come_sailaway | [Open] Arrival + Event Catch-All

Entry tags:

[Open] Arrival + Event Catch-All

Who: Number 6 & OPEN
What: First few openers repeated from the TDM + New event prompts ALL TRUTH BECAUSE HE WILL HATE IT (All the TDM prompts except for the first one can be truth flavored, too)
Where: Locations stated in the prompt
When: The first one on the 11th, the rest throughout the month of July
Warnings: He's very upset and might be shouty

Over His dead body [7/11]
Waking up in an unfamiliar place is nothing new to him at this point. Not that it makes him any less boiling with rage over it. And that note only makes the steam rise higher over his head. So, they're doing cruises now? How novel. And using days of the week for names instead of numbers, too. What won't The Village try? He obstinately ignores the suggestion to bring his life vest with him. But the order to go to their mandatory drill is less easy to ignore. When did they gain the ability to paralyze him if he won't go where they say?

He can be found in the halls, not very far from the cabin he woke in (113), frozen in place with his hands balled into fists at his sides absolutely seething with rage. His entire body trembles with the force of it. He knows what he has to do to get unstuck. He'd experimented with taking a few steps forward and back. But will he go where he is directed? No. Never. He'd rather go red-faced in this hallway waiting for their unseen will to control him to run out than take one more step. Even if it takes hours.

Don't Look Down - Elevator prompt from the TDM
After, presumably, someone convinced him to finally just go do the god-forsaken drill, he thought the worst was over. How naive of him. He steps onto the glass elevator and reaches to hit the button. But nothing happens. He tries again. Still nothing. No movement. Turning to the person beside him, whom he has failed to acknowledge up until this point, he asks, "Does this happen often?"

There won't be time for a reply before the elevator quite suddenly lurches up one floor, and then drops. His stomach rises into his throat and he desperately puts his hands out to grip the side, fingers squeaking on the slippery glass, as they careen down, down, down!

Then stop.

He's thrown from his feet, landing hard on his side with a grunt. But rather than worry after himself, he's turning to catch sight of his unwitting partner on this fun-house ride, asking urgently, "Are you all right?"

Since When Did the Food Fight Back? - Mikabo prompt from the TDM
"What in blazes?" he exclaims as a knife goes soaring past him, followed quickly by a roll of sushi and the whole plate too.

He turns in shock to see the conveyor belt, seemingly with a mind of its own, winding up for another throw.

"Who is running this place?"

The truth will set you free?
Well, how was he supposed to know not to drink the water? Who would be stupid enough to poison the finite water supply on a cruise ship? After splashing some on his face in the morning to wash and shave himself, and then using it to brush his teeth like any decent hygienic person, he goes about his day none-the-wiser to the sudden change that's taken place.

His newly formed routine is to prowl the ship deck first thing in the morning (and last thing at night), scowling while he checks the waves and sky for any hint of a clue about where they could be. He checks the life boats, too, as if paranoid they might vanish without warning. It's unfortunate for him that it's been raining so much, only compounding the problematic effects of the water.

Once he's done his lap around the deck, he will work his way down level by level. He's memorizing the lay of thing, taking note of cabin numbers and all the many and varied amenities. It's almost staggering how many venues there are, and all of them host technology he'd never even dreamed of.

For instance, the arcade full of flashy computer games has him mesmerized. He stands in front of a cabinet, hand on the joystick while utterly transfixed. He doesn't make it past the opening stage of the game, but he keeps trying, getting visibly more upset each time the death screen animation plays. Until, finally, he shouts suddenly, "what's this all about?!"

He's keeping that angry-old-man-shouts-at-technology vibe with him through the rest of his explorations. Nothing on this ship makes any sense. The music is different. The decorations are all unfamiliar. If he believed in such things, he'd think he got abducted by aliens. Maybe he shouldn't rule it out.

