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

[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.]

[ninetoes]

[They jerk back hard, the cat disappears, and all of a sudden it’s like the thing was never there to begin with.

Pratt takes Izzy’s right arm, the one he gloves, and the only reason he’s aware of it is because he can see the action happen. It’s terrifying. His heart is like a rabbit’s, thundering in his throat. Izzy tries to move his hand and nothing happens. The joint of his elbow is stiff and painful from the scratches reaching towards it. The glove needs to come off, he’s sure. Hate that.]

Fuck- [A hiss]

I can’t.

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Standing in the middle of the floor of Tauva, the furniture in disarray, carpet pulled up in one corner and a smashed lamp nearby, it doesn't look like they have much to show for their efforts here. At least not tangibly. But Pratt manages a half grin.]

And here I thought it'd be a thing like a gem or a shiny rock or statue. [He just keeps on talking while he runs his hands along Izzy's arm, trying to feel for damage instinctively after so many years in Search and Rescue. Rambling on and on so Izzy can focus on that and not potentially panic about his arm being dead.] I've seen this before, there's these mirrors in one of the hallways and Clara almost got sucked into one before I pulled her out and her whole arm up to her shoulder went dead white just like this and she couldn't feel it. It wore off after about an hour though and was fine after that.

Looks like you found it though Boss! That's gotta be him right? Er, Captain. Captain Hands. [He nods, trying to remember that. His fingers go for the glove, it's gonna have to come off and Pratt has no idea that Izzy would probably rather it didn't.]

[ninetoes]

Don't-!

[Izzy stiffens and immediately slaps Pratt's hand away from the glove. It's instinct. It's shock. We're having a moment trying not to be fucking terrified because his arm has gone corpsey. Pratt is giving him good information but all he can hear is the ringing of the cat's hiss. All he can look at it his arm.

a delayed beat and Izzy's brain catches back up to the present. He realizes what he's done and holds his good hand up in placation. No one here is going to give a fuck about the glove. This isn't the same world. Pratt is one of his. It should be safe. It should be. Old habits die hard.]

I can do it- I can. It's fine.

[Let him remove it himself. Chest full of thunder because what if his hand is rotting under there? What if it's really dead? What if it's falling to bones and putrid muck, encased in the leather he wears so religiously. Izzy takes a breath. Lets it out. Forces himself to tug the glove off.

No rot. No bones. Just a hand, paper white and dead like the rest of the thing. a hand with a very stark tattoo over the top, but a hand all the same, which he offers - watching the bar out of the corner of his eye in case there's a repeat. Should they leave? Should the burn the place? Should they try again? Who the fuck does that cat think they are!?]

What, um. What were you saying about a mirror?

[theweakhavepurpose]

[He recoils like a dog that's been whapped on the nose with a newspaper, holding up his hands. Backing off he lets Izzy take the glove off himself, also a bit concerned that he's going to reveal something horrific and Pratt is going to have to try and catch the bones of his phalanges as they fall out of his fingers or something. But fortunately it's just... his hand. Granted it looks like the hand of an unembalmed corpse, but at least it's intact.]

Alright, well that's good. Still have a hand. [Otherwise he'd have to change his last name.] There was a few weeks when all the mirrors on the ship you could actually see the ghosts in them. Like not reflections of the ones that clean our rooms and tend the bar, but they were.. trapped. On the other side of the mirror, and if you got close enough they tried to pull your through.

Clara had... she'd tried to save it, because the ghost was crying for help. [He furrows his brow trying his hardest to remember because it had been a while ago and his memory is trash.] I pulled her out of it and the more the ghost like clawed at her the more the ghost looked less... less like a ghost I guess. I think maybe it needed to kill her and then it would have been able to come through the mirror? But I dunno for sure. We didn't stay to find out, thought her whole arm was going to have to be cut off like when people get gangegrene.

So the cat might.... [He looks at the bar again.] It might need a trade. To become real.

[ninetoes]

[Izzy cradles his dead hand as he listens, gaze sliding from the ugly thing to the bar where the cat had been. He does this a few times before trying to move his hand. No dice. It just flops forward like it's made of rubber. Like it's dead meat. He really...really hopes this doesn't stay. He's right handed. To lose this hand would be fucking devastating.

