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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[ venti spends about two days literally unconscious for questionable reasons before staggering back to life (less literally than clarke) and taking a shower and getting a not immodest amount of alcohol refreshed in his bloodstream before he feels about functional to do much else. mercifully or not, there are arguments for either, he misses clarke jumping from the ship that first time. but he does return to see her braced at the rail just about calculating the odds for a second try, and hold on, that doesn't look safe.

a sudden rush of wind like sea breeze whisks up against her, as if in warning as he hurries over, cape trailing behind him like wings. ]

Miss Clarke--! [ ... how to put this. ] ... Is it a nice view there? [ maybe she's just sea-watching. just maybe so. ]

( braced, calculating, a little green around the gills at the prospect, but determined. stiff backed, white knuckled against the railing, hair matted and shirt stained with the remnants of black blood, grey matter, and the white crust of sea salt. if clarke had been... frosty but not unpleasant(?) the first time they'd met, this time around any trace of respectable conversationalism is gone. past assessing who it is sweeping up beside her, clarke doesn't look at him. grits her teeth, tries to will a foot up on the lowest rung of the guard rail and climb again.

it's just... hard to start. especially with the view. )

No.

( the black smear of her blood and brain matter seem to have disappeared overnight, but clarke can imagine roughly where they were. and no, it's a horrible reality to transpose on the sight currently before her eyes. )

...But I'm pretty sure it'll be better on the other deck, and I'm going to find out.

[ oh she does not look the better for wear. clueless as he might be about what exactly must have happened, he at least could tell she must have gone through some kind of minor hell and here she is again...

he has questions a-plenty but in the here and now the most important thing is clarke on the edge. it's not quite the time to interrogate, not that he's the type to anyway. ] Right, of course, but... you know, it's prudent to have a plan of how you might do just that. Why, I could even help if you're that determined to pay a visit there!

[ maybe she does have a plan and he doesn't know it, but in either case the wild of the winds flicker as if at any moment ready to flare into gusts that might buffet a person back from being too reckless. ]

Edited 2022-04-08 02:16 (UTC)

( her plan is... faulty from it's very conception, but one she lays out with biting determination. )

Well, I'm going to jump again.

( again.

with slightly more force than before, hopefully more luck, and better success than yesterday. the definition of insanity flirts around the edge of her plotting, but no one going through undead shock should really be expected to think logically. that really is the extent of her plan, until his latter sentence registers and a sliver of confusion works itself between the bulldogged determination and stony anger etched across her features.

and let's be real, she really doesn't want to die again so. )

...How would you help?

[ ... ]

I'll tell you, if you tell me what you mean by 'again'.

Miss Clarke, a human surely can't jump that distance. You must know that, do you?

[ maybe she was fished out the water by someone, maybe she was able to climb back aboard the ship after she jumped the first time. maybe, maybe maybe, but there's the suspicion that wouldn't be the case, no. ]

( oh venti, don't make her say it.

he draws attention to the distance between the serena eterna and pirate jenny's galleon, and clarke can't help drag her gaze along to follow. stares first at the other ship, then the spot on the paneling that will likely crop up in her nightmares for years to come, then the gently frothing rapids between the two ships. it's only a few meters, she'd thought with being higher up on the eterna's deck would shorten the gap, that it was totally jumpable. she'd felt confident for all of five seconds after jumping yesterday, then a swell of fear as she'd dropped through the air faster than anticipated and — )

I almost had it.

( cagey cagey cagey, an incomplete answer at best. but her voice pitches low, pinches around each word. carries the weight of visceral, gut-deep regret that threatens to send bile up the back of her throat. )

It's not that far. I've had longer drops. I just need to —

( she doesn't even heckin' know, and subconsciously slides fingers through her hair; under the heaviest concentration of dried black blood and chunky brain matter, where invisible aches still persist. just to reassure herself that the bone of her skull is unbroken, skin firmly resealed as if nothing ever happened. )

[ she must have jumped and...

he doesn't know how cheap life is on the ship, he could only assume that she had fell but was rescued. her gaunt and traumatized look would still fit that of a girl who had thrown herself into the water and hit it hard, and yet she would come climbing back here, shaking still, perhaps terrified of trying again and yet feeling that she must. he could fly her over, it's true, but--

he reaches her at the rail, sits next to her practically with the light-as-air touch of a butterfly alighting on a flower, his cape whipping in the wind. ]

... Miss Clarke.

If I were to try to jump there right now, what would you do?

