JANUARY 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

[sodder]

JANUARY 2020 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to January's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: OCEAN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

PLEASE NOTE FOR CHARACTER ARRIVALS: This month, all players can choose to have their characters wake up in the town of Deerington or on the Titanic.

CW: Ghost of a child, rotting corpses, drowning, hallucinations, paranoia
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

WHERE FEET MAY FAIL

For those who were left behind in Deerington while everyone else was whisked away in the flood during the New Years Eve party, they will find that the town is a little more wet than usual. The streets are still flooded, houses are damp, and the chill of winter isn't making it easy to deal with. Your hands can feel like ice any day of the week and it's hard to focus with how badly you may find yourself trembling from the cold.

But it's almost preferable to the visions. They start off while you're sleeping; large sea monsters roaming the ocean, waiting to pull you down into the darkened depths; or maybe it's a strange, ghost looking girl with glowing eyes and tattered clothing, her skin blue and rotting the way a body does when it's been submerged in water for too long. She's calling out to you, beckoning you down, and all around her are the strung up, floating corpses of the people who were foolish enough to listen.

It's just a dream though, right? Slowly you start to see the girl around town. She's still calling to you, watching you, waiting for you. If you get too close, she'll even be able to grab onto you, pulling you down into the waterlogged streets, and into what you thought was only a puddle of water. It's as deep as an ocean, and just as dark and cold too. Someone near by can grab onto you before she can drag you under and the vision will disappear. If no one does, maybe if you're a strong swimmer, you'll be able to struggle free, but when you resurface, there will be a bruise forming on your arm in the shape of a hand – something to remind you that maybe these visions are a little more real than you gave them credit for.

The only way to stay safe is to travel in pairs. The girl seems to keep her distance when there's more than one person around, but it doesn't mean she won't try to find the means to separate you. Whether it's increasing the flooding in certain areas of the street or trying to distract one of you long enough to put some distance between you and your comrade, she'll do whatever it takes to try and grab onto whoever she can.

GHOST SHIP

Those who are on the boat might find that life is a little easier, depending on what class you've found yourself in. The struggles between first, second, and third are certainly rough on everyone, but many seem to find themselves thinking this is just the way of things. Maybe your mind has been altered to just accept the class differences or your memories completely rewritten and you think you've led a completely different life so far; either way, only a handful of passengers seem to fully understand that this isn't the way things are supposed to be.

There's nothing anyone can do to change things, though, and so many find themselves getting lost in day to day activities. Whether it's working on the ship, enjoying the finer foods in the first class dining halls, or enjoying the rowdy parties in third class storage after hours, everyone seems to be finding something to keep themselves occupied. As the days pass, even those who know full well what's coming seem to forget the looming doom, and you might even find yourself feeling lost in the monotony of day to day life.

But those who stare into the water too long, who look at the strange, large shapes swimming just under the surface might find a sense of dread filling them. The paranoia will shake you to your very core, leaving you with a sense that all is not right with this journey. You can try to tell people, but most will look at you as though you're insane. Eventually, your fear will become so heavy that you start to see destruction all around you. Whole sections of the ship will look flooded, rotting wood and rusted steel taking over every inch of the once proud ship, and every section is covered in algae. You might start to realize it looks uncannily like an old shipwreck.

The ship is still floating, though, and the coarse steady. So it's all in your head, right? Staying away from the water will make the visions and paranoia eventually ebb, but any glance at the floating shapes will cause it to come back tenfold. Maybe just stay inside and away from the ship's edge. It seems a lot safer that way.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

NOTE: Character's this month can wake up in Deerington or on the Titanic.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Comments

[wwrench]

Admiration, too, might be the feeling of a man at the zoo who stops at a cage to gaze at the wild creatures therein. It could be the sentiment of a child in the park, set aside by circumstance and watching as his peers jump and run around him. Left to its own devices and unreturned, admiration can breed contempt. It is not so many paces removed from the sort of jealousy that might fan a flame in a man's belly.

