come_sailaway | [open] automated vacation message

Entry tags:

[open] automated vacation message

Who: Skulduggery Pleasant and...??? You. Definitely you. Really you, right?
What: After his canon-jump and the confirmation that like, technically he is both real and unreal, Skulduggery has decided he is mentally checking out for the week. Yep, definitely an appropriate coping mechanism that will not backfire continuously and spectacularly.
When: After the camping trip through the last week of June!
Where: Tommy Bahama, Karaoke, the pool, also far away from it all
Warnings: Auditory & visual hallucinations, probably talk of extensive torture, eldritch madness, and general trauma. Some violence is possible/probable.
Notes: See this post for an idea of how Skulduggery might be different post-canon jump! New CR will be more likely to see a balanced, "regular" Skulduggery (since his hallucinations are strictly people he knows), while his current CR might notice him avoiding direct communication until he can prove you're really there. He might also try to throw things at you. You know, it's fine.
(I'll match tagging style!)

[locked to Darcy] I know what I think doesn't matter anymore, but I'd say his mind is gone
[It takes Skulduggery approximately an hour after his conversation with the captain before he starts to have a complete and total meltdown about it. Not that he would classify it as such; no, this is just... a period of adjustment to new facts. He tries his best to write it all down before he forgets, but the more he thinks about it the less sense it makes and --

It takes him almost a full day to get some sort of grip on himself, and in that time he comes up with what may be the stupidest plan he's ever had. Well, the stupidest plan he's ever had thus far. If reality is burning him out, then he simply must not engage with it any more than strictly necessary. That, he figures, is as close to a vacation as one can get aboard this godforsaken ship, and that's just what he needs.

That means: no theorizing, plotting or hypothesizing about current or future affairs; no concerted efforts to solve any problems; no worrying about the captain's plans or personhood or name or anything; and most importantly, no taking things too seriously.

But to do it all, he unfortunately must break the last rule almost immediately. There is an unfortunate side-effect to his sudden temporal upheaval that must be dealt with, first.

The gauntlets haven't changed since he last laid eyes on them, but he has. There's a distant singing sensation in the base of his skull now when he touches them, like a finger along the rim of a champagne glass. He wraps them tight in a towel. Doesn't help. Stuffs the towel in a bag. Still doesn't help. Just being in the room with them is enough to feel it. Throwing them overboard isn't an option; he can't guarantee who will find them. The only choice he has, as far as he can see, is to find someone he trusts to hide them for him. Somewhere he'll never be able to go, or never think to look.

Skulduggery takes the bag, wraps it in yet another towel, and avoids the mirror on his way out. No need to look at himself to recognize the guilt already brewing at putting this burden on somebody else. Maybe it wouldn't sting as much if he were handing them over to Jade, or Palamedes -- but the former would put the pieces together too quickly, and the latter would likely wind up hurting himself. Darcy, he surmises, has no necromancy in her background, and therefore is unlikely to draw even the slightest energy from the cold, dead metal.

She's going to ask a lot of questions, and he'll have to lie to her face about most of it, but at least he can trust her to help. He just has to hope that she's actually in her cabin when he comes knocking.]

1. [tommy bahama] There was a reason why I came here (but I guess now it doesn't matter)
[There is a six-foot-four skeleton in a full suit somewhere inside the Tommy Bahama. You can't see him from the front of the shop, but if you walk the rows long enough -- maybe fifteen, thirty minutes down the aisle -- you're bound to come across Skulduggery. He seems to be browsing the shirts at first glance, but his movements are a bit... Stilted. He doesn't react to any of the patterns or the quiet muzak or the fake lime scent pumped into the store. Truthfully, he isn't even aware of how far into the store he's gotten. He'd been mostly trying to outpace the obnoxious Valkyrie hallucination following him, laughing at the ugly shirts he's pretending to look at. She's the only other voice in the shop, which makes her the one thing ruining this place from being truly peaceful. The silence, the solitude... if he could destroy the speakers, it would be perfect.

"Oh my God," Valkyrie says, "You are totally pathetic. Do you really think a sunhat is going to fix all of this?"

