come_sailaway | APRIL OPEN LOG: PIRATE JENNY

APRIL OPEN LOG: PIRATE JENNY

[early risers with odd-numbered rooms might notice that the morning sun doesn't quite come through the curtains as much as it usually does; they can peer out the portholes to see their views blocked by black-painted wood. everyone else won't realize something's off until the morning announcements. there's the chime, and Friday speaks, but...]

Passengers, I'd like for you all to join me in the atrium at your earliest possible convenience! We have a… situation!

[there is no bind on their legs; going is their choice. but, who wouldn't? something interesting is happening, at least. for once.

when they arrive, they will find Friday, and find that she is not alone. a woman - tall, dark, with a flowing coat and a lit cigar hanging from the side of her mouth like an old movie gangster - is standing on the raised area by the stairs; they are having a conversation that's too quiet to hear, and the woman's face is nearly as inscrutable. when enough have gathered, Friday steps forward, her empty hands clasped together in front of her, as the woman puts out the cigar on the heel of her boot and tosses it thoughtlessly to the ground.]

Good morning, everyone! I.. I'd like, I'd like to, well, I'd -

[the woman places a firm hand on Friday's shoulder - spins her, grabs her, dips her low to the ground, and kisses her soundly. at the first touch, Friday freezes; but, at the dip, she squeaks, and throws her arms up to hold herself up. the woman returns her to a normal position, and grins widely.]

Let me handle this, Dajutia. Hm? [Friday nods, and the woman turns to face the passengers.] Tau, everyone! My name is Jenny Storm, but all my friends call me Pirate Jenny! And I'd like to think we're all friends, sí? You could call me an... alumnus of the Serena Eterna; I spent a good five years being a thorn in the side of our good Captain! So, when I heard that he was getting up to his old tricks again, I decided to come around and see the fresh meat! And maybe have a bit of a vacation myself!

[she looks at each of them in turn. her grin widens, showing sharp canines.]

Now, I am sure you are thinking, "Señora Storm? You are a pirate! Are you here to rob us of our valuables?" [she barks out a laugh, then shakes her head.] No, no. First off, we're friends; it's Pirate Jenny! And Pirate Jenny is not interested in such things. In fact, I have valuables for you!

[she makes a quick movement: she sticks her pointer finger in her mouth, and then immediately uses that same finger to make some sort of sketch on her palm. seconds later, that same palm closes around a single white rose, which she extends to Friday. she pauses... then takes it, careful, holding it gentle as a bird.]

I may not be the Captain, but I happen to have a little bit of magic of my own! And, for a very, very low price, I can grant you a few small wishes! Trifles from home, maybe - do you like rocket launchers? I am getting very good at rocket launchers!

Jenny...

Okay, okay, no rocket launchers... Machine guns are as big as I'll go, promise!

[Friday just audibly sighs and shakes her head, but there's a clear sort of fondness in it, and Jenny laughs again.]

So, be sure to chat me up, sí? After breakfast! I may not miss much about this damned ship, but I do miss those little omelets!

[she salutes the audience, and then immediately leaves, taking the stairs down three at a time and needlessly pushing her way through the small crowd on her way to the elevators. Friday merely watches her go; her fingers have worried the rose to shreds that fall at her feet.

the rest of the month, until the 13th, is very much the same, with one exception: Jenny's ship remains at the Serena Eterna's side, a sailing ship somehow keeping pace with a modern engine craft. and Jenny doesn't seem to be keeping an especially close eye on it.]

