come_sailaway | 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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[So. A lot's been going on lately.

Kara's just barely had time to mentally digest the fact that pirates?? were saddling up to their ship???

And now, in the eves of night, the solitude of cabin 108 is so distressing disturbed by - ah, that's Clarke! Kara had been wondering what had become of her, or where she'd gone off to, not that it was any of her business. She worries about everyone, and everything. It's a problem, but not as much of one as the fact that there is a dead person being deposited into her cabin.

"W-wait, you just can't-" But they've already done it, and they leave. She's alone with a body, tucked in all snug as a bug, and... that's it? God, this place was a nightmare.

For a while, she simply... sits. Sits and waits, because that's all she can do; throwing herself off the ship wasn't an option, she wasn't that desperate. But, now that she had the lifeless body of her cabinmmate in the bed before her, she... may as well start juggling her options. It's a lot to think about, so, she does. Sit there, thinking; letting time pass for however long it takes.]

( it takes several hours, but sometime around daybreak — with the first tendrils of light trickling in through their porthole window — kara's silent vigil is brought to an abrupt, shrill end.

for clarke, there's a never-ending stretch of nothingness; numb, comforting darkness that suspends her like a sensory deprivation tank. and then the next moment, all of that's gone. like she'd been floating a few feet above her own body, and had been unceremoniously slammed back into her physical form — overwhelmed with the sensation of sheets against her body, and the very, very pressing need to breathe. she gasps like only someone who's gone the last sixteen hours without air in their lungs can. big, wet, raspy inhales that burn against the salted, raw edges of her esophagus. then she realizes she's tightly wrapped in bedclothes — she slept on the floor, never the bed; it was too soft, too suffocatingly enveloping — and it's a little too similar to the constricting feel of thrashing in water with no hope, and to what she imagines a coffin must feel like.

there is an immediate, desperate attempt to claw herself out of the bed. nothing dignified about it, everything just a pit of human despair mixed with adrenaline and something bordering on anger. but her legs get stuck in the tightly tucked sheet, and clarke is immediately more aware of the restraint than the fact she has company — a witness to her rebirth, and the subsequent mortifying attempt to get out of bed.

the screaming starts up again when she can't immediately get free, panic folded over on itself until it more closely resembles hysterical rage directed at the sheets. )

[For Clarke, the process that leaves her drifting through a void, hurtling towards nothing before very violently finding herself in something, lasts an untold amount of time.

For Kara, it's about three seconds. Clark is alive, mysterious. And she's clawing at the bed, startling but possibly normal given their circumstances. Then the screaming starts to follow - ah, well, it's a whole ordeal now, isn't it? Such is humanity.]

Hey- Hey! [Quick to rise, and even quicker to approach the bed, Kara's reaching out to try and just grab onto... any part of Clarke, without hurting her in the process. Anything to steady her. The shock of this scene bubbles over Kara's lips in her words.] I-it's alright! Hey- You're okay. You're not being attacked.

APRIL OPEN LOG: PIRATE JENNY

iii - v: Cabin 108: special dead person time

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