well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease

[decohere]

Who: Ava & OTA
What: Not doing so great! And an attempted memorial
When: Post-Excursion
Where: room 114, the literal walls, buffet, gym shower, cafe, the promenade
Warnings: these are not fun prompts. loss, self loathing and failing struggle with depression are very strong themes. 

i. room 114.

The mission was a success. With no actual contribution on Ava's part and a growing list of mistakes she's neatly compiled in her thoughts, waiting to unravel for whenever Skulduggery finally tracks her down. And she dreads it, knows well enough how these things go.

It was her choice, Skulduggery was quite right. Her choice to sideline herself and pretend she wasn't even there because she couldn't handle dealing with a small group. Of people that already didn't like her, and any minor progress she made with Darcy she's sure has been entirely undone, confirming that she was right all along to treat her so poorly. It would have been a struggle on a good day, but after isolating herself for the last few weeks... God, she was wrong to think she'd be ready.

She should have bowed out before it even began, but her wellbeing was never a priority, not with so much on the line. And it had been all she had to look forward to, the only small scrap of hope that she might be able to help out. Prove to Skulduggery and the others she wasn't a complete deadweight. Prove Izzy wrong that no crew would ever want her. Reestablish that maybe there was a purpose to her continued existence and allow her to recover.

And then it all went from bad to worse with the series of curses, with Maximilien the only one caring to go after her as she took off running as madness infected her already weak mind. And he shouldn't have. She compromised them both, and then ordered him around because in her panic she had no idea how else to get him to follow, and she hates herself for it. And he must hate her now too, because he stormed off and she hasn't heard from him since.

The mission was a success with the added bonus of reuniting Friday with her girlfriend, even under such circumstances. She half expects the ship to be torn apart in a storm any moment, and can't will herself to care. She thought Jenny was valid the first time she attacked. She feels so even more now that her freedom has been stripped of her once more. But there had been mention knowing where her brothers were, and so she hopes. Hopes for Jenny's sake that it's true.

The mission was a success, and Ava's at critical failure. Huddled under her bed ever since she got dumped back at her room. Still in her stealth suit, gripping the katana that she had salvaged from Malcolm's room in trembling hands as her last line of comfort. Unaware of how much time has passed, unaware of her need to eat, never quite managing more than a fitful hour of sleep.

And that's where she'll remain until somebody convinces her otherwise.


ii. the walls.

And then she'll sneak off to fun new hiding spots, places she thinks nobody will be able to look for her, if anyone bothers at all. The advantage of being able to phase is finding nice cozy spaces between the walls, between the floor and the ceiling below it. Ava feels rather considerate of this as well, taking her misery somewhere far more private and out of the way while everyone else continues happily on. Her depression cruelly and completely crippling her ability to reach out for the help she so desperately needs and knows she doesn't deserve.

She's doing her very best to wait out her soul finally fading away with the rest of her, because that's what happens to the weak. And Ava knows that's what she is, despite all her attempts to tell people otherwise.

But somebody passing might hear the stifled crying from the walls, or catch a knee poking out from the ceiling. What first seemed like a great idea turns out to be a bit more cramped and uncomfortable than she was counting on. Try as she might, she can't quite get herself to join the rest of the ship ghosts. It feels very unfair.

At some point, she hears somebody walking far too loudly on the floor she's hiding within, and she reaches out to grab an ankle, phase claws and all.


iii. buffet.

Eventually she does get hungry enough that she can't ignore it anymore, a dizzy sort of sway as she stares blankly at the buffet. Despite the familiar variety, absolutely nothing looks good. She picks at a few packets of crackers and sits right there on the floor, removing her face mask that she's worn for far too long now leaving the skin under it in rough condition. She takes a couple disinterested bites, and then crumbles the rest in her fist. The crumbs get all over her already dirtied suit. With her mask off, she can tell just how bad she smells. That manages to ruin the rest of her desire to eat.

iv. gym.

She hits up the gym showers. She can't get her fingers through her hair, matted from being stuck under her hood for so long. She can't work up enough energy to feel upset about it, instead sits on the floor and watches the water drain.

v. sand dollars.

