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come_sailaway2022-09-18 02:11 pm
be_seeing_you) wrote in come_sailaway2022-09-18 02:11 pm
Entry tags:
- far cry new dawn: sharky boshaw,
- generator rex: six,
- groundhog day musical: phil connors,
- ikemen sengoku: nobunaga oda,
- infinity train: ryan akagi,
- lavender jack: johnny summer,
- rwby: ruby rose,
- shiki: natsuno yuuki,
- skulduggery pleasant: skulduggery,
- stranger things: steve harrington,
- tales of the abyss: jade curtiss,
- the locked tomb: palamedes sextus,
- the prisoner: number 6
Die Another Day [Post-Death Open Post + some closed]
Who: Number 6 & YOU
What: Waking up from death after a sliiiight miscalculation
Where: Cabin 113 + Other places around the ship, just going about his day like nothing happened
When: The day after the beach party
Warnings: discussion and depictions of death, trauma, grief
That was unpleasant.
Pain is the last thing he remembers. Pain, and the distant sounds of screams. One of the voices may have been his. The black abyss they'd tipped into was akin to being swallowed whole in a nightmare. Fittingly, when you die in a nightmare you wake up. So too, does Number 6 awaken again at exactly 6:00 am the next morning, safe in bed. But not safe from the memory of the black and the way it scraped at his mind like a dull cheese grater.
He lies there a moment reorienting himself. Above him, the sight of his familiar cabin roof is both sickening and a comfort. He's alive. He's... unharmed? Why does that fact make him furious? He'd hoped, foolishly, that if he did meet death out there on the water it would be the kind that lasts. It would free him from the fate of being tied forever to the Eterna. No such luck. But if he's here then... Arthur! And young Steve! They must be just waking up as well.
There's no time to wallow in his failure. If he must continue to live here, then he may as well get on with it. He should go see how his fellows are doing. He thought he saw a group of people lingering on the beach after the last call went out. Were they planning their own escape, or was there something else going on? The only way to find out is to get out of here and go see for himself.
Number 6 can be found all around the ship, going about his day like he didn't just fall off the edge of the map like a chump. And, no, he really doesn't want to talk about it, thanks very much. (So definitely bring it up to him, wink.) He kicks off this brand new day with his usual routine of training on the sport's deck. Does he seem like he's hitting that punching bag just a little harder than is necessary?
After training and then a long shower, he'll go down to Sand Dollars to order himself a coffee (yes, you heard that right) and a cake. Today, apparently, he's making an exception about his no sugar rule. He'll stay there for an hour, reading a book with an aura radiating off him that threatens violence to anyone that approaches. (But when has anyone let that stop them?)
Full of caffeine and sugar, he'll spend the next part of the day pacing the decks and the promenade, feeling the need to just move and keep moving. During that time, he will realize with dismay that he knows neither Arthur nor Steve's cabin numbers, so he will either have to ask someone else or wait to find them on his own. Mostly, he's choosing the latter.
He finished the book Clara gave him this morning over his coffee, so once the pacing gets too tiring, he tries popping back into the library to find something else. All he ends up doing is staring at the titles without hardly reading them. He's not really in the mood.
Eventually, he will drag himself to the Windjammer for an evening meal. And sit alone. As one does when trying to avoid talking to anyone about their first death experience. He's got himself an entire plate of bangers and mash but he's mostly just pushing it around his plate. He just keeps seeing the black. Over and over. How is he going to sleep tonight? He supposes he will cross that bridge when he comes to it. Which won't be until well after midnight this time. He's got some more pacing on the deck to do first.
But he's fine. Really. He's fine. There's no need for anyone to talk to him about this. Ever.
What: Waking up from death after a sliiiight miscalculation
Where: Cabin 113 + Other places around the ship, just going about his day like nothing happened
When: The day after the beach party
Warnings: discussion and depictions of death, trauma, grief
That was unpleasant.
Pain is the last thing he remembers. Pain, and the distant sounds of screams. One of the voices may have been his. The black abyss they'd tipped into was akin to being swallowed whole in a nightmare. Fittingly, when you die in a nightmare you wake up. So too, does Number 6 awaken again at exactly 6:00 am the next morning, safe in bed. But not safe from the memory of the black and the way it scraped at his mind like a dull cheese grater.
