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come_sailaway2022-09-07 11:26 am
saltwaterlungs) wrote in come_sailaway2022-09-07 11:26 am
Entry tags:
- changeling the lost: erin peters,
- far cry 5: deputy pratt,
- fe3h: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd,
- geist the sin-eaters: darcy lejeune,
- groundhog day musical: phil connors,
- ikemen sengoku: nobunaga oda,
- lavender jack: johnny summer,
- our flag means death: stede bonnet,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the black phone: vance hopper,
- the prisoner: number 6
Pack it up, pack it in,
CHARACTERS: Darcy, and YOU?!
DATE: First half of September prior to the event
LOCATION: Sports deck
SITUATION: A pirate-sponsored fight club for the sake ofbeating the shit out of each other bettering each other
WARNINGS: It’s a fight club. Violence is to be expected.
Fliers go up around the ship, as they so often do. This time put up with a reasonable amount of tape and written in a much less flowery hand than people would expect, the announcement ‘FIGHT CLUB TUESDAY EVENINGS SPORTS DECK: MAKE FRIENDS AND THEN HIT THEM’.
Anyone going to the sport’s deck after 7pm for the Tuesdays before the excursion will find tennis court set up for an impromptu fight club. There’s a notebook with a pen off to one side as a sign-in sheet, and a small list of rules written in the same handwriting as the fliers.
-No killing or dying
-Respect tapping out
-If you’re learning, respect your teacher/s
-If you’re teaching, respect your student/s
-Cause problems, get kicked out
Off to the sidelines, Darcy can be found supervising, keeping an eye out for any issues.
In one corner is supplies for fencing and swordplay. Three protective jackets, mesh masks, and blunt training sabers in a loose pile, plus whatever weaponry people themselves supply. There’s a circular arena drawn out on the ground, with a narrower fencing piste drawn through the middle of it.
For those more inclined to hand-to-hand combat, a couple of the punching bags from the gym have been dragged out onto the court, along with focus-pads and a couple of long strips of bandages bandages to wrap one’s hands with. An arena has been drawn out, about the right dimensions for a boxing ring.
Over on the furthest side- deliberately angled to face off the ship- there’s a makeshift shooting range consisting of a bunch of water bottles and some mannequins from the Tommy Bahama laid out as targets to shoot at. A line has been drawn on the ground, presumably to stand behind when shooting.
Right in the middle of everything is an arena marked out for no clear purpose, with no equipment nearby. It can probably be presumed that this is somewhere for people to spar, or more likely, show off in front of everyone.
DATE: First half of September prior to the event
LOCATION: Sports deck
SITUATION: A pirate-sponsored fight club for the sake of
WARNINGS: It’s a fight club. Violence is to be expected.
I came to win
Fliers go up around the ship, as they so often do. This time put up with a reasonable amount of tape and written in a much less flowery hand than people would expect, the announcement ‘FIGHT CLUB TUESDAY EVENINGS SPORTS DECK: MAKE FRIENDS AND THEN HIT THEM’.
Anyone going to the sport’s deck after 7pm for the Tuesdays before the excursion will find tennis court set up for an impromptu fight club. There’s a notebook with a pen off to one side as a sign-in sheet, and a small list of rules written in the same handwriting as the fliers.
-No killing or dying
-Respect tapping out
-If you’re learning, respect your teacher/s
-If you’re teaching, respect your student/s
-Cause problems, get kicked out
Off to the sidelines, Darcy can be found supervising, keeping an eye out for any issues.
Battle me that's a sin
In one corner is supplies for fencing and swordplay. Three protective jackets, mesh masks, and blunt training sabers in a loose pile, plus whatever weaponry people themselves supply. There’s a circular arena drawn out on the ground, with a narrower fencing piste drawn through the middle of it.
I won't ever slack up
For those more inclined to hand-to-hand combat, a couple of the punching bags from the gym have been dragged out onto the court, along with focus-pads and a couple of long strips of bandages bandages to wrap one’s hands with. An arena has been drawn out, about the right dimensions for a boxing ring.
Punk you better back up
Over on the furthest side- deliberately angled to face off the ship- there’s a makeshift shooting range consisting of a bunch of water bottles and some mannequins from the Tommy Bahama laid out as targets to shoot at. A line has been drawn on the ground, presumably to stand behind when shooting.
Try and play the role and yo the whole crew'll act up
Right in the middle of everything is an arena marked out for no clear purpose, with no equipment nearby. It can probably be presumed that this is somewhere for people to spar, or more likely, show off in front of everyone.
no subject
But since he knows she has no reason to tell him right away, he holds up his matchlock pistol. "Akechi Mitsuhide designed this, 1579, only just rolled off the line six months ago." He treasures his baby. "I've been using firearms since they hit Japanese shores," actually not completely. They hit when he was a baby, but they had to take a little time to get over to Owari, but same difference. "Five hundred years and they really haven't needed to improve much." Treasures it.
He totally hears her on not wanting to waste ammunition. Since it's an ancient relic at this point, he's very much conserving ammo. Well, he's had 30+ years of practice and actual combat war... so it's not like he needs to keep in practice with it.
"Oh, I'm Nobunaga Oda," a small polite bow. He's getting used to this now. Sort of. Maybe. He'll make exceptions for gun owners basically. "It was 1582 for me." And it was Japan, so he had to retroactively re-translate that time thing once here. But since Gregorian calendar seems to have stuck, everyone is familiar with it, good by him, he prides himself on adapting.
no subject
There's no return bow, not even a dip of the head. Does being cagey, openly suspicious, immediately defensive, and just flatly unfriendly lend to or detract from a Mitsunari Ishida stereotype? But backtracking through his entire introduction, after a wary beat, she'll answer those questions as best and briefly as one can. And in order.
