Daniel Arlington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
more_magic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2022-07-04 12:30 am
more_magic) wrote in come_sailaway2022-07-04 12:30 am
the high road's steady and steep, and the low road's easy and deep
Who: Darlington and YOU! (with one prompt closed to Emet-Selch)
What: Working on some theories, belatedly meeting the new roommate, telling some unbelievable truths and even stranger lies.
Where: Library, the main pool deck, Tauva, the sports deck
When: July
Warnings: None for now
I. Taking notes and making plans - Library [Open, plot neutral]
He'd be a fool to trust that anything the captain says is true, let alone believe any of it is actionable in any way, that the rules that govern their existence here have any similarity to the ones he'd studied and learned in his time with Lethe. Still, since their return from camp, Darlington's been turning over their brief interaction outside the bus nearly every day.
You ambidextrous?
When I remember to be.
He knows all demons are ambidextrous, and confined to a hellscape beyond the Veil, a holding cell of unknown size and form that was rarely if ever breached. It could be breached, though, and to Darlington it seems not that farfetched to believe that breach might extend both ways. That a demon, sufficiently motivated, might find it worthwhile or entertaining to pull them into a prison of its own making and for its own capricious ends. When combined with the fact that the leis they'd all been given upon arrival serve as a kind of protective ward, albeit one of unknown design or origin, the idea that forms is disturbing and captivating all at once.
If he was still at home, he'd have gone to Il Bastone's library, scribbling request after request in the Albemarle Book until Dawes or the house itself stopped him--and from there, the armory. It's not the same, but he heads to the ship's library anyway, a notebook and pen in hand. After settling into a chair, he flips the book open to a blank page and starts to write, his already-jagged handwriting growing spikier and less legible in places as he drafts ideas and scribbles out questions. He can refine it into something more coherent later; for now, it's enough to get it all onto the page.
II. Sharing space...or not? - Pool Deck [Closed to Emet-Selch]
Wanda's disappearance had been sudden and strange, what few possessions she'd gathered in her time on the ship left behind as though she'd merely stepped out of their cabin and might return any minute. Darlington had given it a few days, just in case, before carefully packing them up--clothes and trinkets and shampoo, all of it--and storing them at the back of what had been their shared wardrobe. If she ever did come back, they'd be there. As the days stretched on, the less likely it seemed that it might happen. What's more, it seemed there was no one coming to take her place.
Darlington remembers what it was like waking up suddenly in an unfamiliar bed, and each day he waits for some startled cry to jerk him out of sleep, or for an unfamiliar figure to come tearing out of his cabin intent on answers or escape. And there are new people here, as bewildered and distressed-looking as he had been only a few months prior; whether in this batch or the next, one of them has to end up assigned to Cabin 128. When another day breaks with no sign of anyone new in or out of his room, Darlington finally decides to go searching.
It just feels like the right thing to do.
He starts with the long hallway of cabins, then moves to the atrium and the lounge beside it, up again to the promenade and in and out of the various bars and shops--even the Tommy Bahama, but if his new roommate's stumbled into there, they may never return. Reaching Deck Six, he studies the sky for a moment before stepping outside, casually looking over the rows of lounge chairs for anyone unfamiliar as he passes.
III. To tell the truth, I need a drink - Tauva [Open, truth side of plot]
The fug of smoke, Darlington could do without, but Tauva was as good a retreat as any sometimes. The leather chairs and wood-paneled walls reminded him of nothing so much as his grandfather's office, though the richer smell of cigars took the place of the stink of the old man's Chesterfields. The whiskey and scotch, at least, were familiar enough too.
Mindful of the strange water-based epidemic sweeping the ship, Darlington orders his drink neat, if ordering is really the right word for addressing the empty air and waiting for something to happen. That he can't see the ghosts that populate the ship, can't divine their purpose or find a way to send them through whatever part of the Veil remains here, is as frustrating now as it was the first day. If he had a dose of the Bullet, then maybe--but the crucible is a world away at best, and Darlington knows what happens if he tries to brew it in a lesser vessel.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, he operates on autopilot when a glass appears in front of him, lifting the scotch on the rocks and taking a drink. When the chill edge of an ice cube brushes his lip, he realizes his mistake.
"God damn it."
IV. You can't outrace the rain - Sports Deck [Open, lies side of plot]
His daily run had been important back home, the streets of Westville unfurling beneath Darlington's feet in the early morning or late afternoon. Here, there were fewer places to go, fewer routes to run that weren't a constant loop around the track that ringed the sports deck. He still makes do, still keeps to the routine; the constant circling is almost meditative after a while, a space carved out for nothing more than the thud of his pulse and the thoughts in his head.