Walter's pilot light has been burning since he was an infant. Now, the flames lick at his gut and turn the sweet fortified wine to bile. As the man continues to rage at him in a tongue he cannot understand, he feels the eyes of the other passengers turned their way. The false veneer of confidence slips as he sees himself made spectacle in front of the whole dining cabin. When the man pushes at him with his fingers, Walter feels the last strands of his patience snap.

He raises his hand and knocks the man's arm from his chest, then steps close enough to put his hot breath down the stranger's neck. It only emphasizes the difference in their height. Each breath is audible, like the rasp of a caged animal. Fire seems to burn at the backs of Walter's eyes. But true fights in his life have been few and far between, and the look of this man tells a different story. Moments pass when he can't even find his tongue to shape it into words, and then Walter reaches into his pocket. Drawing out a dull shilling, he thrusts it at the man like an offering made to a beggar.

"It's nothing to me. You're nothing, you see." He puts the tips of his fingers at either one of the man's shoulders and gives him a shove.

Deck at Night

[speed_of_snark]

Jean-Paul, accepting the flask and sipping delicately before handing it back.

"Merci. I'm afraid, my handsome friend, that I have no idea what you're saying."

He pulls out his own cigarette from an expensive case and gestures for a light.

[weiward]

Ahh, I recall the rules well.

[he should have, as many times as he copied them! days and weeks spent writing "no" and "do not" until he thought his eyes might cross permanently and ruin his good looks.]

I've even seen Zewu-Jun drink a toast, believe it or not!

[dividingline]

Abraham has plenty of experience with the expression that rises through the other man's face like water boiling, making his nostrils flare and brightening those eyes that remind him, distantly, of ice on a forest pond. He's provoked expressions like that many times, mostly on purpose, relishing the chance it gives him to unspool a little of the frustrated violence that sits, always waiting, in his soul.

When the stranger steps in against him, he resists the urge to step back and instead tilts his head to keep that eye contact, letting the man get a fill of the trouble he's caused. When one hand goes to his pocket, Abraham braces himself for the sight of a blade or a small pistol, already tensing himself to barrel forward and take the man off his feet, imagining himself using the element of surprise to disarm him and get a few licks in before a politsyant arrives. Instead, the stranger pulls out a coin between his long fingers and offers it towards him, the disgust in his eyes making his meaning clear despite their lack of shared language. Abraham stays as rigid as stone, his own breathing deep and even, letting the shilling bounce off his chest and land in the remains of his soup on the floor. So, he thinks, are the coins of rich men spent. Gasps and murmurs follow its passage; he hears someone shout, possibly calling a guard.

The man says something and follows his insulting gesture with another, a quick stab at his shoulders that has more power behind it than the goy's lanky frame suggests. Abraham sways back a step, pulls in a breath, then gathers all the unspent anger that has lain dormant within him and surges forward into the rich man with a bellow of outrage, a desperate lunge that sends them both crashing back into the man's recently vacated table.

[dividingline]

Abraham is dimly surprised, but not entirely unhappy, to have his offer taken up. Few enough have approached him who weren't men like him, lonely and hungry as winter-starved wolves, clustering together in grim shared dismay at their lot in life. This man seems to be, at least at first glance, both handsome and pleasant. Not the type to befriend a strange Jew in the shelter of the icy shadows.

He hands the flask over with a nod and a flip of his hand that indicates that the stranger should have as much as he wants. As he does so, he casts a thoughtful eye over his new companion, marking the elegant lines of his clothes. He recognises one word of the man's speech, and the language of shared cigarettes is, of course, as ancient and universal as an outstretched hand.

Lighting the match against his thumbnail, he reaches out to set it to the end of the stranger's cigarette before attending to his own, then shakes it out and tosses it over the side into the black waves far below.