Obviously losing any hand would be, but this hand... this hand is his sword hand. It's as good a death sentence as any. Something he might have to consider if this doesn't heal. Maybe the Captain will take pity and bring him back whole again. Is he being dramatic about it? Yes. Shut up. He doesn't care. Also fuck you.

But, as a treat, the tattoo on Izzy's hand is very, very visible as he lets it flop over. Across the top of his hand, in bold black ink, stands the cameo of a ship. It's ornately framed, decorated with curling roses in the maritime style. Some roses are shaded gray to represent red, others have been left empty for white. At the top of the frame, perched above the ship and all, sits the unmistakable Imperial Crown. At the bottom is a large anchor tied with knotted ropes. The ship itself strikes a mighty pose, rising on the swell of a crashing wave. Across its bow: HMS SPENCE. Below that, an enlistment date.

Izzy remembers the enlistment bitterly; he has fonder memories of being shot.

The tattoo is naval, through and through. Big, bold, and proud-- the sort of thing an eager, patriotic young man would get; but doesn't end there. As Izzy's hand rolls over uselessly, there are two rows of tally marks on the heel of his hand where his thumb joins. They're small and grouped neatly like he had planned to add many, many more.]

A sacrifice...yeah, that tracks. Eye for an eye.

[At which point he looks back at the man. He's good, Izzy decides. Useful. Proving himself, and not just a pretty face.]

You're clever, aren't you, Pratt. More clever'n you look.

[theweakhavepurpose]

[The tattoo is noted with interest, but the meaning is lost on Pratt. He gets that it's a ship, HMS is probably a signifier (Let's be real he's thinking of the USS Enterprise here) and then what must be a date. Izzy's deep dark secret is safe forever with Pratt who doesn't have the context to understand that Izzy must have been a legitimate sailor at some point, that he'd been a member of the royal navy.

The hash marks though, that's obvious. He'd seen military men with the same, usually going up their arms, each one a confirmed kill. If Pratt did the same he'd have a line from wrist to elbow and back.

Should he ask...]

Yeah I mean, maybe it wants something else, but it'd be worth a try. Well ... not for whoever gets sacrificed - I'm guessing we can't get them back so it better be someone we fucking hate. Someone weak, who wouldn't survive anyway.

[Culling the herd.]

I... [He blinks and stares. He's used to a simple word of praise, being told what he did was adequate. Maybe a gruff acknowledgement he didn't screw up. But legitimate actual praise? Pratt doesn't know what to do with this.] I guess so. Just calling it like I see it.

[ninetoes]

[Oh good, blissful ignorance saves the day. Though, what else Izzy was expecting he isn't sure, it doesn't mean anything to anyone unless they're from his world. What are people here going to do about a soldier turned pirate. Who would even care.

It's too difficult to put his glove back on one handed and so Izzy crosses his arms over his chest, shielding the dead one best he can.]

I think you've called it right. If it's a sacrifice we needs then I suppose it's a sacrifice we'll get.

[He licks his teeth behind his lips before sucking them and giving the bar a very sour look. He's coming back for you, space cat.]

We're done here.

[Roll out.]

And let me know who you'd put on that list. The sooner we have a bargaining chip the better.

[theweakhavepurpose]

[He nods in agreement, time to put some space between them and the ghost cat. And to rethink how to try and get the other two brothers as well. If each of them needs their own sacrifice....]

I'll work on it. We're gonna be real unpopular if anyone finds out about needing to kill someone, or maybe even three someones... Might wanna you know, not tell anyone.

[Not that he was planning on it, but saying it out loud solidifies it as a good idea. Hopefully he remembers.]

Lemme know when you wanna try one of the other brothers.

[Time to go smoke one of his few remaining cigarettes and try to not think about this. ]

[ninetoes]

Yeah this.. this is between you and me.

I’m going to go deal with this.

[Gesturing to his dead arm. What the fuck.]

Keep safe, Pratt. You did good work today, son. Got a bright future.