come_sailaway | Treat those pesky feelings like a reading light [OTA]

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Treat those pesky feelings like a reading light [OTA]

Who: Natsuno Yuuki and YOU
When: September, before the beach event
Where: All around
What: Weird stuff from home, trashy movies as coping mechanism, looking for distractions and retail therapy.
Warnings: None yet, but discussion of canon events may contain death, violence and suicide. Will update as needed

Take a look, it's in a book (All around)

[Natsuno tries not to think about Sotoba. He always hated that miserable village, and now he's dead and Sotoba burned to the ground. Lately he has to try harder, ever since running into some familiar zombies, but his repression game is still going strong... until he visits the library one day and finds a copy of Shiki by Seishin Muroi.

Seishin Muroi, Sotoba's junior monk. Natsuno had all but forgotten about him, but apparently he was so involved with the shiki invasion he wrote the freaking book.

As it turns out though, the book doesn't seem to have anything to do with the demise of Sotoba. Apparently it's the story of Cain and Abel, except Abel is a zombie? No plot, just Cain's internal monologue? What the hell is this philosophical bullshit? Whether he's out on the deck, eating in the buffet, sprawled on a couch in Sand Dollars or sitting in the lounge, Natsuno always has the book with him, always wearing an incredulous frown as he reads. He may even flag someone down to ask their opinion - THAT'S how weirded out he is.]

Why would a book try to make me feel bad for someone who kills his brother and doesn't even know why?

[Or maybe you run into him after he tosses the book aside and asks:]

What's the dumbest twist ending you've ever seen?

To the late night, double feature, picture show (Pool deck)

[A seemingly empty package from sundries has brought on a steady stream of new and conflicting memories. Every day another memory worms into his mind, of things he didn't remember or remembered differently. Are these the memories of another Natsuno, or something that was taken from him and returned just now? He doesn't know and it's eating away at him.

Movies provide a brief but welcome distraction. Natsuno has a small collection, received in a much nicer package, and he's taken over the adult pool screen to play them. He's camped in a pool chair, watching movie after movie: Little Shop of Horrors, Young Frankenstein, Ginger Snaps, Chopping Mall, Leprechaun.

Care to join him? Or maybe you just want to tell him to knock it off.]

Don't feel those feelings, hold them in instead (All around)

[Movies end, and reading is too passive to distract him from the new memories and the tangled mess of emotion and existential dread. Natsuno has to find other ways to destress:

A. The arcade, where he moves from game to another, unable to focus on one for too long. He even tries the whack-a-mole, until he accidentally breaks the machine with a supernaturally-charged, frustrated blow. The claw machine gets smashed as well, on purpose this time, as he picks up a portable tetris.

B. The sports deck, where he sets up a ping-pong table against the rail and lines it up with various items from the shops for target practice. Maybe shooting things will make him feel better?

C. Do some retail therapy, which in Natsuno's case means picking up anything he can use as in improvised weapon. He has more than enough knives in his cabin, not to mention a gun and a flamethrower, but at this point it's become a weird coping mechanism. Catch him going back and forth from the cabins, picking up EpiPens from the infirmary, rocks from the spa and dumbbells from the gym, just to name a few.]

The wildcard option

[Got anything else in mind? Hit me! Available in

sillysymphony or sillysymphony#3435 @ discord for plotting]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The entire egg-sandwich-and-kitschy-mugs debacle was so damn embarrassing, Natsuno only gets to opening the last package late that night. It's a tiny box and when he removes the lid, there's absolutely nothing inside.

He learned from other people that empty packages mean new traits or abilities, but he doesn't feel any different. Feeling uncomfortable, he does his best to set it aside and tell himself he'll figure it out somehow.

He's watching the fake sunrise when the first memory hits:

He's hanging over the pit, Tatsumi's grasp on his neck the only thing that keeps him from falling.

"If you don't take my offer, I'll just drop you," says Tatsumi. "Even a jinrou won't survive a fall from this height."

Then gunfire thunders and Tatsumi falters, allowing Natsuno to jump back to safety as the other man collapses, bleeding from a wound to his neck. Natsuno's father did it, shooting Seishiro Kirishiki's discarded shotgun. How did he get there, where did he find that gun?

"I did it," his father cheers, "I punished the guy who was bullying my son!" He laughs and laughs, a terrible sounds, but Natsuno ignores it. Instead he grabs Tatsumi's wrist, sending them both tumbling down the ravine. He can still see his father on the edge, waving like he's just seeing his son off to school.