"It's a Glock 22." And also ancient by her world standards, 100 years old at least. Also called for no improvement, it killed just as efficiently as it ever had.
Years experience: "About one and a half." But that's just generally with firearms, a rifle or an automatic machine gun would fit just as easily in her palms.
"My name's Clarke Griffin. And it was 2149 for me."
no subject
"Did you have a commander?"
Trying to put a timeline for Earth together is also a bit difficult. More peaceful, so his mission accomplished, but still so many people with guns, and yet he got the impression that it was getting more rare? Another thing he is mixed on. Torn between relief and disappointment. He wanted people to be able to choose peace, but it was still a culture shock that they could. And did.
"Guns are the only weapon I had to learn on my own, but I'm still surprised how little they've changed over the centuries."
600 years into the future and people still won't humor him about guns. At this rate he's going to really miss talking swords with Hideyoshi. Despite designing his gun and the standard issue rifle of the whole Japanese army (of the time) even Mitsuhide was also not willing, or able, to handle Oda's gun enthusiasm. Some things never changed. Although putting the gunpowder into bullet cartridges was a neat trick.
no subject
The term commander rubs a little too close to personal wounds — ones lost, a title earned but loathed — but she gives no real outward inclination of such. Maybe corrects a little too quickly.
"My people were led by chancellors. But it was just a friend who showed me how to shoot, if that was your meaning. And past that it was just —" self taught, natural propensity for shooting people, beginners luck spanning over a year? "— situational practice."
Gun enthusiasm goes over her head. Firearms are just a last leg of defense between the wielder and a horrible death. They're cherished and treasured as such in the apocalypse; Clarke maintains her weapon diligently and gently, arguably treats it with more care than she does herself. But it's the other arts of combat she quietly idolizes. Those she's never been good at, or offered an opportunity to train in, and that's a list that's lengthy.
And naturally, the faintest hint of other specialties that snags at her interest.
"No need to change what works." That bit's rushed and almost off hand, making conversational way to slide right into — "So what weapons did you get to learn with company?"
no subject
The last part... his expression goes flat. He definitely can't get a read on her. Most ninjas and women trained in multiple combat arts, are of course, secretive, trained to reveal nothing emotionally -- even overcompensating sometimes, but there's just too much cultural context he knows he's missing to truly fit certain missing pieces into place.
"Everything."
Blandly. So blandly. He closes his eyes to start listing them off. Rather than thinking about what it's like the future, it's easiest to just respond like he would to someone from his time asking. Which means... she's getting the whole kit here. The Luis Frois explanation.
Holding up one finger. "My father Nobuhide Oda was a general for the Emperor's father after the country was split and civil wars broke out and the country was fractured beyond repair. We had the smallest and poorest province and land in the whole of Japan. My father believed that all it would take was his brains and determination to make it a force to be reckoned with."
Closing the finger, Nobuanga tilts his head to the side and leans a little sideways. "Owari and Oda clan weren't even united. So that was his goal. He taught me economics, trade -- the only asset Owari has is that it's on crossroads. And that's almost more of a curse than blessing. It meant that to war with each other, every faction wanted to cross our borders, or even use our farmland for battlefields. So there almost weren't any farmers, because what's the point when five years work can get robbed, like that?" he snaps his fingers, and sighs. "Archery, falconry, boxing, wrestling, knives... he taught me all that by the time he took me to my first battle. I was six." He says it... completely emotionless. Blandly. It is what it is, he has no opinions on it, despite being the most opinionated man to ever live. "Axe. Spear. Horses."
He looks off into the distance. Fond or terrible memories, it doesn't show. It's like he doesn't care. It is what it is.
What he DOES give a fuck about and even shows an extreme distaste for is: "Katana, the way of the sword," his eyes narrow intensely. "That's something nobles spend their whole lives learning. Monks, and others dedicated to it teach it. I've had many tutors. Some I've killed." His eyes kind of blaze a dull quiet red. It's clear... he really hates that.
"It's not that I got to. Like it was an opportunity. I didn't have a choice. Kill or be killed, use everything as a weapon...." A huff, and he gestures over the layout of the tennis courts. "The greatest weapon is always the battlefield itself. If you can choose it, you will win. Period. No matter what." He shakes his head and rests his hand over his eyes, glancing back off the ship. "The only weapon I ever got to choose to learn was guns. My father died when I was young, he never saw the guns come to our lands, and I had to take over; become clan leader when I was 13." - An Earth historian might balk, it was seventeen without the wormholes screwing up his timeline. But that probably isn't a big note of difference to most people, and history gets things wrong a lot.
"Warships, sailing, naval tactics, foundries, forges, history, sieges, religion, philosophy, art, caste roles, politics..."
Everything. Everything.
He looks up at the sky. Did he choose those? No. Even then... "Don't mistake me, I don't hate other weapons." Obviously? "But to see my dream come true... I've had to study it all. Even poisons, because I can never guarantee it won't be used on me or my troops. Poison testers have long been employed by royalty since before this fighting even began, but that's not enough to guard my whole army. This armor..." He points to the jointed black full body plate mail. "This too, I suppose my father taught me a long time ago. Psychological warfare in design. The day he died, was the last day I could sleep without wearing it." Those are some really ice cold eyes he's got there.
"The weapon that matters most is your mind, but there's no part of your body that isn't a weapon to use. Half from him, half from tutors, and others." Nobunaga just shrugs. "It's not enough to survive either. Some men win by dying. Isn't that crazy? Of course, you can only do it once." Your life and legacy, that's a weapon too. His father's final message, taught by dying and leaving Owari, and the Oda clan still fractured. Leaving it to a thirteen year old fending off assassination attempts from younger siblings and his Uncle.