He digs into the cobwebs of his knowledge of French and comes up with something vaguely serviceable. "Du froid," he says, then makes a mime of shivering and clutching at himself.

[angelic_archer]

[When he's sure that the other passenger isn't going to think of him as a threat, Alec moves closer, leaning against the rail. He knows he can be intimidating, even when he's not dressed in a tailored suit instead of his black leather gear. The dark marks that cover much of his exposed skin make most people think that he's someone to avoid.

He stares out at the water, tension easing out of his shoulders when he realizes that the being sees it too. He isn't going to have to come up with a convenient lie to explain away his question.]

I see it too, but I haven't been able to see enough detail to figure out what it is. There shouldn't be anything out this far from shore.

[wwrench]

He sees it all too late, when it's already happening, and doesn't find the time to brace himself for the impact against the table. It takes the breath from his lungs, but Walter's fingers are still twisted in the folds of the other man's jacket. When the stranger comes crashing down atop him, their combined weight is too much for the replicated construction of the piece of furniture. Wood splinters underneath them, and he howls a choked expression of pain and rage when the next thing his back finds is the floor of the dining hall.

Walter has been in a scrap or two in his lifetime. Boyhood spats that left him and his compatriots with a few bloody noses and far more stories to tell. Offenses easily forgotten as the sun set and the next day brought new dreams and ideas. He's never been in a legitimate fight before, but that flame in his belly wants it just the same. Like a rising darkness within him, Walter finds himself overtaken by the urge to see this through. To pound every amount of bile and grit and self-loathing into the face of the man with the stern eyes and heavy scowl. He shapes his fingers into a fist and drives it towards the jaw of the stranger, the other hand still holding him close. Refusing to let him get away even as he seeks to beat him back.

He doesn't hear the boots of the officers as they converge upon the chaos. Walter can barely see past the red in his eyes, but he feels himself split apart from the man, and then a heavy arm bracing around his chest and hauling him backward. He's ushered to his feet and nearly before he can find them under him, dragged toward the doors of the hall.

cw: blood

[dividingline]

Muscle memories of other fights give Abraham enough of an edge to endure the sudden starts and stops of the grapple he finds himself in, his hands tangled and confused in the layers of clothing, the man's legs beneath him finding purchase in his gut and driving the breath out of him. The broken wood of the table and the floor of the dining hall are no match to the cobbles and mud of the city streets he's left behind, but the hot singing blood in his ears is the same, the narrowing of the world down to what he can grasp and grip against.

The stranger somehow finds his freedom first, using it to swing one big paw on an arc that Abraham can't twist away from, pain exploding across his face and inside his mouth as his teeth cut into his cheek. He yowls like a cat, trying to bring his hands up to find a way around the rich goy's throat, satisfying himself instead with pummelling his ribs, his belly, anything within reach, blood and spit drooling out of his mouth as he leans over him.

There's shouting in English as the expected authorities arrive. Abraham is indiscriminate with his anger, flailing as hands take him under the arms and around his neck and haul him back, shouting curses in Yiddish, Polish and finally Russian as he struggles to get free and reach the smug goyim at the molten center of his ire. A glimpse of staring faces is all he gets of the rest of the dining hall, then the doors passing and a wash of cool fresh air that smells like salt and iodine, and the hands on his back push him out in a stumble until he hits the railing and slides down again, panting and staring uselessly at the loud objections of a man in a White Star Lines uniform.

Danny Pink | Doctor Who

[soldierman]

1. Arrival

[ This isn’t where he’s meant to be, and he knows it. Death had been a ridiculously long process for Danny Pink, and he doesn’t have any desire to relive it, but it seems as if he has no other choice. The dead don’t dream; it seems as if they just get toyed with.

When he leans against the railing, he halfway expects to be gazing out into the lights of the Nethersphere again. Instead, he’s greeted with the sea, almost as black as night. He’s never been on a ship. He’s never even been to the seaside. ]

Excuse me—

[ He calls to the nearest passenger, taking note of their…definitely not modern clothing. His briefest passing thought is Clara would have an explanation for this. ]

What ship is this? Where is it headed?