Yes, actually. Skulduggery does think a sunhat will fix things. For one thing, he can throw them at the bothersome figment. For another, he's now left a trail of various hats and pieces of clothing as a trail for him to follow back to the front. (Or, perhaps, for other people to find him...)]

2. [chatterbox] There is a certain kind of feeling that you get, when you're totally helpless
[Karaoke seems to be limited to a single hour every night, but Skulduggery doesn't want to wait for nine PM. He doesn't have time to sit around waiting for things to happen. He needs to be throwing himself into this vacation of his full force, and no semi-sentient teleprompter is going to stand in the way of his good time, damn it.

Skulduggery sits on top of the karaoke machine itself, having the monitor pulled up right in front of him for easy access. He sits in silence a lot for somebody who's supposedly trying to sing, flipping through the catalog seemingly at random. In the audience, he only has to worry about China, who smiles and hums What is Life Without a Wife. She only stops when he uses the ship's translator to translate some of the now-dead language he'd learned. Mostly, that just leaves him shouting things like "Help, help," and "The pain is everlasting," into a silent room. But that's okay. It's fine. Now he knows what those words meant when they were being shouted at him by survivors of a now-dead alien race. The more you know!

When he does sing, he throws his chest into it, so to speak, and for what it's worth, it does seem that he's having a good time. Every time the machine tries to rattle like it might return to its closet, Skulduggery reaches down and punches the side to get it to stop. The truth is, Skulduggery is holding the damned thing hostage. And he knows it. Which is why he will occasionally hit it extra hard and mention,] I will set you ablaze, you know.

[It seems to do the trick.]

3. [the pool] I had a good, good, good, good reason (but I guess now you couldn't care)
[The only one of Gordon Edgley's books that Skulduggery can find is The Vanishing Knight, which is a fun story about teleporters and based loosely on Skulduggery's knowledge of the Grotesquery. Now that he's gotten a little more real-world experience with both matters, he's decided to settle in by the pool and do a little post-humous editing. This issue's got some simple grammatical mistakes, and Gordon always tended toward rambling sentences; on top of that, he certainly took some artistic liberties with the way things were handled.

Interestingly enough, despite being a normally chatty friend, Gordon is a quiet sort of figment beside him, just there to listen and silently chuckle at Skulduggery's asides. He thinks maybe he's just worried he won't be able to get Gordon's voice quite right. That's fine, though; Gordon's a nice, comfortable presence to have lingering around. He doesn't complain, not even as Skulduggery gets lost in rambling asides that are half-spoken and half-thought. This might as well be the closest to self-care Skulduggerys gotten in either a week or a year, depending on which angle you come at it.

He's wearing his suit, but of course, the hat has been replaced by a Tommy Bahama sunhat. Valkyrie has not bothered him once since he put it on, and so as far as he's concerned, this is his new look.]

[wildcard] I got pressure bearing down on me
(Have something in mind? Message me or just throw something up and see what happens!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Pratt is a quick lil deputy! The minute he hears Skulduggery quicken his pace Pratt is gone. Granted he's ducked down hallways and staircases and now is totally lost and has no idea where he is, but there's not a skeleton around.

Probably.

He's fine he's good he's safe.

Well he's safe.. but... is anyone else? It takes him about ten minutes to calm down and get his bearings. And then he does run back to his room, but not to hide.

Pratt grabs his shovel, and he's going skeleton hunting.]

[Skulduggery, oblivious to the fact that he's just been declared FAIR GAME.....

is off to the library to find some poolside reading! It's too bad about that guy who was scared of him, but that surely will never come back into play again.]

[Pratt had returned to the scene of the skeleton's first appearance in order to track him down. Hunting was practically in his blood, he'd been doing it since he was a child and his dad took him duck hunting. And then further honed by tracking down people in the forest both for the Hope County rescue services and for... less savory reasons.

But he's never hunted a skeleton, he's not really sure what to track. It's not like there's footsteps in the carpet of the hallway or a downwind scent of a corpse (which is what he assumes skeletons smell like). So instead he will start checking room by room. The ship is big but he knows that he was headed that way so that way is where he goes.

