[Open July Log]

[theweakhavepurpose]

Who: Deputy Pratt and YOU!
What: Pratt got his first regain and it's a doozy. Also still has no idea he's just telling the truth all the time.
Where: Buffet, Laundromat, around the Deck
When: Throughout July
Warnings: Standard Pratt warnings apply (cannibalism, murder, starvation, cults, etc) but now with Jacob warnings too! (Brainwashing, torture, skinning people). Important!! There's a very real chance he'll attack anyone who talks to him in the third prompt on the deck, so be aware.



Pratt got a notice that he had an item at the Sundries shop and was kind of stoked about it. Sweet, first present from back home. He swings by on his way to third breakfast, but as soon as he picks the thing up there's that sudden pang of trepidation. It's a rectangular box, looks pretty normal and what's in it is pretty obviously clothing from the weight and the sound it makes when he shakes it but.....

Oh that's interesting. Go ahead Peaches, open it.

1. Buffet

He doesn't open it. Not right then anyway, instead he takes it with him to the buffet grabbing himself some grub to fortify him against the growing dread seeping into the pit of his stomach. However; mashed potatoes can only do so much, and eventually he does, actually have to open it and see what it is.

You already know what it is.

Sliding his fingers through the tape on the box he lifts the lid off and stares. The look on his face almost like he might have just unboxed a human head, but it's just a jacket. An Army jacket with the name J. Seed on the chest. A plain, normal jacket that he recoils from so violently he spills his soda everywhere along with the remains of a bowl of pasta as he almost falls on the ground in his haste to get away.

Weird reaction since other than the fact the jacket reeks of blood and human entrails, it doesn't seem that bad?


2. Laundromat

As soon as he recovers from his shock at what's in the box, he grabs the jacket and fucking bolts out of the buffet to the one place he knows no one goes that often: the Laundromat. He stands in the middle of the room, amber lights flickering, signs cheerfully reminding him to balance his load, holding the jacket in both hands and looking right on the verge of either crying or punching something.

Go ahead then, put it on.

"Shut up!" It's not clear who he's talking to since he's in there alone, but then he suddenly throws the jacket at the wall, not very effective since the heavy canvas just flutters to the ground in a heap.

He stands there watching it, eyeing it like it might be a rabid dog waiting to attack him.

Eventually he does pick it back up, rubbing his fingers along the bloodstains, the holes around frayed patches on the sleeves. Standing there in the laundromat about to have a full on panic attack over a jacket.

3. The Deck
Pratt should have taken the time that he was in the laundry room to actually wash this new item of clothing that smells like it's been in a slaughterhouse for years. Because it has been. Unfortunately Pratt didn't think about it. And is now not thinking about anything because he is just... walking in circles around the deck.

Wearing his new 'gift' from back home he's been walking the length of the ship and back for probably hours now. The way he moves, his stance, is different than his normal 'cop on duty' pose he usually has, but it's pretty obvious this is some sort of a patrol. What for, and why, is anyone's guess.

4. End of the Month Wildcard

Well, Pratt has stabbed and been stabbed, and eventually got himself murdered. Apparently that's what he needed to put the pause on his spiraling breakdown. Sure he's still wearing the jacket, but he washed it. Several times.

Pratt is trying to reintegrate into society and aggressively pretend he's not a traumatized psychopath that could snap at any moment.

As always he can be found at the Buffet or the Dining Room since this guy is practically always eating. He's also hanging out near the Pool with comically large glasses of shaved ice. He doesn't look like he belongs at the pool since he's still wearing his police boots, the army jacket and pants. But look, he's trying. The shirt has an oversized foliage print, that counts right?

Comments

[theweakhavepurpose]

"I mean just like.. do you guys not have any stuff?"

They're probably not weird preppers like he is.

"I showed up with a shovel and I swear that thing takes up a third of the room somehow. I knock it over constantly."

[pineapplesalmon]

"We do! But we also have a closet, drawers, and under the bed storage. I'm an efficient packer from traveling a lot in my youth." César shrugs. "You could pull the couch slightly forward and stick the shovel behind it easily, too."