2. Ghost Ship

[ So, this isn’t strange at all. It genuinely isn’t. But it is worrying. Each time someone hurries past him on deck or in a corridor, he’s reminded that there is no hope. This ship is doomed, and history reminds him that the vessel was never equipped with enough lifeboats to save all of these passengers.

He finds himself staring at the water more often throughout the day. It’s easier than looking around him and being reminded of where he is—but it doesn’t help. When he lifts his head after one particularly long water-staring session, the gilt and flash of the ship is gone. That beautiful wooden panelling is rotting, as if eaten away by years of being beneath the sea. Steel is rusting, jutting out at dangerous angles. It’s a skeleton of a ship.

Danny stares unblinkingly, looking haunted. ]

Does the ship look different to you…?

[wwrench]

Walter finds only slightly better treatment in his own station. The uniformed officer leads at his back, smartly pinning Walter's arms to his sides as he's walked unceremoniously from the dining hall. Finding himself removed from his senses it's not the pain that inhibits him so much as the adrenaline still in his veins and the disruptive thumping of his heart against his ribcage. The tall man can't find his words. As has happened so many times in his life, emotion strangles at his throat and mutes the air in his lungs and he finds himself tumbling away from his sense of self. He rips away from the officer as soon as he can find the space, whirling around to find a red-faced man barking words he can't untangle.

With a dismissive wave of his hand Walter turns his back to the angry officer. He tugs at the front of his coat, meaning to set himself straight before retreating to his suite, but the pain in his belly is enough to double him at the waist. The tall man groans and clutches an arm around himself as a wave of ache sends shudders of nausea throughout him. Hissing greedy breaths of the salty sea air, he sounds more feral animal than human, unconscious of the noise he makes. Unconscious, too, of the warnings still being shouted in his direction, or the small crowd that have gathered to peer just beyond the doors of the dining hall at the commotion the two men have caused.

[hedon]

The nature of their relationship was still new, vulnerable, and as much as Magnus might want to cross the threshold and kiss Alec again he's scared. Worried that whatever history was between them, was enough to keep them from moving forward normally. The desire was still there, brimming under the surface of his skin lighting every single nerve ending he had on fire. It tenses his shoulders, keeps him rigid despite what Alec says.

"I do know that, but the last time I saw you- you were still coming around to the truth of it." Alec had been more than willing to marry Lydia for family, for honor, for the clave. Magnus had pleaded with him and Alec had lashed out, up until they kissed he'd thought they'd never speak again. Not unless his work required it of him, and even then as little as possible.

"And I knew how you felt about me then, just like it's impossible to ignore now. That's the thing about chemistry, you can feel it when it's there. Physical cues, biological imperatives." Magnus chuckles, to himself but it's no more than a brief huff of laughter in the space between them. It seems so pointless now, but he'd said this all before filled with the same yearning, the same eagerness to make it seen as it had now. It wasn't verbatim, but it was close enough. "But we've had this conversation too. This is the first time I've felt something for anyone, in a very long time, Alexander, but we're clearly not working from the same timeline and the last thing I want is to be part of what could hurt you here."

[dividingline]

The heaving breaths Abraham drags in as he sits hunched on the deck taste like copper and the sea and are just about the only things that make sense as he splits his attention between the shouting Englishman and the tall goyishe man clutching his belly like he's been stabbed. The cold breeze off the water douses the back of his neck, cooling, quite literally, the anger that had so gripped him before.

Unsteadily, he reaches out to grip the rail and climbs to his feet, then turns and hawks a mouthful of blood over the side, wiping his lips on a damp sleeve that smells heavily of soup. That done, he returns his gaze to the man in the uniform, to him just another man in another uniform, as easily dismissed as dogshit on his shoe. More interesting is the rich man and the way that man's pain seems to echo in his own chest, the way he doesn't seem to hear the rough bestial noises he's producing or the arguments of the official now waving his hands in a shooing motion, and he realises that he is not the only outsider here.

