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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.]
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"I don't feel like I deserve that."
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"I dunno."
Certainly nothing to do with guilt over Ganaka Pit or anything. The reasons it calls itself Murderbot. Nothing like that.
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"...It... isn't always about the person they're saving," he says, slowly measuring out the words that he's had in mind since Valkyrie pulled him back through the portal. "Sometimes, it's more about proving to themselves that they did everything they could. Or about... mitigating the feeling of responsibility over another's choices."
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And that last word is cut off midway through and it abruptly looks out the window. Nope.
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"You still had a choice," he points out. "And you chose to save them."
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"Gurathin?"
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Murderbot glances at Skulduggery briefly. It's considering whether it ought to tell him its name.
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It snorts softly, looks out the window. "You don't get to call me that, though."
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"I only ever call people what they tell me to," he says. "Sort of a sticking point in my reality." He wants to ask more, but it might not appreciate that. Best to keep things vague, so he doesn't risk Rin just... stepping out of the speeding vehicle.
"You chose it for yourself, I take it?"
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It folds its hands in its lap and looks down at them.
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"...Magic in my world relies on the power of names. There are three of them: a true name; a name given to us by others; and a name we choose for ourselves. Our true names are something we're born with, but very few people ever find out what theirs might be."
He slows down in preparation for the upcoming turn to the lookout.
"It's said that if you can discover what your true name is, you can unlock your full power and potential. ...I know it isn't an exact one-to-one comparison, but all of that is to say that I understand the importance of having a name that is both powerful and private." He tilts his head to glance over at Rin. "I also understand why you might have felt the need to choose that name, in particular."
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It's pretty sure that Skulduggery only has the vague outline of its reasons, not the whole truth of Ganaka Pit.
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"Sorcerers choose their names for any variety of reasons back home. Some choose names with sentimental value. Some choose a name they think will be cool. Some... choose names to carry a memory. You would think they would choose happier ones, but I haven't met anyone named New Love or Happy Birthday."
He takes it easy on the turn and leisurely starts up the windy road. "Because you said again, I assume it's only happened once before. I don't know if you were 'rogue' by that point, but I feel you probably weren't. Something happened to disable your 'governor module,' either during or immediately after. Although, perhaps it happened by accident when you were being repaired afterward..."
He tilts his head.
"...Those sorts of moments shape a person. And choosing a name to remind you of that moment can serve as both a warning to other people and a reminder to yourself." He huffs a quiet, unhappy laugh and adds, "Feel free to tell me I'm wrong without elaborating on how. I won't ask questions unless you encourage it."
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It seems resigned to the telling, now. Or at least large chunks of it. The kaleidoscope turns, a new pattern is revealed.
"After the PreservationAux team bought my contract and I ran away from them, I went back to the Ganaka Pit. Because I needed to know the truth. I could have fled anywhere in the known universe, and I went back. Because I needed to know."
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"I take it you found the answer," he says. He doesn't ask what the answer was; he was being sincere when he said he wouldn't ask questions.
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"I mean that it's... difficult to do anything with the information when you're here. I'm sure that you had planned for both outcomes, but there's no way you could have planned for this to happen to you."
He isn't going to ask. But he will say, "I doubt it helps, or even matters, but no matter the truth, I won't hold it against you. We've all done terrible things in our lives, knowingly and unknowingly. All that matters to me is what you plan to do moving forward."
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And that's incredibly deeply personally honest, isn't it? It looks out at the cliff, though, and grabs its journal to begin sketching.
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