He lies there a moment reorienting himself. Above him, the sight of his familiar cabin roof is both sickening and a comfort. He's alive. He's... unharmed? Why does that fact make him furious? He'd hoped, foolishly, that if he did meet death out there on the water it would be the kind that lasts. It would free him from the fate of being tied forever to the Eterna. No such luck. But if he's here then... Arthur! And young Steve! They must be just waking up as well.
There's no time to wallow in his failure. If he must continue to live here, then he may as well get on with it. He should go see how his fellows are doing. He thought he saw a group of people lingering on the beach after the last call went out. Were they planning their own escape, or was there something else going on? The only way to find out is to get out of here and go see for himself.
Number 6 can be found all around the ship, going about his day like he didn't just fall off the edge of the map like a chump. And, no, he really doesn't want to talk about it, thanks very much. (So definitely bring it up to him, wink.) He kicks off this brand new day with his usual routine of training on the sport's deck. Does he seem like he's hitting that punching bag just a little harder than is necessary?
After training and then a long shower, he'll go down to Sand Dollars to order himself a coffee (yes, you heard that right) and a cake. Today, apparently, he's making an exception about his no sugar rule. He'll stay there for an hour, reading a book with an aura radiating off him that threatens violence to anyone that approaches. (But when has anyone let that stop them?)
Full of caffeine and sugar, he'll spend the next part of the day pacing the decks and the promenade, feeling the need to just move and keep moving. During that time, he will realize with dismay that he knows neither Arthur nor Steve's cabin numbers, so he will either have to ask someone else or wait to find them on his own. Mostly, he's choosing the latter.
He finished the book Clara gave him this morning over his coffee, so once the pacing gets too tiring, he tries popping back into the library to find something else. All he ends up doing is staring at the titles without hardly reading them. He's not really in the mood.
Eventually, he will drag himself to the Windjammer for an evening meal. And sit alone. As one does when trying to avoid talking to anyone about their first death experience. He's got himself an entire plate of bangers and mash but he's mostly just pushing it around his plate. He just keeps seeing the black. Over and over. How is he going to sleep tonight? He supposes he will cross that bridge when he comes to it. Which won't be until well after midnight this time. He's got some more pacing on the deck to do first.
But he's fine. Really. He's fine. There's no need for anyone to talk to him about this. Ever.
no subject
He is a tyrant, but a weird one.
"I always wanted to explore. Now I am. I'm not much of one for ruling things, so I had to set it up to run without me. If the Captain is like me-" childish, sadistic, obsessed with apotheosis and becoming the best, a tyrant, "Then I truly wonder his endgame stage. Yose. Exploring, reclaiming my freedom at long last, was to be mine."
no subject
"I don't think comparing yourself to the Captain is a very desirable thing." Since most of the passengers on this ship despise him to some degree. "I have done my share of traveling, and there are better ways than this. The end game for the Captain, by the looks of it, does not take our safety or continued existence into account."
no subject
Everyone keeps saying that about Nobunaga and the Captain too -- not to compare himself, but it's unavoidable whenever he asks and they fling his own flaws in his face all while completely unaware. He's too hungover to deal with that right now. "I always wanted to travel." At least he isn't whining. Because that would hurt his head. "But you can't as a Demon King. Not without setting up your people to survive without you." He rolls his shoulders in thought. Why would the Captain give a fuck about them though? But Nobunaga is hungover, not drunk, so he knows not to voice that thought out loud.
"That doesn't tell us what his endgame is though. Just what it isn't. And for us all to live happily ever after was obviously never it." Because... duh. "Maybe it's training the ship how to function." Ehhhhh more importantly, "Everyone should just enjoy themselves. Especially if it spites him and spits in his face emotionally." Nobunaga holds a hand up. "I know that's a tall order in the face of torture, I'm not asking everyone to be masochists. Just find their own way of undermining his torture." Yes.