( she... absolutely hates this question already. )

I'd tell you to wait. ( because objectively this is a terrible, awful, no good very bad plan. logic still applies to her thoughts about everyone else around them, just doesn't extend far enough to include clarke herself.

honestly, she'd tell him not to be stupid. to sit down, to figure something else out. and she hates feeling preemptively chided and called out for reckless impulsivity, so what actually follows suit on the tip of her tongue is — )

And let me try first.

[ well, he could at least tell that her own internal logic is struggling here. possibly this counts as talking someone down from a ledge, but he is a bard and wordsmith, sometimes words are his greatest asset more than powers. ]

And is there something about you that would make that jump, that I lack? Perhaps you're fit than me, it's true. [ he extends his arm, frilled sleeve--he really does look like some teenager dressed up as some renfaire bard, it's slightly ridiculous. ] Then, say, it's not me. Someone else perhaps... someone taller and more athletic than the both of us, who wanted to make this jump.

What would you do?

( nevermind, she hates these follow up questions so much more. even while she teeters on the edge of flirting with a death wish, this gentle appeal lands. even as she wants to shake her head and cast logic aside, reverse their situations and this would be clarke's first approach — the second being, if talking someone down from the ledge didn't work, dragging them bodily and wrestling them onto the deck.

and the most natural way to extricate herself from this heady interrogation is to either jump right now, or else... lie and hope it'd make venti leave, so she could spend the next few moments hyping herself right back up again. )

If there's something — anything — over on that boat that could maybe explain how we get out of here alive? I'd wish them good luck.

[ it's probably not a lie but simply, two questions would not dissuade a determined jumper from jumping. but if it would stall her, if it could simply make her think...

at this close proximity, he's certain he could stop her or his winds could lift her back. this time he scoots closer still, almost to brush her shoulder, though the way he kicks his legs out over the rail is almost dissonantly casual. ]

I think we both know right now what you should do. At least, please, not to throw your life away needlessly.

Who does it benefit for you to throw yourself at a problem you can't solve alone? Will it help anyone, will it help yourself? Some distances can't be crossed with willpower alone. But with the aid of others, perhaps... [ he lifts a hand--a wind blows two white-blue feathers of pure wind energy over across the sea, the gap-- ]

You know you would prevent others from acting rashly. That should include yourself. [ ... ] Let's step back and then talk, could we?

Edited 2022-04-10 23:39 (UTC)

( any of the usual cagey dismissal of physical contact that she doesn't initiate is... absent. venti can bump their shoulders and clarke won't even shy away, because at that moment she's made the fatal error of looking down at the frothy wake between the two ships again, and is trying to challenge herself about what it'd felt like to go in the water yesterday.

what she should do? get off the railing, go back inside, and mourn her own death in a properly healthy manner. probably cry it out.

what does it benefit people? her trial and error at least proves that death wasn't permanent, though consequences were yet to be determined. will that help anyone? maybe, somewhere down the line. does it help her? only in the sense it stokes the indignant fire in her guts that demands action and sacrifice in order to get to the bottom of this overwhelming mystery. motivation is an underappreciated tool, yet look what it was capable of achieving! sixteen hours after abject failure and death, she's right back to where she'd started. more than ready to try again.

and yet — )

You said you could help me, right? ( she doesn't know entirely what to make of the delicate drift of feathers across the gap, is still working her head around magic in general. but can at the very least catch his meaning, catch that he's capable. and gauge from the very fact he's sitting on the railing next to her that he's willing. the request to step away from the edge isn't acknowledged. ) I want to take you up on that.

( this isn't a concession. maybe just a little bit. but clarke will always view it as a pragmatic addition to her plan, if bridging the gap between the two vessels could be a sure thing, who was she to turn up her nose at the offer of a little assistance? )

How does it work?

[ he's not necessarily opposed to revealing more of his power. arguably he should, now that things may be getting more dire. and he did offer, so... ]

I have the gift of flight, and could indeed gift it to you with a pair of borrowed wings. [ in the palm of his hand, two more feathers spark into existence, his form of wind magic that again dissipates into the breeze. ] I happened to fly there a while back; it's probably unnecessary to make another trip.

I'll tell you what I've found, if you'll promise that you'll try to be more careful with yourself. [ ... it'll be a pledge he's sure she'll break, but even going through the motions, he hopes, could possibly give her a brief moment of hesitation the next time. he really isn't the type to try to force others into contracts anyway, but he couldn't deny this concern. ] Or perhaps, that you'll promise to come find me if you ever need to fly rather than jump an uncross-able obstacle. It would put me more at ease, and I'm certain, everyone who cares for you.