"Dad. Take care -"

The memory fades into darkness, leaving Natsuno with a pounding head and a pounding heart. That's not what happened, yet both sets of memories are vivid in his mind, both so real.

It goes on throughout the week, new memories invading his mind every day, conflicting with existing ones or filling "holes" that weren't there until now...

He keeps to himself for several days, but When he remembers confronting Tohru and guilting him into telling Natsuno about the shiki's plans, he ends up texting Clarke.]

I remembered new things. I think some of them didn't happen, or maybe happened to another version of me. Can we talk? I think I'm freaking out.

( she's in something of her own world since conversing with friday. it'd been a fact finding mission that managed to dig up a little too deep and hit a pipeline of emotion; dredge up questions and ideas too big to easily understand, and in the aftermath clarke had curled in on herself in her best attempt to soothe a hurt that... she doesn't remember. hasn't happened yet. it feels like an existential question — would i be able to kill my mother, or at least her body once knowing her mind was already gone? — but one rooted too similarly in reality.

a.l.i.e. had put her mother on top of a box, noose around her neck, impassive in the face of death thinking it'd move clarke to spill her guts in regards to the flame. a.l.i.e. had abby griffin kicking the stand out from under her own feet, but it'd been clarke who'd watched her mother swing and offered nothing but tearful i'm so sorry's in response to death gurgles.

everything is so calm in the wake of zombies, a return to ship-wide stasis; a recovery period, a stint to recharge. it's easy to get lost in a lack of planning, easier to isolate, easiest to fall down the rabbit hole of self-blame and all consuming sorrow. i wouldn't do that and you would. you did. you will playing on repeat in her mind, a perfect tableau of character and circumstance.

honestly when her phone pings and natsuno's name lights up on the screen, it's a welcome distraction. can we talk? is more than enough to tug her from the depths of solemn thought. and i think i'm freaking out smothers any inclination to pick his brain for further detail via text. instead, plain and simple: )

Where are you?

( she'll be there in five minutes flat. )

Muster station. On a lifeboat.

[He doesn't want to lower it into the ocean yet, but it's quiet. No one visits those, especially not at night.

Natsuno's sitting upright, listening to music on his ear buds, but his eyes are intensely scanning the deck, waiting for Clarke. When he sees her approach, he turns the music off and pulls the ear buds out.

His face is stoic as usual, but he starts talking the moment she set foot on the life boat, like he can't hold it in for a second longer.]

I got an empty package. I remember something else every day since I opened it.

( they're friends — good friends, the best friend she has on this ship and arguably maybe one of the closest friends she's had ever so — there's no need to stand on principal. no small talk, no waiting for an invitation, no casual greeting. clarke hauls herself into the lifeboat and natsuno just starts talking, like a sink that's been filling steadily and suddenly overflows.

rumors of empty packages have circulated around the ship, but this is still the first time she's sat down with someone who's experienced it. thoughts swirl at the implications, and snag on the parallel that it must be akin to learning about your own future second hand, long before you could ever live it. )

How long ago did you get it, and how many things have you remembered? And it's always something that didn't happen ( yet. ) before?

[That's why talking to Clarke is easy. No small talk, no incredulous commentary. Sometimes it gets emotional, sure, but even then she knows what's important.]

A week ago. Five or so - "scenes", I guess, from different times. Some of them didn't happen before, like they're filling a hole I didn't even know was there. And some did happen, but not the way I remember, and now I have both images in my head.

( a week, five "scenes", some filling in the void of memory and some misconstruing it... she's listening with all the intent of someone trying to draw pieces of yarn between push-pins on a bulletin board, brow furrowed and mouth pressed tight. testament to how much thought she'd been putting towards deputy pratt and the brainwashing he underwent, her first thought is false ideas. fake memories. )

But they all feel real? Nothing too out of place or wildly inaccurate, other than the fact you never actually experienced these things?

[A part of him wants to say they are out of place, despite the horrifying implications of such statements, but the truth is that all of it is possible. He could have cracked and called out to Tohru after he'd risen instead of watching from the trees. He could have decided it would be easier to leave Kaori a note instead of taking her to Mizobe and go back to die. He would have pushed Tatsumi into the ravine even if his father was there, because he had one shot and had to make it count.]

They all feel real.

[Just saying it out loud leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Natsuno had made his choices without regretting any of them, ready to accept the consequences. He doesn't regret them now, either, but remembering how things could have been still hurts. He could've talked to Tohru again. He could've said goodbye to his dad.]

They're all choices I could've made. And the outcome is still the same.