Getting up close to dawn means he avoids the heat of the day and often the majority of the other passengers, the sports deck quiet when he makes his way up there. His first mile passes without incident, the early morning light growing slowly stronger around him, misshapen shadows turning into piles of sports equipment or a collection of deck chairs. As he starts his second, the sky above him fills with sudden clouds, the rain beginning, gentle but steady, before he can take cover.
V. Wildcard
Have something else in mind, or want Danny spilling truth out in the rain (or lies over a drink)? We can make it happen! Ping me over PM or at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
gripyfish and let me know.
What: Working on some theories, belatedly meeting the new roommate, telling some unbelievable truths and even stranger lies.
Where: Library, the main pool deck, Tauva, the sports deck
When: July
Warnings: None for now
I. Taking notes and making plans - Library [Open, plot neutral]
He'd be a fool to trust that anything the captain says is true, let alone believe any of it is actionable in any way, that the rules that govern their existence here have any similarity to the ones he'd studied and learned in his time with Lethe. Still, since their return from camp, Darlington's been turning over their brief interaction outside the bus nearly every day.
You ambidextrous?
When I remember to be.
He knows all demons are ambidextrous, and confined to a hellscape beyond the Veil, a holding cell of unknown size and form that was rarely if ever breached. It could be breached, though, and to Darlington it seems not that farfetched to believe that breach might extend both ways. That a demon, sufficiently motivated, might find it worthwhile or entertaining to pull them into a prison of its own making and for its own capricious ends. When combined with the fact that the leis they'd all been given upon arrival serve as a kind of protective ward, albeit one of unknown design or origin, the idea that forms is disturbing and captivating all at once.
If he was still at home, he'd have gone to Il Bastone's library, scribbling request after request in the Albemarle Book until Dawes or the house itself stopped him--and from there, the armory. It's not the same, but he heads to the ship's library anyway, a notebook and pen in hand. After settling into a chair, he flips the book open to a blank page and starts to write, his already-jagged handwriting growing spikier and less legible in places as he drafts ideas and scribbles out questions. He can refine it into something more coherent later; for now, it's enough to get it all onto the page.
II. Sharing space...or not? - Pool Deck [Closed to Emet-Selch]
Wanda's disappearance had been sudden and strange, what few possessions she'd gathered in her time on the ship left behind as though she'd merely stepped out of their cabin and might return any minute. Darlington had given it a few days, just in case, before carefully packing them up--clothes and trinkets and shampoo, all of it--and storing them at the back of what had been their shared wardrobe. If she ever did come back, they'd be there. As the days stretched on, the less likely it seemed that it might happen. What's more, it seemed there was no one coming to take her place.
Darlington remembers what it was like waking up suddenly in an unfamiliar bed, and each day he waits for some startled cry to jerk him out of sleep, or for an unfamiliar figure to come tearing out of his cabin intent on answers or escape. And there are new people here, as bewildered and distressed-looking as he had been only a few months prior; whether in this batch or the next, one of them has to end up assigned to Cabin 128. When another day breaks with no sign of anyone new in or out of his room, Darlington finally decides to go searching.
It just feels like the right thing to do.
He starts with the long hallway of cabins, then moves to the atrium and the lounge beside it, up again to the promenade and in and out of the various bars and shops--even the Tommy Bahama, but if his new roommate's stumbled into there, they may never return. Reaching Deck Six, he studies the sky for a moment before stepping outside, casually looking over the rows of lounge chairs for anyone unfamiliar as he passes.
III. To tell the truth, I need a drink - Tauva [Open, truth side of plot]
The fug of smoke, Darlington could do without, but Tauva was as good a retreat as any sometimes. The leather chairs and wood-paneled walls reminded him of nothing so much as his grandfather's office, though the richer smell of cigars took the place of the stink of the old man's Chesterfields. The whiskey and scotch, at least, were familiar enough too.
Mindful of the strange water-based epidemic sweeping the ship, Darlington orders his drink neat, if ordering is really the right word for addressing the empty air and waiting for something to happen. That he can't see the ghosts that populate the ship, can't divine their purpose or find a way to send them through whatever part of the Veil remains here, is as frustrating now as it was the first day. If he had a dose of the Bullet, then maybe--but the crucible is a world away at best, and Darlington knows what happens if he tries to brew it in a lesser vessel.
Preoccupied with his thoughts, he operates on autopilot when a glass appears in front of him, lifting the scotch on the rocks and taking a drink. When the chill edge of an ice cube brushes his lip, he realizes his mistake.
"God damn it."
IV. You can't outrace the rain - Sports Deck [Open, lies side of plot]
His daily run had been important back home, the streets of Westville unfurling beneath Darlington's feet in the early morning or late afternoon. Here, there were fewer places to go, fewer routes to run that weren't a constant loop around the track that ringed the sports deck. He still makes do, still keeps to the routine; the constant circling is almost meditative after a while, a space carved out for nothing more than the thud of his pulse and the thoughts in his head.
