He brought me out into the hall, I could have sworn it was haunted (OTA)

[saltwaterlungs]

CHARACTERS: Darcy, Erin, and you?
DATE: Mid-october
LOCATION: Sports deck, Drunken Sailor, Life boats
SITUATION: Darcy’s no good very bad hell cruise
WARNINGS: Shit’s probably going to get dark here folks. CWs for underaged drinking and suicidal ideation at the least.

To hear that there was nothing that I could do to save you (Erin)

The fight club following Darcy’s talk with Skulduggery is… distinctly less enthusiastic than the previous iterations. Erin will find Darcy sat over by the training sabres, rumpled like she’s slept in her clothes. She’s keeping an eye on the rest of the club over folded arms resting on her knees, and she barely looks up when Erin approaches.

The choir's gonna sing and then this thing is gonna kill you

Friday apparently isn’t checking up on anyone sneaking drinks when they’re not meant to. Of course, initially Darcy wasn’t going to try and drink her problems away like she was in a fucking country song. It had just made her sad the one time she’d tried it with Izzy. But after a couple of days of a mess of feelings that she feels entirely unequipped to deal with, Darcy kind of wants to just deal with sad. It’s not like she can talk to anyone about one of her most important relationships aboard the ship utterly imploding. Once again, she is alone in her burdens.

Find her curled up in one of the comfy chairs of the Drunken Sailor with a bottle of rum, headphones in, avoiding everyone.

Something in my throat made my next words shake

Even being on the ship gets too claustrophobic eventually. Like all the secrets she’s been forced to keep will come spilling out of her at the slightest provocation. She can’t bring herself to try and help the aimless newbies, she can’t hunt the Bahamanal in the newly-halloween-ified Tommy Bahama, she can’t drag herself to training. Eventually she packs the backpack she got from camp with some changes of clothes and whatever she can find in the buffet that seems like it’ll keep for a couple of days. And then, she sets herself to stealing one of the life boats.

Stop her or help her, if you want.

And something in the wires made the light bulbs break (wildcard)

(go nuts, show nuts, whatever)

Comments

[decohere]

"Like you've given everything you can, exhausted all your efforts, and nothing good ever really comes of it. And maybe you never should've tried at all. Yeah," Ava's right there too. "It sucks. Being up against such impossible odds. And realizing you're just... not enough."

She closes her book. "I'm not... easy to deal with, Darcy. That's not your fault. Being here is the first time I've been around actual people. For any extended amount of time. But I'm trying to learn, pay more attention to how I come off. Because I do actually want you to like me."

[saltwaterlungs]

Every time it's like being gutted. Every time someone gets it, genuinely gets it, it's like someone's slipped a thumbnail under her skin and torn her open ragged and raw. Ava parrots what's in her head already and after a moment of fighting Darcy just... gives up. Goes limp. Stops fighting the tears that quickly well up. Doesn't bother trying to rub at her face. She's been seen and she fucking hates it, but what can she do? Darcy's the chorus in a long repeating song of misery, and it seems almost everyone can hum along to her tune.

So she can't give Ava an answer at present, just a half-choked sob.

[decohere]

She... she doesn't know what to do. Because this is one of her own situations where it feels like no matter what choice she makes, it'll be the wrong one. Maybe she's already messed up, pushing Darcy into crying. Maybe there isn't anything she can do without causing further damage.

She can leave and give Darcy her privacy, because being miserable with an audience feels humiliating. She can remain in her chair and wait, because she doesn't want Darcy to be alone through it all. Let her cry herself out.

She can... try physical comfort. But she doesn't think it'll be welcome. Not from her. Because that's what all her problems come down to. That somebody else would be better. If only Skulduggery were here... (haha...) or Undine. But they're not. It's just her.

Ava scrapes at her palms with her fingernails. And then heads over, kneeling next to the chair. Not making any contact quite yet. Not speaking. But her own eyes are damp. Then reaches out a tentative hand for Darcy's own.

[saltwaterlungs]

Darcy doesn't close the distance between Ava's hand and her own. But she doesn't move her hand either, and when it comes time to pinch at the bridge of her nose, she uses her other hand.

"It's not fair," is all she croaks. It's a childish sentiment and she knows it- of course it isn't. Life isn't fair. It's not fair that she keeps being set up to fail, that the world keeps asking so much of her and punishing her when she can't live up to it. It's not fair that everyone she trusts ends up stabbing her in the back. It's not fair that she doesn't get what everyone else seems to.

But she doesn't move her hand away. Ava gets it, at least, and she's not suffering alone.

[decohere]

"It sure as hell isn't," Ava agrees, fingers threading through Darcy's. She wishes she had better advice. Could tell Darcy that things eventually get better as long as you don't give up, all the nonsense about wishes and dreams. Because it's not true. Life isn't some individually designed choose your own adventure hero's journey. Pain doesn't always pay off in triumphant glory. Some people just fucking lose and lose and lose.

"Sometimes it... helps to just. Do small things. Instead. For awhile," she offers quietly. "I carved pumpkins. And I learned how to make lattes. And Fio and I are going to go trick-or-treating. And those aren't... big or heroic. But it helps me feel whole again."

[saltwaterlungs]

Darcy's going to sniffle quietly for a moment. She appreciates that Ava doesn't spin her bullshit, doesn't try to offer any advice. Just lets her have it.

"Do you want me to help look out for Fio when you're trick-or-treating?" she asks. Nothing else really appeals, but... that much she can still do.