WEEK 1

[bathymetric]

Happy New Year! ... You're still here. Looks like The Captain wasn't lying when he said the murdering is now up to you. That, or you can all live here on your own. Regardless, it's time to settle in. The days start passing much less eventfully after that first one, and, well... on it goes, huh?

There might not be a whole cruise ship to explore just yet, but there are a variety of amenities available to all of you! Who ever heard of a boring cruise ship, anyway? As the week goes on, you might even start to see some of those strange coins appear for you!

Better buckle down and get to know your fellow passengers, though, if you want to stand a chance of weathering this storm.



MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY
FRIDAY | SATURDAY

[ ooc: Welcome to peace week! Feel free to mingle (and investigate, if you like) to your hearts' content! Please ensure all investigation toplevels are marked accordingly, and otherwise enjoy! If you wish to talk to The Captain or Davy Jones, look here for the former and here for the latter! ]

Comments

[magycks]

[ DAYS SINCE POSSESSING DARK MAGYCKS (AGAIN): 6

This is not a metaphorical heading to indicate the passage of time! It's a literal list of tallymarks that Magica is inscribing on the wall directly beside the top bunk of the bed where she sleeps. Each morning, without fail, she adds another to the count. I am so sorry.

This morning, however, she wakes up to a small pile of silver coins. It's a bit early still — like, not the proverbial witching hour, but the lights certainly aren't up yet — but she feels certain of their purpose, and, more importantly, she's bored. She makes the sixth tally, then creeps furtively out of room 5 (this is true whether or not Plumeria is asleep, or even present! she's just Like This) and makes her way to the vending machine, where she... receives some junk. She mutters to herself, which looks more like whispering harshly at the horrifying clown doll she's now holding. ]

Oh, sure, why not this?

[ The next ten or so minutes go towards bringing things back to her room and up onto the top deck, depending on what she thinks she can use, and then one final trip back for some vending machine junk she's neglected to get before now. By the time morning arrives, she's perched on a lounge chair near the deck, ignoring the sunrise in favor of the elongated shadows it casts to the west. While she's mostly writing things down (with undue intensity) in a new notebook, once or twice you can come across her violently shaking something else between her hands.

When she goes back downstairs, she leaves the air tank lying around, Mr. Charles Entertainment Pants propped upright in her chair, and the cup full of worms in its attached drink holder. You're welcome.

In the afternoon, she peruses the library with renewed focus, and ends up at a table with a respectably-sized stack of books next to her. Unfortunately, the common thread between those books is astrology, and — if her mounting annoyance and speed in skimming them is any guide, they're all useless. After snapping this little volume shut with a frustrated groan, she sits back in her chair, glares at the ceiling, tugs at her own face, and then remembers there are other people here. Without looking back down: ]

Don't you start with me.

Vending Machine

[ahelpingpaw]

[There was Filbo coming with a good bunch of coins, but looks like Magica beat him to the punch. That's a small pile of junk, and what Magica is scowling at...]

...that's absolutely horrible. Looks like you were right, that machine is holding tortured souls inside.

[That was definitely a wry joke. What are you even supposed to do with that thing?]

[magycks]

[ Oh, it's Fiddlepie. Well, he's probably not going to try and murder her, but all the same her eyes flick over to the empty air tank before she looks his way. ]

Not so loud. [ That sounds reproving and could potentially be genuine! The second bit, pitched even lower, is just Magica getting back on her bullshit. ] He can hear us.

[ahelpingpaw]

Oh. S-Sorry.

[An apology to both Magica and the horrible thing from the machine. Filbo lowers his voice, rather creeped out and probably reconsidering approaching the vending machine ever again]

...what should be...done with him? Respectfully.

[As if saying 'respectfully' would make things aaaaall better if he's listening. There's no respectful way of saying 'throw him to the kraken outside']

[magycks]

Oh, very smooth recovery.

[ She sounds sarcastic, but also like she's having a fantastic time. ]

Why don't you put in some of your tokens and see if we can't propitiate him with something that pops out? Like a book of matches.

[ahelpingpaw]

Well if I have to then...

[Then may as well do it, it's not like he was coming here for anything else. Coin after coin goes in, receiving makeup kits and Ikea stuff, and also, well...]

This is giving me long clothes. I'm not sure if it means that thing should be covered with these or something.

[Labcoats and capes, yup. And then came out the spear. Filbo holds the spear, keeping the blade aimed towards the ceiling]

Well...this isn't what I expected.

[magycks]

[ She's very embarrassingly eyeing the cape as this all goes down, but then... Spear. ]

Huh. A bit on the nose, but beggars can't be choosers. On the other hand, breaking its container might simply unleash the unquiet spirit on the rest of the ship...

[ absolutely do not let her hold the spear, filbo ]

[ahelpingpaw]

[If you asked for a cape Filbo would give it to you with no complaints, Magica, haha]

If you say so.

[Well, does seem to make sense, really. Would they be dooming the ship if they broke that, uh, that container open?

...]

He's not showing any signs of sensing anything, right?

[He feels so weird asking about a hopefully inanimate dummy's status, but hey, is the dummy sensing they're considering the option of stabbing it with a spear]

[magycks]

Don't worry, even you'll recognize if that starts to happen. Might be too late by then, but...

[ She shifts the way she's holding the doll so that Filbo can look it in the hideous face more clearly, though the point of her doing this remains murky. ]

Just make sure the eyes aren't following you. [ Oh, there's the point! Magica looks back at the rest of her own little junk pile, considering the possible future directions in which she could take this. ] I'll find a distraction.

library

[onlyyoucan]

...

[She won't, then; she'll just stare for a second and then try to read the useless cat book.]

[magycks]

Ugh, have fun with that.

... Now you're just going to keep reading it and not say anything, as if I wasn't being sarcastic, aren't you.

[onlyyoucan]

[Yes. Yes, she is. Sorry, she's experienced in dealing with people trying to get her attention.]

[magycks]

... of course. Do you think this is some sort of competition to see who can be the most boring? Because you're winning. No contest, really.

[onlyyoucan]

It's not about being boring. You're just always hostile.

[magycks]

You're always hostile! [ jesus christ ] No, but really, this is me at, like, a three. What're you going to do when the feathers start flying and people kill each other, immure yourself with little miss oceanography over there and do your cat's natal chart?

[onlyyoucan]

It doesn't even matter to you what I do, even if someone tries to act on the Captain's threat.

[magycks]

You don't know that, it's just been very heavily implied. And so what? It impacts me whether I care or not.

vending machine

[silentscout]

[Well, if she's going to just leave them there, Lalli will go ahead and take that cup of worms.]

Do you have a fishing pole too?

[magycks]

Of course not — that might actually be useful. This [ and she indicates the worm cup with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if there were anything else here she'd be italicizing over ] is useless at best and a pun at worst.

[silentscout]

Oh.

[He looks down at the cup of worms.]

How is it a pun?

[magycks]

Ha! Think you can get me to say it, don't you? Try harder next time.

[silentscout]

I'm not going to laugh if I don't know what to laugh at. It's not my fault you're bad at jokes.

[magycks]

Well, good, because puns are the lowest form of humor and I never wanted to deliver one in the first place.

[silentscout]

Then why bring it up?

[magycks]

Because I assumed you had a basic understanding of idiom! Whoops, my bad.

[ honestly even she doesn't know why she's mad at this point ]