"A sente that will help reveal his gote." Hm. More Go terms that didn't translate, interesting. "A play forcing his hand to reveal his response," Nobunaga slowly translates on his own. "I wonder if the Captain plays Go. Maybe not. He seems a bit lazier than myself." Many Demon Kings were.
no subject
"I have a hard time enjoying myself when I know I am a prisoner. I know what you are getting at, but it is a tall order."
Nobunaga's mention of Go does make him wonder... "The captain does like games. You could try challenging him."
no subject
Silly Six, throwing yourself overboard won't save you, didn't you learn that yet?
"Does he? Okay. I will." Every day. Every game he can think of. In postcards. Like Saw. Normal shit.
no subject
"I hear he likes cards as well. Make sure to try that."
no subject
He thinks about the shade thing. Isn't it slavery? Or... if Nobunaga thinks of it as himself again: a refusal to waste anything.
"The opposite of muscle memory. Spirit memory," a small huff. It still ticks him off.
no subject
"Imprints might be a better term. Or, to be less optimistic, remnants."
no subject
As for the Captain's tastes. It's definitely Western. "This ship is Western. I've designed warships. I've taken in blueprints from Korean dragon turtle ships, Chinese Ming junks--" That gets a long pause the second he says the word. What the fuck is a junk? It sounds like trash. How the hell did it get there from, "Jonq." Oh English. What a language you are. "They are not refuse." Eyes narrow. "They may carry --" red eyes flicker, "Junk, yes, but they're juggernauts. Huge." A beat. "Okay, not as big as the Eterna." So fair play England. "Point is, this more closely resembles Spanish treasure galleons than even the Portuguese caravels, and Eastern is... far down on its influence list." Nobunaga pinched the bridge between his eyes. "But perhaps that has to do with how history shapes the future." That's a really tough pill for him to swallow. Japan survived though, but America seemed so over-represented on the ship, even in space travel -- well they were first after all, that it's hard for him to truly get the puzzles placed correctly when he has to guess at what each puzzle outline is, and through continual trial and error.
"I should really see about borrowing those history books from Cesar Salazar." He can't remember which name was supposed to come first or last anymore, so fuck it, both.
"Sushi and karaoke are Japanese," from the ship, "Tommy Bahamas is Western, Billy Joel is American." Random thought; "I wonder if Japan starts using chairs in the future." Fucking chairs man, you have no idea. Why are chairs? Literally why. How did they become so normalized? Why are they on a ship? Well, okay, it's not like they had to worry about waves or rocking about too much or sliding. But still! "Even the futons are absent. It would conserve on space, maximum efficiency, which the captain seems to prefer, but raised furniture is Western tradition so there's beds and--" Shit, what was that other piece of furniture called? Nobunaga rolls his hand slowly in a circle. "That... other one. The cushioned elongated chair." Another eye pinch. "Like logs to sit on." He means the couch or sofa. "It folds out." If he could figure out how to make the folding out device even springier, like a trap... He's distracting himself again.
"Though it's possibly he didn't design the ship at all, it just got salvaged." In which case there was another question of did more Americans survive and Western things in general, because presumably: more wormholes affected Americans in this direction to be taken from? And why?
no subject
That question of Nobunaga can be answered by Number 6, however. He isn't likely to like the answer. "Japan has adopted chairs, yes. And beds as well." Sorry to burst that bubble for you.
"I believe the word you might be looking for is sofa?" he supplies helpfully.
"And I suppose that could be possible. But I'm more inclined to believe he fabricated it based on some kind of media he saw. That seems to be his way."
no subject
"Sofa." Nobunaga nods. "I'll remember it." The last part makes Nobunaga a little twitchy. It's his own style too. The amount of Noh dances and songs he knows... Don't even get him started. "But no one recognizes it specifically?"
no subject
"Not that I'm aware of. If the Serena Eterna exists in some form of fiction, no one has managed to uncover that yet to my knowledge."
no subject
A quiet hum. "Then it's probably salvaged like us."
okay with wrapping this one?
"Why don't we focus on our game for now and leave the speculation for another time?"
Absolutely
He throws, and so much for dead center... he's way off again. Though at least it hit, but his wince shows he forgot everything he'd just learned five minutes ago. "I see... so this is what I get for my wandering aim." The metaphorical becomes literal, etc.