brethrencourt | TEST DRIVE 001b

Entry tags:

mod post: test drive

TEST DRIVE 001b

Try on those ridiculous clothes, sample the catering, and run through your lines. It's time for the Long 18th Test Drive.

ARRIVAL: Characters come to in a dark, tropical forest in a huddle. There are the sounds of strange birds, animals, and insects all around, some of them perhaps worryingly close. With a closer inspection, arrivals realize they're on an incline: Going up will prove fruitless, no matter who they are. The ground there starts to grow rocky the further they climb, and they may find themselves slipping back down to their arrival point, even if they're expert mountain climbers. The ground sloping downward will eventually level out leading toward light, music, and noise. But for the moment, they're simply a group of lost people (or monsters/bipedal animals/robots/etc) with no idea where they are or how they got here. Now's probably a good time to ask, "Who the hell are you? Where am I?" Time to use the buddy system.

TORTUGA: There's a town off the coast of Hispaniola that never sleeps, and that town is Tortuga. It's swapped hands more times than anyone can count, but for now, the French have it. And they do like the extra money the pirates that frequent it bring in; they like it so much that they imported over 1600 prostitutes from Europe to keep them happy. So you might as well relax while you're here, as much as you can with random gunshots and fist fights, anyway. Drop in for a drink at the Faithful Bride, check out the wares for sale (provided to you tax-free thanks to piracy) near the dock front. Visit the warehouse where those ill-gotten goods are stored and distributed. Maybe you're looking for work on a ship? The captains can usually be found - frazzled and busy - in the taverns and at the shipwrights and everywhere in between (just look for the hats), and if they're in a good mood, they might be willing. But the key point of Tortuga is this: Have fun. Some examples might include: A barfight! Wandering into a brothel (maybe by mistake)! Getting duped into joining a crew! There's no end of trouble to get into.

MIRROR POST: When they arrived, every person found, in a pocket or a bag or tucked away somewhere on their person, a little compact mirror. It's nothing fancy: Square, with hinges and a latch that keep it closed, the outer casing carved from seashell, the inner mirror a little spotted with age. But if it's played around with enough, it quickly becomes apparent it works as a communication device. Here you have access to all of the marked folks, no matter how far and wide they might spread. Need to have a heart to heart with a buddy in Singapore? Want to send out a general ad to everyone at large? Looking for answers to questions? This is the quickest way to get all of that.

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE: The world is open, and it's full of pearls that are just waiting for you to take them. Maybe you want to have some quiet time to scrub clean in a bathhouse in Singapore. Perhaps you're visiting the fabled pirate city of Libertalia in Madagascar. Maybe you've found yourself lost in Mayan ruins or stranded on an island. Or you were shipwrecked in a hurricane. Or you've decided to relocate to Port Royal or one of the American colonies for a quieter sort of life. Either way, this is your story, might as well make it a good one.

Threaded | Flat

i. arrival

[One might think a man tattered to hell and back, blood spattered, and carrying a jewel encrusted sword might already be from this world. He's certainly got the I'm A Bad Dude look already. But upon closer inspection, the torn t-shirt is too high quality to be spun from any old seamstress, and the watch is one might see under the Way Too Expensive shelving in stores.

Rafe Adler has arrived with you, and he's more than likely expecting you to know the name. Once he picks himself off the ground, he's turned with his back facing the incline and the pointy end of sword extended to you. It's all very menacing, up until he can't stand the fly buzzing around his head, leaning away with it with an irritated curse under his breath.]

Where the hell are we? Who are you?

[At least he asks basic questions, even with how extra he is.]

ii. pirate heaven, rich boy hell

[Rafe has all but sheathed the sword he's arrived with in wake of the fact it's the Gucci of weaponry. Have you ever seen a pissy rich kid throw a tantrum outside of film? Here's your chance, because this is the third time he's stormed off from a wares stall with his hands clenched so tight his knuckles are a pale white.]

You and I are seeing the same, right? You're smart enough to recognize this as stainless steel? [If he's recognized you as another Marked, he's shoving a watch easily worth hundreds into your face. The guy's too angry to consider your judge of character, gesturing out to the docks.] These morons don't think it's enough to get a a cabin in ship ride back home. It's a clock! On your wrist!

iii. you can call me on my shell phone

[Spend enough time trying to fix your hair, and you'll realize that the mirror is a way to FaceTime. Rafe's got a pretty picture for whichever Marked he's accidentally reached, which just might be one or all of them. The sun is setting, the waves are rising and falling behind him, and he's shirtless. Relax, his shirt is hanging somewhere to dry.]

I don't think we'll get to hack this thing, but it'll do. [He heaves a sigh, dragging his hand down his face before he brings himself to look back at the called.] How are you holding up, because I'm just peachy.

