Crew Meeting

[touchofcashmere]

Who: The BlackBonnet Crew
What: Seasonal Meeting
Where: The Theater
When: 9/24
Warnings: General warning because look who we've got here.



The set up is not much different from last time, with food and drinks set up at tables on the side of the stage that can be rearranged for when it's time to do something more creative. The difference a prop wall has been pulled onto to the stage, proudly displaying everyone's flags.

Grab a drink and some food and be ready to reconnect with your marvelous mates!

Comments

[theweakhavepurpose]

Captain Hands.

[Trying that out for himself. Yeah, that's a name he could say in various situations with differing emphasis depending on what effect he's going for. A good solid name.]

Take me on your next missions and lemme prove my worth. I'm good for it.

[ninetoes]

[You're deranged and it's very sexy.]

I shall endeavor to do my best. Our mission now is to sort of this soul business.

[theweakhavepurpose]

Yeah. [Only slightly disappointed because this is like the boring set up to some actual action. Which he gets is necessary, but he's the sort of guy who'd like to jump to the main event.]

Right. Three brothers. Three bars. Souls are trapped somehow. Got it. Just got to find them, figure out how to get their souls free and back into... their bodies I guess? Do we know their names?

[ninetoes]

Coatrischie. Guatauva. Hu-Rakan.

[He probably mangled that but in his defense the Captain only told him once.]

And no, we need them in our possession if we intend to negotiate with any real levity.

[theweakhavepurpose]

Wait, Rischie, Tauva and Hurrikane? Wow, that's not subtle at all. Guess he's trying to rub it in her face hardcore. Ouch.

I'm gonna feel weird as fuck holding some guys soul in my hands. No man should have that power. [He shudders. Not wanting to experience that. But hey they're at the Promenade now. Pratt gestures at the names of the bars above the entrances.] Who you wanna look for first?

[ninetoes]

[Well you sure figured that out fast. Took him and Skulduggery a hot minute to get there, damn boy.]

Tauva I think. I like it there best. And you needn't worry about holding anyone's soul, I'll handle that part.

[Says the man who very much wants to have power and is not amazing at wielding it. What can go wrong!?

Don't think about it too much. Work hard, keep a spring in your step, do what you're told? You'll have a long, happy tenure. there's not even a ship to keep running, it's a piece of piss, this job.

He nods them towards Tauva, happy to browse through the humidor whilst they're in there. Technically this is work, so there's no drinking,]

You've been here longer than I. If you were the Captain and you were going to mock the soul of your enemy, where would you display it?

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Get some smokes and do some literal soul searching.]

Depends on if he thought Jenny was gonna be around to see it. If not, somewhere hidden where they would know there's no hope of escape. But if she's around maybe flaunt it somewhere really obvious to show off.

[He glances at the ceiling, hoping for a fancy chandelier with one crystal that's a different color than the others. But the wooden ceiling doesn't provide anything quite that obvious. He walks to one of the displays of cigars picking one at random so he can at least smoke while thinking about this.]

Well he can't be one of the whiskeys or someone would accidentally drink him. Not anything that's edible or usable. So it's gotta be in the sign or the walls or an object that wouldn't move.

I feel bad for him if he's like... a chair.

[ninetoes]

[It's strange, all this. These names, these gods. They're weirdly familiar to Izzy but he can't remember why. Names that superstitious sailors and landfolk alike keep close to their chests across the Caribbean and central america. Fuck, he should have paid closer attention to those stories. Maybe then he would have recognized Guatauva as a thunder god. Maybe that could illuminate (ha) his whereabouts. The Captain likes irony. It would be funny.]

A chair would be humiliating.

[But it's a good first step and Izzy runs his hand across the back of the nearest chesterfield, examining the brass tacks one at a time.]

Bring anything that looks valuable to the bar.

[If anything, this is a very leisurely looting of the place. Ashtray? Useless. Paintings on the walls? Bolted down and likely also without value. He squints up at the light bulbs just in case, but he doesn't understand electricity at the best of times and whilst a light bulb is valuable to him, the ship has millions of them so that's also out.

but this is the search for hidden treasure, isn't it. Which means it's also perfectly reasonable to think that said treasure might be hidden in other objects. Izzy picks up a lamp, he rattles it. He weighs his options and then smashes it against the table, base first.]

[theweakhavepurpose]

Sorry if this is you bro.

[Said to the nearest chair as he plops down briefly so he can cut and light a cigar. If he's doing some ransacking and looting while being a henchman, he's gonna look the part. Sitting there puffing he considers his options. Obviously, they could break everything, but there's also the chance they break whatever is holding him and then his soul... floats away? Gets destroyed? Pratt doesn't know how this shit works.

He walks along one wall, fingers dragging along the wood paneling, looking for hidden cabinets or doors, pressing to see if any of the boards pop out. Then he's going to shove the chairs to the middle of the floor and get down on his knees to pull the carpeting up. Instinctively he reaches to his belt for the multi-tool he would have been carrying as a Deputy back home, but of course it's not there. Time to get creative. He smashes one of the glasses against the counter and starts cutting the carpet from the wall so he can rip it up.]

There was like ten years in America where alcohol was illegal, called Prohibition. And during that time they built these speakeasies into the floors and shit, with hidden passages. All the cool bars were underground and they'd be all stone and wood and look fucking awesome. Seems like something the Captain might like.