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( hunger is a driving force behind many human instincts. food, water, rest, and oxygen were really the main things required to stay alive, and yet half were easily shoved aside in times of high stress. clarke hasn't slept a full night since... well, before waking up here honestly, but the self-imposed hunger strike is new. she's been kidnapped and locked behind thick metal doors before, plied with rich stews and chocolate cake, only for their hosts to turn around and suck the bone marrow out of half her friends for selfish benefit. it'd seemed logical at first, to avoid the floating plates laden with food fresh spring salads, fragrant soups, well charred meats, and perfectly fluffy piles of rice and pasta — it could be poisoned, and if not aiming to kill, at least laced in order to make them pliant and forgiving.

even without tangible proof, clarke's resigned herself to prepackaged bags of snack food from the general stores and bottled water only. it wasn't as if she'd eaten much back home either; not on the ark where every scrap of food was processed and heavily rationed, nor on earth where the meat of mutated animals never cooked all the way through over camp fires. used to going without, she'd found it easy to shove down the nauseating swell of hunger every time it reared its head, redirected that wanting energy to devising new plans to get off this ship. and yet —

there's always a breaking point.

as far as she could tell, she was the only one refusing the base necessities the ship provided, and no one else seemed any less cognitive or breathing for it. logic has finally tapped hard enough to crack the glass of her stubborn resolve, and clarke has accepted battle rules: she'd need to have energy in order to unfurl this new mystery brought aboard with pirate jenny and her half-answers, it was time to cave. it was for the best. but standing at the buffet line, it's still hard to drag a few select choices of charred steak onto her plate. her mouth waters from the smell, but her underfed stomach twists with anxiety.

an outlet, a distraction is needed — and makes itself perfectly clear across the sparsely populated dining tables. it's not with purpose that she drags herself over to mizuki's table, but it felt like the only place to go. standing awkwardly, holding her own plate, and surveying the carnage spread across the tablecloth: )

You're going to make yourself sick.

[ Mizuki does stop scarfing things down once he hears Clarke approaching. He does his very best to shift some of the plates and things over so that she has a place to put her stuff. Honestly? He should've been more considerate. But here he is, being not that. He's allowed to be a little impolite today, though!! He needs it.

Which is exactly why Clarke just gets a pout in response. ]

I highly doubt that. [ This is the normal amount of food to be eating, Clarke. If anything, you're the weirdo for not having at least 10 plates of meat in front of you? ] I've never gotten sick from eating before.

Besides, I'm hungry...

( honestly, a pout and the moody shuffling of cutlery is more polite than she would have been if the tables were turned. mizuki's still winning in that capacity, and after a dizzyingly long pause, clarke will eventually take the seat next to a sliver of open table space.

her own plate joins the fray, and clarke belatedly realizes she hadn't grabbed a fork. oh well, twelve plates deep didn't leave him a lot of room to judge if she pulled flank steak apart with her fingers, did it? )

Hungry? ( shred shred shred, the inside of the meat is still steaming hot. juices coating fingers but not a bit to her mouth just yet. ) Or empty?

[ Hey, no judgements here. Mizuki hadn't even been using his hands besides holding things up. He was just tearing into things with his teeth and ripping through the fatty bits of meat without care before Clarke showed up. Now, he wants to seem at least mildly civilized.

But it's not nearly as satisfying to do that. What a struggle. ]

Hungry. But... it's maybe for something a little more specific than... this. No offense to the ghosts that prepare the food, of course... [ Sigh. ] My stomach kind of has a mind of its own.

What are you craving? I don't think the ghosts take requests, but... Sometimes Friday leaves us things in the general store. Presents, I guess.

( like clarke had just gotten a nautically wrapped box, containing bullets, a figurine a dead boy had made her, and the rough-made knife that had been used to kill her childhood best friend. and all of that without even asking — the service here is truly unparalleled. )

Really, really specific presents. You could at least ask her.

Evil people.

[ Judging by that all too sincere smile, he doesn't see this as a problem? If anything, he's touched that someone is concerned enough about it to give him a solution to the problem. ]

So, I'm sure you see why that might be a little bit of a problem. Ah, but don't worry about me! I'm sure the hunger pains will go away soon enough.

(

... sorry what.

the slow, deliberate way she's blinking at him across empty plates while her finger still at their work on her own food is... telling. disbelief washes across her face first, then concern. she can't place if that's some sort of poorly delivered joke, or the sort of honesty that should have her pushing back from the table and running from the dining room. see, it's moments like this that are the reason she doesn't give out her room number and sleeps on the floor, with a knife in her hand.

and that disarming smile just adds to the confusion. and even after a few long moments, clarke still can't make heads or tails of the legitimacy of that answer. still — )

I'm sure there are evil people here.