To add insult to injury, his assigned dining time of "6:66 PM" feels like a particularly stinging slap in the face. Surely that was done on purpose to mock him. And so, when he sits down at his assigned seat, he is looking incredibly sour. He would shout at their servers, if he could see them. Instead, he has no recourse but to sit there, elbows on the table like a petulant child, seething quietly while the meal is served. And to quench that rage, he drinks more water, of course. Looks like mealtime chatter might be about to get a lot more interesting, or rage inducing. Probably that last one.

Good thing he doesn't have a roommate.
Speaking of rage, Number 6 is in one now. An hour after a conversation with someone, he somehow sobers-up and realizes that what he actually said doesn't match what he thought he said. AT ALL. And he is livid.

A chair goes flying into the hallway, crashing against the wall opposite Room 113. A glass goes soaring out after, smashing in rainfall of shattered shards.

If anyone is brave enough to stick their head through the open door after all that, they will find him in the process of attempting to upend his bunk. And there will be pieces of his furniture and personal effect thrown all around the room. It looks like a hurricane came through.

If he catches sight of any onlookers he will shout, "What do you want!" His piercing blue eyes narrowed down to slits as he locks his gaze on them. Taking one step more might feel like stepping on your own grave. Enter at your own risk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh," Ava squints at the man until he's back to appearing as one again, and then her squint becomes slightly suspicious at the awareness she does not recognize him. A newcomer? She's never sure how to feel about it. Especially when they're replacing the more familiar faces she arrived here with.

"No, there's just one of me. In multiple probabilities." She doesn't feel like further elaborating though, because she very much does want out of the elevator before it goes haywire again.

After a few wobbly tries, she does manage to get back to her feet on her own. "I'm good," Ava insists, brushing herself off.

"I have...absolutely no idea what you mean by that." But the suspicious looks are mutually shared.

She doesn't want his help, so he simply folds his arms and watches her struggle to her feet.

"I don't know about good, but we will both be better off once we get out of this lift. I doubt this will work, but we ought to try," he says, reaching to try all the buttons. Indeed, there doesn't seem to be any reaction.

"For once, I wish I hadn't been right."

"It means clearly you're hallucinating," Ava responds, with a small huff and attempt to straighten out one of her lopsided pigtails.

She raises an eyebrow as he pushes all the buttons, although she does brace in anticipation of... something happening.

Nothing does.

"Well, that sounds like a you problem," Ava says cheerfully, walking straight into the door. Instead of through it as intended. "Ow shit," she grumbles, hand over her nose.

He raises one brow at her looking distinctly smug. "Thought you were going to leave me to my own devices in here, did you?"

He's still not sure if he's actually willing to believe she could walk through a solid door, but it's clear she believed she could. Until she couldn't.

"It seems you're going to have to make me part of the solution after all. Like it or not."

"You certainly seem confident enough in your capabilities, with all your haphazard button pushing," Ava points out, still rubbing at her nose. "What if it-" the elevator starts slowly rising again, and Ava groans. "See, look what you went and did."

She checks her pockets, but doesn't have anything on her other than a pen. She clicks at it in frustration. "Got any weapons?"

"I got it moving again," he huffs. Which, if it stops will be a good thing but so far it hasn't done that. Even going this slow, they have to have passed two floors at least.

"Weapons? No. Why should I? Are you expecting a fight?"

"I don't see how that's a benefit." Ava stares downwards out the side, a little glare Friday's way who doesn't seem all that concerned. They just keep going up and up. Not stopping at any of the floors that he pushed the buttons for.

"I don't know, every other man on this ship is packing as if a gun actually does any good. But maybe if we could break the glass..." she taps it uncertainly. Nope. Her hand isn't managing to go through.

"I suppose we'll find out when we reach the top of the shaft." He does not sound too confident about it now.

"I know my way around a firearm enough to have some serious concerns about firing one off in such an enclosed space." He doesn't want to catch a ricochet bullet in case this glass is impenetrable.

"How sturdy is that pen?"

Well at least they can't keep going up forever. But she's not looking forward to the down again.

"It's fine, bullets just go right through me." You know, in a different way than they go through other people. She has no concerns about him, clearly.