Edited 2017-04-30 02:10 (UTC)

i. arrival

Oliver was lining up a shot to finally take out Adrian Chase for good and then his arrow sailed off into a jungle that did not look like the one he was currently in. It took all his training not to slide down the hill he seemed to be standing on. He yanked off his hood, leaving the mask on and looked around. "What the hell just happened," he asked out loud, but the communication device in his ear just gave him static in reply. He muttered an oath in Russian and started walking bow held at the ready.

ii. TORTUGA

Oliver was surprised how well 18th century clothes fit him. He'd managed to over take a solider and steal his uniform and now he was wandering this town and trying to figure out who he could trust. He did wish he could have his bow or a modern weapon at hand. He really didn't like swords given they'd been part of some of his worst memories, but he was going to have to deal with it.

i. arrival

"What the hell is this," Gibbs said as he looked around the jungle. Last thing he could remember was standing over a body and now he was in the middle of a place that looked like a bad war flashback. He moved down the hill gun held loosely in one hand ready for any kind of trouble.

ii. port royal

Pirates....Tony would love this place. It was like a wet dream from an Errol Flynn movie or something. Gibbs had done his best to ditch his modern clothes and find something that fit in a little better, so instead of jeans, NCIS cap and dress shirt, he'd managed to find something that looked like it came from a romance novel. The only thing he'd kept was his gun tucked in his boot as he wandered the market looking for a familiar face.

i; arrival; pretend the world has ended
[There's so much green - healthy green - when he comes to that he is sure - s u r e that this is either the highest he's ever been, or he's finally gone and bit the big one. Maybe he'd finally done it, gone feral, and someone put him down. Because the Commonwealth has its green, most of it from fallout and radiation, to be honest, but there's nothing there quite like this. Trees that are alive and healthy and there's no tingle of radiation and...

Honestly, at first he's content to just look around himself a moment and not ask questions. If he's gone feral and gotten his brains blown out - or what's left of 'em, anyway, well. Fuck. There are worse places he can imagine as the afterlife. There are birds in the trees, but their songs sound different, less...Broken. Less twisted, maybe.

He's still not entirely sure it's not a comedown, though, but whatever. If it is, it is, and he'll just ride this last wave to the crash at the end.]

Well, would you get a load of this fucking place. [He takes a moment, turns in a circle where he stands, still fixated on the green.]

That preacherman in Diamond City liked to go on about the hereafter or whatever that churchy shit was he was preaching but I never thought he was right. [Not with a world like theirs.

But he's not alone, which is the next thing he notices. He's still not sure it's not a hallucination, but...Well, he can work with it. Like he really has anything to lose, whichever scenario it is.]

You're seeing this right, all this green?

ii; tortuga; you wear troubles well
[So it's not sky high and it's not the afterlife. Well, the jury's still out on the second part, but he's got the sneaking suspicion John Hancock is alive and well and in a place that's never been touched by radiation. And despite the shantyness of the town below the forest, it seems more put together than the settlements in the Commonwealth; less slapped together from salvaged scrap and more purposely shitty.

He can dig it.

He's even dressed for the occasion, if the way anyone else looks is any indication, though it's a b s o l u t e l y clear most (read: all) of them have never seen a ghoul before. That's their problem, though.

So far, however, he has been unsuccessful in exchanging caps for goods, they want gold and if he'd known that, gold's fucking everywhere in the wasteland. It's useless. As far as he knows, gold-based currency went out when the bombs dropped and while that leads to some mindblowing implications, he's just not that lucky.

He's been watching one particular building - he's pretty sure it's a brothel or a whorehouse or something - simply out of lack of anything better to do, leaned against what looks like a blacksmith's, when one particular normal human gentleman who looks worse than Hancock could any day of the week walks by and actually physically recoils when he gets a look at his face. Normally he's fine with it. Normally, he lets it roll off his back - he did this to himself. But it's been a long day, he's entirely too sober for this shit, and he still has no idea what's going on, and bares his teeth in a grimace.]

That's a good way to get yourself dead, friend.

Edited 2017-04-30 23:11 (UTC)

I. Arrival

He's no stranger to waking up in new places. He's also no stranger to not remembering how he got there. He usually at least knows which realm or city he's in though, even if everything after that gets a bit fuzzy. So whatever's happening right now is a bit strange for him.

He doesn't bother trying to go up the incline. Not because he knows it won't get him anywhere, but because he knows that going down the incline will eventually lead to the sea, and the sea is where he's best able to orient himself. There tend to be people there, too, although that's not as big a concern right now because he's not alone here.

"Bloody hell. What did I drink last night?"

II. TORTUGA

Tortuga. He's been hearing about it for years, since even before his days in the Royal Navy (there's no more wretched hive of scum and villainy, or at least so Liam had assured him), but somehow even in all his years of piracy, he's never managed to make it here. Well now he's determined to change that. There's nothing to keep him from it. It almost seems to be expected of him, in fact.

And now that he's here, boy, is he going to be making the most of it. The first place he heads is straight for the tavern, fistfights and all, because what kind of pirate would he be if he didn't get sloshed on rum? He might even get into a fistfight or two himself.

But of course he can't keep himself from heading to the brothel, too. It's been too long since he enjoyed the company of a woman, and it's much less fuss if he pays for it.

He staggers back to the tavern later in the evening. He's going to enjoy his time here.