It takes a while before he gets to the library, but he does spot someone in the aisles perusing the books, might as well ask them if they've seen a skeleton lately. That'll be a great conversation starter, definitely won't make him look like a psychopath. But he sucks it up because this is for the good of the ship, he's protecting people from a monster.

He turns the corner and...

Welp.

He's behind someone in a suit. And a sunhat. And a very white bony back of the skull facing him. Well, that saves him from looking like a crazy person to a normal human, so that's good. What's bad is that there's not enough room in this aisle to swing the shovel. He tries to be quiet as he shifts the shovel from his defensive position to hefting it in one hand, though he's been standing there for quite a while so his breathing can probably be heard.

He doesn't say anything as he throws the shovel with all his strength like a javelin, right at this skeletons head. Er, skull.]

[Skulduggery, in theory, browsing the shelves with every intention of hunting down one of Gordon Edgley's books. He doubts he'll be so lucky, but you never know -- there are books from every other reality, why not his?

In reality, he's been staring at nothing while standing in front of a random shelf, having gotten distracted by a stray thought. But it's the thought that counts.

He recognizes someone coming in behind him, the air shifting with their approach, brushing against hyper-sensitive nerves. He's turning before he sees the glint of metal coming straight at him, and just manages to duck his head, taking the blow between his shoulders. His suit absorbs the piercing damage, but the blow is still alarming.

Before he's even finished reeling, he throws his hand up and pushes the air in a solid wall at his assailant, roaring in surprise and ~~fear~~ frustration:]

Get AWAY from me!

[Pratt goes tumbling away. He would have even without the shove of solid air just because he wasn't expecting this halloween prop to be able to talk. But he goes flying even further because of that, slamming into the ground and skidding a bit, he immediately curls onto his side to protect his vital organs and takes the brunt of it on his shoulder. Though he's stunned for a good few seconds out of sheer surprise. ~~Please hold X to revive.~~]

Yeah okay. I'm.. I'm away.

[He backs up on his hands and knees before he struggles to get to his feet, empty keyrings on his utility belt jangling. He's made a severe misjudgment here. [Of course] Because the shovel is now either stuck in the skeleton or on the ground now, he can't see from this angle, which means it's not in his hands to use as a weapon.]

Shit.

[Skulduggery remains tensed for a fight even as his assailant backs up. He knows how fast they can be.

He drops the wall after a moment goes by and nobody comes to intervene. He doesn't want to fight. He wants to find Gordon's book.

Ugh. He should have just stayed in his cabin and tried starting that Elixir of Love book. Vacation or not, it surely would be less stressful than this...]

You're new on the ship. [He lowers both hands completely at the realization, taking a single step back. The shovel is by his feet, but he isn't about to pick it up and risk threatening the other man by accident.] You're the first one to attack me outright. [...wait.] Why does your shovel have a smiley face? Does it... like hitting people?

Yeah. Been here a week. Or maybe.. a little more, I'm not making hash marks on the walls or anything.

[Said defensively like he'd been accused of something. And then his brain catches up to what's actually happening here.]

You can talk?

[Obviously. But you know, if he says it out loud it makes it more concrete. That's police officer science right there.]

Oh it.. It came like that. I didn't put the smile on it. I actually think Eli did? But I don't... That would be weird, but it was in his bunker so probably. It showed up here with me, it's not even my shovel.

[He is being accused of something. Don't worry, Skulduggery will helpfully point it out:] You're acting like an idiot. Don't attack people in the library, it's the safest public spot on the ship. [Solely for the fact that it's mostly quiet.]

Of course, I can talk. You'll find that it's getting me to shut up that's difficult.

[He bends down to pick up the shovel, which definitely needs a name. But what...] Well, it certainly is weird. Nice that you came with a weapon, though. I'm sure that makes you feel safer. [...yeah that's. That's supposed to be reassuring.]

No it's not? You can be cornered in aisles, there's multiple incursion points, there's sightline interruptions every few feet. How is this safe?

[His delicate prepper sensibilities are offended.]