He crosses over to Walter in a couple of lurching steps and sets a hand on the man's back between his shoulders, patting him as he looks back at the officer and makes a vague gesture to the effect of, all right, we're going, you can quit shouting so much, before tugging a little more insistently on the rich goy's arm, encouraging him to get moving before more of them arrive.

[angelic_archer]

Normally, Alec could gauge Magnus' moods, but now he couldn't understand his body language or his explanation of the reference to a wedding. Nothing made sense. The distance between them, leaving a bride at the alter... Maybe Magnus' memories had been altered by the spell that had caused Alec to forget that he was a Shadowhunter.

"Magnus, I've always known the truth. I'm gay. I might have been in the closet, but I never pretended to like women." It would have been easier if he had tried, but even as he realized what his lingering glances at handsome males meant, he'd never seriously considered trying to ignore the fact that he was gay. He was too honest for that. He'd always assumed that he'd remained unmarried, being the supportive big brother to his siblings and the doting uncle to their children.

"There's more than chemistry between us." For some reason, that suggestion hurt more than Alec expected. "I didn't ask you out because you're hot or because you like guys." Yes, he'd thought Magnus was attractive, but it was a night of fear and comfort that had caused Alec to realize that he wanted to take a risk he'd never thought he'd allow himself. "I asked you out because you - " Pausing, he struggled for a moment, trying to think of the right words.

"You saved my life. You had every reason to hate me, but you stayed with me when I was alone." Izzy would have stayed with him, but it wouldn't have been the same. He would have fought to be the stoic older brother. With Magnus he could be a wounded teenager who needed someone to cling to. Magnus had comforted him when he'd been terrified and certain that he'd die alone. "I know that I make you feel things that you haven't felt in decades. You called it calcification once. And it's obvious that something is altering our memories, but I don't understand why you could hurt me here."

[dustprincess]

No. She'd be freaking out, trying to get to the bottom of this.

[Or get super excited about the mystery. It depended wholly on who Ruby was around, or so Weiss thought.]

Honestly? The reason I think I'm here is to go to this place called America. To get married. That doesn't feel right when I talk to you, but my brain is really, really insistent on that being the truth.

[heisenbitch]

( ooc; Hi!! So sorry for slowness in responding. Been experiencing a lot of internet connectivity issues over the last week, due to bushfires here in Australia. ☹️ )

[ That hand on his shoulder startles him. Jerked out of his hypnotised gaze down upon the black, choppy water, Jesse reels around, instinctively ready to defend himself. The thick static that's been hissing inside his skull, sucking him down into a dark and despairing place, has suddenly stopped. In its place is sound of the ocean, the creaking of the ship, the whistling of the salty air around him. It's wildly disorienting.

He stares at the person in front of him. A woman, he realises, as he mentally tries shaking off the fog of confusion stuck inside his skull. He's itching to reach for his gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, for protection. Except... wait, he doesn't have his gun. His gun is... where? Back home? Wherever that might be now. A guarded and edgy up and down look at this woman. ]

..."Caught you up"?

welp

[hedon]

The only mood Magnus was exhibiting was that of complete and total apprehension. Not just for himself, but for Alec, for the way that things were in Deerington and now this boat heading to a destination that was unlikely to be good. The conversation takes something out of him and he finally sits down against the mattress in the tiny room, the bed creaks defiantly under his weight.

"Knowing the truth and living that truth is two very different things." Izzy knew the truth too after all but it didn't mean anything until Alec admitted it to himself enough to pursue something that might make him happy. Loyalties to the clave and to his family being such a profound part of Alec, Magnus was almost certain that he never would. "We were barely beginning something, when I left- showed up in a tiny town in Maine, from the 1950s, essentially... my nightmare. All I could think about for the first several nights is that kiss in front of the clave. In front of your family."