Getting up close to dawn means he avoids the heat of the day and often the majority of the other passengers, the sports deck quiet when he makes his way up there. His first mile passes without incident, the early morning light growing slowly stronger around him, misshapen shadows turning into piles of sports equipment or a collection of deck chairs. As he starts his second, the sky above him fills with sudden clouds, the rain beginning, gentle but steady, before he can take cover.
V. Wildcard
Have something else in mind, or want Danny spilling truth out in the rain (or lies over a drink)? We can make it happen! Ping me over PM or at
III
"Mind if I join you?"
no subject
"Given that there are plenty of vacant chairs, Captain, it's a little surprising," he says, his tone as cordial as any he'd used at board events and society gatherings. "But I'm too polite to tell you no, so go ahead."
no subject
And he'll park himself a respectable distance away with the pretense of reading his book, but he's no longer very interested in reading about the lonely isolated creature who didn't ask to be created.
no subject
By now, Darlington knows enough about the affliction sweeping the ship to be wary of water--not that it's helped him right now--and when Stede's face falls and he hurries away, he knows whatever he'd actually said hadn't been the right thing at all. At least honesty gave him some kind of clue, but right now he almost wishes it had been a lie. Wincing, he stays where he is for a minute or two longer before picking up his drink again and heading Stede's way.
"I'm sorry," he says. "It's whatever's happening on the damn ship, the...no one saying what they mean. Or saying exactly what they mean. I can't work out the logic of it yet, but I know I hate it."
no subject
"I don't know. I have noticed everyone seems a bit more open than usual. I thought it was just being so relaxed from camping. Not that I found it very relaxing." Not all parts of it at least.
"Hopefully it's not a buildup to something worse."
IV
"It hasn't rained in months. I was worried I wouldn't get to see rain again."
no subject
"It never rains where I'm from," he says. "This is completely new to me."
no subject
"I kind of hate how it's just... Summer all the time. I didn't realise that I missed the cold."
no subject
"That's because the cold is great," he says, the lie running calmly off his tongue as he scrubs a hand through his damp hair. "Nothing better than freezing your ass off for months. Summer's completely overrated." He shrugs. "Not that I miss home. What do you miss about yours?"
no subject
She shrugs at his question, presuming she's about to say something vague like 'everything'. But when she answers, she says-
"The familiarity of it. I knew nearly every traboule in my neighbourhood, I had places to get away from people, but there were people who knew me too, like the old lady I got my vegetables from at the market. But like... casually. Everyone here is too close, you're either strangers or you know too much about each other. And having my own room. I miss that."
II!
Today, Emet-Selch had found a particularly cozy spot in a shaded area by the pool. It seemed to be mostly quiet and neglected by foot traffic - the perfect place to comfortably doze.
So he did just that. Emet-Selch laid on his back, hands folded across his midriff and contentedly rested the hours away.
no subject
Once he's close enough, Darlington pauses again, momentarily uncertain what to say. It could be that the other man's deep asleep; it could be he's only lightly dozing still. It could be that he's not Darlington's errant new cabinmate at all, and he's about to make an undeniable fool of himself.
"Only one way to find out," he murmurs to himself, and goes to touch the sleeping man's shoulder. "Excuse me."
no subject
Emet-Selch makes some manner of grumbling noise and swats the hand away from his shoulder with a few flicks of his hand. "What is so important that it warrants interrupting my rest?"
no subject
Given the first impression he's made, he's not sure which answer would be the better one.
no subject
III
no subject
If only that were true.
"I don't know if I am alright," he admits, as easily as commenting on the weather. "I've been hearing that something's supposed to happen if you come in contact with water. Or ice, in this case. Don't know what, unfortunately."
no subject
It's not like Johnny has any secrets that are more than traumatic and embarrassing.
I
She spots Darrington in the otherwise empty library and though she hasn't seen him in what feels like a long time she approaches him with a bright smile. "What are you working on so intensely?"
no subject
He answers her bright smile with one of his own, though he makes no move to turn the notebook in her direction. "Oh, just working through some ideas," he says. "I might have learned something at the end of the camping excursion, but I can't tell yet if it's true or merely wishful thinking."
no subject
Her eyes light up as he explains what he's working on. "A very big something, from the looks of it?"
She's glad that people who are smarter than she is are asking questions and doing research. She doesn't know where to begin with any of it and even if she did she'd probably stay out of all of it anyway.
"If it's true and you're right, is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
I
Today, it’s the second sort of plan he has in mind. He’s still pulling apart his conversation with Friday about the leis, which hinted at so much while giving away so little. His recent conversation with Skulduggery only serves to add more mysteries to the pile. The notebook he has brought with him is blank, primed to be filled with what is sure to be a torrent of thoughts.
He smiles a little when he sees his friend, whose intense expression and furious writing serve as a kind of glimpse into Pal’s own future. “Mind if I join you?” he says, selecting a chair nearby.