Edited (small edit for dialogue flow) 2022-04-02 07:15 (UTC)

Well, of course there is. The Captain's probably the worst of the worst, actually. And... I can't say I can really trust Jenny, either. I've never been a fan of pirates...

[ ...Fuck it, he's starving. He's just going to sink his teeth into the fatty part of his meal, tearing it away to reveal the slightly undercooked middle of the meet. Which is just perfect in Mizuki's book. ]

( nothing out of mizuki's mouth is wrong, but everything about how he's shoving borderline raw meat into it is. yet that's what it takes to get clarke to finally sink her teeth into a strip of beef, witnessing someone else take a bite and mirroring the hand-to-mouth action.

and oh god it tastes so rich, and fresh, and good that she could just... vomit. or eat more.

for now, settling for chewing like it's a chore. )

Yeah, pirates are... ( clarke trails off, unsure how she was going to finish that sentence and already caught up in the next train of thought. ) Sorry — do you actually eat people?

Should I be worried about that?

Evil people. [ He's quick to correct, as if that distinction makes it all better. ] I'm not a monster, don't worry.

You are very kind, Clarke. And I greatly respected the answers you gave me at the party. I think if there's anyone on this ship who would be able to discern the evil of the bunch, it would most certainly be you.

[ He'll... refrain from taking another bite for now. Not because he doesn't want to, but rather because he's just a little more concerned with making sure Clarke is on the same page as him. He's not used to explaining himself like this. Everyone back home just sort of took his cannibalism in stride. ]

( okay mizuki but again — define evil.

there is exactly a 10% chance that they'll ever be on the same page, but so far as pressing concerns go... if he's not about to jump up on the table and sink teeth into her throat, mizuki's still a lesser threat than the captain or pirate jenny. somewhere in the pit of clarke's stomach, her guts twist so tightly they hurt as she recalls jenny's insistence that the only way to win this game was to kill everyone else on board, and she can't help but wonder how well he'd do at that if he set his mind to it: survival instincts and hunger a driving force, an endless well of encouragement to keep going.

but, another day's anxieties. he's staring and offering unwelcome, unfitting compliments and clarke meets those big, concerned eyes with flat dismissal. )

I think you overestimate me. ( a common theme, honestly. ) But we can at least agree on who the worst of the worst is here...

Oh? Perhaps. But maybe you're just being modest? I guess only time will tell?

But maybe you can tell me what you think of yourself?

[ He reaches over at this point, and pop a few pieces of popcorn shrimp into his mouth, figuring that's probably the least offensive thing he can do right about now. Plus, he is a big fan of shrimp. ]

( that is a big ask — the sort of question that drills holes in her lungs and forces her to let all her air out involuntarily. like a suckerpunch the thrower has no idea would land so squarely, and clarke hesitates.

buys herself a few moments more consideration by putting one, then two more strips of steak in her mouth and chewing. but end of the day, he'd asked what she thought of herself. not for an objective, bulletined list of what she might actually be. )

I'm nothing, and no one special. I've made bad choices, and regret all of them. But — ( a waver in her voice, a waffle in her conviction. then a halfhearted shrug. ) — I didn't want anyone else to have to do it.

( super round about way to say i hate myself, but go off clarke. )

[ There's a brief look of pain, then sympathy, then... a soft admiration. He recalls the hypothetical from the party, and he almost wants to ask what she was like before she had to experience... that. But he's still "supposed" to think it "didn't happen," so he'll keep his curiosities to himself. Really, it doesn't matter who she used to be, anyway. The person Mizuki knows now is someone he considers very brave. Hurt, tired, and a little jaded, but brave. ]

... "Empty," right? That's what you said earlier? [ There's a smile, but it's rather melancholy. ] I'm sorry you feel like that, but... I still stand by my previous evaluation. Maybe even more so now. I think it's very respectable to wanting to make such hard decisions and try to do what's right. It's something I could never do, but I want to.

Who knows. Maybe I can help you?

