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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
It's hardly anyone's fault for the message not getting passed to him, what with how many people are stuck on the ship, but he needs something to lash out at.
"Like we're just supposed to accept going somewhere else? Maybe if I could at least say goodbye, I wouldn't care, but this is different! Someone... took my life! And now I'm just supposed to go live a new one somewhere else? It's fucked!"
no subject
"Well, who do you normally talk to? Maybe they haven't been as successful in retaining information as others." Namely this guy who is physically incapable of forgetting things.
"You aren't supposed to do anything, there's no set standard. It's not binary." He's curious though, "Say goodbye? To ... yourself?"
no subject
Fuck, he should have just died when he had the chance to. At least then he wouldn't have had to worry about what's happening back home...
Of course, Max can't very well follow any of this logic, because Rich hasn't been telling him a damn thing, nor is he very logical anyways.
no subject
"They're all technically 'you' I suppose. However many there are. Why do you care about what that one is doing? You're the one that should matter to yourself being that this one is the current you." He rehashes that in his head real quick to make sure that the logic is sound. Yes, that seems correct.
"I will say you're making less sense than normal so maybe this isn't quite the best version of yourself. But it's the one we have."
no subject
"And I'm worried because this isn't the first time I've been unaware of what my body is doing. Or well... okay, not my body, because some other me has it and had it all along, but, fuck, I don't know. It freaks me out thinking there's someone out there living my life."
He's not even going to snap at Max about that insult. He's well aware he makes zero sense on his best days.
no subject
"I see. That part at least is understandable. For what it's worth there's always a chance the Captain is lying. I don't think he is in this case, but I've been wrong in the past. Rarely."
no subject
"...Thanks, by the way. I know I'm sounding nuts right now, so you didn't... exactly need to try to explain or reassure or anything like that."
no subject
And then he blinks, "Is that what I'm doing?"
Damn, it is isn't it? "Hmf. Well. You are... welcome I suppose."
Oh it burns.
no subject
He smirks a little at Max's sudden indignation. "Yeah, I get it. Don't be too hard on yourself for helping me. I won't take it as a sign you secretly like me or anything like that."
no subject
Probably: Cool.
"Good because I don't."
no subject
Kinda like Max. Though not quite. There's some qualities about him that... are a little more interesting, after that bad first meeting.
"Never would expect you to, buddy."
no subject
"Good luck if you do talk to him. Anything he says may prove helpful in the future. Or just be infuriating - it's always a gamble." He pointedly looks at Rich's food that's now all over the ground, "You should get more of that, we have no idea how long this place will be here, it may end at any point."
no subject
He seems pretty unstoppable, though. Didn't even flinch when Darcy stabbed him...
"Hey, c'mon now. It's my job to be infuriating. He'll have no choice but to actually offer something useful." Rich... awkwardly kicks some dirt over the food and chuckles.
"Yeah, I could probably go for another shake. Guess I'll... see you around." Weird to even promise that, but maybe Rich could actually talk to him again. Maybe.
no subject
"Annoying him into responding is certainly one strategy to take. It," he actually considers that for a moment. "might actually be effective since I'm not sure anyone has tried it other than Jinx and you're less likely to show up with a rocket launcher."
He snorts at that last bit, not wanting to admit they'd had a fairly civil conversation here. And neither of them are trying to murder the other. Must be the heat and dust. "Indeed."
At least he nods politely when Rich leaves. That's... something.