He really hates his era.
no subject
Secondly —
That is... a lengthy explanation and list of skills. The longer it goes on and the more he talks, the more apparently it becomes on Clarke's face that she hadn't expected this. A truly personal history recited simply as history (the same as she does when discussing the first end of the world and a hundred years of hard living in a space station), peppered with proficiencies and even more tellingly, laced with emotions or a lack thereof tied to each. It's more than she'd ever give to a person upon first meeting, and thus a point of confusion — though not so much that she's not drinking in every sentence, the hungry desire for knowledge of each and every person on board equivalent to a thirst for water after two days in a desert.
And, if ever pressed, there's similarities. Moments where she feels relation. World's don't change so much that the same issues don't keep cropping up over and over again.
An optimistic father — Jake Griffin had been the chief engineer onboard the Ark, and upon learning life support systems were failing thought it best to let the general population know. Clashed with the council, persisted in his belief, embraced his daughter and was summarily executed in front of her afterwards. Who sleeps much after their father dies, anyway?
The battlefield — for even if one doesn't get to choose it, one has to make due with all the benefits and pitfalls it provides. Wrestling one and one with a trained warrior in the dirt, and throw dirt in their eyes before bashing them in the head with a burnt human skull. Infiltrate a compound full of people weak to the outside air, and use vents against them. Fight a man on the deck of this cruise liner, and make damn good use of the rainslick wood beneath your feet, get him on his belly, have one main and at least two alternate weapons on your person...
Kill or be killed — the root of every choice she'd ever made that would later be thrown in her face as brutal, ruthless, cruel, or necessary but ugly. The decisions no one else wants to make, and don't have to provided they've a good leader at their forefront.
War, and clashing clans, and being shoved into a seat of power and responsibility long before truly ready, quicker than one can say I don't want this (thirteen, seventeen — she'd been seventeen too). Civil conflict, poison (in the air? just in food and drink? in the minds of men around them?), the notion of choice (having none, having one and gripping it so tightly it becomes a sole reprieve from everything else around you — though Clarke had chosen love instead of Smith & Wesson's), psychological warfare (because armor wasn't always steel plated and intimidating, sometimes it was just a cool face and disrespect for others personal space, alongside killing every riotous emotion deep down), and... art. Some measure of philosophy, enough to know when she was doing harm. Win by dying, though the mechanics of their new home undermined that idea at it's very core.
And while she disagrees that, yes, he got to learn some of the harder things in life before being thrown into leadership and that was a blessing as much as it could be a curse... There's a hundred open wounds on her bleeding heart, each stoppered up but new ones sprouting every day. Usually for child soldiers, though it's hard to look at the man in front of her and imagine a thirteen year old in the same armor.
"What was your dream?" She'll eventually ask. Though deeper, biting thoughts want more to know if — "Was all of that worth it to achieve it?"
no subject
He actually does beam at her questions though. Because the whole world, if they'd heard of Japan at all in his time, knew of his dream. "To end it. To stop the Civil wars. To break the castes and scatter it into a million pieces so it could never be put back together. To do it so magnificently even the rest of the world would see how the only way to do things in the future was to let people earn their way to freedom and power through production, hard work, cooperation, entertainment, not inherit it or be able to kill for it. And that life should be enjoyed. Not austere, or strict adherence and dependency for any little action on a faceless diety and so-called servants who provide no value, and just coerce the desperate via lies and inaction." Deep breath. Listen, if you thought he was talkative before.... really don't get him started on religion..
He gestures back to the others of the fight club. Was it worth it? "I won. None of them have even heard of the Ikkou Ikki, or been indoctrinated from the time they were five, and told who their parents are mean they have to study katana their whole life to serve a fictional deity who doesnt give a damn if they live or cry." He holds up the black and red painted sparkly nails he got from Jeff (from California.) Jeff, who lived the itinerant performer lifestyle. Rock and roll, and ostracization. Not as severe as the untouchable days. But still a ways to go. "I know... even 600 years, there's still a long way to go. And I can't do it all, and trying to fight the whole of human history is... I'd be better off just trying to fight a volcano. But even so... it was worth it, yes, absolutely."
He wishes the others were here to see it. Maybe they wouldn't need it as much as him. But even so, they believed in him, so he wished he could show them it worked. They'd have almost no chance of knowing in their own time after all. Not really. Nobunaga had the best idea of it, but only because he could visualize it the most. What he wanted, and then act on how to move humanity closer.
no subject
You don't need to know a person for longer than five minutes to be moved by their noble goal, same as one doesn't need to be a parent or teacher in order to feel proud of another. It's a beautiful dream, and Clarke doesn't have the heart to contrast it against her own reality, where killing still won titles, honor, reputation, and respect. Where social structures still definitively outlined low class and privileged, where children still had weapons placed in their hands and were groomed for command far before they knew who they really were, and where in the end, none of it even mattered because the human race was direly close to dying out. There's not a lot of room to enjoy life at the end of the world, and even less time.
But, clinging to the notion everyone here comes from different timelines and not all Earth's end in a fiery blaze that would put a volcano to shame, it feels fair and kind to let hope persist for others. Contrary to her conversational partner, Clarke's not one to overshare. Religion is also a complicated subject, for she'd found it here on the ship after clocking one of the gods walking among men for what he really was. End of the day, though, she cares and prays to Barbatos the same way she cares and cleans her gun — just one more line of defense between the living and obliteration. And at least he isn't afforded the same ability to be faceless and absent as he'd been in his own home world, she literally knows where he sleeps and all the usual hangouts. Speaking of freedom —
"I guess the question is, are you willing to do it all over again?"
