on this the night all hallows' eve

[sailmods]

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.]

Comments

[crushed_pearls]

That gets a thoughtful "Mmm" out of Erin.

"It's most like a decision but often that decision becomes reflexive or habitual, like scratching an itch. Glamour feeds the part of me that is other than human; more importantly, I require it for all my strongest defenses. If you gave me food and water and love I could live on those alone, but I need Glamour to thrive. Deprived I become thin, jittery, then morose, listless, unmotivated. That said...I suspect whatever the Captain is doing is systemized. This is his place of power; why do it all by hand?"

[not_the_last]

Cassandra's quiet, still frowning.

"This is ... another thing you think is similar, then. That he feeds off of our emotions the same way that ..."

It trails off; she doesn't finish the sentence.

[crushed_pearls]

"It fits things I've seen," Erin agrees. "But I can't say for sure. Like, I've encountered things that drain or replace emotions directly. The damage done is significant and long-lasting, it sucks. Victims of over-harvesting in dreams likewise suffer from severe lethargy and might develop lifelong depression if not treated in time. Those attacks take place on a scale of days, though. They're swift and insidious. Some passengers have been here for months. Is that evidence that he's taking a byproduct? A sign of a light hand? Something else?" Erin sighs. "I'll bring it up when we go to see Skullduggery but I wanted to bounce it off you."

(You wanted to tell someone human what you're getting from them).

Well...

Yes. That too.

[not_the_last]

The shudder would barely be visible if they were standing or sitting close together. As it is, Erin's going to feel a small earthquake.

"A tree feeds off sunlight," she says, low and distant, "and the sun loses nothing, and doesn't notice. A fly feeds from a horse, and the horse feels a sting but takes no harm. A spider feeds from a fly, and the fly dies at once. Mistletoe feeds from a tree, and the tree dies slowly."

(She remembers overhearing a conversation between Sylas and Tylieri, not too many days before it all ended. Everything must eat to live, my friend --)

"Which is this, do you think?"

[crushed_pearls]

Erin is quiet for a long stretch. The music of the party surrounds them, and all the sounds of people trying to make enough merry to forget their anxiety.

Erin's voice is so soft at first that she herself barely hears it. She has to lean into Cassandra's ear, where the tight notes of guilt and fear can't be hidden: "Are you asking about him, or about me?"

[not_the_last]

She rests both hands on the table, lowers her head. Tries not to think about how close Erin's mouth is to her neck. Shuts her eyes.

"I'm asking about him."

Her voice is still low but no longer distant, and a little too shaky to be gentle.

"You can tell me about you as well, if you want to."

[crushed_pearls]

The presence near Cassandra's ear remains for a tense moment, and then Erin sits back down, little legs dangling off her friend's shoulder.

When she speaks it's strange. Not hard or distant, but with a kind of quiet awe. "Out in the party is a bedsheet ghost, a youngblood lass named Undine. We met at a drinking game where you share your life experiences, and bonded over both of us loving women, her ideas new and unsure, mine tested and complicated. I took what rose from that bond and it tasted of fellowship and relief."

"With SecUnit I listen to the stories it loves and come to love them too, to let its passion and enthusiasm warm my heart, and that warmth sustains me."

She can't stop. She's started and it all just comes out.

"Peter Smith was curious about my people and that curiosity gave me what I needed to show him what I would have looked like when we were hidden. It tasted of old pain and new wonder and wary connection, and by that taste I chose to trust him. Captain Stede Bonnet offered me his unconditional enthusiasm and delight and fed both halves of my soul here in this strange place where I feel so lost. A young woman I will not name made a pact with me, and fate itself drips me Glamour that is sweet and heady, a promise that I have a place in the world upheld by my faith to it. I mourned with the others at the meeting and our despair became something I can use to protect them."

Erin takes a deep breath. Her napkin towel crinkles. "I won't say that there's no such thing as bad habits with Glamour. Like men who love money, some Lost start seeing people as dispensaries that provide them power."

"...But if I am sustained because the world is beautiful, and abundant, because I am part of it and of it and in it...is that wrong?"

[not_the_last]

As Erin speaks, Cassandra's hands stay on the table, fingers slowly curling under. She breathes, in and out, keeping it steady with an effort; she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to press back unaccountable tears.

"The tree," she says, when she can trust herself to speak, "and the sun. Is that the way of it?"

I will believe you, she says silently, if you tell me it is.

[crushed_pearls]

"Yes," Erin says at last. "You wouldn't have ever noticed if I didn't tell you, and you still won't. But...I wanted to give you the knowledge that has given pause to my own fear. The Captain's deeds are horrific...but I'm not sure his nature is. I..."

"I was hoping to help you feel safe, being in your own heart."

[not_the_last]

Her breath catches at the last words, and she presses a hand to her mouth for several long moments before she can wrest control of herself back.

"Thank you," she whispers finally, and reaches blindly for a cup. She's very much feeling the need for something to drink.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin bites her lip, but when she hears Cassandra's hand she takes an educated guess before hopping onto the table. She finds a glass by the way it disturbs the vibrations from her own footsteps and scoots towards her friend. It scrapes along the wood the whole way.