Edited 2017-05-01 01:32 (UTC)

i. arrival. pay attention, none of this is happening by accident.
[Tropical paradises are okay. He's great with those, when he remembers those are a thing long enough to do something about before retreating like a...Whatever retreats into caves like he does his workshop occasionally. It doesn't matter. Point is, he's fine with the whole tropical vacation thing.

What he is not fine with is going on a tropical vacation without any warning while running some configurations for things he's working on (suits) out of nowhere, when moments before he'd been in his workshop. That's the part he's not okay with. He's also not okay, when he actually takes a moment to look around himself, realizing he's not exactly alone on this little adventure. You'd think with him knowing Norse gods and all the flat out weird of the last few years he'd be used to the weird coming to him and weird things happening.

And you'd be wrong.]

What is this, some kind of mass kidnapping by USS Enterprise or something?

ii. tortuga. they say money talks but you ain't sayin' nothing, shh.
[Well, one thing Tortuga is not is a place to kick back with a mai tai and work on the old suntan while not even pretending not to look at beach bunnies wearing practically nothing. It is definitely not that kind of place. Tony's not exactly sure what he's been expecting, following the noise that slowly became far away music, which became lights and louder music and shouting and gunshots and the sound of distant fist fights. That hasn't included what he does find, when he actually reaches Tortuga proper, which is a slowly darkening sky and wooden ships crowded together down below, far down the dirt path that leads to the wide, clear expanses of tropic ocean, packed in together like sardines, more anchored off shore beyond that, and longboats lining what he can see of the sandy beach.

There are tents down there, as well, and noise from them as well as light, and as he starts passing building by rickety wooden building, he is painfully aware that 'authentic' might not be the word he's looking for. Not when he's mean-mugged by a guy with a peg leg and his eyepatched pal, not from the come-hither looks from a couple of women in a shadow corner, wearing more clothes than he's ever seen on a call girl and still managing to make it seem like he shouldn't get caught staring too long. No, given that, the lamps that have flame and oil hanging above on wooden posts, the music...The entire atmosphere, he's fairly sure the word he's looking for is real.

He can't explain it. Isn't going to try, he can't be sure he's not having a stroke or something. Maybe it's the way that, under all of that noise, there's silence. No undercurrent hum of electricity, betraying what he sees with his own two eyes. He's not even sure how he knows that, but he's willing to be he is.

He finally stops in front of a particularly noisy bar (tavern?), the doors constantly swinging open and shut as sober people go in, and drunk people stumble out, the latter significantly louder. Notable are the accents from a million different places, and yeah. He's sure real is exactly the word he's looking for.

And isn't that a terrifying thought? In a way? But he's saved from following that rabbit hole in his mind when he sees someone dressed a hell of a lot more normal than the Long John Silvers and Captain Hooks running around this place and does his best to appear nonchalant about it, as he makes his way over. And very much not like he's looking for normal people in what is quite possibly a town full of pirates.]

So what's the over-under on this being a mass hallucination, or are we just going with the theory that time travel is suddenly real and we'd better start brushing up on our sea shanties and binge drinking we haven't really used since college skills.

iii. mirror. everybody ain't got it, understand son - this shit is not random.
[It hasn't taken long to figure out what the mirror does, and while it's crude, in his opinion, and perma-spotted, since he's scrubbed at the actual glass for forever and nothing's changed, it'll do. If it means long distance communication, or reaching the masses as a whole, that's probably the best case scenario he could hope for.

Which is why, though he feels really stupid talking to a mirror, he's doing it anyway, having found a nice corner of the beach that is not pirate-infested and where he won't be overheard.]

Alright, hopefully this gets to the new tattoo club - I mean, I can't guarantee it, mirrors don't work that way because science - but I figured it's time we all have our little meet and greet, implement some kind of buddy system since we're on Treasure Island Does Acid.

What I'm mostly interested in is where and when you're from. I don't know, maybe there's some kind of pattern to this thing and if there's a pattern to why we're here, maybe there's a pattern that'll get us home. So don't be shy, share with the rest of the class.

Edited 2017-05-01 02:02 (UTC)

i. arrival

[Lizzie could have sworn she had just left her coronation- next thing she knew she was waking up in this forest. She was still dressed- her crown off kilter on her head, her furs and jewels still in place. As she sat up, she took mental count of everything she could remember- finding nothing missing except for the castle that should be around her.

There are others around, none that she knows nor recognizes- whether that be a blessing or a curse is still unknown. Pulling herself to her feet, with her shoulders squared, she peers at the incline first- then to the person nearest herself.]

What is this?

ii. tortuga

[Lizzie took care to lock up her precious jewels and crown in a trunk in a room she was lodging in, for the fair price of her earrings. They granted her a long enough stay that she may look for another place... Or a way home, as she would much prefer.

The young Tudor Queen had foregone her fancier of gowns in favor of a simple cotehardie, though such still seemed out of place here... But she found it much more comfortable than wearing her more prized possessions in an unknown land. Especially as she scurries past alleys where men are fighting-

Or at the particularly loud "bang" (of a gunshot) that sounds so foreign to her that she jumps and squeaks, losing her composure for just a moment. Eyes wide, she pauses for just a moment to find a friendlier face in the crowd.]