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Yeah but then if I need it gotta climb over shit and that's her bed. Like I don't wanna fuck with her shit you know." He's trying to keep his hoard of crap on his side of the room, but it does suck that he has to walk past her stuff to get to the bathroom or the door. Kinda ruins the illusion of privacy.

"I should make a launcher for it. Will take up a lot more room but.. would be fucking awesome."

[pineapplesalmon]

César nods to that idea, making a little hmmm as he thinks. "... you know, maybe it wouldn't be too hard to make a stand with a hook for it with a base weighed down by one of the night stands. Get it off the floor, at least."

... no. That sounds like a bad idea.

[theweakhavepurpose]

"I mean, probably. But I'm also used to living in chaos so." He's a little confused by César telling him to make a stand for his shit. Maybe tripping over a shovel daily builds character!

"It's not even my fucking shovel, don't know why it showed up here with me and not my gun. Or the Jeep."

[pineapplesalmon]

César is handy with tools and solves problems as they show up. "Well, if you want to live in a little less chaos, let me know. I've got tools and idle hands."

He's pretty sure he's not going to be the one who solves everything now. Compiled information, yes, sometimes. But he can make the lives of everyone a little little less crazy, then maybe they can solve it.

... also, he doesn't want to go home until he knows he can find Johnny and Watson again.

"Who knows why it showed up. I've gotten some pretty random stuff myself, like some of the clothes I wear daily now."

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Chaos is good, too organized and it starts looking like a prepper bunker and I don't want to start labeling crates of minestrone soup or Mountain House mac and cheese." He shudders. Sure he has food and junk all over the place, but he never wants to be in a bunker again. Even the good ones full of people he doesn't hate.

"You got packages from home too? Was.. Uh was it all terrible shit? Or did you get something good?"

[pineapplesalmon]

César nods understandingly. "Right, right, that's fair. We have to avoid the prepper aesthetic at any cost."

"Oh, most of my stuff has been pretty great. Nice clothing, that microscope you saw me using, my tools. Those sorts of things."

No entrails and blood stained jackets.

Then, he pauses and reconsiders that question, brows furrowing. "Why do you ask? Did you get something bad? ... not that you have to tell me if you did."

Giving him an out, just in case.

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Huh, wonder what I did wrong then." Because maybe the jacket had been a punishment, or a warning. He's not sure which.

"I got this jacket." The one he's wearing that's about four sizes too big for him. "It's uh.. not great. Not at all. Would rather have a microscope I don't know how to use."

Middle school biology classes were a long time ago.

[pineapplesalmon]

"I doubt you did anything wrong. We haven't gathered enough data to discern any patterns."

César is looking a bit concerned now. He's not heard about the stabbing and murking. So he has no idea what he's dealing with.

"You don't like the jacket, but still feel like you need to wear it?" He asks, confused but not judging; he can't judge people for making strange choices, knowing himself.

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Uhm.. so." Okay what's the best way to explain this. Is there a good way? "Iiiii....I'm in a cult? And uh this belongs to ... a Herald."

He pauses thinking about that, nope that's not a good way. "Fuck Aiden is right I should just tell people I'm a werewolf."

Trying this again, "I'm only gonna wear it for a bit and then probably burn it. Or let Sharky burn it. But I can't.. do that right now."

Yeah that wasn't much better.

[pineapplesalmon]

César tilts his head a bit. Takes that all in. Still looks concerned.

"So this is a part of processing your trauma, then." Without judgement, although César winces slightly when he realizes he said it a bit too bluntly. "I mean... if it helps you, then do it. You'll need an accelerant to make sure it burns before Miss Friday gets there. We should have acetone nail polish remover in the salon and in the sundries shop. I've got matches. You'll need to light one and throw it on the jacket at a distance to be safe. Which means it'll probably need to have weight added to it."

The scariest part is that he pulled that right out of his head immediately. Woo, science! YEAH.