Ava stops clicking her pen, aware she'd been doing so nervously. She shrugs, because she estimates it to be roughly the same as any other pen. She's not a pen connoisseur or anything. But she passes it over for his inspection.

"You could try to have some common decency," he growls, realizing exactly what she means by that comment. Leaving him to fend for himself is one thing, but brazenly putting him in harm's way is another less forgivable action.

"Thak you." The words are curt and tart.

Inspecting the pen, he finds it woefully inadequate for his purposes. It's made of a flimsy alloy that has no hope of piercing the glass. So, with a long sigh, he'll pass it back to her.

"Here. I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this." He shucks off his jacket and wraps it around his fist tightly. "But I think I'll have to try to shatter the glass myself."

"Not sure what good that would do either of us," Ava remarks, feeling increasingly agitated at being trapped. It's not a feeling she has to put up with often, especially not in such a confined space. "Nobody ever trained me for decency, much less the common kind."

She takes her inadequate pen back, with a few swipes of her fingers through it before she can grab hold. Her nervousness at a second impending drop is making it difficult for her to concentrate. She tries not to glance down, but does.

But as much as she doubts his ability to shatter the glass, unless he's hiding some fun sorts of powers (which she doubts by the way he wraps the jacket about his fist) Ava has no intention of interfering. And crosses her arms, standing back.

Strange, she chose the word trained rather than taught. He could be reading too much into it. But then again... "What were you trained for, then?"

Watching her swipe for the pen and miss only makes him more suspicious of her background. "You aren't in control of that, are you? Not fully." It's a question but he says it more like a statement. "Have you always had this... ability?"

Suppose he doesn't attempt to punch out of here until she answers? He is considering making such an ultimatum. Not just because he doesn't relish the thought that he is probably about to break his knuckles against the glass, but also because he doesn't think he'll have a chance to corner her for answers once they are free.

"Evading answering questions," Ava says vaguely. Which isn't quite what she's trained in, given she's meant to be impossible to catch in the first place, but is more of a hint than she intends.

But she narrows her eyes slightly at the question, and then shoves her hands into her pockets self-consciously. "My control is fine," she says defensively. She's worked hard to learn to control it this well, and her body fights back. She does better when she has her suit, but she certainly isn't revealing that information.

"And no. Not always." How horrifying it would be to be born this way. "Have you always been that way?" Whichever way he is. Ava doesn't elaborate.

"What an astonishing coincidence," he answer dryly. He actually is trained for that. and trained for sussing out secrets too. She's doing nothing to dissuade him from pushing for more, only wetted his curiosity.

A sharp but genuine bark of laughter parts his lips when she throws his question back at him. She's a spirited one.

"Oh yes," he says, putting on a mocking tone of grave seriousness. "I'm afraid so. It's made me very good at what I do." He is not saying what it is either.

The elevator comes to a groaning stop at the top of the shaft, finally. Number 6 looks up, as if he could see anything at all through the solid roof? He catches himself holding his breath, waiting for a drop. So far, it hasn't come.

"Doesn't matter anyway, I'm retired," Ava dismisses. There's something about being a spy that makes it fairly easy to spot others of similar branding. As if the more subtle they try to be, the more obvious they are. Sizing each other up without giving away too much in return. Which makes her uncomfortably aware he can probably sense the same from her.

Ava holds in a breath as they stop, braced for another drop. Seconds pass, and she relaxes slightly.

"Well if you want a performance evaluation, maybe give me a boost. See if we can get out from the top there."

"Another coincidence. I also happen to have recently resigned." There's a tinge of bitterness to this admission. He doesn't regret his resignation, but he does resent what happened immediately after it.

"Now that we've established some common ground," he's back to using his brisk and businesslike tone. If what she's implying about herself is true, then he need not bother telling her to keep his own status as a former spy to herself. They can trust their mutually assured destruction if nothing else. "Let's see what you can do."

Without further argument, he bends down and cups his hands together to make a stirrup for her to step into. "On your say-so, I will lift."

Ava gives a short laugh. Because there's only so many ways to get out of the business. "And I'm sure you got the full pension and benefits package." Ava knows well when you know too much that they don't like you taking their secrets with.

