WEEK 8

[bathymetric]

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

Your numbers have officially dropped to single digits. One of you managed to kill the first of the major living obstacles to your collective freedom. A ghost or demon or something nearly killed you. It was a weird week.

The cruise continues on, roller coaster back up and running as ever, arcade free and clear of coins. The last free floor of the ship is open, as well as part of the top deck with... well, something you might expect to see way more on a cruise ship than anything else here. One way or another, you get a feeling you can't shake - things are going to end soon.

No rain yet, but the clouds are closing in fast above you. A cold wind blows during the night, sending the ship gently rocking. Around midnight or so, if you head to the deck, you can hear thunder in the distance.



SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[ ooc: Welcome to week 8, 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

TUESDAY

[bathymetric]

MOTIVE - Stranger Tides CW: Hallucinations

[heroantagonist]

[It’s Tuesday.

Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe now that you are all free of Jack’s grip on the SS Swift things will be different, and no one will be forced to kill.

Ding-ding.

Your device directs you to the theatre.

It’s a familiar scene. You step in with the rest of your survivors - there are so few of you now - and the screen displays… your captain, in his necrotic glory.]

There ye all are. I hope I’m finding you well on this lovely day.

[”Jack” rubs at his chin, still speckled with his own blood.]

You’ve probably been wonderin, just what’s happenin’ now, eh? I wanted to kill ye, and then I didn’t! It’s funny how that works out. Well, it’s no matter, because I still intend to make that happen, just with a different approach. Because if this brainless buccaneer has taught me anything… it’s how to put out a proper motive.

[The Captain raises his hand, fingers taunt until- a hard snap echoes into the theatre… followed by a wave of green energy. Nothing seems to be immediately amiss.

...Did you hear that? No. Nothing’s there.]

Just a little voodoo spell I’d been cooking up for a special occasion. If ye start hearing the voices of yer loved ones, and it gets to be too much, I’d consider a bit of murder! That’s helped before, hasn’t it? Gahahha!

[OOC: Everyone will start hearing voices of their loved ones and people from home. It starts small, but gets worse and more twisted throughout the week--and most of the things the voices have to say are negative. Please play this as innocuous or terrible as you wish.]

cw: hallucination references

[ltcommandroid]

[As it is Tuesday, Data expects that most, if not all, of the other passengers are going to spend much of the afternoon upset. They may not want to socialize. So, in the morning, he'll be walking around seeking people out, one of the antique cameras from the photography lab hanging around his neck.]

Good morning. May I take a photo of you? Jasper and I have decided to pursue photography.

[He...doesn't say that if you're Jasper, obviously...

Anyway, the incentive happens, and Data sets aside his photography for the moment. He's got other projects to work on, after all. He takes Parker and Spot up to the water park, for Parker's sake, and sits to the side while the Vaporeon wanders around and plays in the attractions. Spot is curled up in his lap, and he's working on sewing some kind of large backpack.

Every so often, he pauses in his work, head tilting slightly. But he always shakes it off pretty quickly. He is aware that it is fake, after all.

In the early evening, the cats retire back to his room for their post-dinner nap, and Data takes his violin back up to the piano lounge. He has not played here since Freyja's death; now, he expects he will not be dueting with anyone again. Still, he gets out the instrument and starts to play. If anyone has joined him by the end of the song, he'll comment:]

It is curious. I had not entirely expected my systems to be affected by the incentive, but they are. And though I am processing auditory inputs, they seem difficult to drown out with music.

Piano Lounge (cw: hallucination discussion)

[cethflayn]

[Oh - oh, how haunting, and yet...how beautiful. Flayn cethleann had kept to herself for most of the day, focusing on boiling more salmon for cethleann Kissa and taking her vending machine loot back to her room, trying not to pay too much mind to cethleann the snippets of words caught on the wind. She follows the sound of the violin and sits quietly to enjoy Data's cethleann playing.

Well. As best she can. She applauds as Data finishes.]

They - they are startlingly persistent, aren't they?

[ltcommandroid]

[He nods.]

I have written a sub-routine to identify the sounds and designate them irrelevant, but that does not mean I do not hear them. It only means that a portion of my processing power is continuously devoted to them.

[cethflayn]

[Sub-routine.........]

They are simply illusions, right? They - they are not real.

[For now, it's only been cethleann the barest of whispers, but she can still make it out in dead silence, enough so that when it cethleann brushes against her awareness, she knows what it's saying.