( sorry venti, she's not mizuki. would have absolutely no problem looking him in the eye and offering empty promises with her best mask of sincerity — only to drop oaths and vows alongside whatever moral hang-up is standing in the way of achieving her own loosely interpreted version of necessity. there will be no overwhelming surge of under-processed emotions at such a blatantly expressed desire that she stay alive here (so you at least won't be drowned), in fact for a long few moments clarke is ready to reject all conditions of his request. what good is second hand information? she could make it this time, and didn't need any help.

but that last part...

that isn't so hard a promise to make. un-crossable is up for interpretation. even caked in dried blood and running on a mix of adrenaline and indignance, clarke's nothing if not pragmatic, and slowly collecting knowledge and offers about other passengers gifts that she might have to use later on. flight is a good one, and maybe worth acquiescing for.

...so, let's take a breath. allow some of the hate for this entire situation and the magics the captain exercises over their lives hiss out from between her teeth. force calm in it's place, and try again. )

You'd do that? Any time I'd need to fly?

[ he has that vague feeling yes, which is why he'd come up with that latter offer. a bit like a guardian who recognizes a trouble-seeking child intent on doing something reckless and, rather than bar them from it completely when it likely won't work, just offer to supervise... though as guardians go, venti might barely count when he's a questionable drunkard bard.

still, this is promising. ] Mhm, I could. As needed, and to the best of my ability. I wasn't able to fly out this 'barrier', after all.

[ and trying to do so was nervous even for him, when he'd lost considerable power and even he could be in danger of getting lost at sea if he'd lost sight of the ship a few miles out. like a dove set from an ark, wary of the possibility of falling if there's no land. ]

( or like icarus. they can place bets now; between the two of them, which is more likely to abuse his power of flight and reach too aggressively for the sun? just kidding, gambling isn't fun when the odds are so highly staked in the reckless human's corner. but food for thought. )

I'll settle for over to the other ship, for now.

( the barrier problem could be addressed later. maybe. who even knew, actually. but clarke griffin and her one track mind have successfully been tamed, even as she's still clinging to her objective and the deck railing. then there's a jerk of her chin, an unspoken command or silent challenge. now? now. )

[ ...

well, he had offered. and while he's a bit wary of venturing back there (he'd taken the map after all, he doesn't want to return to the scene of the crime even if he thinks jenny is dead) he supposes it'd be worse to go back on his word. and he's just about wondering if she would just go back to the rail and jump stubbornly if he turns her down so...

a sigh, then he takes out the glider wings from a tuck of his cape. somehow. don't ask, it totally fits in there. ]

Very well, then. Let me secure this to you. [ as he moves to strap it to her shoulders, making sure of its fit. his demeanor not quite that of someone being bullied, but rather wary regardless. ]

Edited 2022-04-15 02:35 (UTC)

( ...objectively, clarke's been dressed in a variety of weird outfits. pristine clothes in sharp contrast to the filthy, bloody world outside the mountain's blast door; grounder war garb; so, so many articles of clothing that belonged to people who'd died horribly; more tyvek suits and radiation shields than she likes to think about...

and this is still the weirdest. somehow the most functional, but the weirdest.

clarke will sit dutifully still while venti secures the winds along her back. and might as well take this brief moment of silence to dip her head, close her eyes, and breathe around something that feels a lot like relief welling in her chest. it wasn't a desire to tempt death again that had her dangling off the railing, but a fierce sort of determination that pushed the goalpost of acceptable risks far beyond the realm of reason. she would have most likely done it anyway, but this is... smarter. and they have to be smart here, keep their wits around them, remember that being isolated from everyone they've ever known and loved doesn't immediately equate to being alone.

and just like that, she's got wings. still weird, but clarke's fascinated by the way the glider's golden gilding catches the light, and how spectacularly blue the feathered ends are. some things in life are still very beautiful, there's just not a lot of time to stop and appreciate them. )

And now I just... jump?

