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come_sailaway2022-08-12 01:46 am
sailmods) wrote in come_sailaway2022-08-12 01:46 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: ekko,
- arcane: jinx,
- changeling the lost: giles,
- changeling the lost: oswald wuthridge,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- far cry 5: deputy pratt,
- far cry new dawn: sharky boshaw,
- fe3h: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd,
- groundhog day musical: phil connors,
- interview with the vampire: claudia,
- lavender jack: honoria crabb,
- lavender jack: johnny summer,
- mcu: ava starr,
- mcu: marc spector,
- mcu: steven grant,
- original: aiden copeland,
- original: lucas kovach,
- original: ylva wolfsdottir,
- overwatch: bastion e54,
- overwatch: maximilien,
- prodigal son: malcolm bright,
- rwby: ruby rose,
- sherlock holmes: john watson,
- skulduggery pleasant: skulduggery,
- tales of the abyss: jade curtiss,
- tales of vesperia: rita mordio,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the locked tomb: palamedes sextus,
- the umbrella academy: klaus hargreeves,
- westworld: maeve millay
AUGUST EVENT: DRAGSTRIP RIOT
[it begins with a PA announcement on the morning of the 12th, Friday’s voice coming through clear and cheerful.]
Any passengers that wish to debark to our latest port of call can exit the ship through the metal detectors on deck zero! Please be advised that all alcohol will be confiscated prior to your exit!
[and whoever heads down to the lowest deck will find that what she said was true: there is a metal detector set up there, with Friday manning it. after placing all metal objects (including weapons, and all your weapons) onto the tray, she gestures for the passenger to step through the metal detector.
they exit in an entirely different location. suffering from a splitting headache, and wearing an entirely different outfit than they had put on this morning, but unscathed. they even got their weapons back!
the interior of the diner is essentially your average jonathan rockets establishment. the narrow lane between booths and counter is manned by an entirely mute Friday clone, who cheerily takes orders and serves up food (cooked??? somewhere???) with an almost unnatural talent for roller blading. there is a jukebox in the corner that can be fed with quarters passengers will inexplicably find on their person. the available songs range from the 50s to the 80s, with a particularly wide selection of songs from the platters.
outside, the diner is a great chrome boxcar, circled by a small parking lot. a large neon sign proclaims it to be GIL’S; it buzzes and flickers on and off often. passengers who have regained vehicles will find these vehicles parked outside. there are also a handful of midcentury American cars; none of them seem to require keys, and the gas tank seems set at full.
past the parking lot is a seemingly endless expanse of desert sand and scrubland, bisecting by the empty highway that the diner abuts. a few miles down this highway, the road forks into a smaller one, which winds its way up a steep, ragged mountain until plateauing into another parking lot, with only a small, old wooden fence between the cars and the edge of the cliff.
should they wish to return to the ship, passengers can leave at any time the same way they entered: walking through a doorway that now claims to be a mop closet. passing through will leave them on deck zero, again with a splitting headache. it’s probably fine.]
Any passengers that wish to debark to our latest port of call can exit the ship through the metal detectors on deck zero! Please be advised that all alcohol will be confiscated prior to your exit!
[and whoever heads down to the lowest deck will find that what she said was true: there is a metal detector set up there, with Friday manning it. after placing all metal objects (including weapons, and all your weapons) onto the tray, she gestures for the passenger to step through the metal detector.
they exit in an entirely different location. suffering from a splitting headache, and wearing an entirely different outfit than they had put on this morning, but unscathed. they even got their weapons back!
the interior of the diner is essentially your average jonathan rockets establishment. the narrow lane between booths and counter is manned by an entirely mute Friday clone, who cheerily takes orders and serves up food (cooked??? somewhere???) with an almost unnatural talent for roller blading. there is a jukebox in the corner that can be fed with quarters passengers will inexplicably find on their person. the available songs range from the 50s to the 80s, with a particularly wide selection of songs from the platters.
outside, the diner is a great chrome boxcar, circled by a small parking lot. a large neon sign proclaims it to be GIL’S; it buzzes and flickers on and off often. passengers who have regained vehicles will find these vehicles parked outside. there are also a handful of midcentury American cars; none of them seem to require keys, and the gas tank seems set at full.
past the parking lot is a seemingly endless expanse of desert sand and scrubland, bisecting by the empty highway that the diner abuts. a few miles down this highway, the road forks into a smaller one, which winds its way up a steep, ragged mountain until plateauing into another parking lot, with only a small, old wooden fence between the cars and the edge of the cliff.
should they wish to return to the ship, passengers can leave at any time the same way they entered: walking through a doorway that now claims to be a mop closet. passing through will leave them on deck zero, again with a splitting headache. it’s probably fine.]
no subject
Other than... I suppose, revive... eventually... [ his voice a little faint as he kind of casts his memory back to previous deaths, both of which were. kind of traumatic. and that he tries actively to avoid thinking of, successfully or not. ] So I suppose there's not much to gain after all.
But the same could be said of most peoples'... corpses, though. So perhaps if you think of it that way, killing could be so boring couldn't it!
no subject
[Which is why he's even still talking to Venti right now.]
Also not true, some people have rigged themselves to explode. And you may have interesting things in your pockets assuming I wanted to search you. Which I really don't so that idea is right out.
1/2
Wait, endearing?
no subject
So now, by the power of my cuteness and try-hardiness I could surely wear you down. That's right, if you kill me you'd be robbing yourself of more of my charm~! And others too, I guess!
[ can some lightning just randomly hit him please ]
no subject
A wanderer with no home sounds a lot like you should be carrying all your possessions on you at all time. But I suppose you...
[He trails off as Venti practically transforms into a magical girl in front of him. He puts his palm right over Venti's smiling face and pushes him back down onto the ground from where he's floating.]
You are reading far too much into that. And killing you might save someone else from having to deal with you. Wouldn't that be a kindness from me?
no subject
[ no, max has the right idea, kill venti to save everyone else from cringe. ]
no subject
[He could punt Venti directly into the sun. He could run him over with his car. Many things.]
So long as it benefited me somehow, certainly. Would you like me to demonstrate?
no subject
running him over... if only... but he has to be marginally intact in order to die to zombies later. ]
no subject
In an instant he grabs at the front of Venti's swishy cherry print dress, testing the structural integrity of the fabric by picking him up by it and hurling him as far away as he possibly can.
Fly far lil wind god.]
no subject
and...... there he goes...... vaguely he could think, well it's nice to know what max is physically capable of. also, this is kind of impressive. he doesn't weigh a lot, he's practically light as a feather, and after a while he just disappears into wind. he can take a hint. he'll leave max alone until time for ~car advice~. ]