Ava kicks off her shoes, because they're worthless flip flops and they're more likely to flip flop right into his face than do any good. And then takes the offer to step up into his hands for a boost. "So," she tells him. She's light, and far more limber than her frumpy appearance might suggest, and has no trouble at all with being lifted. She balances, other foot resting upon his shoulder for extra height, and begins feeling out the ceiling panels for any bit she can get loose.

Considering what he did get, that comment stings a lot more than it should. His whole face twists in a moment of raw rage, before he manages to school it back into something close to neutral.

"I'm sure you would know."

Despite his flash of anger, he doesn't take it out on her physically when she steps up into his hands and then onto his shoulders. He's perfectly solid and disciplined. Between her agility and his experienced strength, it shouldn't be too taxing to search the ceiling.

"If there's a service door, it's likely to be locked. Could you use that skill of yours to reach to the other side and unfasten it?" At least he's done insisting what he saw was a hallucination.

The expression isn't lost upon her, and there's a brief moment she wants to apologize. Ava has a tendency to strike nerves, with her flippant remarks that don't quite reflect how she actually feels about things.

"Yes," is all she manages, with a regretful tone, because she doesn't want to quite go into it and doubts neither does he.

She's too busy with the ceiling anyway, a far more productive use of her time. And unlike the doors she ran face into, her hand reaches through easily enough. "Yes, yes," she responds to his suggestion without sounding too annoyed. She knows her own powers quite well. There's never been a security system that's stood a chance against her.

"Ah, I got something," she proclaims, feeling what might be a latch that she unfastens. And then her foot on his shoulder slips right through, and she gives a startled yelp at the lack of balance, fingertips clinging to the ceiling.

The sudden shift in balance naturally draws his full attention. And to his horror, he sees her foot phasing right through him. He's not sure which part is more disturbing, that he can clearly see it happening, or that he can't feel anything beyond the fact that she's now awkwardly balanced on him.

"Could you kindly get your foot out of ...my shoulder?"

"If you drop me I will put my foot in your teeth," Ava threatens between her own, scrambling to regain her grip on reality. Especially after she had insisted she had control over this, a demonstration otherwise is not quite what she was going for.

But she gets a solid hold on the ceiling, planting her foot back against his shoulder, and shoves the panel open. "Doesn't help much since we're at the top, though," Ava comments, peering up. There's no floor above to escape out of.

"I haven't dropped you yet," said in a tone that threatens to do it now out of spite. But no, he wants out of here. That, however, may be a tricky prospect based on her observations.

He already hates the idea forming in his mind now. But what other choice is there? "Can you make it through alone?" If she leaves, she could theoretically go get someone to help him. Assuming he can trust her to do that. A very daunting assumption.

"Yet," she repeats in a mocking yet amused tone. "I like you, everyone else is so frustratingly polite," Ava responds, as he gets a bit of knee to his nose as Ava stretches up to see if she can indeed slip right on through.

The elevator gives a threatening lurch, but at least doesn't drop. Ava breathes out. "Yes, I could. But I could also pull you through with me. Theoretically." She hasn't done it much. She's phased other people into things, which is fine when you're intending to kill them. She hasn't done it much with the intention of rescuing anyone though, because of the risk. But if he dies then oh well. He'll come back tomorrow.

"I generally try to be polite, but a man has his limits." Having someone's foot phase through him is apparently the line? He grunts when her knee bumps his nose, but he bears it. He's too focused on that worrying lurch that has him holding his breath waiting for catastrophe to befall them.

But nothing more happens.

"Theoretically?" He obviously doesn't like the sound of that. "And what happens if you fail halfway through, theoretically?"

"I'm good at pushing those," Ava claims. "But you are the one who pushed all the buttons." So really who is responsible here.

She pauses as if she's giving it some thought, although the answer is rather obvious and requires no consideration at all. "Then you'll be stuck in the elevator still, just more literally." And painfully.

[Open] Arrival + Event Catch-All

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you okay with wrapping this one up here?

sure!

Thanks! End~