Grabbing her notebook from its hiding place in her room, Ava takes it with her to the coffee shop, finally dressed in something other than her stealth suit. A plain t-shirt and a pair of camp shorts that fit far looser than months ago. With a pair of scissors, she begins cutting the pages into smaller and smaller pieces, destroying all the notes she'd taken on the Captain and the mystery of the ship and all the things she's decided aren't important. She stops once she gets to the pages of the names of the vanished passengers, her throat constricting.

She never decided what to do about it, but it was a responsibility she took on. Ava sips uneasily at her mint tea, ignoring the small bits of paper that have fallen into it. They're scattered all over the table around her, some having drifted to the floor.

vi. the promenade.

Only a handful of people helped her with her project of collecting names earlier that month, and Ava does her best to fill in as many as she can with her limited interactions. Sarge and Wanda and Natasha and Peter... all from her own world. Eleanor, who helped her with the laundry, and her brother Luke. Kore, she'd been told about. Claudia, her late night company when so few others were up and about. Reigen who hosted that first information sharing meeting who called her out for snooping, who helped her toss the casino coins overboard. Dean, who all she knows about was that he was hot, and something about Diana's opinion on his hair. Flynn, Fio's roommate who had talked down Jenny, only to be replaced by somebody who looked so similar. That she kicked out of the camp cabin, and never got to apologize to. Conner, her first roommate that she had immediately chased off and never had a chance to apologize to. Lucy, who she killed by phasing into a tree during the Battle Royale. And never had a chance to apologize to. Conan (that she doesn't realize has returned.) Ginko, who had been so calming and kind. Lucas, who she was annoyed about when she found out Malcolm had another roommate.

And Malcolm. The only person she's ever allowed so close, that made her feel like she mattered and could be better. Who dedicated his life to getting justice for the dead. She feels guilty she can't think of more, knows there's so many others she's missing.

Lucius had left her art supplies awhile back. So she writes out each of their names in red paint along the floor of the promenade, leaves flowers she's made out of paper under each. She's sure it'll be cleaned up soon enough, but maybe if she keeps watch... There's more paint, for anyone that wants to contribute. As Ava continues quietly folding flowers at one of the tables.

Comments

the walls

[busball]

Klaus has just been around. He is no more aware of the goings ons of the whatever happened on that beach than anyone else that wasn't there to begin with. So he's humming to himself and doing the occasional weird dance moves just to keep himself entertained. He feels something on his ankle and looks down.

"Uh." Because how else do you respond to a hand just grabbing hold of your ankle. "Hello?" It's a moment of brain juice not quite grasping onto information he already has, brain muddled by drinking and perhaps a little high at the same time. He's just glad this isn't a situation where hallucinations are involved. He'd be so fucked right now.

But then his brain latches onto Ava and the damn mannequins. The weird way she just made the bar go into them and then how she cheated at limbo. "What are you doing in the floor? Is this a Halloween spooky house run through or something?" He doesn't actually think that, but he still doesn't understand the floor.

[decohere]

Through the poorly insulated floor she recognizes the voice, in a vague haze, but her mind has been so desperately trying to delete itself that she doesn't immediately attach it to a name or memories or feelings she has for the source of it.

The only real word that sticks out is Halloween.

A time for ghosts and haunting, she recalls fondly. And isn't that her purpose. No. No, she reminds herself. There is no purpose to things. They just are. And aren't.

Her grip slackens for a brief moment as if she might let go. And then she gives a rather firm tug, bringing Klaus down into the floorboards with her.

[busball]

Klaus makes a surprised noise as he's dragged into the floorboards. He was not expecting to go through the floor, but he's here now, so he's just going to go with it now that he is. Even if he is wildly uncomfortable at that exact moment. He's just going to breathe carefully and hope he doesn't die somehow.

"Is this what we're doing now? Just hanging out in the floors?" He wants to turn and look at her, but he's not even sure he should move. It's a good thing there's like five million of these shirts and pants in the Tommy Bahama. "You could have warned me without the sudden drag me to hell esque situation."

There's a beat as they do sort of peer around them. "Not to ask five million questions, but are we gonna be able to breathe here long. Mostly asking for me. Cause I mean, I'm sure dying in a floor is everyone's wet dream in some weird universe, but I'm not sure how embarrassing that will be since death sticks longer."

The Walls

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt just had the absolute worst hangover of his life. Even now a few days later he's feeling it, so when he comes to the laundry room to at least make his clothes smell nice he stops abruptly staring at the shitty acoustical tiles above him.

That's... yeah that's a part of a leg sticking out of the ceiling.

It weirdly reminds him of the gross chandeliers that Jacob would make out of sinners, flayed people adorned with bones and draped from the ceiling as some sort of bizarre art exhibit. Even now he glances over at Jacob who's standing outside the room who just shrugs.

Not one of mine.

It's not bloody, it's just.. a leg. What the hell?

Pratt ungracefully scrambles up onto one of the washing machines and tries to pull it out of the ceiling because this is weird and kinda gross and he doesn't want dead limbs watching him do laundry.

[decohere]

Drifting somewhere between consciousness and not, Ava's neck is turnt at an uncomfortable angle and her shoulders are starting to cramp. That's just part of the process, she tells herself soothingly. Soon she'll become part of the infrastructure, a cog in the misery machine. Reduced to something unrecognizable, and she won't have to worry anymore about things such as pain. And isn't that what she always wanted?

(No, she doesn't want this, but she smothers out that protest.)

She's unaware of her limb poking out, because there really isn't as much room for her no matter how infinitesimal she wills herself to be. And then something is pulling at her, and she thinks: oh, this must be it.

(This isn't what she wants.)

She gives a weak kick, phase claws activating and slicing in desperate streaks of glitching blue right through the ceiling as she tries to cling on to somethingness, and only enough time for a small panicked gasp before she's tumbling out of the ceiling and on top of Pratt and the washing machines.

Sand Dollars

[makesomedeals]

Max hasn't left his room in days, after the quite frankly embarrassing fiasco when he got back to his room and having SecUnit of all people (yes People) take care of him. Maximilien is both distressed, disconcerted and suddenly wishes he could disappear like Ava.

Unfortunately he cannot.

So he is sitting in Sand Dollars, slightly hunched over a cup of chamomile tea and looking ... well he looks about the same as he always does, but his posture sure doesn't seem right.

[decohere]

What's more troubling than not realizing when Maximilien actually arrived, is that he sat over there, instead of with her. She studies him quietly for a bit, taking in the slump of his usually proud posture and the cup of tea that he can't even drink, and comes to the conclusion that he's... not doing so well.

She uneasily recalls his behavior within the jungle. And afterward how he stormed off and how badly she wanted to go after him, but couldn't. He needed space. And she needed... god, anything at all.

She worries uncertainly at her thumb nail with her teeth for a bit. And then... starts tapping out against the table's surface, hoping to quietly get his attention. Spelling out in morse code a short and simple 'hi.'

Easy enough for him to ignore if he rather. She's still not entirely convinced that he's not mad very specifically at her.

gym

[be_seeing_you]

He's just finished up an intense routine of aerobics, sword practice, and boxing. In the fatigue following that, he's paying less attention to his surroundings as he enters the showers. There is, thankfully, a large towel hitched firmly around his hips. Public showers are not a new thing to someone with a military background, but he still likes to preserve what modesty he can. His bare, freckled chest, however is still very shiny with sweat and very visible. Maybe it's a touch easier to believe he is only thirty when his defined muscles are on display.

"Ava?" he says in surprised alarm when he finally notices her on the floor. The state of her hair speaks volumes, as does the lost look on her face.

"Are you all right? I haven't seen you in some time."

[decohere]

The hot water trickling down her back is soothing against skin that's been wrapped up in thick layers of unbreathable fabric for the last several days, leaving a few welts on her skin where it's rubbed between joints. The steam makes it somewhat easier to breathe now that her mask is off, though her eyes feel overly sensitive to the light. Her suit lays unceremoniously crumpled in the middle of the floor, no real consideration for the care of such expensive customized tech.

She's exhausted, but despite everything she does feel somewhat more alive again with the sweat and tears rinsed away. Even if she can't quite work up the motivation to move. Or deal with her tangled hair.

She's zoned out when her name manages to break through the stream of water, and for a moment she's uncertain she made it to the correct shower room.

She's been accused before of being a bit of a prude, and there is some truth to that. But her issues with nudity, especially her own, are deeply rooted in a feeling of vulnerability at exposure. At being treated for so long that her body wasn't truly her own, but an experiment and a weapon and property of the state. Wrapped up in the idea that her only real value is her invisibility.

And so normally upon being found in such a completely undignified manner, especially by a man, Ava would quickly rectify the situation by making herself disappear. Instead all she manages is an uneasy flicker of surprise, her blurred vision trying to focus in on Peter from her vantage point on the floor. Acting as if it's a perfectly reasonable place to be.

And in a way, she's somewhat glad it's him given all the other possible passengers. He's never shown any inclination of judging her too poorly, has gained her trust during her moments of weakness and sharing his own. She doesn't have to brace herself against harshness.

"Oh," she replies, drawing her legs up a bit more to conceal more of her body. "I've been taking some time to myself." Which seems like a nice way to say she's been falling rather heavily into isolation, thanks for noticing.

[some days later...]

[light_mischief]

The mission had been... technically a success. Lost item retrieved, memories unlocked, mystery solved, and no casualties... aside from Jenny, who is going to definitely murder him the first chance she gets. (Which is why he's avoided the hell out of the atrium.)

It doesn't feel like success, though. Everyone is still trapped. The Captain is lukewarm at best about easing up against the passengers and has fair reasons to refuse their release. The truth had been an awful fragment, and solving one mystery has only opened a dozen more. And those curses hit some of them harder than death might've.

Skulduggery sends Ava a text the day following the heist: When you're able, we should talk. It goes unread, and after two days of that, he wakes up to a note from Friday informing him that Ava has gifts at the sundries shop.

He does, of course. A short stack of wrapped books, from the weight and feel of it. Skulduggery carries them under his arm and, with the risk of Jenny spotting him looming, he begins combing the entire ship for Ava. Nobody in her room or Malcolm's. No sign of her at John's. He's even investigating the occasional flickers of shadow that come across his periphery every so often, even though he knows they're not anything.

It's... probably a while before he finds her, mostly because she's up on the roof of the ship. It's the most telling marker that she wants to be alone; he only found her because he'd thought to get a better view. The only thing that reassures him is that she isn't still in her suit. That's why he decides to land instead of continuing to give her space, approaching her with slow, measured steps, her sundries gifts still under his arm.

"Special delivery," he says. He's trying for playful, but his concern isn't easily hidden.

[decohere]

She's perched at the edge of the roof, bare legs dangling over. She'd been wearing sandals at one point, had let them hang perilously off her toes until they dropped and fell. Her hands are curled up into her sleeves, the dark green hoodie far too large for her, because it hadn't been hers originally.

It's a nice view. If there was anything to really look at, yet it's held her attention for the better half of the day. The sun is on its way down, low over the horizon but there's a few more hours of light left. Her face is turned away from the glare of it.

As Skulduggery approaches, she turns her head the other way, staring down over the side. "I don't want it," she whispers, not knowing what it is and unable to bring herself to care. Collecting anything from the sundries makes her uneasy, expecting yet another curse. A punishment wrapped up in nice cheerful paper. Or an empty worthless trinket.

Normally his presence brings her an easy happiness, but she's been dreading this. The confrontation. Having to explain herself and her actions.

VI

[saltwaterlungs]

At some point Darcy comes across the list of names. She doesn't recognize the purpose to them at first, worries it's Jenny planning a list of victims or some such, but... she connects the dots fairly easily. Darcy retrieves some paint and writes 'PROMPTO' in her thin, tall handwriting, and then when she turns back to return it- oh. She hadn't even really noticed Ava. She... swallows the guilt in her throat and approaches.

"Can I... take a flower?" she asks, gesturing back to the name, "my first roommate. He was nice, and I didn't... notice he'd gone until I got a new one. I don't think I was a good roommate."

[decohere]

She doesn't expect anyone to particularly notice or care what she's doing. It isn't for them, not really. She chose the floor along the promenade symbolically anyway. One of the most common pathways through the popular amenities of the ship. The ship powered by those lost souls, tread upon with so little regard. Invisible and forgotten.

The ghosts might not even be aware of themselves to recognize the gesture or their own names scrawled across the floor. But maybe. Maybe there's just enough left.

But it doesn't surprise her that Darcy of all people takes notice and contributes. She knows the young woman well enough to know she has respect for the dead, and she glances up at her with a faint smile of appreciation and the offer of one of the paper flowers with a trembling hand.

The name she sits closest to is Malcolm's, and she's tried not to show too much favoritism. But it does have quite a bit more flowers placed around it than the others.

"Me neither," she says sympathetically. "But I used to be kept in a glass chamber. So. You know, adjustments."

vi

[fonomena]

It's rather impossible to miss the addition to the promenade, between the red of the paint and the fairly trafficked nature of the path it's painted on. Jade spots the letters before he spots Ava, a mildly starting discovery in what had been something of an absent-minded walk from one deck span to the next. (He's not really going anywhere in particular at the moment--just pacing out a too-familiar route through the ship interior, while thoughts of recent events continue to chew at him--)

Some of the names are moderately familiar, though--and between the clear trend, and the flowers laid out...it doesn't take long to realize where the source must lie. Jade pauses right beside Flynn Scifo's name, and then looks up, scanning the nearby tables that tend to be scattered across the promenade...ah. There, a familiar face, with her elbows in more paper flowers across the way.

"I see you've settled on something here...a fitting sort of memorial, this. Quite distinct, doesn't take much explanation. I assume the location's quite intentional as well?"

Less of his usual cheer, in favor of a more pensive sort of neutrality, as Jade crosses over to close the distance. Though he's still offering Ava a pleasant enough smile, as he draws over. Hm, he has to wonder if she's in much better shape than she had been the last time he'd seen her--quiet and listless, in that walk back to the cabins when they'd returned from the island...

[decohere]

Ava nods in confirmation, knows Jade is the sort thoughtful enough to put her intentions together. Because she's sure plenty of others will miss the purpose of the obvious.

She offers him up a flower she just finished, though it's crumpled at the edges as she's worried the paper too much.

"Glad to see you seem well. I never got to properly thank you."

[obeyseventually]

Jack pauses mid scoop of tater tots as he recognizes the woman at the buffet. More importantly, he recognizes the strange sort of... Distance in her actions, and the listlessness... Maybe not perfectly, but it's familiar enough to get him thinking about more than a few of his quiet moments in Fort Frolic, Arcadia's wineries, an apartment or two in Olympus Heights and Hestia, and... Well, and so on.

He finishes loading up his plate and puts together a smaller plate to balance beside it, and then he walks over to her. He hovers for a second, before he tucks the loaded plate as securely as he can in a space on the buffet table and squats down beside Ava.

"I think the floor is a little more comfortable by the hot food section." he says, his light tone more an invitation to speak than an actual attempt to land a joke.

[decohere]

Ava knows there's feet approaching, but can't quite work up the energy to see who they belong to. At first she thinks she's in whoever's way, blocking the soup station, and can't be damned to move. But then they're at her eye level, and she's forced to recognize Jack as somebody she's spoken to before. Trying to remember what they talked about is outside her ability at the moment. Just the general impression that he seemed interesting enough. She checks to see if he's wearing that shirt from Tommy Bahama.

"Then you can go over there," she responds blankly, fiddling with another packet of crackers.

Then sighs, shaking her head. "Nothing looks good," she admits.

vi. the promenade

[prince_of_beasts]

Dimitri doesn't recognize the names, but he knows a memorial when he sees one. Paper flowers and all -- real ones aren't easily come by in Fhirdiad, and the overnight chills turn them to mush. He keeps a respectful distance while Ava works, circling slowly to read name after name.

There are so many names.

When she pauses for a moment, or maybe when his observation is noticed, he asks quietly, "Who were they?"

Re: vi. the promenade

[decohere]

Her work is slow and not exactly steady, and there's strokes she has to go back over when her hands skip out of existence. But she's determined to finish, even if her knees are starting to hurt against the floor.

She peeks up at Dimitri with a tired sort of frown, tries poking a stray curl back behind her ear and getting a trace of red paint in it.

"The passengers that didn't make it," she tells him somberly. "It's not a complete list, if I've missed anyone..."

v

[sabigoe]

Sand Dollars is one of Fio's favorite places to spend her time working. Working which just means another arts and crafts session. The day at the beach was enjoyable, having put her in good spirits, but that's not the case for everyone. Completely unaware that anything like a heist took place in the evening since she left the island far earlier than most passengers.

When Fio arrives, accompanied by the usual floating Judith, she spots Ava at a table and initially, doesn't pay any mind to the bits of paper scattered all around. Smiling brightly, she quickly moves to join her, hauling over a tote bag in her arm full of art materials, some picture books from the library, and a couple of sea shells from the beach. She had been hoping to see Ava, to show off some of her finds...

It's not until she's close that she realizes there's something wrong.

"Ava...?"

...She had known Ava was feeling down. And now, she seems even worse. Her smile falters, as she sets her belongings down on the opposite seat.

As she looks over, she notices the bits of paper fallen into the tea. She reaches over, her little hands closing around the cup, "I'll... I'll go get you another one!"

[decohere]

There's a spark of guilt at Fio's arrival, knowing she hasn't been around as much as she should be, allowing the girl to see her this way. But there's the usual happiness too, tugging at the corner of her mouth before she's even fully aware of it. She's reserved most of her better mood for Fio during their dinners, but even her attempts there had been wearing thin and she keeps worrying that maybe she's a bad influence. Yet there's relief too, that Fio hasn't caught her at the worst of it. That at least she's showered and eaten some and feels more present and responsive.

Fio's presence is a much needed reminder of all those reasons she needs to keep going. Her promise. By the time Fio's returned with the new cup, she's sitting up a bit straighter, the confetti of paper bits pushed into a neat pile off to the side.

"Thank you," she responds, grateful for the fresh cup of tea. Supporting her weight tiredly against her elbows, Ava leans forward. "What do you have there?"

V

[lightconductor]

"Ah, Miss Ava, we meet again."

His tone is light, but there's concern in his voice all the same. All that confetti all around her, a mark of careful destruction, and she does look thin, in a way she hadn't before. Watson comes over with his cup of coffee, offering a smile and a plate with a few little fancy pastries on it.

"Might I join you? You look occupied, but perhaps you'd like the company regardless."

[decohere]

Though she appears rather occupied with her bits of paper, Ava does hear the approach. Even while she's trying to zone her surroundings out, it's far too ingrained a habit to break. Her gaze is a bit weary, lifting her head at the sound of her name, because as little energy she has for socialization, well. She does rather like Dr. Watson.

She lazily brushes some of the paper bits aside, trying to clear the table some for him. It's a mess, and she's not so sure what he must think. But she nods, though it's quickly obvious her attention is right on those pastries. "Can't promise I'll be decent company in return," she admits, her voice worn out. "But. It's nice to see you."

IV

[actuallyawolf]

There's some luxurious about showers for Ylva. Nothing she hasn't seen before, but... a rarity, something special that's casually normal here. And after a run on a treadmill (having worked out how that's supposed to work), and sweaty and happy, she comes into the showers and immediately stops.

Ava, who was so kind to her at the party, and who she hasn't seen since. And who looks... well, kind of terrible.

"You don't look good," she says. Polite questions like are you okay might be more appropriate, but in this moment, she goes right for what she's thinking. She squats down next to Ava, frowning. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?"

[decohere]

She remembers Ylva well enough, her ability to turn into a cute otter and splashing about in the pool. And then immediately ruining the good time of the birthday party with informing her of uncomfortable truths about their situation on the ship, kicking the woman into some sort of panic that Ava had done her best to soothe over.

So out of all the people that could find her this way, she's not immediately overly ashamed. Even though they don't know each other well, hadn't seen each other since, there was that shared moment of vulnerability. Still, Ava curls up slightly, her form flickering anxiously.

"No, I'm..." there's a few abrasions from wearing her suit far too long, but they're hardly the source of her distress. She doesn't quite know how to explain what is wrong with her though, and so settles on, "I was cursed. Back on the island..."