What was that?

iii. wildcard

[ choose your own adventure! i'm down for anything really, but if you want to plot something, go ahead and Pm this account. ]

II. Tortuga

[ There's a feeling you get when you've been gone from someplace familiar for a very long time, only to return and find that it's exactly how you left it. It's a feeling that brings back the most mundane of muscle memories, the kind of which make it easy to retrace your steps and puzzle out the very things you did before you left, the things you don't remember because it's so routine and regular that there’s no point in obtaining the memories.

This is the exact feeling Jack Sparrow gets when he arrives in Tortuga, looking past the railing of his ship and onto the crowds below.

When Jack makes his way down the gangplank, he arrives at the exact spot he'd stood last he was here. The same spot where he'd held out his compass to Elizabeth Swann and was all too easily able to turn her desperation to reunite with her dear William to his own need to find the Heart of Davy Jones.

He'd found it, of course.

He died not long after.

The spot on the dock shines brightly in his memory, but he walks past it without sparing a beat. Because truly, Jack has a lot of memories that shine bright in Tortuga, here in the closest place he has to a home. If he were to stand around all day and remember each one of them, he'd get nothing done at all. And he does have quite a lot to do today.

It's a lot less partying than you might imagine from Jack Sparrow. As Captain of the Black Pearl, it is his job (and, a thought reluctantly conceded, Barbossa's) to make repairs for her, and make sure she's in tip top shape for the next Adventure of Jack Sparrow. Unfortunately, she does need repairs, especially after their run in with the Flying Dutchman and the entire EITC fleet. As much as he would love to find a bottle of rum, as well as Scarlett and Giselle for some pleasant company, he needs to do the duties that come with being Captain Jack Sparrow.

You can find Jack anywhere in the city. He'll be walking (swaying, rather, as though in time with the motion of the absent ties. Or the swaying of a man whose veins run full of rum instead of blood. Or, perhaps, both?), completely undeterred by the shattering of bottles, the shouts, and the fistfights, all of which have become the signature of Tortuga. He looks like a man who knows this city, inside and out and who may be willing to help. For a price. ]

1. Music of the Streets

[A young boy steps out into the middle of the Tortuga market. There doesn't seem to be anything special to him, and yet, with a worn, red sheet of fabric, he quietly claims the space. There is enough room to go around him, but those who pause will see him lay a neat stack of paper in the middle of the scrap. He takes the shamisen from where it is strapped to his back, takes a deep breath, and raises his hand to the sky, bachi-style pick in hand. The pick comes crashing down for one solid note.]

If you must blink, do it now.

[With all the dramatic stage presence of a seasoned street performer, the boy begins to play. Green paper swirls up into the air like a perfectly choreographed storm. In the center sits a myriad of color sheets; the first of which folds itself into the red figure of a man--the coolest pirate you can imagine. Another transforms into his sword, and he slices through the paper gale and emerges on the other side.

The music stops, two echoing notes hanging in the air. The paper freezes.]

Any suggestions?

2. Mirrors

[In feudal Japan, mirrors are an expensive commodity. Having grown up in a literal cave, Kubo has certainly never had one. Not really caring for his appearance, he forgets he even has it for the longest time. Until one day, he has something stuck in his teeth.

Enjoy that view of a child's dirty gums and that huge piece of seaweed lodged between them. He has never even heard of a toothbrush. You can see right up his nose, too. What a view.]

3. Make Like a Ship and Leaf

[It breaks the crest of the furthest wave like any ship might, the sea parting for its hull. As the sloop nears you, however, you realize its one sail is not canvass. The rails are not oak. The entirety of the ship is made of leaves from the forest. The rudder turns on its own, turning hard to starboard until its port side is facing you. There are no doors from which cannons might emerge, but it's always good to be cautious.

Only one figure stands on deck: a young, one-eyed child with a stringed instrument strapped to his back. The one man crew brandishes a sword in the air.]

Turn over your best supplies, or . . . or the ship gets it!

i. ARRIVAL

[Well, this wasn't Central City, that was for sure.

Lisa pries herself off the forest floor with a groan that sounds an awful lot like what the fuck? She's pretty damn sure that she hadn't been riding through a forest when she'd wrecked her motorcycle, but that's not even the most worrying thing. She doesn't recognize anyone around her, everyone in various stages of waking up and discovering their situation. She does a quick check, finds her gold gun in its holster on her thigh, a whole lot of debris in her hair, and all of her jewelry and knives in place.

Hands on her hips, she surveys for the path least likely to snap her ankle in her boots.]

I've seen this movie. I'm getting out of here before Predator shows up.

ii. TORTUGA

[Her first thought is that a place like this would be Mick's heaven on earth.

Her second thought is this is some kind of Renaissance faire on crack.

Her leather riding gear garners attention, but not the kind she's accustomed to. No one seems to be able to figure her out, and she'll take that over the catcalls. Eventually they get bolder, but she's not unused to putting unruly, handsy, abusive drunks in their place. And she knows better than to stand around asking for a fight after that and finds herself a hideaway. The ladies of the night are not the most accommodating, but after she gilds a thing or two for them, she finds herself some clothes, left behind by some of their Johns. And a corset, to boot.

