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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
Although that's still kind of in a nebulous planning state, so for now, he's just planning on getting hammered. Not that he needs to tell anybody that; they probably already can guess!!
"And yeah, it's all total bullshit anyway. My aunt's boyfriend was super into it, but the horoscopes were stupid inaccurate." Xander would read his horoscope aloud down there in the bunker, every day for a full goddamn year. It had been funny to be told to go out and make friends the first few times. By two and a half months in, it was just really fucking depressing.
no subject
"I will credit the newspaper horoscopes this much, they made an excellent vehicle for espionage." Oh, yeah. Guess what. Ever since he died, he just doesn't care about keeping his life as a spy a secret anymore. Facing death can do that for a guy.
no subject
He mostly just sticks to Hurikane at this point; if he gets drunk enough to dance to the music in there, nobody's gonna stop him.
"Y'know, that makes total fuckin' sense." And he just... accepts the espionage thing without question, huh? "Like, nobody smart's gonna look at the horoscopes, except someone who knows what to look for!" Okay, one question. "Secret messages and spy shit, right?"
no subject
"Yes, spy messages. Horoscopes use especially broad and vague language in order to appeal to a group en masse. That makes them ripe for our use. With a cipher, of course."
no subject
"Dude, that is so badass. So that's what you were doing before you showed up here? Trading spy secrets in newspapers and... I dunno, other James Bond shit?"
no subject
"I could have run laps around any James Bond book or movie. He wouldn't have lasted two weeks. Ridiculous."
no subject
"Hahaa, fuuuck, dude. So you're tellin' me that spying isn't all martinis and tail???" He's definitely teasing when he asks too-innocently, "There aren't poison darts and explosions everywhere??"
no subject
Except not because the martini.
"Speaking of drinks. Stirred is the correct way to prepare a martini. Shaken will water it down with the ice and make it cloudy. It's not showy, it's improper. And how many unwitting drinkers have been asking for their martinis that way ever since?"
no subject
He knows drinking isn't compatible with anything high-stakes... other than like, poker.
no subject
"Yet, that's all Bond really does, he tries to sound cool. Even when the stakes are high, as you say, he still would rather show off than do his duty." He has so many opinions about this. Thanks for coming to his TED talk.
"But, I shall say no more about it or I'm bound to spoil my morning more than it was already."
no subject
"Yeah, who needs that dude! C'mon, man, we gotta get you outta your head for liiiike, at least half an hour. You wanna hit up the arcade with me? I'll make an ass of myself in front of whatever teenagers are there to take the heat off you."
As if he could ever be embarrassed by anything he does!
good place to end?
"All right. Just for a while. Jinx did try to show me how the games work, but I am still an armature at best. Suppose I could do with the practice."
YES!!!
He's definitely going to make an ass of himself on the DDR machine, regardless of whether teenagers are around or not.