( they're sitting opposite each other on or between the life raft bench seats, a little hunched towards the other and speaking in low tones on the off chance anyone were to walk nearby. clarke's watching his face intently as he speaks, and if this is natsuno yuuki "freaking out" he still looks relatively stoic. but... there's tells. the smallest line on the face, or tension in the muscle of the jaw. a specific sheen to the eyes, a twang of sorrow, confusion, and confliction in the voice. just little things you can only pick out after having grown familiar with someone else's face.

and clarke wants to lean over and give him a brief, tight hug for reassurance, even if she's still fumbling through mental gymnastics to come up with a reason or answer for this emotional rug being pulled out from under him. though... actually... )

...okay. ( faintly, filled with sympathy, concerned. but then once again, with an ounce more conviction. ) Okay. I don't think you need to freak out too badly. I have a theory.

A while back I was ( attempting and actually achieving blood sigil magic ) talking with Skulduggery about the Highlander movie. "There can only be one", there can only be one version of us here on the ship, he left and came back with new memories, two of the same soul might break reality and toss up the existential question of who was real and who wasn't... And then we got onto the idea that before us currently being here, there might have been another version of us on the ship, and that they probably would have made different choices or talked to different people or made different friends or tried different escapes.

( and one of clarke's immediate revulsions to that idea had been: what if i'd never met natsuno? she's weak for friendship like that, but carrying on. )

So now I'm wondering if that's maybe also a possibility for our home worlds. Maybe the Captain almost brought another Natsuno Yuuki here, wires got crossed, and that version's memories ended up in you. Same circumstance but slightly different experiences, like a wrinkle in a butterfly effect.

( a beat is taken. the slightest pause to breathe and survey his face — does that make sense? — before a lightbulb flickers in the back of clarke's mind and she's moved to ask: )

None of these new memories are from here, right? On the ship?

[I don't think you need to freak out too badly. If Clarke is still looking for clues behind his mostly-stoic demeanor, an almost hopeful spark glints in Natsuno's eyes. His values Clarke's opinion and trusts her to not try to sugarcoat it.

The idea that there were other versions of them on the ship before is disturbing, but the rest of the theory makes sense, and Natsuno chooses to focus on that instead of falling down another rabbit hole.]

None from the ship. Just from when the shiki came to the village. [He looks down at this knees.] I guess that makes sense. It'd fit with how the captain pulls people and objects from all across time and space.

[He falls silent. It's good to know he's probably not going crazy, but... Natsuno takes another moment to put his thoughts into words and looks back at Clarke. She's his best friends, but it's still so hard to admit how he feels under the cold mask.]

I already have enough bad memories. I don't need someone else's.

( that spark of hope is probably what spurs her to essentially word-vomit on a subject she's no higher understanding of, in hopes it'll fan that smolder of optimism into a full blown flame. and even if it doesn't, if the notion at least offers him some idea to hold on to instead of drowning in why's, that's still a good thing.

it's maybe a touch disappointing there's no ship-side memories falling into place, but only from a tactical standpoint. skulduggery had mentioned that they'd need to avoid old failures this time around, to which clarke had posited they'd no idea where they failed before in attempts to bring down the captain. but better or worse, it's nicer to imagine natsuno'd never been here before. potentially alone.

and makes it easier to focus on this current predicament, instead of being tempted to pry into phantom serena eterna memories. natsuno looks down, and clarke leans in a little to reassert that she's here for him, but doesn't speak again until he's had his last say. the look she's giving is... sad. sympathetic, stretching towards empathetic, grieving for his peace of mind. it doesn't feel like there's anything she could really say to help, yet — )

I get it. I can't even begin to imagine what it actually feels like — ( oh. can't you, clarke? she doesn't do a....... sensational job covering up a wince, but at least tries to breeze past it. ) — but I get it.

Just... remember you're you. You already made all of your choices back home, and you don't have to agonize over someone else's. You can feel them, you can hurt for them, but... You know. Getting hung up on the what if's is like wading into wet cement.

[He notices the wince, but first he has to address what she says.]

I know. I don't regret the choice I made. And neither does - that other me, I guess.

[He's certain of that. Both him and that other Natsuno are dead, anyway, so it's not like their differences changed the big picture. Still, he can't help but hurt for the small things: for not knowing if that other Kaori survived, for the other Tohru who had to hear Natsuno condemn him and for himself - for not getting to say goodbye.

Clarke would say it's fine to have these feelings, but it's sucks.]

...wanna go to the arcade?