This done, Erin sits with her knees drawn up to her chest, wrapped in her napkins and worry written on her face.

Hoping her friend is okay.

[not_the_last]

By the time the cup has scraped to within a few inches of her, she's blinked her eyes clear and can reach out to pick it up, filling it from the nearby punch bowl. (It's not the one that's just vodka-and-an-orange, mercifully.)

"Again," and her throat's cleared by now too, "thank you. I ... it means a great deal, that you told me. And why you told me."

[crushed_pearls]

"I want to be an honest person," Erin says, soft and gentle. "But a...recent friend pointed out to me that spilling everything isn't the same as honesty. That people don't need to see all my burdens and thoughts. I haven't told more than two people, including you, about Glamour. I'm not sure I'll tell anyone else. I...don't want it to hang over all my relationships. To change how my new home thinks of me. But I wanted to tell you. Especially after...after our talk before."

[not_the_last]

She swallows some punch. It helps loosen the last of the tightness in her throat.

"There are things I'd like to tell you. For some of the same reasons. And I'm not sure I should tell you, for ... some of the same reasons."

[crushed_pearls]

"If you want to tell me, I'll always listen." Erin stands, walks uncertainty closer, and takes Cass's finger in her tiny hands. Just holding her. "One of the upsides of surviving a life that was an onslaught of horror and madness is that I'm hard to horrify. But...take some time. I won't demand your secrets, Cassandra. I'm here for you either way."

A sideways smile, something that belongs on Erin's face rather than this one. Small and unsure but true. "And we've still got some party to enjoy, yeah? Unless you'd like to go?"

Erin has other friends here, but she's seen them, talked to them, maybe even made new ones. It's been such a long night already.

Going wouldn't be bad.

[not_the_last]

She hesitates.

"I shouldn't go yet," she decides, finally. "I promised Fio I would see her at the party. Maybe after that?"

[crushed_pearls]

Erin nods. "It wouldn't do to make Miss Fio sad. I think I'll uh. Ask for help back down into the fog, but..."

She unwraps the napkin from around her hair and fluffs that hair with her hands; it's already dry and perfect again, long for her body and bright blonde.

"...If you wanted to touch my tiny head I'm willing to roll the dice between wanting you to do that and being scared to even try."

[not_the_last]

Cassandra blinks down at her, with a hesitant smile.

"I ... I must admit, I'm a little tempted to ask."

[crushed_pearls]

"Worst thing I can tell you is no," Erin prompts. Ask her. Ask her anything. Speak your desire out loud and let her hold it to her little heart.

She makes no move away from Cassandra's reach, head bowed just faintly.

[not_the_last]

There is no reason at all for the prospect of being told no to be frightening. There's nothing to be frightened of. And just to prove it, she's going to ask.

"Would you let me touch your head? Or lift you down off the table?"

[crushed_pearls]

(Hey Peters?)

Yeswhatisit.

(Remember at the start of this conversation when you told this very interesting and intelligent person you're kinda pursuing that you'd be into getting picked up?)

Irecallwhy.

(How's it feel to get fucking Uno Reversed by a lass who hasn't really flirted before?)

Erin's cheeks turn bright purple. That last question has taken her the fuck out; she gapes, she stammers like she's become a girl again. Her hands don't seem to know what to do with themselves and alternate between wringing and touching her hair.

Finally she stomps her little foot, slaps her own cheeks with both hands, and stands up straight.

Still blushing to death.

"Okay. Pick me up and pet me."

(This better not awaken anything in us)

|It's? Already??? Awoken???? Since before we got exiled!|

[not_the_last]

The blushing is -- dear gods, it's adorable? How is that a word she's even thinking about this deeply complex, much older woman ... who is now, yes, three apples tall and looking like a stuffed toy that's somehow come to life, but still.

"I," she says, and "all right," and "please tell me right away if it's uncomfortable? I've never done this before," and before she can second-guess any of this she reaches out to cup both hands gently around the tiny figure.

[crushed_pearls]

"Just don't squeeze."

Erin tenses as she feels the hands close in, awkwardly keeping her arms above the level of Cassandra's fingers. When they close around her napkin-toweled body there's a moment where all she wants to do is scream -

- And then it passes. Erin relaxes into Cass's hands like a kitten, nestling against her calloused palms and letting her head rest on the lass's fingers.

"This feels...safe," she murmurs.

[not_the_last]

This is ... not something Cassandra ever expected to feel, this combination of nervousness and tenderness, gratification that she can make someone feel safe with her and oh gods what if I drop her?

"I'm going to try picking you up," she says, "tell me if it doesn't feel secure?"

And she lifts the tiny blue woman, so so carefully, fighting with the sudden impulse to cuddle her close like a doll.

[crushed_pearls]

"Mmm, no, you're good." This may be the most relaxed Erin has felt since she got here. Cass's hands are warm, her presence gentle, and...

She'd wanted (wanted!) to pick Erin up even after...

(God we really did just have two intense conversations basically back to back huh?)

Well. That's the thing with survivors, isn't it? You learn to take your joy when it arrives.

Erin's little cheek nuzzles Cassandra's finger. "How are you planning to pet me if I'm in both of your hands? You got bonus hands I'm about to learn about?"