Here, specifically. She may gesture out at the sports deck and congregated fight club persons, but it's a much larger question: here, the entire ship, this whole reality and all the offshoots custom made by the Captain, this entire sordid second existence.
"Because so far there's no freedom to be earned, our lives are at the beck and call of a would-be god with no real face, and every single skill you listed could come in handy at one point or another. We just don't know yet."
no subject
At the end of the day, it's not even about earning freedom to Oda. Because when it's this narrowed in and isolated, it gets kind of too small for him to see. Some people would call this freedom enough. For him, it was more than he'd ever had personally, and he wasnt repressed enough not to enjoy it.
It's not about breaking the castes or society either. Not here anyway. Whole there's the very obvious chain of command, it's again, too narrowed in for him to really pinpoint precision undo or remake.
And it's not even about being the leader and commander of demons, and responsibilities to other demon kings and what history made of it.
It's purely and simply... Nobunaga Oda is the most arrogant, conceited, stubborn, bastard to ever live, and like hell he knows how to stop fighting and just enjoy his most basic desires offered to him on a silver platter. Someone who will declare war on Gods, doesn't take a vacation.
"You're not supposed to volunteer others for such a thing. I don't suppose I can count on you as a general?"
Nobunaga will fight mountains and typhoons. If he has to fight multiple worlds themselves, he'll do it all with the intent to never lose.
Nobunaga wonders if his mind is safe. How deep the translation goes. Does it matter? But he'll definitely need to find more experts in such a thing. It's certainly a lot to catch up to, but isn't that when he's at his best? It's like guns for him. He gets to choose it this time. And when you choose, it's the easiest way to win.
no subject
"...that depends. Are you asking me to follow you?"
no subject
Now Nobunaga just has to make the return pitch, and because it's Nobunaga, he has no idea how to hold back.
"A leader is only as good as his people supporting him. Are you setting me up to fail, or will you dedicate your strength to the cause you believe most in?"
There's only one law in his world. Join Oda, or die. But it's not like he intends to kill anyone for joining him. It's more like, for those on his side, he will break the world in half to give them a chance to live and and thrive as they see fit. He's not about to favor anyone who doesn't give it their all to the cause though, the shared cause, his and his army's - and that alone: simply not having Oda's Demon King favor makes it that much harder for others to survive. Stronger together. And woe to anyone who does get in his way. Demon Kings become so by defeating all other demon kings. And then just maintaining that status at the top.
"If you're worried about my leadership capacity, then you should very much want to keep an eye on me so you can seize upon chances others will miss." Genuinely his selling argument to most of his generals. Except, ironically Masamune. Date was complicated like that.
no subject
Also, like. Buy a girl dinner or at least drop a cafeteria burger outside her room Door Dash style before asking her to play as your second. This seems incredibly fast, especially considering —
"I don't know you, at least not past what you've chosen to share with me just now." Tone dictates she believes there's much, much more. "And you don't know anything about me other than, my name? My year? The fact I can shoot a gun? That's not a great basis for deciding who to trust and rely on here."
Something small and imperceptible breaks in the otherwise stony affect she's been wearing throughout the polite levels of getting-to-know-you questions and practiced rallying cry. Dour corners of her mouth crack upward, something akin to rage folded over on itself to become determination flickers in her eyes — like flint and tinder met irises, and set about making them burn as blue as the base of a flame. It's a challenge and ill-begotten humor rolled into one rejection.
"You would probably have an easier time counting on someone else. I'm detrimentally stubborn and have a real issue with authority."
Other than her own, of course. And somewhere else, anyone who's known her longer than five minutes is doing a horrendous, choking spittake at the level of self-awareness in this commentary.
no subject
His eyes light up even more as she insists she's stubborn and hates authority. "Now I can't settle for anyone else."
To be fair, he would normally make his opening overtures for someone to join him a lot fancier, but also they wouldn't have nearly backed him into a corner asking if he was willing (or able to even do otherwise!) to conquer the world and take on any gods in his way.
"I don't need yes-men without conviction or pointless platitudes. And stubbornness..." Red eyes light up even more with mirth, meeting her challenge head on. If she thought that was a rejection, she's going to have to do a lot better with him. And get ready for endless persistence. "I can think of nothing more attractive in an ally." Oops. He glances her over checking her out for the first time for more than just lethality and skills. Honestly, until then he kind of had a vague bookworm-tactics-spy-quiet + shiny glock eeeeeee - impression of her in his head. It's also a weird note for him, it's been awhile since he looked at another woman like that, and never someone who wasn't Japanese. But he's not getting too ahead of himself, just testing her on this front as well. Ranmaru's about her age, and she's smart, he can definitely tell that, but as smart as Ranmaru? IS that even possible?
"I know you kept notes on everyone else's skills here, their fortes, their weaknesses, their magic. I did hope to assume you had the technical capacity to apply such data too, unlike others who simply catalog and memorize it. You're patient, and quiet, and as you've seen -- I'm not. So if I'm going to take on an ambitious project, we both know I'll need someone to fill in my gaps." That's safe to say right? Because it'd be a huge stretch to sound flirty. He's pretty sure. "I know you've faced hardships I can't imagine that steeled your face and heart beyond anything I could ever do." A small laugh and he shakes his head. "Again, something I'll need help with. I can blaze in boldly, but hiding my true intentions? Never." This is the downside she'll have to face now, because Nobuanga will forever have a tough time knowing if she actually wants him to shut up, or is doing it for some other secretive reason.
