WEEK 6

[bathymetric]

Good morning, passengers. Happy Sunday. Happy New Year.

Three more of your number gone - or four, depending on your point of view. But regardless, you're down three bodies. The boat is getting less crowded, week by week. A loneliness only exacerbated by yet another new floor, and yet another section of topdeck. There are almost too many facilities for you to use by now, aren't there? And yet the amenities keep on coming. One of them is even personalized, this time, and perhaps not in a way you're fully comfortable with.

Who knows, maybe if your number falls enough, you'll be able to just exist permanently on the different floors. Might keep you out of the trial room for more than a week.

Are you at the point where you'd settle for that yet?

And if you look to the horizon, out in the distance... there are clouds starting to gather on the horizon this week.




SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[ ooc: Welcome to week 6, everyone! Remember to turn in AC here and coins for regains over here! If you wish to get in contact with the npcs, Davy Jones is over here, and The Captain is over here! And as requested, profiles are accessible here. ]

Comments

[magycks]

[ There are ten uninterrupted seconds of her suspiciously eyeing the gift bag, Scott, and the gift bag again. ]

Should I be listening for a ticking noise?

[queceracera]

Please, do I look smart enough to build a bomb?

[Truly, he is not.]

[magycks]

Point... but you do look stupid enough to receive an active bomb from the vending machine and spend time wrapping it, and that's not a no.

[queceracera]

No, that's not rule of funny enough. I would run around like a crazy person for three minutes, repeatedly run into both Flayn and Freyja, make a witty quip about how some days you just can't rid of a bomb, then dispose of it in the nick of time while managing to shield myself behind some heavy iron pipes.

[You know, as one does.]

[magycks]

You're self aware at the most inconvenient of times, you know that? But fine, give it here, at least a sudden detonation would be brief and agonizing.

[ She is absolutely going to already be reaching to take the giftbag before her sentence is over. ]

[queceracera]

[His self awareness also runs on rule of funny, Magica. Anyway he hands the bag over without any fuss. There you go, Magica. Enjoy ur gift.]

I think you're a horrible goose in duck shape, but I don't dislike you enough to give you a bomb.

[magycks]

Wow, thanks. [ She maintains as much eye contact as possible whilst straight up shredding the gift bag with her bare hands. ] And I guarantee you wouldn't know a duck from a goose, we're basically...

[magycks]

[ Ah, there he is. Charlie Pants. What a clown. ]

[magycks]

... Yep, that's about what I expected.

[queceracera]

I'm from Canada, I know what a goose is. [That's what he's choosing to focus on here, but also:] Now you can do all your little voodoos on the horrible clown doll.

[magycks]

Oh no, did you forget? The clown's been stone dead for two weeks now.

[queceracera]

Haha, very funny. [Scott rolls his eyes.] Haven't you ever wondered who that is? If you do dark magic with it or something, you might figure out a thing.

[magycks]

... Hold up, are you implying all creepy dolls have some sort of real-world analogue?

[queceracera]

Can't you tell that thing is -

[Scott visibly pauses, like he's remembering he's the only one with fourth wall awareness. Oh well, too late! He already started this sentence, he's gotta finish it somehow.]

- like, metaphysically important?

[magycks]

[ ZOOMS IN ON... ]

No. Can you?