come_sailaway | on this the night all hallows' eve

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on this the night all hallows' eve

who: the living and the damned
when: October 31st, 8PM to 11:59 PM
where: around the main pool on deck 6
what: HALLOWEEN PARTY, 1/2
warnings: TBA

[as you exit the elevator and walk towards the pool deck on Halloween night, you follow a sort of labyrinth of panels and decorations. about halfway through the maze, a scythe swings into your path, and a tall animatronic crackles to life:]

It is harvest time. I can smell it in the air. And I sense your soul is ripe for harvesting as well. When your time comes, my scythe will cleave your soul right off the vine like a ripened pumpkin. Time for carving!

[welcome to Halloween aboard the Serena Eterna.

the Infinite Spirit Halloween has been put to good use by a crack team of Mizuki and Ebalon, and half of it seems to now be located around the deck on the main pool. the pool has been dyed a swamp-like green; fake plastic vines and (hopefully) fake plastic limbs float in the waters. there are fog machines studded throughout that are putting out a frankly dangerous amount of fog, and it can be pretty difficult to tell if your next step is onto the floor or directly into the pool.

there is food available on a long table on the side, but it’s entirely the usual fare found in the buffet, though there are also two punch bowls: one is a delicious fruit punch, and the other is about 99% vodka and then a single orange. the bar is also open, with extra liquor bottles scavenged from the other bars on the ship. Halloween music plays from unseen speakers.

Friday is here, and dressed in costume, but never seems to stop fussing and rushing around long enough to actually have a conversation with. but, hey! Jenny is here! hooray!

have fun. you have ‘til midnight.]

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Because —

( mega frustration has clarke feeling challenged, and standing pretty abruptly. legs of the deck chair scrape a little on the ground, shrill and grating. )

Jenny.

( and backtracking immediately, invoking godsnames. )

Gaubenex. Your plan didn't work in the end, did it.

That doesn't mean I've magically started making better ones! [GET OFF HER DICK]

( tempting offer but no, you're stuck with the sexy combat nurse now jenny, she thinks you might be a big key component. )

...I could say something stupid, like "aren't storms malleable and the weather quick to change?"

But I'd really rather know: can you at least try to make better ones? For Friday, if not for anyone else here?

[siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh]

Fine, fine... [beat] ... Kill them, but only a little bit?

( mentally seesaws hands....... )

Obviously. I mean, if there's no other choice in the end.

See? A classic is a classic for a reason! Never fails!

[authors note: it does]

( frustrated grumble, frustrated grumble, but she's not wrong about anything minus the chances of failure.

...then a sigh. )

I'm guessing you also missed the meeting Skulduggery put on at the beginning of the month. All that information's still in the library if you ever want to read it. Does it change your plan at all, knowing that killing the Captain destroys everything here — up to and including whatever remains of your brothers?

[blinks]

Was... Was that news to you people?

For some.

( personally clarke had always been drawn to bringing the big bad down at the expense of the party, but some passengers are super shaken. )

Hearing that we're all just copies did people heads in more, though.

Hm, a bit of a deeper cut. The way Friday explained it to me... Reality is a river. You have the beginning [holds up one hand] and the end [holds up the other hand, farther away] and every drop in between is the same river. The river doesn't notice if you take a bucket from it. And, if you toss the bucket back, it just goes right back to being the river.

... I could have returned to my reality, and forgotten all of this. I wouldn't even notice that my brothers were missing, because they wouldn't be. [pause] But, they would be. And so, I stay.

( that's a beautiful analogy. and clarke listens with a slight tilt of her head, until the wait, what? questions start to filter in and her entire spine straightens like pillar. )

We were told going back home would destroy realities. Skulduggery said — ( she makes a brief grimace, resentful that the bulk of information here always begins with fucking skulduggery said... ) — we couldn't ever go back, and any hope of escape would have to rely on the Captain dropping us off in a completely different world to live out our days.

