come_sailaway | It never got less strange, showing anyone just a bare face

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It never got less strange, showing anyone just a bare face

Who: Maeve and YOU
What: Contemplation, a minor injury, stuff
When: Post camping June times
Where: Topy, the deck, wherever
Warnings: Injury, Westworld as a whole, will update as needed

I. Topy | OPEN

Maeve's decided to celebrate - rather tamely, but still a celebration - her return from the ship with a drink and some crafts. She's gotten quite a few art supplies from the craft place at camp. She wasn't sure what crafting supplies existed on the ship outside of potentially paper. So now she didn't have to worry.

She knew, somewhat, that the Captain knew a lot about them, but now she's seen it first hand. It wasn't a lot, but she gets the feeling he was just throwing a touch in to show her that he did know. She's uncomfortable with the power held over her. So she's sipping at her whiskey, trying to enjoy the fact that she is not dead while also trying to figure out how to address the truth of home.

But tonight she's focusing on something a little less troubling and trying to have fun with it. Even if her art is, well, quite unfortunate.

She's working hard to try to sketch a picture of Hector's hat. A little something of his she could hang up or at least keep in her room. She looks up as someone enters. "Care to join me? I figure we're all due for a drink and some art." Even if they did just do a week's worth of arts and crafts already.

II. Deck | OPEN

Maeve wants some sunlight without the blinding sun of the pools. So she's taken to the deck. She walks for a little while before pausing in a spot of sunlight. She feels much like a cat, just taking it in, hands on the railings.

She's quietly humming a song from the Mariposa. She doesn't quite know the name, but she remembers the tune of it and it reminds her of a time before everything seemed to go sideways. She misses not knowing in a way that she can't quite explain, but that doesn't mean she'd go back to being an unknowing puppet. It's just easier to not know. Ignorance really is bliss.

III. Wildcard - If you have another idea, hit me up or surprise me. You can really just go for it. She's going to be out and about all over. You can find her in Tauva overthinking or in the hottub or the pool with fruity drinks. You can message me on discord at kingdonkey#6187 if you have something particular you wanna run with.

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"Something like that, yes." At least he seems relatively calm about it. She's definitely reading into everything, but it's a habit.

"It doesn't. I haven't been one to let any man control me since I woke up and I don't intend to now." She can't say ever because she was controlled for a very long time. She'd woken up once, realized what was going on because of her daughter and she'd been put back into a different storyline and forgotten again.

She remembers Steven. Very innocent and yet very anxious. "Steven seems to be a very...anxious boy. I'll do my best to keep an eye on him if I can." She doesn't really have a way to do so without being in person, but...she'll do her best.

"I-- have some experience being under someone else's thumb. Wouldn't wish that on anybody. On any of us. Let's hope we can all avoid it or find some way... out of it. Around it." Maybe they'll just have to see. At least Khonshu didn't follow him down here - the God who had manipulated him for years now.

He softens a bit at that, nodding his head. "I'd... appreciate it if you did. He-- hasn't exactly made many friends here yet. And out of the two of us, he's the people person."

"I think we all have in some respect," she says, voice betraying the general displeasure at the idea of it. "I'm not sure that we'll really be able to, but...I guess that doesn't mean anyone will stop trying." And she's going to keep trying herself. She's tired of it.

"Well, I guess some of us aren't always the best at figuring things out in unusual settings. He's quite sweet. Very into rocks." She gives Marc a soft smile. "So I'll do what I can." Even if she had to get between him and something soft. "I wish I could find him a book on rocks or something else he liked so he could have non-fiction. Which he seems keen on."

"Rocks?" He gives a bit of a chuckle in return as he does his best (most offensive) sketch of the Captain because why not? They're supposed to be making hideous art.

"He's-- into a lot of stuff. Don't get him started on ancient Egypt or gods... or Japanese cartoons."

He gives a bit of a smile. "He'd eat up anything non-fiction. Uh. Back home, you should have seen the fire hazard he called his home. Just books, everywhere."

He snorts, giving an appreciative look. "How about you? You a big reader?"

Maeve smiles. "Well, at least he has things he enjoys. I know very little of Egypt or gods or Japanese cartoons. Though, I can speak Japanese fluently. Most languages, actually. Because of my role as a Madam." She shrugs, peering over at his drawing briefly before laughing.

"My home had very little books. I would perhaps be interested in non-fiction if it had more information about what was going on. Then again, perhaps fiction really is the place to look." She has very little certainty of either option. "I've promised him more stories of the various parks I visited. Well, there was one. The World War Two one was...a simulation."

"Yeah? Uh, he can speak French. I picked up Arabic. You might not want to get him started on French poetry, if you two ever do get started talking about books again." There's a little bit of a smile at the laugh he gets, but he turns his attention back to her, tilting his head.

"Parks?" He gets she was-- made. Had roles to act out, apparently. Madam and all that. But he can't quell his curiosity entirely.

"World War Two... really? Doesn't sound like the best time.

"Huh. How curious. I have never had someone speak Arabic to me, so I'm not sure if that's on my list." But Maeve truly doesn't mind the idea of letting Stephen ramble about poetry. She's never quite understood it herself. The only real poetic phrase she knows was the one that started her on her journey to being awake. These violent delights have violent ends. "We get a few with flowery prose every once in a while. The gentlemen and fancy ladies. Otherwise, it's mostly men pretending to be Outlaws and Cowboys."

"Yes. I was in Westworld first, but then Shogunworld. There are others, I believe. I haven't been to those, however." She wonders how many got stuck in their parks, in their loops.