It takes her less than a week to slide right back into her niche.

Tonight finds Lisa Snart holding court in a bawdy tavern, sitting on the bar like she owns the place, charming one and all out of their gold and whatever else she can swipe and conceal in her leather bag, or beside the knife in her boot. Make her laugh and she'll buy you a drink. Catch her fancy and she'll show you a good time, won't even charge you, sailor. Not until you wake with nothing but your skivvies left to your name.]

iii. Got a better idea?

{ooc: choose your own adventure! Just hit me with what you have in mind or PM me to plot a little, I'm here for Shenanigans~}

[prefer prose? I'll match your style ♥]

Arrival

[It's quite different, going from a comfortable cushiony seat on the Hogwarts Express to leaning up against a damp tree growing out of damp ground. It's a bit of a shock, in fact, and it takes Harry a few disoriented moments to scramble to his feet, Sirius' newly-delivered letter clutched in one hand, the other hovering over the wand in his back pocket. What had just happened? He hadn't been Apparated, had he? Isn't it meant to feel weird when that happens? He hadn't felt anything, he'd just been curled up and rereading the letter telling him Sirius was safe (and the bit that would let him go to Hogsmeade during fourth year) and now he's, well. Here. Wherever that is.

He isn't the only one, either. Harry is a bit reluctant to take his hand off his wand, but everyone around him looks just as bewildered as he feels.]

Er, what's just happened?

[It's a forest, he thinks at first, but it's hot here, and dark, and full of wild noises. More of a jungle, then? As far as he knows, there aren't any jungles in England. Even wizards would have trouble with that.]

We're meant to go downhill when we're lost, I think.

Tortuga

[He's in trouble, obviously. He'd been on the train back to the Dursleys, then in the forest, now he's here, no closer to getting home or having any idea what's happened, he's in trouble. But Harry has had more than a little practice in sneaking about, and once he's dirtied up his clothes and face a bit, it's not as obvious he's not from round here. And once he's begun blending in just a bit more, it gets a lot harder to remember that he's in trouble, versus realizing he's in a city with real pirates and that real pirates are ~~probably~~ better than another summer with the Dursleys.

With his unerring instinct for finding the worst places to be, he's found himself in the corner of a tavern hosting a sort of half-bar fight, it's very unenthusiastic and apart from dodging a bottle once or twice, Harry's mostly able to sit back and watch. He's grinning like a tourist, which likely makes him stand out again, and the glasses certainly aren't going to help him escape notice, but he can't bring himself to care.

It's after the fight has escalated and he's gone down an alley (unpleasantly squishy, he's trying not to let his imagination run away with him) that he finds actual trouble. Only one actual trouble though, and a bit drunk already, and although it's cheating, Harry's whispered Stupefy is still a good idea as the would-be mugger slumps over and almost immediately starts snoring.

Trouble is, he isn't the only one who saw that, but when he spots the observer, they look out of place too.]

Er. Hi. ...could you maybe not say anything about that?

Mirror Mirror

[It's oddly akin to the moment he'd discovered the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket when he knew he hadn't put it there. This time it's a mirror, only big enough to see his face in the spotted glass, and while Harry hasn't had the best of luck with mirrors, talking to one isn't the strangest thing he's even done that week.

Wisely, he waits to talk into it until he's found somewhere quieter and less populated, on the beach at the edge of the trees, perched on a fallen log.]

What d'you reckon, are we meant to be doing something here or something?

Arrival

[At least she's wearing normal clothes and not her costume. She blends in a little more in this confused group of people than she would if she had a cape. At first she stays quiet, listening to the discussions and disagreements and arguments around her, and then she tunes them out and listens to the jungle. There's a weird silence uphill, like there isn't really anything there, which doesn't make sense, even deserted mountaintops have something making a sound.

Luckily she doesn't need to dwell on that too much, when she listens in the other direction she can clearly hear the ocean, and people. A lot of people. Rowdy, violent people, but still people.]

...I don't think we're supposed to go up. I can hea—I mean, I'd guess there are probably people down that way.

Tortuga

[She hadn't really meant to pick up the man—the pirate? Was he really a pirate? He looked like one, and he really smelled like one. When Kara had grabbed his wrist, she'd just wanted to get him to stop petting her hair, but he'd slipped in the, oh wow she hopes that's mud, and she'd just automatically hefted him up to stop him from falling.

And then she had him dangling in midair like he weighed nothing at all, which…well, he didn't, not to her, but no one else knew that. She'd apologized when she set him down, at least, but she can hear the people around her whispering about her, that gentry-looking girl with hair like polished-up gold and her demon-given strength. So she does the only thing she can think of: she pretends, cradling her arm tight to her chest and wincing in pain, as if she'd injured herself terribly during that display, and even limps a little bit toward the nearest tavern. Overselling it a little, maybe? Maybe.

It's a stage-whisper to the nearest person who looks sort of out of place, like her:] Is anyone staring? Did anyone see that? No one saw that, right?