"You were taught your gun by a friend, so I suspect you expected me to have the same sort of attachment to the way I learned other weapons. But more interestingly to me, rather than balk when I dismantled that entirely, you kept absolutely calm. You processed every single part of it, despite the veritable tsunami I threw at you to see if it would make you back off, and instead you completely rose above it, floating like you'd meant to be there all along." A smile proud of her despite just meeting! And a nod.
"There's a lot I'm desperate to learn about you. Your world, your time. You, yourself, individually. Those things are personal, and will take time. That's a separate offer as a human being intrigued by another," the red light flickers again, "But when it comes to war, things like personality conflicts don't matter. Only winning or losing. But, I shall make one more temptation I think might be attractive to you."
He grins, and gets extra close, while invading her personal space, he's very careful not to touch her, despite how touchy-feely he is, she's definitely right that it's too soon to go that overboard. Instead it's just so he can drop his voice to a rumbley near whisper near her ear.
"Politics and fighting religion are my forte." He's unsure whether to take the gamble. That she's enough like Ranamaru that it'll work. She has none of Mai's pacifism however, and certainly a dark edge Mitsunari lacked, that Nobunaga was much more used to recognizing in Ranmaru. "I can teach you how to handle any weaknesses, use your stubbornness to its fullest, and fight against authority in a way no one will ever see coming."
Pulling back, he's still grinning as he folds his arms. "I'm not trusting you. I'm trusting my skills as a commander to make sure I never go against your best self-interests or you'll have ample opportunity to take my place." Same with Mitsuhide, actually.
no subject
All of that backfired tremendously. Which is pretty on brand for her, but never any less frustrated just because it's expected. And as quick as the self deprecating half-smile had graced her mouth, it slips away. But the deep-burning embers of every negative and self righteous emotion Clarke's bottled and buried remain in her eyes, and that pointedly hard eye-contact she maintains through this subsequent dressing down essentially becomes a glare. Veritable tsunami was apt before, and continues to be now, but this time it hits different when the assessment is directed at her and none of it is... wrong.
Moments here or there to nitpick specifics, sure. But the overarching read rings true, and she bristles — only partially because puncturing the personal bubble to force a more intimate measure of conversation is her move, and it sucks being on the receiving end.
But the last offer falls...sideways. Not completely flat, but the mark is off from the get go.
"I don't have any problem with my god." A bald-faced lie, there's a lot of problems to be had with Barbatos, and they only start with him being a lazy drunk stripped of godly powers. But, the choice had been made, now she has to stand by it. Regardless, the Captain isn't after his endgame to make people worship and praise his name — he doesn't even know his name — just craves the power and knowledge that comes along with the status. It isn't quite religion, from her limited viewpoint.
The rest, though? Politics a ready draw, as politics had seen her attempt to shoulder to her way into the drivers seat at last months death race put to rest. Politics in that Clarke still can't entirely relinquish the war-time mindset from home that demanded peace talks and concessions, even if on board the Serena Eterna she tended towards reckless action with little to no accountability. Politics in that, they've become a small community here, like it or not. At some point the ship could dissolve into murderous chaos, but maybe some structure could mitigate that — or at least a more solid bubble of organization and cooperation would insure the people she cares most about making it through to the end wouldn't be touched. Politics because apparently she hadn't died when she'd thought, and if there's even the slightest chance of returning home, Clarke could use the practice. Stubbornness she stubbornly believes is already mastered. Weakness is just engrained in the human experience. Fighting authority, what, like it's hard? But could it be even easier?
Beneath the initial wash of offense and what's teetering on the edge of lashing out to pointedly shove Oda out of her personal space before he tactfully retreats, there's still a hint of intrigue. Can't be entirely disguised, even if it's swimming alongside suspicion, doubt, and distaste. Disquiet at having been plainly perceived by a virtual stranger, and having no solid standing with which to retort
"And I already joined one crew here without really knowing what I was getting in to." Looking at you, Stede Bonnet and your ridiculous excuse for piracy venture. Pool parties and arts and craft tables and talent shows and therapy? Gag. "You haven't given me any reason to trust you as a commander. Talk's easy, ego's obviously a given, and history's written by the victors; easily fabricated and flattering. So — show me something worth believing instead."
no subject
Plain and simple. He didn't turn his worldwide reputation from the village idiot to that idiot is literally king of the world what the actual hell just by talking about it. In fact... he'd done very little talking about it, mostly just a lot of war and building roads and infrastructure randomly enough.
It would be really funny to anyone who knows Nobunaga well enough. Because the parts of Clarke he didn't catch... are actually all the things too much like himself. He was so hyper focused on seeing their opposites, he missed their glaring similarities. But they probably had time. And if not, then it likely wouldn't matter.
Also Nobunaga will straight up shoot anyone who tries to drag him to therapy. Johnny gets a free pass purely for reminding Oda of his spies and merchant allies, but Griffin, it is your solemn duty to make sure, even more than not getting stabbed, Nobunaga doesn't shoot Stede. Sure, sure Ed has dibs and whatever, but solemn duty.
"What can you tell me about the Captain or other caste and restrictions on freedom here?"
He does better with big picture anyway, and truthfully, he's not sold on dismantling the Captain much less how. It's sort of like warring with God. He cares less about that and more about making sure people didn't have to get taken advantage of by monks. It's involved.
"I heard about zombies, and magic, but not much else."