Deerington had a way of beating people down to less than themselves and the constant conflict with his magic had worn him thin from the beginning. "Then people started coming out of the graveyard, old relatives-" the tone comes across disdainful but there's a hollowness to it that not even Magnus can fake. Having to put his mother to rest had been profoundly painful. "Hunters came and strapped anyone that presumably wasn't Mundane to pyres. Now, we're the catch of the day. My memories were never altered. I've known who I am the entire time I've been aboard this ship. Just like I knew who you were, the moment I sw you in the dining hall."

[speed_of_snark]

Jean-Paul inhales, expression blissful. He regards Abraham with an amusement that somehow isn't malicious. At his French he laughs and claps his hands together once.

"Ah, oui." He lapses into the language entirely. "Fucking freezing. And only colder where I'm going. Pity we can't understand a word the other is saying."

He gestures down, eyebrows raised in question. He can't imagine that he'd NOT from a lower level, but he supposes he could also be crew. "Small talk is still tedious, isn't it? Ah well."

[heisenbitch]

( ooc; Sorry for the slowness! Internet has been really spotty the last almost week, I'm assuming due to the bushfires nearby where I live. ☹️ )

[ "Probably back in the depths, waiting for another..." huh? What is that supposed to even mean? Confusion rattles its way through Jesse's pale, gawking stare. He's still clutching his throat, still trying to get his breath and his burning, breathless lungs under control. ]

...I— N-Nah, man, she-she was stalkin' me, yo, she's been following me ever since I— [ A wild and nervous glance all around him. His throat strangles out another hoarse cough. ] E-Ever since I woke up in... [ Attention snatching back onto the guy. ] Ever since I woke up here, yo. "Deerington". Wherever the hell that's s'posed to be.

[almightythirst]

[ Consider Jesse officially impressed by the pose. He doesn’t think he could sit like that for more than a minute without some serious back pain.

That spark of recognition he’d felt for the troublemaker in Genji flares up again upon hearing his name. Though he’s surely never heard it before—wouldn’t he remember?—having to hide is familiar ground to him. Another thing they have in common. He’d swindled his way onto this ship determined not to get too involved with any of the other passengers, but here he is face-to-face with a man he thinks could become a friend. But it is really too early to tell, isn’t it? ]

Dishonor, huh? Well, don’t feel like you’ve got to hide much here in this room. Not like there’s space for many secrets anyway. I won’t go askin’, but I bet whatever you’ve done, it won’t shock me. Been all over the place, seen all sorts of things in my time.

It is funny, I agree. XD And oops, I said Curufin instead of Jan, in my tag above.

[so_dark_a_road]

Jan doesn't know much Latin outside of its relation to scientific vocabulary, but he does know etiam. He smiles and turns his ear to hear what John is saying. "I will be there," he answers in a whisper.

And then he too backs up, and he answers. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" He almost adds a clownish salute, but decides that would be overkill.

But he does throw a grin over his shoulder as he vamooses. Later, he will be waiting on deck for John.

on deck

[angelic_archer]

[The more time Alec spends staring out at the water, the more unnerved he becomes. Eventually he starts patrolling the way he would if he was still in New York. He doesn't have his gear and his only weapons are a few knives that he swiped from the kitchens, but he still keeps watch.

He's used to the other passengers reacting in various ways to the shapes in the water. Some seem oblivious. Others seem to question their sanity. The one that attempts to grab him seems to be a Mundane with the Sight and knows that something supernatural is near the ship.

Alec starts moving automatically, sidestepping the reaching hand, but stopping himself before he does more than that. This being's a frightened Mundane, not a demon or a mugger. Making a placating gesture, he keeps some distance between himself and the other passenger in case the being starts to panic.]