Mirror
[Outside the city and finally away from prying eyes, she'd tried just. Flying home. That sure hadn't worked. Kara had been maybe a dozen or so miles out over the ocean and then just…the only word is teleported right back to where she'd started, the exact spot in the forest above the city. Right back into her footprints. There's no point in trying that again, not if this place is going to be like that about it. She's stuck.

And when she shoves her hands into her dress pockets with an angry huff, she finds a mirror there. At first it's just a mirror, not one she's ever seen before, but she can see that weird mark better with the help of the mirror, and then after touching the glass a few times, she can hear murmurs, like conversation.]

Hello? Is there someone on the other side of this? Is this a 'Through the Looking Glass' thing?

I. Arrival

[ Truly, there's nothing more startling than being in the backseat of a car headed towards boarding school and then , in-between blinks, suddenly finding yourself relocated to a forest without prior warning or notice. This is the situation Violet has currently found herself in, and she visibly starts when she realizes what’s happened. She turns in a full circle around her in order to take in her surroundings. It doesn't take her long to realize that something is amiss.

She is alone. ]

Klaus? [ She looks around her once more, trying to determine which way Klaus would have gone if he were here. She's standing on an incline that looks steeper and steeper the higher it goes. She doesn't bother trying to go up. Instead she heads down, and into the forest. ] Sunny!

[ She's clearly and visibly distressed. Will you be kind enough to help her find her siblings? Or pragmatic enough to inform her that she arrived by herself? ]

II. Tortuga

[ It's pretty obvious, in a town full of filthy pirates, that Violet sticks out. She's wearing a school uniform, crisp and clean, the whites in her collar especially obvious. But coming into town was the only option, aside from staying in the forest or wading into the sea.

She makes her way cautiously around town, trying to orient herself to this new place and trying to find someplace she can stay overnight despite not have any money. That's when she happens upon the docks not long after one of the cargo hoists breaks, sailors and workers all hunched over and bickering with each other in different ways to fix it. Curious, Violet moves forward, taking a ribbon out of her pocket and using it to tie back her hair. She stares at the cargo hoist for a few seconds before making her way over to the crew of men. ]

Excuse me, [ her voice is quiet, but steady and sure of herself. ] but if you take some of the wire over there, [ she points with an index finger to some chicken wire, ] you can use that and some of the chains to--

[ She's cut off when some of the nearby sailors laugh at her. "No need to worry about it, lass." One says. "This ain't girls work," another says. ] Okay, but-- [ "Run along," a different one says with a dismissive hand wave. ] But I know how to fix it!

I. Arrival

[The pillar of green light flashes just off the horizon, signaling yet another returned from the dead. Just half a blink later, a young woman stands in the forest near you. Already dressed like she belongs here and only looking half like Hell, she cocks a hand on her hip and takes a gander at the scenery.

She seems equal parts confused and amused, like there's a dark joke she won't let you in on. You might get the impression she's always some level of amused.]

An' here I thought my work was done. [Her accent is vaguely English with strong, swinging Caribbean tones.] No rest for the wicked, eh?

[She'd just like to tell God or whatever being was daft enough to bring her back that she does not have any unfinished business, thank you very much, can she go back to sleep now?

No?

Well, alright. Finally done ignoring you, she notes your existence.]

Who're you, then? My spirit guide?

II. Drinks on You

[For anyone keeping one sober lid open, they might notice a woman of indeterminate age sashaying about town like she owns the city next door. Once, she did. It's like slipping into old shoes, taking the same downtrodden paths from home to home, base and back. Although Mary spent most of her time in Nassau and Great Inagua when she was alive, in the end, the reek of piss and rum complimented by rowdy music is the same at every pirate capital.

Only the most well-trained eagle eye would notice that, below her still waters, there's some disgust for the sloth of this place. Allow men to lurk in stagnant, murky waters long enough, gathering flies and algea, and they become stale pond scum themselves. Sloth. It makes men useless, and it reminds her of the fall of Nassau, once her pirate kingdom.

Her sequel has started here, however, and she must make it work. Confidence will get you to the ends of the earth and back, but it's nothing without information. She has no idea how long she's been dead, and Tortuga's unchanging nature doesn't lend itself well to any clues on the year. It's best to get reacquainted with the dregs of the human race.

And so, it's with a heavy boot and a devil-may-care attitude that she slides into the counter at one of the many taverns in town. There isn't a question about her, seemingly only there for the gin.

She orders a drink and holds it to her lips, listening to everything around her.]

III. Magic Sits Heavy in the Gut

[It takes a full month before Mary more than touches her mirror. She's not a superstitious type, but she's seen what the supernatural can do to someone, and the evils for which they can be used. Besides, who really cares about what a bunch of strangers are saying across the world if it's nothing useful?

But it's been a slow day of mucking about on some uncharted little sandbar, and so she drifts to the mirror. Behind her is the sea, the drop of sand, and the blinding Sun. She's since shed her frock coat, which is lying in the sand somewhere beside her, carelessly cast aside.]

Right. We're well past introductions, so let's dive righ' in. How safe d'ye think speakin' on these trinkets are?

[She leans forward, arm across her knee, as if she's about to divulge a great secret. A corner of her lips cutting upwards, whispering dangers, she lowers her voice.]

Who's listenin' in, I wonder?

