Skulduggery Pleasant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
light_mischief) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2022-06-25 12:26 am
light_mischief) wrote in come_sailaway2022-06-25 12:26 am
[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!)
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!)
no subject
[ And there's the nickname! It's okay, because it seemed like he was having fun talking or thinking aloud? The contents of whatever book he's reading do sound rather unsettling though. "Meaty flower"... she tries to forget whatever she just heard. Fio musters up a small smile. She notices the momentary raised hand before he lowers it back down. While her own hand isn't out readily to latch onto his, but she does want to be by his side... admittedly feeling a little lonely and scared again after her roommate's disappearance. ]
Um... can I sit with you?
[ Out of her good manners that she tries to ask for permission, even knowing he has always been willing to put down everything that he's doing to spend time with her. Plus it still feels like she's interrupting something here... ]
It sounded kind of like you were talking to someone.
no subject
Of course, of course.
[--He shifts in the chair to make room for her, already not taking much space up given his bony frame.]
I was just... mm, pretending to speak to the author. Interesting fellow, but very quiet. Don't mind me. [The truth works as a joke, playing off his one-sided rambling as best he can. Gordon is a less persistent figment, happy to flicker out of sight, less demanding of attention than Valkyrie often is. He's grateful for it; if he must be mad, he would at least wish for kind hallucinations.]
no subject
Ohhh... I understand! [ If he's telling a joke, Fio interprets it more as a children's game that she can play along with. Much like how she once played alone in her favorite ruins nearby her town. Or sometimes, even in her own cabin room or the hallways of the ship when others are busy. Just a game of make believe. Is that how this is? She never knew grown-ups had imaginary friends. ] I've got imaginary friends too! Tell them I said hello.
[ And it appears she's returning to her normal demeanor, beaming brightly, more so when he allows her to sit with him. She takes a seat, her small form easily fitting in the available space on the chair. ]
I like your new hat, by the way. [ It doesn't match so much with the suit, but it's still a nice hat! ] And your face... it looks different.
no subject
Gordon offers a wave at Fio's acknowledgement, and a gentle goading to Skulduggery to, "Go on, then, talk to her." She's offered a compliment, after all. And she's noticed his skull -- of course she has. She's a bright, perceptive girl.]
Thank you! [as he touches the large brim,] I thought it would be fun. And it turned out to be just that. [As for the face...] And this is my original skull. The one I had when I was alive. I woke up wearing it instead of the other one. I hope it isn't too awfully different...?
no subject
...
So you had skin before? And hair too? [ A pause. A little softly, like she's going into a sensitive subject. Dying is scary... ] You died before?
[ He's a skeleton. Of course he's dead! But for as long as Fio has known him, she somehow just accepted with stride that he's just a special, magical skeleton walking around and never thought to raise too many questions about how he was as a fleshy human. ]
no subject
Yes to all of those things and more. [Although none of it had been in good shape by the end of things. He doesn't seem concerned to talk about it. Not even to Fio, who he arguably usually tries to hide these things from.] And yes to the last question, as well. I died and came back to life. [Such as it is, at least. There had been times on the dying planet that he'd wondered how he could possibly still be alive, given how much the Faceless Ones had put him through. Surely no human could survive so long. And so, Skulduggery no longer could consider himself human.]
no subject
[ And finally, she addresses the skull and... it's a skull. ]
The skull's not too different, I... think? [ The choice of words to specifically note the higher cheekbones don't really come to mind, though she notices. Saying that it looks "different" is easier. Honestly, she doesn't have a strong opinion about it, even if it may have initially startled her for a moment. The voice is the same. He seems to be treating her the same... ] I'd love you with whatever skull that you have. You're still Duggy.
no subject
[To ruin everything. He doesn't say that part aloud, thankfully. And he manages to sound downright cheerful when he continues on:] I like to think I am! It's nice to know you feel the same way. [Because that makes sense...]
no subject
[ Does that make sense? Sure, why not! Mostly Fio's just speaking like she understands and just rolling with whatever he's saying. Maybe him sounding cheerful is just so contagious, she manages to sound cheerful right back. If he's happy, she's happy...?
But her smile quickly falters. Learning that his death was caused by a murder is... a little unsettling! And sad. It feels kind of strange, without holding his hand for that usual comfort, despite having her doll. It might be easier to hold onto his bony arm while sitting next to him. Shifting her plush bear to her side, she reaches over to wrap her free arm around his. ]
Um... I'm... glad that you got to come back!
no subject
But Fio's hold on him is as much a tether to this moment as Darcy's weight had been at the Chatterbox. For now, he is here and present, with the sun on him and Fio close at hand. While he doesn't reach out to grab her hand or really move much at all, he adjusts enough that she can comfortably hold on to him. Reciprocating feels like too big a step, just yet.]
I... am too. [Although he's speaking of a different return from his original resurrection.] I'm happier to be alive, and here. With you, and the rest of my friends.
no subject
For a moment, Fio stares off ahead into the distance, seemingly content with continuing to sit in silence. Then she speaks again: ]
You know, I think... [ A beat, to correct herself. There's no "I think" about it anymore. ] I died once too. Before I came here. It was really scary.