[ninetoes]

[You know what, fair enough. Henchman this shit up as much as you want, Izzy doesn't care. they're here, they're vibing, they're tearing the place apart. They look great whilst they're doing it.

His smashed lamp doesn't seem to yield anything. Alas. He can help shove the furniture about, and honestly? he's more than happy to let Pratt be the one to get down on his knees. Younger bodies and all (or is he just lazy and wants Pratt to do it), so he goes to fuck about behind the bar looking for anything shiny. Methodically lift every bottle of whiskey. Turn over glasses, whiskey rocks, does anything look like a jewel?]

That'd be impressive given we're on deck 5. What's below us.. the theater and the gambling hall.

Speakeasy sounds the sort of place you'd have a nose jar.

[theweakhavepurpose]

Well if I tear this up and fall into the casino try and make up a better story than I fell through the floor looking for someone's soul.

[As someone who's experienced at being on his knees, Pratt is fine with this. He keeps slicing the carpet, tearing it up to reveal the subfloor. He sits back on his heels, turning to look at Izzy over his shoulder.]

Are we being dumb about this? Have you tried like... asking the bartender? They'll get us anything we want right? Think they'll just hand it over? It's not like the ghosts give a fuck.

[ninetoes]

[Weee are technically still in September, aren't we. Izzy glances up just as he bites into a whiskey stone. Ow. He looks at it. The bite didn't do as much as he'd hoped. Not gold, then. Lame.

Even more lame is the long sidelook as he traaaacks over towards where the ghostly bartender should be. What's up buddy. He in your space? Looks like it.]

I'd like...to order the soul of Guatauva.

[Worth a shot??]

[sailmods]

[like most appearances on this ship, there is no fading in, no formation. once second, there was nothing. the next second, within a mere blink...

a cat, its eyes closed and body formed of an unnatural light, is sitting motionless on the bar.]

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Pratt had absolutely not expected that to really work, and he'd half turned back to his carpet ripping endeavor when he does a double take because. That sure is... well it's basically a cat. Cat-shaped anyway.]

That's.. not the cat that lives on the ship. [Meaning Giles.] You got this boss.

[Pratt isn't about to parlay with a cat, because his negotiations with the Captain devolved into talking about Thunderdome. But he gets up to go stand behind Izzy. Backup and also moral support.]

[ninetoes]

[Oh no that is. Yeah, that sure is some kind of quantum universe light cat, huh. Izzy wets his lips. This feels insane. But it's something? And it's magic? And it's a whole hell of a lot better than biting stones waiting for something magic to happen.

Slowly, carefully moving around to be in front of said spectral meow meow.]

Pspsps...

[sailmods]

[the goat cat remains as still as water. it's an odd way for a cat to be, really. not even a flicker of a tail, or a twitch of an ear. just stillness, silence. as if waiting.]

[ninetoes]

[Okay we're really doing this, then. Izzy glances back at Pratt for a sec before focusing on Bameowamut, gathering his courage, and reaching to stroke his pointer finger up their brow.

>pet cat]

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Pratt moves closer in case 'Pet Cat' becomes 'Suck Izzy into Another Dimension'. He's ready to pull him back.]

[sailmods]

[his hand passes into the ghost's form without causing any movement; it simply slips through.

at first, the flesh inside feels very, very cold. and then, it doesn't feel like anything at all.

the ghost cat opens his eyes. slits of endless black.]

[ninetoes]

[The urge to search for something inside the void is compelling. He can't feel, but he does it anyway, just a little, just in case. But we're maintaining the eye contact, here. Maintaining the peep.]

... Guatauva?

[sailmods]

[the eyes open wider.

and then, the cat just grins

he lunges forward, his ectoplasmic form solidifying around his hand, paws given gelatinous substance as they claw desperately at his forearm, every swipe dragging color and feeling from his flesh.]

[theweakhavepurpose]

Shit!

[Pratt grimaces because cats, even ones made of light, shouldn't grin. And he assumes that's a bad sign, proven correct as it starts clawing the shit out of Izzy's arms. He grabs at Izzy's middle to pull him back out of pawing reach.]

Fuck fuck fuck! It's like the mirror! It's like the mirror, don't let it drag you in!

[He'd seen Clara nearly get pulled into the mirror, her arm totally white and dead. Just like the claw marks on Izzy's forearm.]

[ninetoes]

[What fucking mirror!? would be the question to ask here but he's too busy trying to smack the fucking thing off him. This is why we don't have animals on ships! Fuck maybe the superstitions are right, maybe cats are witches!?

It hurts, and then it starts to not hurt, which is a very bad sign all things considered. The color leeching from his skin like a corpse's.]

Get the fuck off of me- Stupid fucking cat!!

[sailmods]

[for however fiercely he seems to be holding on, his grip is actually rather weak, and it takes very little pulling for Izzy to be pulled away from his seeking claws. Izzy's arm up to the mid-forearm is completely chalk-white and deadened, while stripes of white reach farther up to his elbow. it will pass.

the ghost manages a single utterance - a harsh, strained, broken-glass hiss - before his corporeality fails and he disappears, blink-fast, back into the ether.]

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Pratt pulls Izzy way further away than he needs to, just in case, expecting that the cat will jump on him.]

The...fuck? Oh shit.. [He runs his hand down Izzy's arm because that doesn't look healthy at all.] How's it feel?

[Still hypervigilant, glancing between Izzy and where the cat just was.]