There's something in the water, but I don't know if it's a ghost.

[guardianofeden]

His reaction, this time, was instantaneous. His tension wilted as he let out a long, relieved breath, an almost-smile crossing his face before melting into an rather sad moue. She knows, he doesn't have to pretend that everything was just tickety-boo. But he certainly empathized with her obvious unhappiness about the entire situation.

"Oh, my dear, more then you know. Which is precisely why I'm trying to...well...build little rafts, I suppose. the wooden furniture has the best chance of floating, and I was hoping that if I were able to tie enough pieces together, they could keep people out of the freezing water long enough for help to reach them, when the time comes."

He sighed, the sound of the plan just as ludicrous to his ears as he suspected it would be to anyone else who heard it. He knew it was more then likely a fool's errand, but he couldn't sit back and not do something.

"Frankly, I don't know that it will do much good in the long run, but it's better then trying to warn everyone ahead of time. They seemed to be under the impression that I had come down with a case of hysterics when I tried."

[justlikemob]

Oh. Good luck with that.

[Hey, he's got no reason to doubt the guy. It's around this time that they finally reach the Laundromat.]

Hm...I can just throw your jacket in with these sweaters, I think. They look like the same material?

[kintsugambol]

[ she wrinkles her nose at that, before smiling a little, tone light. ]

Yeah, marrying you off would never work. You're too much trouble. [ blake sighs. ] You're right though. So... it's me, you, Ruby... [ and she stiffens, worry apparent on her face. ] You haven't seen Yang, have you?

[ you know. just because they've got their best shot of figuring this out if they're all together. no other reason. none. ]

Memory Loss

[guardianofeden]

[By the second day, his and Crowley's cabin had begun to be cluttered and cramped with bits of pilfered, wooden fixtures and furniture that he had managed to sneak past the other passengers and the crew in his frantic attempts to cobble together makeshift rafts for what he knew was coming, and it had begun to sink in just how futile it would be to try and keep all of it confined to their cabin, how much more they would need to do and how impossible it would be to make enough in time for the ones he knew would go down otherwise. And so his panic had taken on a different sort of outlet.

It had brought him down below, sticking out like a sore thumb in his obviously first class finery, where he had sought out the masses of people and lingered at the edge of the crowd and looking out over the crowd to try and find anyone he recognized from Deerington. Maybe if he could find them, help those to remember what they'd forgotten and convince the ones who already remembered to help him help them. Anything to make him feel like he wasn't "running his wheels," as Crowley would say, and maybe, just maybe, save more lives then would have been possible otherwise.

Any face that triggered a glimmer of familiarity was analyzed as he worked through the fog of amnesia that was beginning to threaten to cloud even his own actions. But truthfully, the longer he stood, the harder it was to remember, and so it was that well into the night, he mostly stood, pensive and anxious and at times not even sure quite why, fighting to keep the reason at the forefront of his thoughts when he did. Curse Deerington, curse this ship, and damn whomever had brought them all to this realm in the first place.

Which was perhaps why he stared a little longer then intended at the young woman who seemed familiar, but whom he was sure he had never met, so that she approached and held out her hand in greeting and offered him a dance.]

Oh, I-...I, well... [Oh, dancing sounded like such a lovely distraction from the anxiety, a traitorous part of his mind cooed at him. There's nothing to be worried about, you silly old fool, everything is fine, enjoy the holiday! The look he gave her was melancholy at best and deeply troubled at worst as he shook his head as if to clear it.] I'm sorry, my dear, I'm not much of a dancer. Only learned the one, and it's been out of style for a very long time. I'm...I'm trying to find friends. People who come from the same town as me. Perhaps you've heard of it? Deerington.

[He smiled at her, but it wasn't very convincing. She did seem so strangely familiar, though he still couldn't seem to place her face. At least she seemed a sweet enough young woman. Which made the part of his mind that was still able to hold onto the reality of their situation just a little more upset.]