We're wide awake now, our eyes are wide open. We're running this world, we keeping it turning

[opheliac]

Who: EVERYONE ON THIS DANG SHIP!
What: IT'S A PARTTTYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When: last week of april before more shit happens.
Where: rischie
Warnings: PG-13??? alcohol is definitely involved, teens being teens, drunk people or doing bad decisions??? who is to say!!!





Fast Travel Thread Links

★ ENTRANCE.
★ THE DANCE FLOOR.
★ AT THE BAR.
★ GAME AREA.
★ DJ TABLE // PRIVATE WITH JINX
★ LOSER CORNER.
★ THE FOOD TABLE.
★ KARAOKE.
★ OUTSIDE RISCHIE.
★ WILDCARD.

Comments

[skaikru]

( but that isn't a real, quantifiable answer. and if there's anything she's learned in a year long stretch of fighting for humanity to survive against insurmountable odds, it's that it gets... tiring. breeds apathy. fosters disconnect between the idea of people and people themselves. it wasn't that long ago she'd been asked to sit down and make a list of 100 people most worthy of surviving the second end of the world, and while clarke had struggled to find reason to add herself to the list, her friends inevitably made it on there. ...most of them, at least.

all of this feels cheap to compare against what it actually must be like to be a god, but enough of the people she'd held close to her heart have accused clarke of playing god that she still finds some emotional and conversational footholds. )

I don't know you well enough to say what you would or wouldn't do. All I've seen is you spin pretty tales, offer pretty wings, and vanish the second someone who reveres you actually wants you by their side.

( ...okay yeah, she's talking about mizuki. with rose-tinted shades cast back along their last conversation. )

None of that is action.

And yeah, I've seen Jenny. I've spoken with her, too. And she told me that a god never stops being a god, or having the power of one. So what's holding you back?

[wimdy]

Ah… Miss Jenny might say that, she’s a primordial god. [ ‘born’ a god, in so much as birth or creation could apply to a god of force of nature. ] I wasn’t. I told you about those who can ascend to godhood, right? And about that gods’ war, thousands of years ago, where they battled over power from the Heavens.

The Heavens gifted me godhood, but I didn’t exactly earn it. I was simply there at the right place at the right time. [ or the wrong place, at the wrong time. ] And recently before I came to this ship, someone took my godhood. So you can imagine, I wonder if I really count.

As for what’s stopping me, probably~ the same thing stopping everyone else, and Miss Jenny herself. That door. I couldn’t breach it either.

[ kind of a pathetic answer, but it is what it is…? ]

[skaikru]

Does it matter if you earned it or lucked into it? You have it.

( unfortunately, he's giving pathetic answers to a person who is ready and well able to twist them into half-assed plans. belatedly, clarke catches herself on tenses. )

Or had it. You still count, Venti, so how do we get your godhood back?

[wimdy]

It must be somewhere back home, so…

I did ask Miss Jenny if she could possibly get it for me, but she couldn’t. [ so. he did try that much. what can he say, as gods go he probably was the most useless of the pantheon and is just so much more so now and after being mugged of his godhood. many or the majority of the other gods had considerable power even before winning the favor from the heavens. he didn’t, he was a wisp of wind.

his steps slow, finally letting go of that fake cheer. simply more tired, simply very much wanting a drink. sorry for being probably the least capable deity his world had to offer, captured onto this ship. ]

I can just do what I can as I am right now.

[skaikru]

( clarke may cruelly call him useless to his face, but that doesn't change the fact that at this particular moment, he may be the best and most powerful thing they've got.

she is from a world of scant to nothing in the way of resources, and feels most comfortable with a gun in her hand and a knight at her side. but has stretched the capacity of her knowledge to accept magic as a defining feature here, and is ready to slap together a rough solution out of the cards they've been dealt.

venti sags a bit. tired and slow, both of which clarke feels in her own bones. but neither of which are excuse enough to give up yet. they could make due with a useless god if they used him right. maybe they fall out of step with the beat of the song, but that arm draped around venti's neck isn't keen on letting him escape so easily here. )

What if I could get the door open for you?

[wimdy]

[ it's not cruel to call him useless, it might just be accurate. he's been shittalked a lot before, he has thick skin about it. but look, he's not that strong...!!! mizuki might be stronger than him, or probably totally is. a human mugged him of his godhood. so he means it quite literally when he believes in the strength of humanity over gods, that woman had literally kicked him in the gut and took it from him. real girlboss behavior.

anyway. ] Then of course, I'd sure like to talk to that Captain! Well I'm sure all of us would, but you know~ [ trading himself is a liiiittle more off the table after a talk with lumine, but. well it's still an option he supposes. maybe he's not entirely useless, maybe he could possibly have some use in whatever collection value he might have. ]

Shall we use the same method Mr Yuri and Miss Mordio did, to open it? How did they, anyway?

