second before it registers that there's another person here, another unmutual one, and he immediately goes to flee with a grunted- "be seeing you."

Skulduggery's seen enough cowards flee justice to know that's what he's watching now. His magic is wrapped in Village-protecting gauze, but he still has a few tricks up his sleeve.

"See you next fall," he replies; Ava probably recognizes the way he lifts his hand with a casual flick of his fingers, pulling a thread tight in the air in front of Powell's feet. If not that, then the distinctive grinning head-tilt probably tips her off :)

Ava hides an eager giggle behind her fingertips.

Powell shrieks as he topples, then partially-turns on the ground enough to hiss-

"Witch! Damnable sorcerous demon! I won't stand for this!" before once again trying to scamper away because, again, being outnumbered is not a position he likes being in.

"It's been a while since someone's called me a witch." Skulduggery watches Powell scamper, confident he could catch up if need be, and asks Ava: "Do we chase him, or do you already know where Darcy is?"

All she managed to get out of him was that Darcy was sick which is a strong clue but not an actual definitive answer she's willing to allow him to escape on. Ava gives chase in answer, tackling 58 back to the ground before he can scamper too far.

"Answer the skeleton or I'll make you two match."

Powell yelps again, thrashing for a few moments before he just kind of goes limp in the pursuit of not getting hurt further.

"If I tell you, he'll do worse to me."

Which is not really true at all, but these hero types are compassionate. Right?

Skulduggery follows along at a leisurely pace, catching up just in time to hear the tail end of Ava's threat. Without a face, it's hard to tell if these are compassionate bones that Powell is up against today.

"Number 2 may be as innovative as he is dastardly, but my friend and I have one motivation that sets us apart: our love. I love Darcy, Ava loves Peter, and we both love hurting anyone who gets between us and them. And believe me when I say that people like us will do really terrible things for love." He squats down by Powell's head. "We're also on a deadline, which means we'll get to those terrible things much more quickly."

That little encouragement is followed up by Skulduggery lightly tapping the tip of one finger against Powell's head. Boop!

"I love Darcy too," Ava breathes out into the air for the one that isn't here to even hear.

"You said she was was sick," Ava helpfully reminds, attention on holding Powell down. "So let's start over there."

...

"Hospital. One of the solitary rooms, they're not numbered."

They won't make it that far. A cruel eye turns to the skeleton, his response a sneer more than anything else.

"So what're you, then? Could've sworn her dear old dad got locked up with her."

Phil, too? Damn.

"Phil is Darcy's auxiliary father figure. I'm the one that will murder you for her sake." He's pretty sure Phil would kill for Darcy, too, but he'd probably feel bad about it after the fact. Skulduggery wouldn't remember it past Christmas.

He moves his skull to look at Ava, tilted curiously. "What would you like to do with Father Harlot here? They've likely already added bullying to our permanent records..."

"And what do they do to them there?" Not that she can't make a rather unfortunate guess at that too. She may not be able to reach into his chest to crush his heart, but her fingers clutch at the fabric above it with the desire to do so.

She returns the look with one stricken with worry. Phil too. Phil, who has been checking in with her daily to make sure she's at least eaten something. Gone. Who else? How many more? How much longer will this go on? Why aren't they back yet?

For as much as this preachy bastard is pissing her off, she doubts he's the one responsible for their disappearances. He just seems to get some sort of thrill over antagonizing those who care. "I-" she swallows roughly. "Have to behave." Because her husband's wellbeing hangs in the balance.

"But you don't." Which is her blessing.

Powell makes an almost amused huff.

"It's a hospital. Y'know. Bethlem. What d'you think?"

He tilts his head back. As much as he dislikes pain and harm on his person, all these two have done so far is trip him, tackle him, and then bark. A lot of barking. It's the ones who don't bark that you have to worry about.

"Are y' done? Can I get back to the task I was assigned?"

Skulduggery rises to his feet, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets.

"You can get back to it. But you might want to go to the hospital yourself, first."

Why? Well, maybe Skulduggery's vicious kick to Powell's face might have some answers!

Ava backs off to observe, so Skulduggery has less to worry about if any of his kicks go astray.

She's clearly more concerned worrying over their missing loved ones than the man taking a beating in front of her.

58 hollers like a kicked dog in pain and anger. But he's never been like some of the other passengers aboard the ship, even in the early days. He was never possessed of Davidian strength or daring, had no real capacity to fight. No, Harry Powell has always been a small, angry, hateful coward who could get away with as much as his limited charm would allow him.

Which is to say, he wears the kicks, barely even scrambling to get away. With any luck, he'll choke on the blood now coming out of his broken nose and get to come back whole again.

Skulduggery only gives two or three kicks before the yowling puts him off his desire for blood. The final one is accompanied by a single word, dripping with disgust.

"Pathetic."

He tilts his head at Ava, then away, indicating that they've gotten all they're likely to get out of Powell. Leaving him alive means he might go snitch on them -- but it also means he's going to be wearing Skulduggery's shoe tread across his nose for a few days. It won't teach him a lesson, but it'll make Skulduggery laugh to see it.

She's pretty sure a cowardly sort as this, who cried out about Number 2 doing worse to him, won't go running off to advertise his disclosure of information and risk further punishment.

But it's okay, she plans on informing Number 2. Later, when she needs a convenient distraction.

"Be seeing you," she mocks, latching onto Skulduggery's side. And once they're far enough away: "Fuck..."

He loops his arm through hers and takes her weight without a second thought.

"Whatever they're being put through in this place, they're strong enough to bounce back from it." Which isn't much, but it's unfortunately all the reassurance he can offer. It's the only thing that's keeping him moving forward, knowing that Darcy is somewhere likely out of his reach.

"We can visit the hospital first. Find if there's a way to see them."

"If it's... anything like how they're keeping Peter. Possible they're... drugged unconscious," she says regretfully. "They had this... sigil above his door. Probably some sort of lock or alarm to protect the location. But. I don't. Don't know who..." Who is possibly working for Number 2 that would know that kind of magic.

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light_mischief - 2024-01-08 03:38 (UTC) - Expand

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