"It wasn't the best. They...made a copy of a friend of mine. He sacrificed himself for Hector and I to get where we needed to. They got some parts of him incredibly wrong, but of course, they would assume certain things." They wouldn't think a man could help a woman without being in love with her. But Lee was...different. "One of the few humans I respected before I arrived here."

"It was-- useful for me. I travelled to a lot of places it was useful to know, married an Egyptian girl. It was useful when she was cursing me out to know what she was saying." He gives a brief look to show he's just joking. Mostly. "Everybody wants to be a cowboy or an outlaw, I guess. They think it'll make them feel tough."

He shrugs his shoulders, though he listens quietly as she speaks. "Who's Hector?"

He frowns a little, quiet. "Sorry about your friend though."

She smiles a little. "One probably always needs to know it for exactly those purposes." Even if it is just a little joking. "I assume your wife's not here." She doesn't frame it as a question. She likely would have possibly heard about this before. She's never been married herself. She supposes that her daughter would have had a father, but she doesn't actually remember any details about him. "I suppose when you are in the old West, you get to live out your childhood fantasies." Only more violent.

"He's..." She frowns. "The man with the hat," she gestures toward her picture. "We were lovers in our loop, but even awake, I suppose it stuck. It was apparently a surprise." To Lee anyway.

She nods. "Lee was an idiot and a terrible writer or at least a one-trick pony when it came to it, but...he was my friend. At the end of it all."

"No-- as far as I know, she's back home. Hopefully not doing anything stupid." But he knows her. She's doing the stupid thing to avenge him because-- she won't just move on. Not that easy. He nods idly at that. "Yeah, I guess. Little kids love that, right? Playing cowboy or whatever. But can't imagine adults are as tame as kids."

No dastardly villain tying a girl to train tracks or heroes coming to save a town from corrupt sheriffs or whatever.

"So you two, uh-- genuinely cared for each other? Beyond whatever... you were supposed to do." That's a little inspiring, isn't it? Maybe for selfish reasons, with Steven seemingly convinced that Marc made him to only love him, whatever flaws he had. Maybe Marc would like to think Steven's got every right to hate him for coming in and wrecking his life.

But their circumstances aren't really the same, right?

"He sounds like he had to have been a good friend."

"Hopefully not," she says. And she does hope not, but she doesn't know her very well. "No. Adults are never as tame as children. Hence why we died so many times."

There was a nod at his question. "Yes. We genuinely cared for each other." And her heart ached every time she remembered his loss. "Ford even said he was surprised I would change my fate for my daughter. I don't think they ever suspected we might be able to love the same as them. Even though they were the ones that made us so human to begin with."

She nods. "He was. Perhaps I'll see him again sometime."

"That's pretty fucked up though." Maybe she wasn't human like him, but she was human enough that he can't imagine what asshole would get a kick out of doing anything like... that. Then again, he knows just how ugly people can be. From his own parents to his job, he's seen a lot of ugly.

"Sounds like they didn't think that through, if they didn't want you to actually be human-like." But there's a lot of questionable morality there.

"Did you say daughter?" Does that mean she was written in, can she-- reproduce? Huh...

"Hopefully."

"I think that's the point." She doesn't trust anyone's choices when it comes to Westworld. Why else would they let people kill children after all? "I think they just assumed we weren't capable of it. But...who can say?"

There's a quick nod at his words. "In my first loop, I lived on the prairie with a daughter. They changed my loop after I started to malfunction. William" And here her voice shifts, she says the name like he is someone to be treated with disgust. And he is. He is a venomous little cretin. "Broke into our home and killed her in front of me. I could not shoot back because our guns didn't work on humans. Of course, I didn't know it at the time."

She takes a rather large sip of wine. "They programmed a new mother for her and she doesn't remember me. But I got them both somewhere safe. I made sure of it."

"Even if they thought you weren't-- you're still... very human." And sure, there are video games or whatever sort of other escapism people love, but isn't there a line to be drawn when it starts getting so realistic? He's not sure. It's a disturbing thought.

His expression softens though, sympathetic. "I'm-- sorry about your daughter. I can't imagine what that's like."

Losing a kid? Well-- he saw the way it destroyed his family at least. His mom, his dad...

She nods. She is still quite human. That doesn't change what happened. But she can't fault his anger over it either. She's still angry about it. If she could have burned the entire place to the ground with every person from Delos inside, she would.

"It's..." She sighs. "At least she's safe now. I can't speak for anything else. But at least she's somewhere safe." She'd show him if she could, but that's not possible. "But I need to get back to her. Somehow. I'm not sure how all the same."

It feels like a pipe dream some days, something so far from her reach that it will never happen.

"Guess we gotta figure our way out of here first." He frowns, mouth twitching down thoughtfully.

"That might be one of the biggest problems we got."

There's a nod. "I think it's a problem we're all working on...but it feels like a pipe dream at the moment." Like it's constantly just slipping through her fingers.

"But I hope we can figure it out somehow."

"Yeah... Same. Plenty of people who want to leave." And some who seem quite content to stay. Considering nothing-- good is waiting for him back home, he might not mind it so much. Staying.

He just doesn't want to say under the thumb of an asshole who pits them against each other.

Maeve knows Sharky doesn't want to leave. She's sure there are others. "Hopefully it will be something we figure out eventually." She's sure back home won't be great, but she can't let go.

"But in the meantime, we can make ourselves possibly just a little bit annoying, you know." With their terrible art pieces hung up all over the place.

Maeve grins. "Yes. Exactly." And she's going to hang so many terrible art pieces.

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It never got less strange, showing anyone just a bare face

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