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Watch me, he says, and she almost expects a sudden whirl of action to prove fighting prowess. Or maybe a tactical retreat, where they'd reconvene sometime later and he could add ship-specific achievements to the list. But what she gets instead is a conversation 180 back into more comfortable, familiar territory — oh Clarke could rag on the Captain all day, and has been here since the beginning which is long enough to have a decent beat of the goings on of the ship; some of her assumptions and understandings might even be correct! — but it still leaves her blinking. That weird sort of flustered when gearing up for a longer fight and suddenly left hanging.
She'll recover soon enough though, huffing the ghost of a laugh out of both nostrils.
"Alright. Tell me whatever you already know about the Captain, the zombies, and the specific magic used here. And I'll do my best to fill in any blanks."
No use repeating the same facts over and over if he already learned them from someone else, but maybe she can correct a few assumptions with her own scathing opinions.
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A giant sweatdrop. "No really, that was it." He just laughs in spite of himself. "I know nothing about this kind of thing. I spent over the last thirty years of my life trying to disprove magic and committing heresy and blasphemy to try do defy everyone's blind obedience to gods and believing their so-called servants. The first African I met, I thought he was trying to play a trick and dye his skin with ink." He did makes Yasuke a samurai though, so it's not like Nobunaga didn't believe the truth when he saw it. A beat. "Well, and that he wants to thrive off of despair or something, but I'm not sure I believe it. Never even heard of zombies before half an hour ago when I was giving Johnny some pointers." His hand strokes his chin very slightly in thought. "It's still suspicious that bullets work on them. Muscle memory shouldn't react better to bullets than fire, and dismantling them with swords makes more sense."
He can't stop overthinking it.
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"Bullets can still shatter bone, muscle memory's not going to get you anywhere if your kneecaps blown out and you can't walk. And it's definitely not going to do you any good when there's no memory to control that muscle." Idly, with two fingers, Clarke mimes a handgun, points it at her head and flicks her wrist to imitate recoil. Headshots all day, nobody's doing anything without their central cortex. "And a sword means you're on their level, easier to grab than from higher up or further away."
But now then, onto the lesson. Serena Eterna 101, from a particularly biased and not always 100% correct source.
"The Captain is a seemingly all-powerful, oversized toddler made out of smoke and darkness, with a self serving sadistic streak. He's brought us here to act as lab rats in his maze, spinning the wheels to keep the lights on, and suffering and dying to fuel his power. If you haven't experienced that yet, you will — my theory is that he just lets us rest so we're primed to die horribly all over again.
"He builds us back up every time, though. Sometimes he takes things from us when stitching us back together again. But otherwise doesn't leave a mark or a scar, regardless if a limb was cut off or we were blown to bits. If you ever stitched up a toy you were particularly fond of, it's like that without the affection. He likes movies and sometimes books, and will build other pocket dimensions based around those in order to put us through the ringer. For now it seems like most of the bloodshed's regulated to those outings, but not all of it."
There's a healing stab wound in Clarke's abdomen, well covered by her clothing and not belayed in any way by her posture. She's also lost a kidney on board this boat, unspoken and private examples to back up every word she says.
"We've been through a Battle Royale, where we had to kill each other with a variety of weapons. Something like forty people died that time. But we've also been send camping in cabins in the woods, and nothing spectacular happened. We were also stuck on the ship for a month where any contact with water either caused you to tell horrible truths or horrendous lies unknowingly — all because he made a mistake with his own magic. Then we visited a desert, drove around in cars, and eventually had to vote unanimously on who to sacrifice to a game of Chicken against the Captain, he made Skulduggery drive off the edge of a mountain, and still unleashed a hoard of zombies wearing the faces of people we knew from our old lives on the rest of us. All like Pirate Jenny said. She's the only one we've known to ever escape this place, and even she's not entirely free."
There's a big sigh here, a breath caught after a torrent of information before onto the next bit.
"There's no ordinary caste system here. No one's higher or lower; the only definitive lines drawn in the sand are between us as passengers, and the Captain. He holds all the power here, and will crush humans, gods, sorcerers, creatures, omnics, and well fêted warriors alike." The look she gives Nobunaga in this moment very clearly expresses: even you, no matter how many crafts you've mastered and empires you've toppled.
"And for some the amount of freedom given here is perfectly acceptable. We can eat, sleep, drink, bathe, play games, and hold pretty much any meeting we'd like. We have clothing, access to medical supplies, entertainment though it's self provided, and comfortable beds. Gal Friday will see to most questions asked, though good luck getting anything actually useful out of her. But we can't leave. There's a barrier around the ship, on land it's the same. We can't go home, we can't contact anyone we left behind, and we can't stay dead."
And, as almost an afterthought, with several tablespoons more bitters than the rest of it given a recent reveal for Clarke specifically: "Oh, and they know everything about us. Including things that happen in timelines we haven't lived through yet."
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Moving on.
He's not quite unnerved that hearing the Captain is like Nobunaga if Nobunaga could handle dark magic and lost all his generals and family and reasons to hold back. Nope. But it is a little annoying. Not because he can empathize. But because he hates having to attribute tactics to his enemies that only Nobunaga himself is damned insane enough to pull off. If Stede Bonnet is the side of Nobunaga that he hates the most, the Captain is certainly a warning story. No playing with dark magic for you, Demon King of 6th Heaven. Oh yay, fighting himself just what he always wanted. (Except not.)
"Wait who? Jenny? No, I --" gestures to Johnny Summers. Still fresh to guns, not freed as far as he can tell what Clarke means.
"So Jenny half escaped???"
The warning about the captain crushing him doesn't faze him in the least. He's heard it a million times before. He's not underestimating anything, because indeed, a foe with Nobunaga's madness is... not something to joke about. Even though it is a joke itself.
