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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
Don't make him be the one to break it to her, too, he's broken enough hearts today.
"You're good with that weapon of yours. I don't dispute that. But what will you ever do if you don't have it at hand?"
no subject
"Usually I just ru— perform a... tactical retreat." She runs. Or, she did, she hasn't actually been disarmed in a while. "I've only been caught out without Crescent Rose a handful of times. Once I left it in my locker, once it fell off when I fell in a hole... but most of the time I just haven't had to think about it."
Even on the ship she takes it everywhere, because the habit is just that ingrained. She hasn't had the weapon out of reach for more than an hour or two since her school days.
"But— you're right. Especially since things are different here."
no subject
"That said, there are sometimes situations where fleeing is impossible. And that's when having some extra skills at your disposal may make all the difference. Because, as you said, things here are very different. One day, we could all wake to find our weapons have been confiscated by the Captain. Best to be prepared for any eventuality."
no subject
"I also don't have my usual tools to maintain her. Which isn't a big deal in the short term, but the longer we're here, the more she's going to need proper maintenance to keep functioning right."
Little does she know she'll be getting a toolkit soon, but it's a valid concern either way. There are some things she wouldn't be able to fix even with the right tools. As much as she hopes that doesn't happen...
She sighs and then smiles, shrugging a little. "Any eventuality."
no subject
It still feels dirty to him to have to discuss eventualities like this with a teen, but in light of how little care the Captain has to the age of his victims, he'd rather put a weapon (or, in this case, more training) in a child's hand then let them face what may come unprepared.
"In any case, boxing and other hand-to-hand styles can be yet another good means of honing your overall battle technique. Being able to identify the strategy of another's fighting style can give you another edge where it counts."
no subject
"That I at least have a solid base in. I'm used to adapting to other people's fighting styles on the fly; that should help with applying it elsewhere, right?"
As much as huntsmen are technically trained to fight monsters, criminals are still in their remit and most of their training is done against other huntsmen in training. So it's one of those things you really have to have in your arsenal when the other person's fighting style can involve such... varied weapons, and techniques.
no subject
"We can agree to a weekly training time, if that suits. To start in a few days, I think, once you're fully recovered from your evening."
no subject
He's very lucky he's not Yang who gets full little sister whining and attitude, with him she'll actually behave herself and listen without complaint.
"Yeaaaah I would not be a great student right now, I think if I move too fast my head might just..." She mimes vaguely a ball like, bouncing along a floor. "But a few days and I'll be right as rain. I can make it part of my weekly routine."
no subject
"Unfortunately, the cure for that is drinking plenty of water and getting rest. So, perhaps I should let you get back to that nap. But, yes, making it a part of both our routines would work well."
no subject
She groan-laughs, rubbing her face and brushing her hair back from it. "I can't believe I fell asleep here... I didn't realise I was still that tired, I guess. Maybe I should even head back to my cabin..."
Clarke's probably not there right now, she might be able to get another nap in...
good to wrap i think!
"But, yes, I think you might be better off napping in a real bed for the sake of your poor neck. Even you young ones can get sore."
annnd wrap
"Passing out face-down in my dino nuggets would be pretty embarrassing..." She laughs again, closing the book and pulling herself all the way up to her feet. "O-kay then. Naptime for me. See you once I'm a human being again, Mr. Smith."
And she will head back to her room. She'll be functional again by their first training session.