( "tired" is the most apt descriptor here, since clarke at her best and most guarded hasn't really talked about the intricacies of her own personal apocalypse. summed up that humanity died off — twice? easily. talked about space? sparingly, but the facts were there. brought up choices? regularly, but mostly to pick at other peoples resistance to help her break down the bridge bulkhead.

brought up what people called her? only once.

tried to use her history as leverage and an intimidation factor? also only once, only to be slapped down.

so, tired. empty as a close second, with another bite pushed past her teeth as if food would fill some of that void. it won't, and the stony expression of distrust she's favoring mizuki and his offer with isn't going anywhere any time soon either. )

Help me how?

( and, an after thought, since it seems worth asking — )

Can you only eat people, or can you eat monsters too?

( put their kidnapper in a bowl, add some milk, call it cap'n crunch. that'd actually be a huge help. )

Make your decisions easy. Follow them through for you, so you don't have to do them all on your own. I'm pretty good at following directions given by good people. And, just to be clear, you do qualify there. [ And he won't take any objections otherwise!! ]

Anyway, evil people are monsters, as far as I'm concerned. [ He's only mildly upset that Clarke keeps saying "people" like he's going around actively making a menu with Actual Real People on it. Not enough to talk about it, but it does make him tap his finger against the table in slight frustration. ]

But, yes? So long as it's got a physical body, I can eat any meat. Is there something you had in mind?

( at first clarke isn't certain she heard him correctly. and when her brain catches up with her ears, she's still not entirely certain what she just heard. that...

what.

what.

for a few long moments, she's just kinda squinting at him across their plates. confused, concerned, not... completely disinterested, but then her ideals catch up and clarke's shaking her head ever so slightly. )

I'm not going to ask that of you.

( chickens before they hatch, etc. war is a slippery slope: what would you do becomes what will you do becomes oh my god what have you done. reneging on this loose promise wouldn't be the first time clarke's set a line in the sand, and run through it later. )

...besides. I don't know if he has a body. Or will ever manifest one. Nevermind.

... [ Ah. That makes sense. Don't worry, Clarke, he's absolutely thought about eating the Captain before. Alas, he doesn't voice this immediately, turning his attention back to his steak for now.

Instead of just shredding it apart with his teeth, though, he does actually use a fork though. He's still brutally tearing through it, but it's at least less... graphic. ]

Well, if you ever need something done, I'm certainly the person to talk to about it, okay? I'll do my best at whatever you need my help with.

I'll... remember your offer.

( the more she learns about the captain, the less she feels confident that any of them have the means to overthrow him. after all, why would he invite creatures into his playpen that might prove stronger and more adept at magic or war as he? he wanted entertainment and "a challenge", right? but not a challenge.

...but, as the well and proper challenge clarke has proven herself to be to enemies of all shapes and sizes, that niggling feeling in the back of her head isn't necessarily going to stop her from trying. if glass doesn't shatter the first time you flick a pebble at it, throw a boulder.

in wielding a weapon, though, it paid off to know the nature of the blade in your hands. the weight of the rock between your fingers. the temperament of the attack dog that's so willingly come up to your side and bumped its head against your thigh. clarke watches him eat with a fork, while her own fingers are still slicked in fat and gristle, and tries to draw parallels about which of them is supposed to be more feral and dangerous here. )

What are you, Mizuki?

An Aegir.

[ Hey, look, no one is judging for getting your hands dirty here, Clarke. Mizuki even took his gloves off to do such, but he's also at least mildly aware that maybe talking about cannibalism means he should reel back the animalistic feeding. Just a little. He does look for an hint of confusion on her face before continuing, and he doesn't seem all that surprised. He hasn't met anyone on board who knew what that was yet. ]

They're a seafaring species from my world, Terra. I am of the cnidarian subspecies of Aegir, which, um... in terms that people on this cruise seem to understand, means that I'm a sea jelly.

A jelly...

( fish?