[ Terrifying and sad, but she manages to keep her voice calm and steady. The admission has been long since overdue. Others may be more comfortable admitting this kind of truth aloud. She just took a longer time accepting it to be able to do the same. ]
I'm happy I can be here with you and everyone, too.
no subject
More than anything, it serves to solidify their only option. This version of Fio, the one here on the ship with him, is from the terminus of her timeline. That means that there is nowhere else for her to be but here. This reality must continue to exist simply because it's the only place she belongs.]
Dying is frightening only until it's over. From this side of it... it isn't so scary. [For him, anyway.] At least we know exactly where we belong. Here, together.
no subject
And then there's living on the ship... what happens when someone disappears? She's afraid of it happening to her, to him, and all her friends. Quite a number of burning questions that she won't trouble Skulduggery with at this time. She wishes she could stay with everyone, always.
She gives his arm a light squeeze, mostly a comfort for herself. ]
It's scary here sometimes. [ Yet the calmer days as a passenger outnumber the countless days of hardship in her own harsh reality. ] But fear doesn't last forever. You told me that.
no subject
You're right. I did say that. [And it's true. He isn't afraid now, after all, is he?] Everything is temporary, really. Change is an inevitable part of existence, whether or not we want it to be.
no subject
Frowning, she responds in a quiet murmur: ]
...That's really sad.
no subject
Hmm. Maybe so. I find it comforting, personally...
no subject
[ With her thoughts on the present, she can't really stand the thought of everything, every connection that she made here being temporary. To find any of that comforting is beyond her. ]
Everything is temporary, so that means... the good things are too. And that also means everyone goes away someday. [ Everyone's going to leave her, just like how her mother, father, and her friends did back home. ] That's sad...
no subject
[He thinks he might be upsetting her. He doesn't know how to... fix it, though. Doesn't know how to explain it in a way that doesn't reflect the minor hopelessness beginning to swallow him whole.]
The good moments may be as temporary as the bad ones, but to me, that only makes them more valuable. And... being temporary doesn't mean they don't repeat. Or that the next moment of happiness won't be as good as the ones that passed before.
[He's thinking about one moment in particular -- that miraculous second arrival of Valkyrie and the portal. No moment in his life had compared to when he'd found himself standing back in Ireland. Every terrible thing he'd endured in those eleven months had been almost worth it for the feeling of relief that had come after.]
He can't tell her about that, of course. That would be depressing and upsetting for both of them...]
no subject
Maybe he's right...
There's a lengthy silence, the kind she does whenever she has difficulty giving an answer or tries to avoid answering at all. She is upset. When she opens her mouth, the first sound she makes is a shaky gasp. Trying to form words while controlling herself from wanting to cry. ]
I... guess? [ Pausing, Fio really can't bring herself to truly agree or attempt to hide behind one of her false smiles. ] But I don't want it to be temporary. I don't want anyone or you to be temporary. I don't want you to go away.
[ Not that Skulduggery has control over that. (And nor does she even realize he already has new memories of some horrible place...) ]
no subject
I know. [He can't promise he won't disappear, he knows that now. Any sense of stability he had in their current situation has been completely upended, and he can't bring himself to lie to her. He just... needs to find a different way to say it.]
I would be happiest if we could all remain here forever, the way we were when we arrived. I would gladly fight a thousand Battle Royales to stay here, unchanged, with you. [But it's too late for that. Certainly, he'll find his way back to something approximating the same skeleton he was before, but never fully.]
no subject
His wording confuses her for a moment, but there are some key terms in there that allow her to start piecing things together. Unchanged? The grip around his arm begins to loosen. ]
There's... something else different about you. Besides your face. Did something happen?
no subject
Here, the only case he has is directly related to the very thing he's desperately trying to avoid. And here, somehow, people invariably notice the obvious cracks in his facade. They notice the difference in his skull, in the way he talks, in the way he moves -- and they ask. They worry over it. And he has no way to reassure them, or lie to them, to convince them that he's fine.
When Fio's grip loosens, it lets loose something desperate in Skulduggery, who grabs for her hand as if he could make up for not doing so right away. He wants to reassure her. Come up with something brave that will satisfy her and convince her that everything is fine. He can't.]
Yes. I'm sorry. [For being different. So monumentally different that people have wondered if he's really himself. Himself included.]
no subject
But when he takes a hold of her tiny hand in his, there's no restraint. She wanted this, yet it doesn't provide her the same warmth as it used to. She wants him to be back to how he used to be. Still, it's going to take her a lot of willpower to try to wrest herself away. Her eyes grew hot, the tears she had been holding back finally running down her face.
It takes her a moment to properly form words in between her crying. Normally, she would run off and grieve silently on her own not knowing what to do. But she wants to stay with him. ]
What happened? Did the captain do something? ...Is there nothing I can do?
no subject
There's no way to explain that. He can't. He doesn't want to. It'll only hurt more, make things worse in a way that he couldn't have repaired even before the time skip. But not explaining means he has nothing to offer all of her tears, which would have cut so much deeper only a few days ago. All he can do is keep hold of her until she physically tears herself away.]
...After the camping trip, something happened to me and I... mmm. I remembered more about my life. ["Remembering" a future event feels wrong, but what better word is there?] It was something that hadn't happened to me yet. And it disturbed me.
[He says it as if he doesn't mean it in a very real, very tangible way. As if it had been an upsetting time away, and not something that left him fundamentally altered.]
no subject
[ She whispers, nearly in a tone that sounds like she's speaking of a familiar situation. The physical change though, she can't think of how he managed to inherit that as well... ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)