Would've rather come with a gun than a shovel. I dunno if it makes me feel safer but, a little less..

[Weak.]

Hn. Unarmed I guess. Maybe.

[He's not really looking at Skulduggery, he's sort of looking around him. In his general vicinity.]

Look. If you're a hallucination can you be like... Someone else. This is fucking weird.

[Its unsettling him to talk to someone with no expressions, who's mouth isn't moving when he talks. Where is the sound even coming from?]

Because this is where people come when they don't want to be accosted by the ship. [He wouldn't understand, he's a newbie.]

...A newbie who is apparently not altogether all together. Well, that's a new one. And newly familiar, to boot!]

I don't think I'm your hallucination. [He taps the flat of the shovel lightly against his skull, just to double-check his own presence in the room. Satisfied, he takes a single step forward and holds the shovel out to relinquish it. His guns, tucked under his jacket, are momentarily visible.] And mine usually can't manipulate physical objects.

Accosted by...the ship? What do you mean the ship?

[He stares at the wall to the side of him like it might grow arms and start reaching out to pull him into the abyss. And then he grunts when Skulduggery talks about his own hallucinations because that's totally a normal thing they have in common. They're bonding.]

Lucky.

[Because his can mentally kick the shit out of him. He will take his shovel back (at least something is happy to see him) and then hold it by his side, finally looking up into the skull face of the person who's talking to him.]

So if you're not a hallucination, then what are you?

You know. The things on the ship. [he has forgotten the word "people" momentarily] All the bothersome bits. And the screens, you know. [HE DOESN'T because Pratt wasn't here for the Battle Royale, but Skulduggery's already moving on --]

Oh, I have no idea what I am. Except that I'm a skeleton. Some would say I'm a detective, but right now I'm on vacation. You can call me Skulduggery. That's the name I'm giving out right now, but maybe I'll change it later. I can do that here, if I want to. [There are no rules anymore! He's going to change his name to something dumb. ~~Like Cadaver Cain.~~]

I .. don't know the things on the ship? That's why I'm asking. Or well I thought I asked.

[Maybe he didn't. He doesn't know what the fuck he says out loud versus in his head half the time.]

Deputy Pratt.

[He is not going to try and shake his hand, he is going to stay right where he is and a good distance away from the talking skeleton who might still be a hallucination.]

Why would you make up a different name than Skulduggery? That's like... you know. Very Halloween. Thematic. Better than I could come up with if I was a skeleton.

Actually.. back home I am a skeleton. Hope he picked out a cool name if he's walking around now.

Deputy? [Another member of law enforcement. Interesting. There's obviously no correlation between any of them being here, but the number of actual professional problem-solvers aboard is...

Nope! Not thinking about that today. This is his week off, thanks.]

I don't know. I recently found out that we technically exist in a timeline-based flux, and I'm still adjusting. But you're right, my name is very good. And I like being Skulduggery Pleasant on occasion, don't get me wrong. It just might be fun to be somebody else for a while.

[Not the other somebody else he's been, of course. That guy can go eat a brick.]

Ah. You must be one of the people who died before showing up. That's too bad. But at least you know it can't get any worse for you there. Unless you are a walking skeleton... Then there would be a chance you could wake up and be that version of yourself, too. [Maybe? Actually, he doesn't know how the physical changes work. Hmmmmmmm.] But that would only happen if you had magic in your reality. Is that something you're familiar with? Magic?

Deputy Pratt of the Hope County Sheriff's department.

[Said in a weird monotone while he looks sort of blank, like he may have recited that a lot. Maybe even been forced to read it for some reason. How strange.]

I'm not even good enough at being myself to think about being someone else. Sometimes don't even remember who I am so..

[You know who you are. You know EXACTLY who you are.

A wince. But oh nice subject change. Good.]

Does it hurt being a skeleton? Need to eat? Might be an upgrade for me. I'm kinda a mess.

Magic?

I don't know. Uh... [Well there's something no one has tried in all his years of policing. It was magic that planted those drugs!!!] that's a weird question. I dunno.

[There is an absolutely mad sensation of kinship coming over Skulduggery right now. Boy, if that isn't exactly how he's been feeling, lately...]