( it's the absence of a goodbye that'll always get you. right alongside the uncertainty of if their sacrifices would even serve their friends long term, way after they were gone. that second concept had been briefly assuaged for clarke by the arrival of bellamy blake, then clouded over again upon realizing he was gone to the ship and there was nothing she could do for him. and then completely undermined after a chat with friday, wherein she'd been told not only does the nightblood serum work and she gets to see her people again, but also her mother and —

for a split second, videogames hold no interest. clarke actually wants to segue into spilling every conflicting thought in her head about her prospective future out into the air between them. but, a more driving thought, she doesn't want to make natsuno's moment of crisis and route it back to her own. they can be separate hurts, and given the option to focus on her friend versus herself, it's an easy choice.

in addition, she's not completely parsed out how she feels about the hints of her future. nor figured out exactly how to use what she'd learned to their communal benefit. it had to be worth something, for the small piece of her soul it feels like she'd paid to get it. so, yeah, clarke's buttoning up errant personal emotions, and giving a nod. they're going to the arcade immediately. )

Absolutely. But maybe no driving games this time.

( she's had her fill on racing lately. )

[He smiles at that, a faint quirk to the corner of his mouth.]

Agreed. No zombies either.

[The last time they played together ended bitterly, but Natsuno's certain she won't pull any blood-related tricks this time (other kinds of cheating, though, are already accepted as fact). As they take the elevator to deck 5, he realizes he's actually looking forward to it - dirty trick, furious competition and all. He must be more shaken than he thought, if he needs the distraction so much he doesn't even berate himself for wanting one...

Once at playback, he lets Clarke take the lead.]

Your pick.

( even after venturing into the arcade on more than a few occasions, playback still feels like stepping into an entirely different world. a vestige of old times, probably occasionally featured in the horror movies and shitty novellas she's consumed during her time on the serena eterna. the wildly patterned carpet meant to disguise vomit stains and soda spills, the flashing lights and intermingling blaring audio clips, the weird disembodied laughter... it's as mindbreaking as it is liberating and comfortable. the suffocation of senses enough to at least temporarily distract from internal struggles. yeah, this had been a good decision.

natsuno gives her leave to pick their first game, and clarke immediately skips over air hockey, the foosball table, plastic motorcycles, pinball, and pacman. skeeball momentarily draws her attention, but directly next to those lanes is a little black booth with dinosaur decals plastered all over the side. and if there was one point during the race for their lives across the open desert plane that hadn't been outright traumatic it was the feathery velociraptor-looking thing that had popped up out of nowhere to save dimitri. )

That one.

( she points for a split second before winding through the games to pull back the booth curtains and — )

Oh, it's a shooting game.

( another excellent choice seemingly made by chance, she could absolutely dominate natsuno in this. )

[Ah, the dinosaur. That was the weirdest thing, and Natsuno still doesn't know who this shapeshifter is.]

Those don't have feathers, [He remarks idly, peeling off the edge of a velociraptor decal. He never played this game before, and upon following Clarke through the curtains, he blinks in surprise.]

I saw that movie. [The first one, at least. He died before the first sequel was even made.] I had no idea they made a game too.

Yeah? Was it any good?

( unlike, you know, killer klowns from outer space. clarke's less fussed about the historically inaccurate dinosaurs than she is the choppy rendering of gameplay that's flitting across the screen mounted opposite the little bench seat, but glitchy animation seems part of the appeal in video games. so long as it doesn't mess with her aim...

in the same vein, she's passing over the red plastic gun in favor of the blue, and experimentally tugging at the trigger. the weight's wrong, of course. but the controls are just as simple as the real thing — point and shoot, right? )

Pretty good. Rich guy builds a theme park with cloned dinosaurs, but things go wrong and the visitors have to escape.

[He picks up the red gun. By now he knows what a real one is supposed to be, but it sure is nicer to shoot pixelated dinosaurs instead the burnt bodies of sadistic moon mages...

There's a bench in the booth, wide enough for two people. Natsuno remains seated for exactly three seconds, until the seat starts shaking.]

Hey - oh. It's supposed to feel like a jeep.

( oh, what she wouldn't give to shoot a specific moon mage...