( beautiful, but she's missing exactly how they work, does she need to flap her arms like a bird... )

[ the glider wings are lightweight, as if like a backpack, perfect for adventurers to wield to travel out to the wilderness and throw themselves off cliffs and glide safely down to earth. #justfantasyrpgthings. venti's look is a little amused, then a second later it hits him that clarke had after all just been here ready to jump off the boat even without wings and so, hastily-- ] No, I'll fly you over! Just making sure this is secure first, and... [ he tightens one last strap over clarke's shoulder, tongue poking out a bit in a thoughtful look, then he pats at her, beaming. ]

Normally there's a test that newcomers to flight must pass, but we'll just leave this up to me this time, shall we? Trust in me. [ a wink, he pats a hand over hers, brief, then steps back as the sea winds whirl around him in a stronger gale and--

a blaze of an anemo sigil flares onto the ground underneath him, casting his wind domain and sending an updraft to carry clarke into the sky, the winds coaxing her wings to flare out on automatic. his wind magic tufts with blue-white feathers that appear and then flicker out like snowflakes, the gust itself is both strong and gentle in carrying her aloft, then swerving to carry her over to jenny's ship. if she were really curious or daring she could try to adjust the wings' angle or trajectory of her flight, but otherwise his winds would deposit her gently onto the deck for her to stick the landing. ]

( there's a question on the tip of her tongue — about a flight test, about if she'd preemptively failed it yesterday. but those self deprecating curiosities are firmly shoved into the back seat when venti's finally cinched the last strap and gives her a reassuring squeeze of the hand. not long ago, clarke had asked jenny if this entire game ran on blind leaps of faith, and their guest had seemed absolutely tickled by how accurate that summation was. this feels like... her second. and somehow so much harder to psyche herself up for, as it hinged on the competency of anyone other than herself.

(not that clarke had proven herself competent at ship jumping, but this is the underlying trust issues talking.)

but venti's stepping back, requesting that trust she's so wont to give but will fork over like a bargaining chip if it gets her what she wants. out of the corner of her eyes, clarke catches the way the ground beneath him alights. she catches the swirling flurry of feathers, but can't watch them long before a gust of wind catches beneath the glider wings. and, already poised so precariously onto the edge of the railing, it doesn't take much to tip over the edge and descend.

it's simultaneously the most exhilarating sensation, and the most haunting trigger. this time clarke's carried by an updraft, and never so much as dips below the other ships deck level. she holds her body rigidly straight, creating as little wind resistance as she can; no more flailing, but very little enjoyment in this brief moment of achieving what most humans could only ever dream about. the wonder ultimately will not eclipse the absolute travesty of yesterday. she's convinced at any moment she'll fall, there's a sweatline dragging down her back and turned to ice by the whipping of wind around her. but the soles of two canvas boat shoes touch down on the deck of jenny's galleon, and after clarke takes a moment to digest her new surroundings — to realize she made it, and she flew — an absolutely beaming grin of success breaks out across her face. it's an expression much more befitting an eighteen year old, yet one so foreign on her features that it twinges the muscles of her cheeks. she's breathing heavy, even lets out an unintentional woah and oh my god. assured the ground beneath her feet is solid, she'll eventually turn to search for venti along the deck of the serena eterna. spots him roughly where they'd just been standing, and basks him with that absolutely achingly exhilarated smile. it'll have to serve as a thank you for now, the ambiance of two ships keeping paces enough to drown out idle conversation.

but then — it's time to finally accomplish what she'd been after all along. time to turn around and poke through pirate jenny's ship, making a bee-line for anything that might look like a bedroom where historical remnants might have been shoved away to be forgotten. )

[ flight is a gift that he'd like to share with anyone, that he had in legend once bestowed to the birds themselves long ago... whether that mythos is at all true or not (it's not), it's regardless the closest and dearest thing he could possibly give besides music. he's indeed careful with clarke in flying her over, while wind is as far from solid as can be there's something almost reassuring or reliable about this gust. he himself can be flighty but he would be careful in transporting others.

he judges the distance between the eterna and jenny's ship... normally he'd prefer crossing with a glider himself, but he could probably fly this distance himself as well. he could disperse into wind but let's leave that ability somewhat more secret for now; he casts another wind domain that lifts him to the sky; his cape flare like makeshift wings as well as he crosses the distance to join her at the deck.

... landing more inelegantly and with a mild tumble because. yeah, he wouldn't recommend crossing like that, but he's hardy and not worse for wear as he dusts himself off. ] Whew~ so! Flight, it's something like that. If I say so yourself, what a natural you are for your first time!

[ a wink at her, cheerful again as he would be perfectly happy to accompany her in investigating jenny's room or the hull. ]

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APRIL OPEN LOG: PIRATE JENNY

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just gonna wrangle timelines a little so this is after he flies to the ship

good stuff good stuff!

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