[skaikru]

( it's a small point of pride, honestly. to think she's come to know rita well enough to guess just how the other girl would describe that happenstance, and clarke dutifully recites: )

They knocked.

( loudly, with magic, destruction, and goading.

clarke is trying to swallow the rising wave of disappointment pushing at the back of her throat; they've parsed that the captain might not be a god, that venti is one in some regard, and that really feels like it should be the final nail in any plan of attack. they should have all the tools necessary to unseat something powerful and threatening, but all venti seems willing to do is talk.

all venti seems capable of is talking. and while that wasn't a bad place to start — it was indeed exactly what clarke had suggested a few days ago — she'd still held out hope for something a little more... actionable. final. )

We should go about it a little differently, at least. That can be planned out, if you really think you've got this in you.

( he's charismatic, absolutely. but it took two months for clarke to get tired of his bullshit, and she can't help but imagine the captain's got even less patience. )

[wimdy]

[ him? charismatic??? how? he's a drunk hobo--

but yes, he'd prefer to talk first. he is a wordsmith, a bard, poet. in all honesty his rhetoric has been awful on the ship by the looks of how he's fucking things up with jinx and mizuki and clarke herself, though maybe a lot of those cases are less about his lack of rhetoric and more about his incredible awful flightiness. look, he's this unreliable.

but he would like to face that captain. ] I do have at least a rough plan of what I'd like to ask and chat with him. Whether this includes 'collection' or not... but if it does or not, it wouldn't really matter to you, does it? [ he has no illusions about clarke liking him. it doesn't matter whether she does or not, they share a common goal in leaving this ship (probably, in his case, maybe). that's enough for him. ]

I would indeed like to send you home off this ship if I could. [ a small smile, apparently sincere. this much is true, he does admire her still. this isn't even a matter of selflessness; he's lived a long time, he's lost his godhood, he doesn't particularly have anything he's terribly attached to, to live for. he's given up rule of his country, he trusts in people rather than gods. ]

And I would indeed like to plan this with you, if we are to attempt that bridge door again. If it comes down to it I don't mind losing a hand, I'd prefer that than for other people to suffer more.

[skaikru]

All of it matters to me.

( all of it concerns all of them, after all.

nothing about their situation has to be centered around liking each other. venti apparently looks at clarke and sees some bulldog tendency to push against an issue until her body gives out, and when clarke looks at venti she sees a wealth of information, maybe not a well of power but a human-shaped foothold on this treacherous ascent towards freedom. at the very least, he isn't crying and begging her to make better decisions; flighty and untrustworthy, but... she's had worse allies.

at least it wouldn't be a surprise if venti left her outside an impenetrable door in the middle of a battle. )

If we die, we heal. You wouldn't need to be handless for long.

( that's the snippet of information she's garnered from her own head splitting open in comparison to rita mordio losing a good portion of her arm. the younger girl undoubtedly still suffered, and that was the name of the game. clarke woke up with her head intact, but down one kidney. she could still function and fight.

and she'd never say that directly to rita's face, but as she and venti are finally putting a little space between their faces as hungry like the wolf comes to an end, she'll take the moment to snag his gaze. and just... count on the fact he understands the implication here, that this could very well be a suicide mission they'd still manage to come back from. death was certain, but suffering could be optional, right? someone needs to sit this child down and examine why she's so willing to offer mercy kills to gods.

a sudden and very pressing after thought — )

Mizuki can't know about this.

[wimdy]

[ well he wouldn't describe her as a bulldog! he thinks she's much cuter than that. maybe some scruffy unkempt but very headstrong border collie. but yes, one that might just leap off a cliff to pursue a goal and... do dogs do that? maybe this metaphor is running away from him.

but he does understands that completely to keep this a secret from mizuki. exactly so, as the one who barely even hesitated to leave him when he started breaking down and clarke had to stay behind to help him together. yeah, uh, sorry for that, whoops! nobody can say he's reliable except maybe if things get really dire, but emotional distraught apparently does not count as that.

there's a frown as his fingers twitch, unconsciously, at her shoulder. he had just casually floated the idea of offering a hand because he does have a high pain threshold and would rather not have other people hurt, but-- ] Miss Clarke, that shouldn't be necessary just to recover a hand. I'll be fine. [ kind of drastic...? mercy kills are mercy kills but to recover a body part it doesn't seem that necessary. never mind that he would like to keep a hand if possible, he's a musician and would like to play his lyre if possible, or poke peoples' faces obnoxiously.

that, and there's... a slow rousing awareness that if possible, he wouldn't want his body, the image of it, to be damaged or killed if it can be helped. but that's another disgusting mess of issues in itself. ]

We could discuss more later. Unless you'd like another dance and we can do so right now~ [ why, he wouldn't mind that at all. just the opposite! what a lovely dance partner clarke makes. hissed accusations, great taste in music, she didn't step on his feet, offers to kill him. an ideal.