"Timelines..." THAT gets a blink. Which is real? "Then they can be changed." Maybe? Wormholes and such. He knows his own is already in a massive flux discrepancy, but the only person he talked to about it was Commander Crichton, and he's not sure how much is even safe to tell others.
He points to Griffin's temple. "How are you personally handling it?" She finally was starting to remind him of himself a little. Back when he was a teenager, and after defeating Yoshimoto Imagawa and starting to just think the impossible was achievable. But he almost instantly had his two right and left hands. Hideyoshi and Mitushide pushing him forward, keeping him from wanting to get himself out, and actually give a damn about his siblings who didn't betray him, making sure he still trained Ieyasu, and kept thinking in broader and broader terms rather than just himself. Maybe it's because he's never been without them more than a few months before, for all his intentions to set off and see the world someday, but it's only just now hitting him how different his life would have been without them.
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Tracking his gaze to Johnny and shaking her head. "Not him, Pirate Jenny — a storm goddess."
Half escaped? "She has her freedom, but sentiment for the brothers she left behind keeps her coming back."
Timelines? Oh, that's a mess Clarke's not well versed enough in, but she's trying. Has at least worked out that it's a headache to consider who's real and who isn't, which memories matter and which can be set by the wayside, and already had the existential crisis over which version of herself is the real Clarke Griffin — the one on the Serena Eterna, or the one supposedly continuing on from the moment she'd left her home world. Jury's still out, actually, but leaning somewhere towards here, because she doesn't like what becomes of herself in the future. "I know that one's hard, it'll make more sense in time." For wormholes, she's got nothing. But that's certainly a word to consider in regards to how the Captain's magic reaches out and snatches them from their proverbial beds.
And in regards to herself? ...actually, that question startles her. No big jump and fuss about it, but a moment of slack around her mouth before lips button back up into a thin line.
"I'm fine." It's a well practiced and often rehearsed statement, damn near impassible save for the lengthy silence that follows on Clarke's end. A space in the conversation for the likes of: always am, need to be, and I'm fine if you count dying a little more inside every day I spend in this suspended hellscape. No, just fine and steel walls working their way up around her heart. She'd quite like to leave if this is where the conversation continues to tread.
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But yes, Oda loves infodumps. He will make the only nonfiction books on the ship if nothing else, because he knows just as with breaking humanity's tendency towards castes and worshiping Gods, someone will come after him who is able to use his actions to further the ultimate goal. Nobunaga knows it!
Speaking of tendency towards Gods worship... The Demon King's face goes stern, lowkey murderous. His reflex is to dismiss it as superstition. You know they name each individual typhoon after women to appease these superstitions and attribute it to Amaterasu's offspring too, right? And Susano-o. Okay. Okay. He wants info. Keep an open mind. This is just talking to Luis Frois, in the early stages, before he knew Portuguese fluently, and had to be delicate not just because he wanted more information from the foreigners, but because he could never tell what was translation error. For all Nobunaga knows, this is deliberate on the Captains' behalf. If the translation in his head is part of the Captain's magic, then why wouldn't the Captain seek to divide them and prevent them from ever allying by targeting the exact things that would split them up?
And the whole world of his time (well anyone who knew about Japan or gave a fuck) knew Nobunaga declared war on the gods themselves. Demon King of 6th Heaven.
Okay. He's got this.
By completely moving past it. Listen, keeping an open mind and delving into religion is something that has to wait for when he's able to move past his Demon King reflexes. It takes time. Just facts. The Captain wins this round, Nobunaga will come back around to it later.
He pokes Clarke's forehead. "You weren't trained as a solider, were you?" At least not one of his. One of the royalty, one of the infantry, not even a monk. How unfortunate. Just as well. He doesn't want the future to reach the point of conscripting every single person alive, women and children, and no one with an escape, but...
This is important. "Things like that are how weapons break."
We're cycling back to his first love. "I thought you were like Ishida, I didn't consider your Oichi princess heart." It's not an insult, the way he says it is like something he cherishes. After weapons and infodumps. Even more than sweets. "All right, we'll work on it. For the record, don't lie to yourself, and don't lie to me. I'm the Demon King. Gods might be easily tricked, but I'm not." Whoops, couldn't help taking a sniping shot at the gods anyway. If the opportunity presents itself, he can't resist. Demon King things. "First lesson. Learn to be selfish." He flicks her forehead lightly. Really. Did that. "You're not a weapon. You're a gorgeous, competent, fierce, intelligent woman, and you're not so weak as to let some asshole with a god complex conquer your heart and soul just because he thinks you're a toy and wants to see what it takes to break you in every which way, right?"
Like he said, he hates having to think of the Captain like himself... It's just annoying. Not the sides of himself he hates. Just weird to think about. No one is as mental as Nobunaga. Is this why he was brought here? Just to test his strength? Fine, he's been training his whole life for this, probably.
"Secondly," he holds up his pinky and ring fingers. "Learn to ask for help. You can't fight gods alone, and you need to start looking at the army around you as your own. If you can't rely them on as extensions of yourself, you truly couldn't be more weak." From praise to insults. This is because he thinks of them as neither. Just his blunt asshole self. See also: as mental as the Captain.
"It's not like my soldiers wouldn't say that." He looks out at the ocean and cocks his voice to a falsetto probably much higher than her voice. "'I'm fine!' And all smiles and lies. But you don't even have the smile." Ugh he needs a drink. And after giving Stede a lollipop earlier, he can't just do sugar again. Even Nobunaga has limits! "Only say things like that when you have the conviction to make it true. When you're plagued by doubts and concerns -- I'm not asking you to lay them on me. I thought you had techniques for dealing with this, I was actually surprised, you weren't trained at all in the first soldier basics." Waves a hand. "Well a little. Mai Mizusaki didn't have anything close to your competence, I just forgot it's less a reflection of her as an individual, and more the future." He closes his eyes and sighs.