((still in the process of making actual Mary icons, forgive, I have like...3))

I. Arrival

[The first thing Christine notices is that her wings are gone. It's not a particularly concerning revelation, as an angel residing in Hell, she had grown quite accustomed to disguising them.

But she also feels heavy in a way that is concerning. Her heart is beating solidly. The air is thick but actually necessary. She feels honestly exhausted. She can't possibly be alive though...? Can she?

She doesn't dwell on it for the moment. The fact that she is not alone is a more pressing concern. No longer the mousy creature she was in her youth, Christine has become something maybe a little dangerous. Her years exploring Hell have taught her how to defend herself. Which she will, if she deems those around her as a threat.

But she's still a good natured soul, underneath it all. She turns to the nearest person with a big smile.]

All this foliage is rather beautiful, isn't it? It's been a while since I've been around trees that don't try to bite.

II. Tortuga

[It's not that much different from literal Hell, Christine notes. Despite the fact that her clothes don't exactly match the time period, nor are they appropriate for a lady, her deep red frock coat allows her to blend in, sort of. She still feels like she sticks out but that's mostly because she feels like she should be wearing the thick layers of a dress like a proper lady again. Except, she really, really, really doesn't want to.

She glides through the town, trying not to draw too much attention to herself. Mostly, she has slipped into the role of being an observant ghost. Much like a certain someone that is near and dear to her heart. Someone that she's definitely going to end up looking for, sooner or later.

There's just one small problem. Namely, the fact that Christine is small. Any easy target to prey upon. At least at first glance. Some dirty scoundrel has decided to pick on her but she's a bit too quick for them.

Still, that means she ends up tearing through town as fast as she can run, weaving through people and jumping over obstacles because come on, wild chases are always fun. She ends up climbing up onto a roof to avoid her pursuers but that ends up being a bad idea. Sure, Christine gets them off her trail but a shingle comes loose and she winds up falling right off that rooftop and it hurts. A lot.

She still isn't used to this whole actually being alive again thing.]

ii. tortuga;
[The truly baffling and wonderful thing, in his opinion, about Tortuga, is how it can feel like a new place with every visit, with its evershifting population of pirates and honest sailors that are out to make some extra coin, and like home all at once. It's always been that way, since Nassau was lost when he was much younger, and Tortuga had become even more of a bustling hub of activity than it had been before.

It's always the same waterfront that greets a man when a ship moves to dock, the slips packed as tight as the bumpers will allow, camps hastily thrown together on the beach with captains' tents standing out like sore thumbs, dockwalkers all trying to make some extra money besides whatever they earn from whatever brothel, and a babble of languages from every corner of the globe, because piracy is a culture that crosses cultures.

He and Jack leave the Pearl together (last, always last, it's best to let the crew depart first after tying up and securing the ship, to let them burst free and commence the hedonism as soon as they can) before parting at the end of the gangplank, and Jack has gone his merry way, and Hector will go his own, with his own half of the errands to run, because in this circumstance, at least, while he may gripe, and he may complain, he can admit to himself that Jack will pull through on his half. For the Pearl, if for no other reason. That is, in truth, the one thing that Jack Sparrow can be trusted implicitly on: If it's for the good of her, he'll do what needs doing.

So he, much like Jack, can be found everywhere over Tortuga during the daylight hours, haggling with this shipwright, arguing with that carpenter, and most certainly intimidating the different shops that offer supplies such as food, canvas, and other assorted goods can be purchased, because with this many pirates in port at once, these fools think driving up the price is going to work with their lot. He's not having it.

When the sunlight finally begins to die, he can be found in the Faithful Bride, a tavern a bit out of the way, but bustling with activity and noise all the same, already planning what must be done the next day, and still ignoring the fact that he's bruised and battered from the battle with the Dutchman, because that's simply going to have to wait until the Pearl's taken care of.]

Edited 2017-05-05 01:48 (UTC)

1. tortuga - whorehouse.
bare ankles AND bare calves? elle, you scoundrel.

[When you come from a post-apocalyptic wasteland with heavy 50's themes baked in, you tend to dress the part. We're talking a run down flower-print dress, with a knee-length bell-shaped skirt, covered in grime and stains, paired with sturdy boots that have desert sand caked into the seams. Oh, sure, there's a Pip-Boy on her arm, too, and a heavy-looking leather backpack strapped to her shoulders. And a hat! The hat is important, a black fedora with a wide brim, and it keeps the tropical sun out of her blue eyes just as well as it did the desert sun.

But while this outfit works out for New Vegas, it, uh. It doesn't so much the 18th century.

Elle hasn't thought anything of it at first. There aren't actually as many odd looks being sent her way compared to what the other people who arrived with her seem to be getting. She doesn't feel like she blends in, necessarily, but... Maybe it's that she doesn't stand out as much as some of the others? Maybe?

... ex...cept that now that she's getting closer to one of the more populated buildings (which she doesn't realize is a brothel), she's starting to get more stares. Except... for the fact that those stares aren't really... hostile? Or uninviting?

... quite the opposite, actually. Because now there's a guy coming up to her, filthy in a way she isn't used to, given the tropic humid heat. The strong smell of alcohol wafting off of him is more familiar, though.