this being said he's going to be fucked up after this party so. what a fucking mess he'll be, there's that. ]

[skaikru]

( adding to the venti hate: do you not think bulldogs are cute venti? what do you have against dogs? the fuck.

he'd melted into the air before even getting a chance to witness clarke kneel on the ground and lie directly to mizuki's face, promising they'd exhaust all other options before leaning into the vicious and deadly choices. her desire for secrecy is two-fold — the longer mizuki doesn't know, the longer they could carry on uninterrupted. and thus the longer clarke could pretend her word had any weight.

meanwhile, venti's seemingly dismissing her offer of killing him to avoid any lasting dismemberment. and she'd take that into consideration, if the worst came to pass, but still irrevocably looks at him as a bargaining chip. and no one wants a marred relic. ultimately, that seems like a decision that would have to be made in the moment — luckily, a clarke griffin specialty. necessity looked different to different people. )

Do you have somewhere else to be? ( a barb, but also an honest question. even as duran duran morphs into wham! if she recognizes his inconsistency and likelihood to vanish when the going gets tough, it can't be an unpleasant surprise in moments that actually matter. a modicrum of control over an uncontrollable situation, figuring out who to count on.

the secondary comment is just because clarke's got a slow-simmering anger beneath the surface, that longs to make everyone hurt on the level she does. )

You're not a very good dancer.

[wimdy]

Where could I possibly want to be more than here, in another dance with you? [ oh, but what a challenge! a poor dancer, is he?... admittedly yes just now, but that's because, ] But Miss Clarke, how unfair. You're such an enthralling conversationalist, I was completely distracted from trying to impress you with dance. What a truly sly tactician you are.

Let me correct that right now, shall I? [ he has thick skin when it comes to insults but he does have a measure of artist's pride, he would want to show his ability as best he can, especially to someone he does genuinely like regardless of if the feeling is even remotely mutual. and he does love this song! the charisma of duran duran fits clarke well, but this is more his personal jam: silly and energetic and playful, lyrics about someone so irresponsible. it's perfect for him to shed some more tension and freestyle a little number like this, perfectly cheerful and warm and free.

song, flight. dance. the last isn't exactly his livelihood like the others but entertainment and art is his field, he loves to let loose and simply be in the moment just like this, with carefree choreo, simply moving to the music with a flow of body and the whisk of his cloak, a few feathers appearing and disappearing with wind, fancy footwork and jiving with the beat. and of course, he would also be singing, lovely and clear. ]

Something's bugging me
Something ain't right
My best friend told me
What you did last night
You left me sleeping in my bed
I was dreaming
But I should've been with you instead

[ and with that now, he would offer a hand to clarke again to simply dance with him. recalling now her genuine smile when she had been in the sky wearing his wings, allowing his winds to carry her aloft. that moment of thrill that he would always want to share whether with birds or his people. that look he would remember on her, a warm moment even throughout the danger of life on this ship. ]

[skaikru]

( you ever distrust someone so much that everything they say and do instantly throws your bullshit-meter into orbit, never to truly come back down? pretty much every single word of venti's rebuke further aggravates a vein that stands out along clarke's tightly held jawline, and it's becoming a true hero's feat not to roll her eyes directly in his face. if he'd cared so much for her plans and tactics, what kept him from telling the truth over a few bottles in the shadowed depths of a bar? or at any point between then and now? or why not ask to leave the dance floor together and sit somewhere quieter to expand upon this subject instead of rising to literally every piece of bait dangled in front of his nose.

venti being a good or bad dancer (he's way better than clarke, for whatever that's worth) isn't the biggest issue here. she's mostly just embittered and desperately clawing for something to cow or galvanize him with. the problem being everything seems to roll off venti's shoulders along the folds of that stupid little green cape, and it gets old after a while. if she's impressed by his dance routine — specifically, the freedom of it; the lack of inhibition in every movement, the carefree delight that goes along with moving to a beat, the seemingly impromptu but polished spectacle of it — it doesn't show. and if she's a little bit tempted to take that hand he offers and just... who knows, give fun a whirl, it's only obvious in the amount of time it takes before clarke retreats a half-step.

there's no waking him up before she go-go's.

either feel oddly unseated, or weirdly proud about the absolute efficiency clarke uses to turn on her heel and meld back into the crowd, venti. it's supposed to suck being left in the thick of something, and despite herself, clarke hopes it resonates with him. )

[wimdy]

[ don't leave me hiiiiigh don't leave me dryyyy

or do, because he deserves it. it may as well be he's exactly the example of awful caprice and unreliability in a god. he is disappointed that she doesn't accept, but maybe he's spoiled by that one, it's too demanding to want and have a second dance after all. he supposes he'll appreciate the one he was graced to have.

in the meantime, he has the rest of the party and another dance to fuck up another relationship with a girl he likes, so there's that. he really does deserve everything coming to him. ]