[frowns] Just going home wouldn't do that. I could have done that right from the start. I would have just stepped right back into the place I had left.

... Actually, how are you defining "we?" Would we be talking about "Jenny" or "Jenny, specifically the one that has been aboard the Serena Eterna?" Because that Jenny could not do that and still exist.

First "we" was all the passengers here, second was ship specifics. But —

( this immediately isn't sounding as hopeful as it had first blush, but. bulldog with a scrap of flesh between it's teeth, clarke's still gnawing. )

Why? Why does it work that way. You can't tell me a river would object if a few stones and a cup of saltwater was mixed in with the bucket when it got thrown back.

[beat]

Hold on. I need another metaphor.

[gets up. leaves to the food table.

returns with a handful of mashed potatoes, which she immediately just. splats onto the chair she was sitting on.]

You looking? Watch.

[she molds the potatoes until it is shaped into a line. then, with her finger, she pushes out a tiny sliver of the middle until it's sitting separate from the rest.]

Now. Return that piece.

( first thought: of course there's fucking mashed potatoes here.

second thought: okay. it's a puzzle meets science experiment meets philosophical question, right? clarke's slinking off her own deck chair and settling on her knees alongside the line of potatoes. looks at it for a second, then looks up at jenny with something between a determined scowl and a pout.

then indulges, using the side of her palm to carefully realign the stand-alone sliver of mash. end result is still a relatively straight line, but there's potatoe smears on the chair itself, not even counting clarke and jenny's hands. the line itself looking a little thin at that particular spot. )

[she smooths the line out.]

Now. Take that exact same piece out again.

( oh. so this is the test.

diligently, clarke tries to pinpoint the exact spot the previous segment was separated from, and drags her finger through the line to displace it. but even while doing so, she starts to get what jenny is going for. )

...I can't do that, can I. Because it's all just a homogenous mess, and I can't pick out potato particle from potato particle.

[gestures, as if to say, "there you go."]

( okay but, counter point. )

That's just eyeballing. The Captain said magic is just science if you're boring, I'm fine with being boring. If each particle could be zeroed in on and put back exactly where it's supposed to be —

Even if it can't, the line can be completed. It's all just mashed potatoes in the end! Nothing on this ship's changed my biology, I could still go back and save my mom. If the revenants can take our bodies, why can't we take over our own selves back home and keep our memories?

( ...jenny you ever have to explain complex topics to a preschooler? )

Edited 2022-10-24 08:07 (UTC)

[SIIIIIIIIGHS]

Each particle being put back exactly where it came from is why this happens. You just return to your place. No more, no less.

( this is just frustration in a place clarke had initially peered in search of hope. )

That's such bullshit. Every bit we touched has our sweat and DNA on it now, we're part of those particles. It shouldn't be this hard.

( seven seconds in which clarke stares daggers at the side dish in question, seriously debating smacking it into oblivion and splattering both of them with remnants. but ultimately, a deep breath. okay, fine, take this as fact until it could maybe be disproven by someone else. )

He's never going to just drop us off somewhere to exist peacefully, is he?

[shrugs] Now, that sounds like complete bullshit.

( grumble grumble, still staring down the mashed potatoes like she could burn them to bits right now and examine chemical changes. ) That's what I said, but. That's the line we're being fed right now.

...I don't know what to do here anymore.

... I'm sorry I don't have answers for you, mija. But, I don't even have answers for myself.

( resolve cracking...

and cracking...

and cracking...

but still not completely broken through the middle. give clarke a second, let her wipe potato remnants off on the skirt of her dress and stand up again. )

That's okay. I appreciate you just talking it through with me. ( futile anger can look graceful sometimes, right? no, nope, it's still 110% apparent in the lines on her face. ) Answers are fickle. Let's not wait a month between chats next time, and maybe we'll find them eventually.

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stormpirate - 2022-10-24 08:51 (UTC) - Expand

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