It takes her a second to realize that she has no idea what this man is saying to her. None of these words are ones she recognizes, like, at all. But what she does pick up on is the lascivious look he's giving her.]

What? [she squawks.] Uh... No. Sorry, I don't... I'm, uh, not interested.

[He doesn't seem to understand her, either. Because he's laughing with drunken merriment and throwing his arm around her shoulder anyway. This is Elle's face of regret and unhappiness as a new wave of Drunky Smell hits her.

Um. Ew.]

2. tortuga - market.
what's this? ooooh, wait, no, what's THAT?

[Yeah, so, Elle learns her lesson and changes her clothes pretty fast. It's much, much safer to be wearing jeans and her Courier Duster. She still doesn't fit in, but at least when people look at her, it's got nothing to do with... uh... yeah.

Which means she's a lot more comfortable milling around in the crowds closer to the docks. The reason why there are so many people in this area becomes quickly obvious -- It's a market. And it's just full of all kinds of things that Elle has never seen before. It really doesn't take her long before she starts flitting excitedly from stall to stall, eyes bright and eager. Look at those fish! Look at these fruit!

Most importantly... Look at this beautiful bird. Holy shit? It's so pretty? Elle hovers by the cage, cooing at a parrot like an idiot. The person who's trying to sell the bird is looking more and more irritated the longer she stands there without buying it, but she doesn't seem to notice. Instead, when she looks up, she spots someone who stands out, just like her. She eagerly reaches out for their arm without thinking.]

Hey! Hey, check this out, isn't it pretty?

3. tortuga - beach.
when i look at the water, and hear the waves lapping against the shore... it's almost like i can hear another voice.

[It's so weird. Night has fallen, and the town's lights are bright and the people are noisy, and there's still so much to learn about this place. So much she can't wrap her head around.

... but here she is, standing on the beach by herself. As humid as the evening is, it's cold here, right on the edge of the water. The Survivalist's coat isn't enough to keep the chill off. She should probably go back to the town, where it's a bit warmer. Instead...]

Why do I know this? [she asks the salty air, staring out at the sea like maybe it'll answer her.

She doesn't. She's never seen the ocean before. She's never been on a tropical island before. So why... Why is there this feeling in her chest that's a little bit like home?]

Edited 2017-05-07 07:26 (UTC)

Arrival
[Alone in the jungle is scary enough. Strange calls in the darkness, creeping shadows, moonlight filtering suspiciously through trees and creating gnarled hands to creep across the leaves towards unsuspecting misplaced souls. Showing up at a mysterious place at night is bad enough.]

[Showing up with someone that looks like he could be a blue demon? Worse. With his beady red eyes and sharp, glittering teeth that are bared in a scowl, his head lined with unpleasant scars and wearing a sheer expression of hatefulness.]

[The great thing is that when he opens his mouth the illusion is at least somewhat broken by the sheer folksiness that erupts from it. For a man from space, he manages a particular brand of 20th century American rural gumption that only few can properly attain. Ask him, and he'd just claim it as a Ravager way of talkin'. Right now he's the one with all the questions, though.]

What's this place supposed t' be? Somebody better be tellin' me what's goin' on here!

[He has the right side of his coat held open, arrow glowing at his hip. Which might just look like he's showing off ammo, but at the moment he's looking for the person that is likely responsible for his plight. Or at the very least someone that can take him to them.]

Tortuga
[Some of the whores look better than others, and unfortunately one Mr. Yondu Udonta doesn't have a single scrap of currency to his name or he might have been willing to partake. It's not like he's got much better to do. But hell, as it is he can't afford the cute little porcelain pig he's holding at a stand of stolen odds and ends, very well a pretty Terran woman with poor morals.]

[The little object's got him in a good mood, though. Unlike earlier, the smile he's wearing is genuine as he turns it in his fingers and examines the thin gold trim and flower petals. The man at the stand, however, is not used to blue people here quite yet. The look on his face as he shifts between Yondu and whoever approaches pretty much says he's wandered far out of his element.]

Look at that. He says it come from "Japan". I don't know what a Japan is but this sure is somethin'.

[Yondu likes money, sure. But when it comes down to it, the little trophies are really the best thing. Next to an actual ship, of course, but that might take a little bit of working to get around to.]

Edited 2017-05-15 06:08 (UTC)

Threaded | Flat

Rafe Adler | Uncharted 4

Oliver Queen l DCTV l ota

Jethro Gibbs l NCIS l ota

john hancock + fallout 4 + gentle test drive

Captain Hook | Once Upon a Time

tony stark | mcu

Elizabeth of York | the white princess | ota

Jack Sparrow | idk some movie about priates

Kubo | Kubo & the Two Strings

Lisa Snart || DCTV || ota

Harry Potter | OTA

Kara Danvers Zor-El | DCTV | OTA

Violet Baudelaire | Series of Unfortunate Events

Mary Read | Asscreed: Black Flag

Christine Daaé | Phantom (of the Opera) | CRAU | OTA!

Hector Barbossa | Some stupid pirate series idk. | come at me bro