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Maybe. I also might be making it worse, I dunno. I think there's like a max trauma threshold and I might be there?" He does feel kind of numb about it currently, which is probably bad, but so long as he's not currently hallucinating he doesn't really care.

"Nah, I can guarantee you that Sharky will want to hold it when he burns it. He might also want to piss on it, hopefully not when I'm wearing it." Grimace, "I mean I'm sure he'll soak it in alcohol first and then somehow manage to not burn his eyebrows off when lighting it. He has amazing luck when it comes to fire - like.. spooky how much he's managed to not set himself on fire."

[pineapplesalmon]

... If only they had therapists on this ship.

César doesn't think it's helpful to point out that Pratt can still talk and has coherent thoughts. Maximum trauma has yet to be reached.

He's not sure how to respond to this in general, but it's important to try.

"I'm afraid I'm not knowledgable with this sort of thing, either. But you have a way forward and someone who has far better expertise with seeing the last part of it through. That's good."

[theweakhavepurpose]

Considering he can get in the incoherent non-verbal stage pretty easily that would not be reassuring in the least.

"Yeah, it'll be fine. Eventually." He shrugs, or it won't and he'll lose himself completely but at least he won't know what's going on at that point. "That's what I keep telling myself any way. Gonna delude myself back into sanity."

Aw yiss, the best plan of all.

[pineapplesalmon]

... yeah. That would definitely make it harder to be reassuring.

"If you ever need a distraction, I've... got quite a few sources of entertainment on my phone and it can project on a wall." César smiles apologetically. "I'm afraid I can't offer any other help than that."

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Any idea why the big screen by the pool doesn't work? I wanna chill in the spa and watch Fast and the Furious while drinking a daiquiri. You know, the real cruise experience."

If he's being forced into eternal summer vacation he wants to do it right dammit. "Half the shit here doesn't need to be plugged in to work so I have no idea how to like... fix it."

[pineapplesalmon]

"You'd have to ask Friday. I know that Rin got it to work, but you need something that can connect to it. Guessing that's an action movie?"

Forgive him. Some of the movies on his Earth have different names.

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Yeah, action, car chases, that kinda stuff. But I mean anything is preferable to nothing. At least something distracting up there instead of being alone with your thoughts the whole time if no one is around."

Solitude can be nice, but too much of it is intimidating.

"Rin.. I dunno if I've met them."

[pineapplesalmon]

"Agreed." Sometimes it's nice to just let something occupy your mind like a good (or bad) movie.

"Rin's pronouns are it/its." César corrects without judgement, and shrugs. "It's an organic-inorganic artificial intelligence, although you can't tell by looking at it. Another one of its designations is SecUnit, short for Security Unit, but I'm fairly certain almost no one uses it."

He chuckles. "People are going to people. We prefer names."

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Why would I know that about someone I haven't met?"

Now Pratt is concerned there might be some sort of roster with everyone on it. Probably has his first name and everything. Don't mind him he's just going to throw himself into the ocean now.

[pineapplesalmon]

"You wouldn't," César shrugs. "So I'm telling you in advance when you two eventually meet. We are a small group, after all. You'll run into each other eventually."

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt just nods because chances are he won't remember this when he does meet whoever Rin is. Or this conversation. Or César. Time will tell.

"Like 75 people my best guess?"

[pineapplesalmon]

Pratt... honey....

"Something vaguely along that is my guess as well." César hmms. "I'm surprised he didn't pick a smaller boat. This boat could easily hold a lot more passengers than it has."

[theweakhavepurpose]

He's fiiiiine.

"Maybe he's still stocking up? Universe shopping until he finds things he likes and then teleports them here. Or... well whatever he's doing to get us here." Pratt for sure isn't teleported because then he'd be some bones that were loosely connected.

Oh man is that what happened to Skulduggery? He's glad he came later after the Captain perfected his technique.

"Or maybe he'll use the ship being super big against us somehow? Like trapping us on different levels or whatever. I dunno."