...actually, despite that grudge running deep and wide, the most immediate rage felt towards ebalon seems to have tempered lately. memories of the battle royale proper and the televised broadcasts back on the ship will live in her mind forever, but the tick of calendar days passing by can't be denied. it's almost ancient history, with so many new prospects for pain and suffering and betrayal and torment at the hands of others in their future. mizuki, venti, and even ebalon's own sparkling track record since may have worn her down.

tangent aside — the buzz and thrum of the seat under their butts is an unpleasant surprise once the game starts, and though the second natsuno points it out the movement makes sense, that just makes it... a little to close to a racing game. the seat of the rover had lurched and jumped beneath her while traversing piles of rotting human bodies, the engine had shuddered ominously near the end of their mad dash, and the whole car had rattled with the strain of the drive. yeah, no, that's a bit too real. )

I'm just going to stand, ( she announces, taking to her feet and turning her attention to the screen as speakers announce a big dinosaur's entrance with muffled thump thump footsteps and a deafening roaaaaar!

and suddenly the screen whips around in an imitation of the human gaze seeking out a threat, and — oh god, they're starting immediately with a t-rex. )

[Natsuno remains standing next to her. He wasn't exactly sitting during their escape, manning the skylight with a flamethrower, but still - too soon.

The pixelated T-rex charges, and Natsuno repeatedly presses the trigger of his plastic gun. The goal is to work together, so how long before they start trying to get the other killed remains to be seen...]

I am shooting the head, [He grumbles as the game screams at them to do just that, complete with flashing text.]

( time it.

meanwhile, clarke's quietly vibing with the low effort re-load feature that's just pointing the plastic gun off screen and firing in order to reup the bullet count at the bottom half of her screen. the first and only example of video games > real life. but that said she's reloaded three times, shot precisely at the little scope style targets on the t-rex's torso, and the beast still advances on them. )

How thick is it's skin supposed to be? ( she huffs quietly, the pew pew pew sound effects taking over most of the space in the booth. fuck this, she's redirecting to join natsuno in shooting at the head. )

[He's about to say something like "it's not supposed to be REALISTIC, you know", but his life bar is depleting quickly as he reloads, and he ends up torn between smashing the trigger in frustration and worrying he'll end up breaking it and lose on a technicality (obviously, being unable to play while Clarke is still shooting counts as losing).]

I don't get what even counts as getting hit. [Pew pew pew, down goes the T-rex.] Finally -

[Wait, no, it's up again.]

Come on!

( even just playing at life or death stakes still triggers a little bit of all-too-real anxiety. there's no way the t-rex can hop through the screen and actually sink those large teeth into their skin, but clarke's still gripping her gun vice-tight; feet firmly planted, every muscle tense, eyes focused, and aim... as true as game dynamics allow it to be. this is fun, she can absolutely see how this is a fun game and people enjoy it, but logic doesn't undercut the visceral need to put this 2-bit beast down like her life depends on it.

this scaly bitch going down.

and it DOES, but then it's RIGHT BACK UP, and she's making an aggrieved/aggravated uuuurgh!! sound to compliment natsuno's exclamation. )

No! No no no no no no — ( rexy advances, and her life bar's no better off than her copilot's, all it takes is one more bite to cause animated blood splatter to splash across the screen, accenting the edges of the blaring text stating GAME OVER. )

Did we just die? ( incredulous mixed with furious. the start button begins to flash between the gun docks in front of them, and there's only a three second pause before clarke's slamming it with an undue amount of force. ) Fuck that, let's go for the eyes.

[They just died. Natsuno groans in annoyance, and once Clarke hits the start button again, the poorly rendered T-rex becomes a temporary lightning rod for all his aimless frustration and anger.

He takes the right eye, Clarke takes the left, and it's really quite disappointing when instead of killing the dinosaur they just outrun it by going into a tunnel. Now they have to deal with a bunch of smaller ones.]

These kinda look like the one in the excursion, [He comments while mowing them down. Ooh, don't mind him taking that first aid box, finally some health.]

( the npc driving the jeep touts their escape as a victory in it's own right — "we were lucky that time! could have been much worse." — but she's instantly on edge and expecting a poorly timed return of the t-rex to finish them off.

the smaller dinosaurs are easier. slower, somehow, like the game started with a bang and then reverted to beginner mode. they're effectively picked off with one or two shots each, and best believe she notes there's no sharing of that medpack (clarke, that's not even a feasible game mechanic) and takes it to heart. friendly competition side by side with every man for his own, she sees you buddy. )

Did you get a good look at it? I only saw it out the side mirrors.

[The smaller ones are easier, but having to waste shots on clearing rocks out of the way is annoying. Natsuno has to remind himself not to crush the plastic gun in his grasp.]

As good as you could get in that situation. [As impressive as it was, burning zombies was still more important.] Wish I knew who it was. Couldn't really pick up their scent in all the mess.

Closed to Clarke (the kids are sad over timeline bullshit)

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