It's only ever saying one word. For now.]

morning

[scouserer]

[Constantine is hanging out in the buffet, cramming food into his mouth. Today's breakfast of choice is a mug of English breakfast tea and a bagel smothered in cream cheese. He hears Data speak while he's in the middle of chewing, and he glances up, mouth full as he replies--]

Eh? Sure. Just make sure you get my good side, alright?

[Any photograph Data might take is probably going to look unflattering as hell. He licks a wayward bit of cream cheese from his thumb and wipes his hand on his coat.]

What's this about, then? Tryin' to keep a record?

[ltcommandroid]

[Eh, that's fine, they've been talking about candid photography lately. Which is why Data does not immediately move to take the photo - he feels permission is important, but the two can co-exist.]

I suppose it could be that, in part. Though of course, any record we only begin to keep now will necessarily be incomplete. [...] Still, it would be good to have photographs of those who remain.

[scouserer]

Suppose it would.

[If Data's not done taking pictures, Constantine will straighten up a bit and try to look...at least a little more refined. But 'refined' isn't really a word used to describe John Constantine, and it certainly won't be used now.]

Hey, y'know, these might've been more helpful to record evidence and the like in previous weeks. Not that we needed any help, but....

[Constantine shrugs.]

piano lounge (cw: hallucination references)

[scythegun]

[Yeager hasn't exactly been the most social since the motive, but then again, how many of us have been? He's restlessly wandering the ship in the evening when he hears the sound of the violin, and he swings by to join Data. For awhile he simply hangs out nearby, watching and listening - and occasionally glancing over his shoulder. For the most part he's trying to be as cheerful as usual, but... well, it's pretty obvious that he's not having a great time with this one either.]

Your playing is magnificent. It... really is helping with the... that. All of that.

[Vague handwave, which is supposed to indicate the things we're hearing, but that really says nothing of value.]

[ltcommandroid]

I am glad to hear that.

[Data's got the gist. It's unnecessary to know exactly what the others are hearing, he thinks.]

I find the distraction of playing helpful, although perhaps not as much so as I had hoped. Though I cannot be emotionally hurt by this, it is still...a disruption.

[scythegun]

It's a disruption that's strange enough to be happening to you in the first place. I can see where that would be a little... odd.

["Unnerving" is the better word for it, but Data Does Not Have Feelings.......]

When did you learn to play?

morning

[magycks]

[ Magica is leaving her room with a spear, looking in general tired and agitated. When Data speaks, she cocks her head to the side and considers it for all of three seconds. ]

... Sure, why not.

[ And she just... instantly hits a pose that looks something like this? Like, there is no thought put into this at all, it's just 0 to villainous vamping without a shred of self-consciousness. The wildly oversized spear stands in for the staff. ]

Where's the other one, then? [ She means Jasper. ]

[ltcommandroid]

I am not sure. We are going to compare our photographs during the development process.

[He'll snap one off of that, then!]

Have you done this often?

morning

[sivard]

[The question gets Zaveid's browse to raise, but he nods after a moment.]

Uh, sure. All right.

Why the sudden hobby?

[ltcommandroid]

I am making use of the new equipment. I have not had such antiquated methods of photography available to me in the past - I suppose it is a novelty.

[smile!]

investigation, cw: hallucination references

[magycks]

[ Early Tuesday morning, Magica takes the spear she took from Plumeria and heads on down to the workshop, where she promptly gets on top of cutting it down to size. This means you may, in fact, walk on her using a goddamn bandsaw, but don't worry, it's fine, she totally knows what she's doing. Eventually, with one end sheared off into its own little mini-spear and the shaft reduced to "tall by duck proportional standards", she starts aggressively sandpapering the new edges, and that's where she's at when her device lights up with the traditional summons to the theater. Smugly, to nobody, she says: ]

Knew it.

[ And that energy lasts for all of two minutes! Here is the thing about photos on devices that look like smartphones: you can just shut the fake phone down and only look at whatever's on it in moments of private vulnerability. Even if it eats at you, even if the motive is something that would upend your reason for being, you don't have to look it in the face constantly. Unfortunately, the entity inhabiting Jack's corpse is actually good at his job, and his curse can't be powered down and tucked into her cloak for later. It follows her out the theater and down the stairs, and there's absolutely nothing she can do about it.