And then all commander brashness. "Like I said, dare to be selfish. I will never ask anything to be polite, because I'm not. If you want something? Go after it. There's so much humans can't do, they lose sight of the things they can, the things they decide to abstain from, the things they create societal pressure to deny others." He waves an arm fiercely, and dramatically clutches a fist. "Abolish that." He meant abolish to be more heretical, Demon King, dramatic, fierce, but translation and the rest. It's not the word, it's the historical context.
So, there's that. "Learn to enjoy yourself. And if you can't? Find someone who can show you."
It's okay though, he expects Clarke to basically... flee. There's a reason the Demon King has generals and not really... friends. So long as his words stick enough she thinks about it at all, that's fine for him. If she argues back against him, tries to disprove him though? So much the better. She's got an iron core, heart and soul, like Oichi, and maybe even as smart as Oichi, but completely breaking someone from social conditioning wasn't done in one day. Or even maybe 600 years.
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Terse might not even be the right word. Vehement, but tempered more accurately describes her tone. And sparing any dissolve into conflict from the slap onward, her very attitude dissolves into something sour and cagey. Had never asked for lessons, nor compliments, nor understands any of the world-specific terminology that comes from his mouth — Ishida, Oichi, etc — nor to be told what she more or less already accepted as fact. There was no summiting this mountain of a fight alone, but just because Nobunaga is general- and friend-less doesn't mean Clarke hasn't found people that fill both necessities. Loathe as she is to lesson the people she cares about into what can you do for me, the thoughts have been there.
Beyond that, it's still a lot of words flowing from his mouth that amount to you're a terrible liar. And as much as she wants to turn and disengage, return to what she'd come to the fight club to do, hackles bristle and catch against the grain of reason. So instead she inclines her head forward, narrows both eyes practically to slits, and tries again.
"I will be fine." In life, in death, in freedom, or in war. In pain and suffering or exulting in the small joys in life on board the Serena Eterna that have managed to dig into her soul like roots of dandelion weeds breaking through concrete. (People — a select and small group of people acting as invasive plant-life that fuel her ecosystem heart.)
What follows is not a conscious attempt to intimidate, and honestly lacks the backbone or willpower to follow through in this exact moment. But if he's opening the door for rude, brusque, impolite, upfront and take what you want — she looks pointedly at the matchlock pistol at his side, then back to his face with both eyebrows raised.
"Can I have your gun?"
CW: graphic innuendo because OFC /sob
Even more so when she asks for his gun.
In fact. He just flicks her forehead harder this time if she doesn't learn fast enough to protect it.
"No, you've got your own."
She was at least setting boundaries and fighting back, so he's glad of that. But she just reminds him of both Oichi and Ieyasu at their absolute brattiest rather than Ranmaru he was kind of hoping for. Well, that's to be expected, isn't it? Ieyasu had been through even worse hell by the time he met Nobunaga, and the tiny child still had to be broken out of the idea that he was a slave now or hostage pawn. It took years! And Nobunaga isn't even sure what exactly stops Clarke from enjoying herself, but it's okay, he's pretty good at this kind of thing, right?
He shifts his stance and gives her the cockiest of grins, shifting his hands so they almost look offguard, though it's clearly a trap to grapple her and wrestle her if she takes him up on the invitation. "Do you think you have the strength to take it?" It's also right next to his penis, and she can act as bold as she wants, but he's yet to meet a woman as bold as himself or even his mother: Gozen (who was extremely to the point with his father: Nobuhide.) Kichou would probably have grabbed his dick in front of the entire ship, but Kichou was a demon among demons.
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"So? I want both." Brattiest, like that somehow undermined bitchiness.
The dick-joke registers. How could it not, with the blatant body language? But all he gets for the effort is a little twinge of disgust flashing between her brows and across her mouth, a sneer that gives hint at teeth beneath. Clarke watches his hands, though. Her list of physical skirmishes may not be the longest or the most varied, but she didn't come here to carefully catalogue fighters without a baseline for discerning obvious tells. Established she's not faster, assumed she's not stronger, he's wearing armor and she's in athleisure with one hand still carefully cradling a notebook to her chest. Even through a haze of displeasure and an urge to hit square in the face for those forehead pokes, Clarke has to consider other methods and lands on...
No verbal response, just slowly extending an arm and reaching for the gun. Unassuming and non-violent, like you'd reach to take a phone from a friend, or a detonator from a terrorist who's already surrendered.
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The disgust made him split into the giantest of grins, and the measured way she still proceeded was working well enough on him. He is a bit of a wild animal, and the way you handle such things is gently and evenly with total composure.
Nobunaga took the gun out of his holster, carefully took her hands in his own, and put the gun into her hands. "Show me what you've got."
She gets a reward for not trying to set off his own anti-assassination reflexes, but still doing exactly what he told her to; go after what she wants. And he can't help respecting it.
He's still ready to throw her in a judo toss if she tries anything too much, or chase after her if she tries to run off with his gun. He's just testing to see if she even understands the mechanics enough that it's using old fashioned gunpowder and the rest. Although what would he even do if she shot him? Come back to life and make her miserable the rest of the cruise? Well, he keeps a little close to guide her wrists if she doesn't aim at targets. So a slight bit of trust. But again, she's earned the reward, so he'll take the risk, foolish as it may be, he IS the Fool of Owari after all, even now.
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