FISH?

maybe clarke doesn't say it out loud, but the implication of jelly fish is so plain on her face she ought to have just spoken the words. there's a brief, appraising once over, a flutter of shock because mizuki... looks so human to her. maybe odd, maybe short, maybe his hair too blue. but not gelatinous, and not particularly toxic. )

I —... don't think we had those where I come from. Not like you, at least. ( maybe not at all, she's only seen the ocean once and hadn't stopped to appreciate the sea life while trying to not die for the millionth time that week. )

I'm — my people are just human. Maybe a little more evolved compared to our ancestors from Earth, but. That's it.

( flesh, blood, easily breakable bones, only weapons which they crafted with their own hands. and on this big wide boat of demons, angels, gods, vampires, monster slayers, necromancers, robots, actual pirates, and now aegir — clarke sometimes feels very small and out of her element. )

[ Hey, that's sea jelly to you, okay? He's NOT a fish, damn it. ]

I don't think my species is very common in anyone else's worlds. I haven't really seen humans, either, though, so this is a new experience for me. "Just" human is still a novel concept to me. And... your worlds, from what I've heard from others, have all been so interesting and different. Much different from my own, anyway.

( oh i wish i wish i was a fish — actually has he thought about jumping overboard and swimming away? inquiring minds want to know, and desire a full report if it ever happens.

but until then — something almost a flush. more of a wince, pained and a little sour. the kneejerk comparison within clarke is to compare and contrast between a world with pleasant sea monsters and a world which literally burned at her heels as she ran from certain death, and finds the juxtaposition stark and wanting. )

And what was yours like?

( yanno, other than cannibalistic. )

Ah... hm, how do I condense my world into something palatable...

[ Give him a moment to consider this, lulling his head from side to side with a hum, trying to think about the things he's learned from others that are... different from what he knows of his own world. ]

Well, for starters, the "people" there are all different species. Usually all with some sort of... um, how would you say... "animal" trait? Like, ears or horns or tails or whatever else. There's all sorts there.

The world itself is full of very extreme natural disasters that we've named "catastrophes." Because of this, most of our major cities are actually massive landships that can move once we determine a catastrophe is going to occur nearby.

These catastophes end up completely destroying the land they hit and leaving a mineral, called "Originium," in their wake. This mineral is very sought after in my world, as it is a great power source for both technology and can also be used by people to use special abilities that we call "Arts". However, people who have been exposed for prolonged periods or come into direct contact with Originium can become infected, and will slowly start to form rocks over their bodies until they finally fully crystalize, forever. This is called "Oripathy," and people with this affliction are treated as outcasts and, while there is treatments available to them, our society has reached a point where people think they shouldn't be treated, but rather, exiled.

Despite this, Originium is a very integral part of our world. It has provided us with a technological boon, and gives us enough energy to power entire cities for eons.

...Ah, sorry, that was probably a lot, huh?

( probably a lot? )

I — no, actually.

( through the seemingly fantastical lens on the story, clarke can still pick out enough familiar notions to root ready parallels to the world she knew. namely, natural disasters and airships, especially since she'd sent a small group of her friends into space in hopes they'd be able to ride out the end of the world right as a wave of radiation bared down on them all. and maybe that was more of a man made disaster, but she has to imagine both types of destruction leave scorched earth in their wake.

almost 100 years in space, and humanity told and retold the same stories over and over again. carefully preserved the books the original grounders had brought with them onto their space stations. wrote down whatever they could remember from before. but that still left gaps in the human history, and only so many fairytales to chew on as little girls grew up behind reinforced portholes looking out across swaths of stars and darkness.

originium and oripathy are unfamiliar by default, but clarke is taking it as commentary on the utterly predictable way society looked down on the building blocks of their world and ignored their suffering so long as it didn't impact the upper crusts happiness. like coal miners suffering from the black lung, or soldiers crippled with ptsd. like the other children on the ark who ate the half rations their parents stole, and would later be executed for stealing, who would later become the sky people's caged canary when it came to figuring out if earth would ever be habitable again. )

So, your cities are powered by the residue of the very thing that would otherwise destroy them? Do your people wish the catastrophe's would stop so you didn't have to move anymore, or are they so accustomed to the benefits of the ( yes she stumbles over the word for a hot second ) Originium that they've come to look forward to natural disasters?

the hungry gremlin

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