No eating. Or drinking, or sleeping. I am constantly alert and aware at all times unless I actively choose not to be. Also, I cannot, unfortunately, bleed out. [That would have saved him so much time with the Faceless Ones. If he'd died then, his self now would only have a few weeks or so of violence and terror to contend with, instead of 11 long months. Not to mention all of the things that happened after he'd gotten home...]

It is a weird question, but if you haven't noticed, we are in an extremely weird situation. One might even categorize it as bizarre. It's unlikely you would wind up a magical skeleton, though. It was unlikely enough for it to happen to me, and I know about magic.

[Should he apologize for that fact? Or... not?]

All that sounds good except the last part. Been tortured enough don't need to make it worse by not passing out due to bloodloss.

[Its the only reprieve he got.]

Guess not. If I did I'm probably pacing around the Veterans Center like an idiot anyway. Better off here I think. Probably.

Better for everyone else that I'm dead.

[He looks at his smiling shovel, expression bleak, but this is one of the few things he has from home and Skulduggery could have easily kept it or broken it.]

Thanks for giving this back. Sorry I hit you with it. Didn't know what else to do.

It is tremendously less fun when you have no way of mentally escaping it.

["Fun" being a joke of a statement, one he's sure Pratt will understand.]

It's okay. I understand. I, too, am prone to bouts of violence when I feel threatened. [Likely for the same reason.]

It is, that's when you start going crazy, lose your grip on reality, and have no idea if you're awake or asleep.

[Just speaking from experience.]

I was a police officer you know, trying to protect people used to be my job. A long long time ago. Apparently I'm truly shit at it now. Kinda expected that but.. you know. [A sad shrug.] Gotta keep trying.

And once you've lost your grip...? Been having trouble with what follows, personally.

[This is the first time he's actually acknowledged the hallucinations to anybody other than Valkyrie back home. Strange how it's a total stranger that he's opening up to -- but then again, it's a stranger who most definitely won't pity him over it.]

You could still be a police officer. Technically. [Technically, Pratt is still alive and arresting drunken trailer trash for drunk and disorderly conduct. It's just, you know. Not this Pratt.] At least, you could try being a better one here than you think you were there. Because people do need to be protected on the ship -- not necessarily from me, but. From everything.

You need someone to talk you back to reality. Or sometimes just go until exhaustion takes you and you wake up more yourself. Kind of depends what triggered it to begin with.

[Which won't really help someone who doesn't sleep. So probably that first one.]

Unless you mean what's literally following you, and then I have no idea. Ignoring it only kind of works. For a while it'll be okay. And then...

[He looks at the ground readjusting the shovel in his hands after realizing his knuckles were turning white from how hard he'd been gripping it.]

Might need protecting from me, is the problem.

[He has no idea why he's telling this to a total stranger. Probably because he still thinks Skulduggery isn't real. It's hard to accept the walking skeleton as being an actual thing.]

[The advice for both is helpful. He wonders, briefly, what sort of things he sees and hears, but that feels rude. Like asking after the meaning of somebody's tattoo, or what happened to their face when they're particularly ugly.]

I, unfortunately, understand what you mean. [He did... sort of fireball a friend in the face, after all.] There isn't a good solution for that one, I'm afraid.

There's a couple solutions but none of them are great. Something though.

How long do people stay dead when you kill 'em? A day?

Probably just long enough.

[If he needs to kill himself to give everyone a day to strap him into a straightjacket or put him in a cage he'll do it.]

They wake up the morning after they died. [If he understands what Pratt is getting at, he doesn't comment.] Those who die embarrassing or foolhardy deaths generally find themselves missing pieces when they wake. Organs and the like.

[...It's a warning. Just in case he is understanding what Pratt's getting at.]

Guess it's a good thing I quit drinking if I may wind up with no liver.

[He's very aware that he'll just die without organs, but it's a little hard to really care in his current state.]

Thanks for the advice though.

[He holds the shovel up in a bit of a salute, turning to go. He'll think up some cool ways to off himself.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] automated vacation message

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject