come_sailaway | well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease

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well they said she died easy of a broken heart disease

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Skulduggery is unmindful of the drop as he wanders closer, although he stops short of the edge. She is so distinctly, utterly miserable that for a moment, Skulduggery considers fleeing. He has consistently proven to be an unreliable source of comfort at times like this; just as likely to make things worse as he is to make them better.

But Ava isn't just his friend; she's part of the team, no matter how short-lived it is, and all of this is his responsibility. His fault. He can't run away from that, no matter how easy it is to do.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "They feel like books... You don't want to pass up good reading, do you?"

There's plenty of books in the library, she doesn't answer. Simply shrugs in disinterest.

Her thumbnail continues to worry away at the soft fabric, balling her hands more tightly into the sleeves.

"You can have them."

She may call herself Ghost while in her suit, but she's acting more like one now, dressed in oversized sweaters and staring out at the endless horizon. Is it the curse? Still, even now, that sort of experience can shake a person. Is it because he didn't go after her? He should have. Should he tell her that? Would that make anything better, or just make her less interested in talking than she already clearly is?

He can't leave while she's like this. Part of him worries she'll disappear if he does.

"Well, let's see." He comes closer, settling cross-legged beside her and dropping the packages in his lap. He opens each of them in turn, completely with light running commentary. "Ultimate Mind Games... with over 400 puzzles? Sounds like fun. And Modern Cryptanalysis: Techniques for Advanced Code Breaking? Are you sure you don't want that? It seems right up your alley..." What with the zodiac codes and detective boyfriend. And then lastly...

"Huh. Do you know a group called the Thunderbolts?" He holds this one up from his lap for her to see, a glossy trade paperback.

She's not sure what this tactic of his is. What he's trying to accomplish as he settles down beside her. Is he baiting her? Skulduggery's a detective by trade, she knows well enough they have ways of getting people to talk but she has no idea what he even wants her to say.

Malcolm always knew how to get her to open up, and now all of those pieces of her feel lost. She tugs the hood up over her head, presses her face into the edge of fabric, closes her eyes and lets herself imagine for a moment that it still smells of him.

She listens to the tear of paper. Puzzles do sound fun, and the code breaking too. Not that she can think of any use any of that has. How any of her talents or interests will ever be relevant or helpful. They're just pointless games.

She stays strong, she thinks. Not giving in. But then he asks a question that feels so out of left field that she finally glances over, taking in the unfamiliar cover of the... comic book? With a variety of characters that she doesn't recognize. A pretty girl with pink and white hair and a busty blonde in a white suit that looks more painted on that actual clothing. Some sort of swamp monster. And then squints slightly, because some bitch stole her look. But she shakes her head, looks away again.

Relief sweeps through Skulduggery when she acknowledges him, even if it's just to shake her head and look away. He can't show it, but at least he knows which of the three books is more likely to draw a reaction out of her, and he flips it around to look at the cover again for himself.

"One of them looks a bit like you in your suit." That's probably why she received it. Friday probably saw the Ghost-look-alike and wrapped it up for her. Would she do it to make her feel better? He doesn't know.

He flips it open and reads a few pages, providing some idle commentary. Mostly about the names and costumes -- "Doctor Freund? Really," "The artist must love drawing Moonstone," and things like that. And then, with a little surprise he announces, "Ahhh. Look here. Ghost Story. I suppose this might actually be about you. Or... a you. 'Dangerous to share data...' Hm. Does sound a bit like you..."

She crosses her arms over her chest as he voices the stolen likeness, mumbles something about copyright. Except she doesn't much believe in the concept, and even if she had a case other than flimsy similarity, it's not like she's suing anyone interdimensionally.

But she doesn't get far in her imagining what sort of court hearing that'd involve when he continues to provide commentary. And she can't help but glance over. Moonstone must be the blonde lady with the big boobs, she guesses, because there's plenty of panels featuring her booty and Ava rolls her eyes before glancing away again. Clearly she's not the demographic for this.

And then as she reaches for the puzzle book, so slowly, hoping he won't notice while distracted with teen boy entertainment... And reads the title of Ghost Story. She freezes up with an uneasy sense of curiosity. Leans in closer to peek. Is it meant to be her? The little buzzing flies around makes her huff just slightly.

If he noticed her reaching for the puzzle book, he doesn't comment on it; when she leans in for a look at the comic, however, he obligingly lowers it for her to get a better look.

The story isn't about Ava, though. It's about someone else with the same powers, the same suit, but it isn't the same person. He's fairly positive Ava mentioned her condition being the cause of an accident when she was young, but is that true? He can't remember for certain.

"Does any of this seem familiar to you?" he asks, once they've flipped about a dozen pages in.

At first, no, none of it seems familiar at all. She's not a dumpy looking white man that works in IT. But she can sympathize with the story, of being taken advantage of by employers, of being run into the ground and isolated with no social life. To be treated as so important for her abilities and yet so disposable as a person. Invisible. But it's not her, not really. That's just America. And she doesn't realize that her views do line up far too well with the narration, because she feels that's just how anyone feels.

But it gets to the pages about the guy, this other Ghost, losing his girlfriend and his rather horrific way of handling the grief by trying to escape reality, that hits Ava far too hard.

Her eyes are glossy, but far too worn out to really cry anymore, folding trembling hands around the puzzle book just to have something to hold onto.

And then finally admits with a twinge of shame, "Malcolm's gone. Three weeks."

Skulduggery doesn't move for a few seconds, looking from the comic to the book Ava's clutching, and then he turns his head to fix his gaze on her entirely. Three weeks? An entire month had almost gone by and he hadn't even noticed? He would have thought she'd tell him something that important, but still, he hadn't asked. He'd been so wrapped up in preparing for the excursion that it just... hadn't occurred to him to wonder.

He drops the comic, although he doesn't know what to do with his hands once he does.

"Gone?" he repeats in disbelief, "My god, Ava. I'm sorry."

"I know I should have told you," she says with a break in her voice. Still managing not to cry. "I didn't want you to think I was compromised. Or weak. But I... I let you down."

"What do you mean, you let me down?" He's very nearly startled into action, moving closer until their legs are pressed side by side. He would go to embrace her, but he isn't sure she'll allow him to and he can't push it.

Ava presses her eyes closed.

She's prepared herself for this at least, the explaining of her actions. "I disobeyed a clear order not to touch anything and compromised our position. I agitated my teammates. And argued about something as petty as stairs, and you..." snapped at her.

Because she was being unreasonable, and it was her choice, and he wasn't wrong about any of it.

"I didn't fulfill my role of staying outside, because I was too caught up in not wanting to be left out. And then I did not assist with the purpose of the mission. I caused further burden by giving in to madness. I endangered Maximilien by diverting. Became a deadweight. Refused to get up and took up your time."

She's sure there's more. But she has to own up to her faults if she's meant to do any better. Not that she thinks he'll give her another chance. Everyone else proved themselves far more reliable.

Her review of her own performance walks the line between critical and factual, but Skulduggery doesn't interrupt to correct any misgivings. She isn't wrong, exactly; she'd been short with the others, had snipped too much and gotten irritated with the unexpected diplomacy, and she had indeed diverted from the main course. But they're weighted too strongly against what was, for all purposes, a successful mission.

He considers how best to respond for a quiet moment, fixing his gaze at the endless horizon.

"...Saracen Rue slipped down an embankment once. He just... Slipped. Tripped. Rolled, right down into the middle of their camp. Didn't even realize he was there until it happened and Shudder was barrelling into the fray. And Shudder -- he and Larrikin were constantly bickering. They got into a silent wrestling match as our targets were passing our hiding spot, all because Larrikin tried to hug him."

It's the first time in a while that he's bothered to mention them at all. He's certain he's never said much about them to Ava. Still... it's nice to remember the Dead Men in the wake of another mission. And even better to use their absolute buffoonery as a lesson.

"I've worked with teams on and off for most of my life, and the one thing I know about them is that there is always friction. There are always mistakes. Petty squabbles. Full-blown fist fights, more times than I care to admit. But the only thing that matters, in the end, is that we all get back in one piece. We bring each other back."

Which brings him to the most important point. "It was my mistake for not going after you. I should have done so the second I realized what was happening, and I'm grateful that Maximilien had the wherewithal to follow you. And you didn't take up my time. You're part of the team, and you needed support. That was your first time ever being cursed, wasn't it? It takes a lot out of you, no matter how used to it you may be."

She doesn't understand who he's talking about at first, or why. What relevance it has to her mistakes or the mission. But by the end she understands what he's attempting to do, make light of it all, and she sighs quietly. She appreciates him sharing his experiences with other idiots, at least. He never tells her all that much about his past, mostly he just talks about the Captain.

"I've never worked on a team," she tells him. Didn't really understand what her role in it was meant to be, but making herself invisible felt the only solution to soothe over tensions and nobody had protested or tried to reason with her otherwise, nobody expressed much at all. Yet she followed anyway, just in case, hoping she could at least help once they were in danger. No moment of redemption ever came.

"But I was looking forward to this. It was the only thing... I had any hope in, these last weeks. And yes. It was a success. He got what he wanted. You got what you wanted. And I..." she stares down at the puzzle book, ready to throw herself into problems that at least make sense to her. "Contributed absolutely nothing. And I'm putting you in the unfortunate position of trying to comfort me for how worthless I am, as if you don't have better things to do."

She narrows her eyes slightly, shakes her head. "Of course you shouldn't have come after me. What would that have accomplished?" They needed to get back to the ferry and Friday to ensure what they came for was secure, or else it would have been all for nothing. He used to trust her and all she did was prove to him why he shouldn't.

"My entire fucking life is a curse, Skulduggery."

Skulduggery is quiet again after she speaks, bending the comic in his hands before letting go again. His instinct screams at him to debate and counter her arguments; to point out his own failings, highlight the extenuating circumstances they couldn't have planned for, and reiterate the fact that even his closest comrades could hardly keep their own shit together. He should have done more to prepare them to work together, and he should have made his expectations clearer. Instead, he'd simply asked if they wanted to join him on some mystery hunt and left everything else up to disastrous chance.

But that isn't an argument he needs to make, or a fight he wants to have.

He reaches his hand out, settling it on her arm, easy to shake away, even if he hopes she won't. "I'm sorry, Ava. I knew you weren't comfortable with teams, but I didn't consider that when asking you along. I should have noticed something was wrong, I should have noticed Malcolm was missing. And I should have gone after you because it was my fault any of you were there to begin with."

He shakes his head. "But please, don't think for a moment I'm here comforting you because I need to. I'm here because I want to be here. There's no place more important."

She begins to lean away from the touch, because she is expecting more of an argument. She's practiced it half a dozen times in her head, what he'd say, how she'd snap back, and every version of it ends with her even more upset and him finally admitting he doesn't have any use for her.

Except the Skulduggery that lives in her head isn't the one sitting next to her, and she leans back in with a bit of an overcorrection.

"Don't apologize. I was happy you asked me," she says quietly, probably would have been just as upset if he excluded her. "I'm not sure why you'd have noticed, about Malcolm. I avoided telling you. But I've... I've been having a hard time. Without him." And an even harder time now. "I shouldn't have allowed my personal issues to interfere with my focus. But when he left, he... took my self worth with."

Which is the bit she hasn't told anyone else, how much of her confidence had become so overly dependent on Malcolm. To an unhealthy degree. She had arrived on the ship with so very little social skills, absolutely no experience in relationships, right off the edge of dying. And Malcolm had managed to make her feel good about herself in a way she never had. "I know you're busy. So I don't like to ask a lot of you," she tells him. "But... thanks for bringing me the books."

He feels her shift and expects the worst, and is quick to put his arm around her shoulder when she instead leans back in.

"I wish you had felt like you could tell me, but I understand why you didn't." He doesn't show enough care or interest in anyone else's affairs, falling into the same trap he did back home. Focusing singlemindedly on the next step, the next mission, the next big mystery. "...You should know that you're worth more than whatever piece of you he took. I'm sorry that his vanishing has caused you so much pain."

"I didn't tell Maximilien either," she admits, in case he thinks it's a reflection on him and his failings as a friend and not her own insecurities. But she curls up against his side, face finding a place to hide in the fabric of his suit jacket.

"Because I got it in my head. That you'd both think less of me for being so upset. And I didn't want to lose you too. I haven't had friends before. Or a boyfriend. Or anyone relying on me. I didn't realize how hard it all was."

Skulduggery bows his head to rest on top of hers. "It is hard, isn't it?" he responds. "Having people rely on you, and having to rely on them in turn. But just because something is difficult doesn't mean that it isn't worth pursuing. Bonds are necessary. Isolating ourselves here is only going to lead to more pain and misery."

It's a less desperate plea than the one after the Battle Royale, but no less sincere. "You aren't going to lose me over something like this, that's for sure." He would be a hypocrite if that were the case. His own emotional outburst had led to his death, not to mention the deaths of countless others...

"But it's all I ever really knew, the pain and misery. It's what feels safe," Ava protests weakly, knows it's already a lost battle because it's hard to stay away from him for too long. Knows it's not what she really wants, but she's at a loss how she's meant to move forward when everything feels so empty.

"I've spent my whole life wishing for something better, but all my efforts have ever gotten me is more disappointment and failure." It's not just Skulduggery she feels as if she's let down, but everyone that's tried to help her.

Her hand transfers its grip from the book to his arm. "I know I can't get him back. But I've spent days in the walls, trying to join him." But clearly she's still there.

Skulduggery squeezes her close. He knows the feeling, can relate to it more than he'd care to admit. Pain becomes more comfortable the longer you're in it, and both of them have been settled into it for most of their lives.

"I was worried that you might have vanished," he admits. "And I'm thankful that you're still here. Even if you'd rather be gone -- we still need you here." Fio would be heartbroken, and he can only imagine how poorly Maximilien would take it if she were to disappear. Selfishly, he knows he would take it worst of all.

"Each day is harder than the last, I know. But it... can be easier, with others around to share the weight."

She breathes out in a shudder, feels a bit of weight eased just in being able to admit to it. And that Skulduggery doesn't dismiss it all as irrational or irrelevant.

It's such a relief to hear him say it, about her still being there. And it's true, she doesn't want to let Fio down. But there's one thing she wants to ask of him, that's difficult to work up the courage. It feels like too much. Too needy.

"I... can I ask you for something?" she begins, tilting her head up to peer at him through dark lashes.

Sharing the weight of his responsibilities with Darcy gives him the chance to take some of Ava's burdens onto his shoulders. He doesn't know what that might entail here and now, but when she looks up at him... how could he possibly deny her?

"Name it," he says, with absolute conviction.

"It's actually two things," Ava admits almost apologetically.

The first being "Can you check in on me more?" she requests shyly. "I know I make it seem like I rather be left alone. And I'm not great about answering my phone. But it's easy for me to convince myself that nobody wants me around, unless they... want something. And sometimes it feels like all you care about is the Captain."

She bites her bottom lip, doesn't mean for that to sound accusatory. "Which isn't to say you can't come to me for that. I like when you... trust me, tell me secrets, ask for my thoughts. I do want to be somebody that you can depend on," she tells him. Doesn't want him to mistake her breakdown for no longer willing to support him. Even if there is the underlying issue of: your love interest's ship fucking ate my boyfriend.

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