So that means it's time to investigate the pub, right? That's what's this overwhelming sense of impotence and rage means? Search aside, she spends a decent while in there, because as long as she keeps inputting random songs in the jukebox there's something to keep her distracted, and the dart board... She pops over to the art room very briefly, then returns with a bunch of paper and various art supplies, which she sets up at the bartop and proceeds to utilize furiously for the entire afternoon. She's drawing picture after picture of Handsome Jack's face, but specifically dead Handsome Jack, judging from the liberal use of red. Also, there are a few incomplete workups of this guy mixed in there. Several hours into this, Magica has a glass of something non-Disney XD friendly off to the side, untouched, You Oughta Know is positively blaring, and any entrance goes unnoticed for a good long while — until she suddenly whips around, eyes wide with surprise, and says: ]

Couldn't possibly announce yourself or anything, could you?! [ There's a pause where a normal person would probably start to feel bad for snapping. Magica looks back down at her work, holds up a Jack portrait in each hand, and continues in a normal tone of voice, as if she hadn't snapped at all. ] Which one of these do you like for the dartboard?

investigation

[bathymetric]

[ Hey there, Magica! Where do you wanna start? ]

[magycks]

[ Well, since she's trying to not think about auditory hallucinations, she's definitely gravitating towards the jukebox first and going to punch in some tunes! Is this a "you might recognize some music from your home universe" situation, or...?

Also, if it turns out it's a normal jukebox, she's going to just crawl under the pool table like a goddamn gremlin and start poking around to see if there's anything taped to the bottom. ]

pub; cw: allusion to hallucinations

[scouserer]

[Constantine has long since entered the pub when Magica finally notices his presence. With one hand, he leans against the pool table, and in the other, he holds a drink.

He ignores the echoes of those whispering to him, for the most part. Constantine is no stranger to being haunted, and these voices are just another way of it manifesting. Magica's outburst is enough to make him arch an eyebrow, however, and he casts a sort of withering look towards the duck.]

Hmmm. Personally, the one on the left really speaks to me, you know? I think.... [He raps his fingers against the felt, pretending to look thoughtful for a moment.] ....I think it's the usage of the color red.

[Both pictures provide equal amounts of red, but...you know. His tone is light as he speaks, the trademark Constantine Smirk seemingly plastered to his face.]

You know, at least you're takin' out your aggression in debatably healthy ways.

[magycks]

Don't you at least me...!

[ Apparently the last bit was more offensive than anything else? Like always, the second her doing anything vaguely less than awful comes up, she goes on the defensive. Unlike always, a voice only Magica can hear echoes through the subsequent dead air, as calm and sardonic as her own voice was loud and unhinged. Her jaw clenches.

Then she sets down the other piece of paper, rips the left-hand Jack portrait in half, and starts shredding the two pieces into confetti. You know, to calm down! ]

Look, I don't care if talking down to me is your own little coping mechanism, I am not in the mood.

pub (cw: hallucination references)

[scythegun]

[Well, that sure is a greeting, hi Magica. But she moves on quickly enough and Yeager is totally fine rolling with the sudden topic change like that didn't just happen. It's Fine, we're all a little on edge right now.]

Hmm... A difficult question, both of them look like they'd make for excellent target practice! Have you already put some of these to use?

[Darts sound like an excellent idea right now, and destroying something that looks like "Jack" sounds even better.]

[magycks]

[ yeager you are so goddamn valid it hurts ]

Mm, it's been in more of a drafting stage up til now.

[ This is Magica's way of not admitting that, in a stunning display of self-awareness, she thinks that maybe she won't be able to hit him as dead-on as she wants on the first try and will immediately lapse into a temper tantrum that's embarrassing even by her standards.

... Also, she's kind of too short to pin it up without dragging a barstool across the entire room. There's also that. ]

But if you'd like to do the honors...?

[guffawsungraciously]

Ah, forgive me. This does seem to be a poor choice of venues to be moving with catlike tread.

[...he doesn't sound particularly sorry, but. You know.

...he's going to bring a thoughtful hand up to his chin at the question, though, since he did wait for Magica to finish speaking before apologizing.]

In any case, I find them both quite suitable. Why not switch the picture out for each day of the week? I actually have come across a few items I would be willing to donate for later, though I wish to show them to the others at our usual Wednesday get-together first.

[magycks]

[ Something else to focus on? All is forgiven! Magica sets down the papers and props her chin (bill, it's just the underside of her bill, but if you asked her she would absolutely refer to it as a chin and plunge this game even deeper into hell) up under a fist, affecting a posture of intrigue. ]

Ooh, do tell. I take it his disgusting visage is involved.