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come_sailaway2022-07-11 01:34 pm
be_seeing_you) wrote in come_sailaway2022-07-11 01:34 pm
[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.
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.
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"No. Well, yes. The water won't hurt you, but the effects last for about an hour. You might have better luck with teas and juice, although I've really got no idea how much water has to be present for it to be affected." Now's as good a time as any to point out, "For instance... you told me a moment ago that you're a secret agent. Ah. Resigned agent, I mean."
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It's like a switch being flipped. He goes from calmly listening to exploding with rage, somehow seeming to grow as he pulls himself to full height. One can almost imagine thunder claps going off in the background, or storm clouds appearing overhead.
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"You did. You'll remember it specifically in about an hour, when the spell wears off. How many people have you spoken to?"
no subject
He stands there stock-still in the hallway, save for his hands flexing and balling into fists over and over again at his sides. His mind is racing through the multitude of possibilities. What to do? He could try to say it was a lie. But, no. He's not capable of lying right now. That leaves only one option, besides saying nothing which is already as good as an admission.
"You called yourself a detective. I hope I can rely on you to have some discretion?"
no subject
"You may indeed, although I've been notoriously unreliable lately." Ah, but joking won't be a good fit here... although it's also sort of true... "I have no interest in divulging other passengers' personal secrets, so not to worry. More importantly, I don't think it will matter to many people aboard to begin with. You'd turn more heads announcing you were a tailor."
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"But, I'd wager you know something of turning heads. Or is everyone a skeleton in whatever place you came from?"
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Not so here! Which is great. Actually one of the key highlights of living on the Eterna.
"Do you have a name I can call you? Mr. Moore, perhaps?" Heheh.
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And belatedly, he frowns and adds, "My current alias is Peter Smith, if you please."
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He knows that won't be enough -- it's hardly enough for him -- and so he offers the same explanation he gives most people. "There was a war between sorcerers in my reality. I was killed, but due to my tenacity and ego, I managed to claw my way back to my body. I've been like this ever since."
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After a too-long awkward silence, he finally managed to say, "You seem, ah, at peace with the situation as such?"
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"You know, despite having only just learned about magic, and despite you clearly not believing everything I'm saying, you're handling this quite well! I'm always impressed when mortals and the mundane manage to keep their head above water."
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His mouth crooks into an unhappy frown at being called-out, in a way, for his lack of hysterics. He crosses his arms over his chest. "What kind of agent would I be if I couldn't keep my head in a difficult situation?"
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He doesn't even notice that he might've caused offense. Why would he? It's great when people are rational in the face of ridiculousness!
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"You're quick to assume I will crack under the pressure, aren't you?" Yeah, he is a bit offended. "I assure you, many have tried to break me already."
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"We all crack here eventually." He lifts one shoulder, as if commenting on a bit of bad weather rather than their precarious state of sanity. "I can't single you out any more than I could single out myself. It's part of the whole..." Handwave, "Thing."
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"I've been told by some that our misery might even be the fuel that runs this place. Skeptical as I am, if that is even remotely true, then we ought to be doing more to prevent it."
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"I thought the same when I first arrived, but I've come to realize that it isn't our misery that's required; everything we experience here fuels his magic. Pain, anguish, and death are, I assume, simply the easiest experiences to generate."
Smith is too new to know about the excursions, and it wasn't until the last one that Skulduggery had come to understand things more clearly. Still, trying to explain everything at once may be too much for a man barely able to suspend his disbelief in the face of a talking skeleton...
"I've been chewing on our circumstances for a while. If you have questions, I can try to answer them, but I can't guarantee it'll make any sense..."
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Skulduggery opens up his messages; a quick eye would be able to tell the majority of the conversations are between him and people named "Darcy" and "Natsuno."
"No question, however, no matter how small, is a waste of my time. You never know what might be revealed through simple curiosity." There have been a number of times where he's found himself at the solution to a mystery through sheer happenstance; he's betting this time will be similar.
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He's fascinated enough that he gets in closer despite being wary of the skeleton man. One of those names is actually familiar, the feisty teen swordswoman. He shouldn't be surprised.
He now takes his own phone out and examines it closer, trying to copy what he saw Skulduggery do. "Er... thank you for the offer. Should you need it, my cabin is 113."
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"Fantastic, isn't it? Personal mobile phones become all the rage after the 1990s. They make little games you can play on them, and..." He taps on the camera app, pulling it up. "There's a camera built into it. It takes both photos and video."
He's absolutely holding his phone out for Smith at this point, not even phased to be giving a quick lesson. (It isn't every day that he's the most technologically savvy one around...)
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He really has a lot to learn but it seems there's no time like the present. Number 6 eyes the phone with a mix of trepidation and wonder, watching each step Skulduggery makes on it as if his life could depend on memorizing it.
"You say it becomes popular in 1990? That's only twenty or so years from the time I live in. Can such an advancement be made that quickly?"
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Ah. He pulls open a photo Natsuno sent to him, one of the Captain after the neutrally-fated Battle Royale dinner. The image itself is heavily warped and distorted, but there's enough to visualize the shape of a man's head and what looks to be something shiny and metallic sticking out of roughly where an ear might be...
"You can take pictures of anything, but this is what happens when you take a picture of the Captain specifically. He's a shapeshifter, so knowing what distortions to look for will keep you from mistaking him from other passengers."
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"That is the Captain?" He's both horrified and fascinated. "A shapeshifter. Of course he is. Why ever not?"
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Unfortunately, pictures of him all turn out the same way, so Skulduggery has to specify what they're looking at. "One of the girls here on the ship took a pair of lobster crackers and bashed his skull in. Should've come out the other side, really, but the interior of the facade was empty, save for a black void." Which Skulduggery may or may not have stuck his hand in. Not that he's ever going to bring that up with a stranger...
"He was fine, obviously. Nothing anyone did at the dinner affected him."
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ooc: i had to