The last time Faith stumbled onto the ship, it was in cuffs, at a fancy party. This time, it's in formalwear, on the deck. A hot pink bodycon dress, heels -- even dangling earrings. She's also covered in blood.

She looks about as comfortable as a pig in a bath.

This is probably indicated by the way she pulls her hair out of its updo, and then begins to pull off the heels. Over the side they go to glop! into the ocean beyond.

The part of her that does look recognizable is the sword in her hand, coated with the same blood that stains her dress and is drying and cracking on her skin.

"Where the hell are those freaking beach towels...?" She grumbles, and begins rooting around the deck doors for the linen closet so that she can clean off her favorite weapon. And she'll probably have to clean up all the drops of blood she leaves behind along the way.

Messy, messy slayer social worker...

As the weather has begun to warm up Katara has been looking for ways to cool off. Which is why she's excited when she opens a door one day and finds a fancy poolin there. The boat even provides her with proper modern swim attire to use.

She can be found in the shallow end for now, playing with the water. And by playing, it's more like water bending. She can be found drawing the water out from the pool and turning them into all sorts of shapes and sizes.

Come watch her. Or join her swimming. Either way.

Isabela has been on the ship for a while now. Long enough to know she's stuck here. Which sucks, yes, but on the plus side? She likes ships. She likes them better when she's in control of them. Which might be why she's opening door after door to try to find the captain's quarters so she could maybe take them out and take control.

Every day stuff for a pirate.

However, she finds a lot of other things instead. Possibly involving other people as well. She'll probably hit on them. The narration apologizes already.

Sonny has been on this ship for not long at all, but he is already behind the bar where he knows how to be. There's a sign on top of the advice that says Free Fuckin' Advice on top as he leans against the other side of the bar. He is not responsible for the sign for the record. Sonny is also not responsible for the fact that some people who end up at this bar will find themselves far more likely to share their troubles than they would be ordinarily. They'll suddenly find words for troubles they've never been able to describe before.

It's the ship's magic, and Sonny is a demon and a bartender who is over eighty years old. He's done some terrible things for selfish reasons, and he's done some terrible things for the good of others, and he's loved and had a family. Nothing's ever that fucking simple.

He has plenty to say, but he's going to say it all in his own fucking way.

Come have a drink.

Come spill the things you can't ever normally put to words. Come let someone listen or give a word or two that might set you on the right path or the wrong path or any fucking path.

It's what he's here for.

[ those ghost-robots have fished what appears to be a fresh corpse out of the water. where did this guy in a wwii military jacket come from? who knows. a door probably opened a little too close to the side of the ship at the least opportune moment knowing this ship's track record and the dead man in question's luck.

—or, perhaps, not so dead after all.

lifeless one moment, he's surging back to life the next. air rushes into his lungs with a powerful gasp and he sits up, turning and hunching over slightly so he can properly cough up the water that flooded his lungs out onto the deck. ]

Drowned. [ the laugh that mingles with the tail end of his coughing fit doesn't at all sound amused, but he doesn't seem all that bothered by any of this, either. ] Haven't done that one in a while. Gotta love the classics.

[ by the time he pushes himself to his feet, it's as if he did nothing more than take an impromptu swim. soaked to the bone, but breathing fine and showing no signs of having been lying dead on the deck mere minutes before. ]

It isn't a feeling Sarah is used to anymore.

Boredom.

It has been a long, long time since she's been able to stand still, and she finds, more often than not, she does not know what to do with this stillness. Being on the ship means having an imposed vacation from her real life and her real problems, and while she can't say she's entirely against that - it also feels like hiding. Pretending. Waiting can be more excruciating than having no time at all, and Sarah would know. For the first eighteen years of her life, she thought she wouldn't have the time to wait.

Now she has it to spare, and she is reacquainting herself with pleasures she's forgotten; watching old school movies while indulging in chocolates and staying up late into the night to watch the stars. These pleasures are age-worn in her memory, like a picture that is fading. She also finds, like most people do, some things are like riding a bike. A sketchpad and charcoal pencils have been located, and the rest becomes simple.

There is a bar by the pool and there is a fallen angel by the bar. She holds the sketchpad in one hand and the charcoal pencil in the other, like she is remembering.

She will offer to draw a face portrait to anyone who is interested, like she did the first day she ever arrived to Chicago.

There's a symmetry to that.


( ooc: prose or spam, i will match you! )

“I’m sure everything’s fine.”

“I’m just being sure, ma’am.” Nathaniel murmured, pressing the device in his ear.

He wandered carefully down the corridors, not making a sound. Meanwhile, the voice chuckled in his ear. He winced very slightly, he’d done it again, hadn’t he? He sighed silently, shaking his head and continued onward, the laughter finally dying in his ear. But when it spoke again, the voice was still warm with it.

“You really don’t have to call me ‘Ma’am’, Nate.” She told him gently. “Mom will do.”

“Call it force of habit.” He tells her, a small smirk at his lips as he quietly begins opening doors and briefly checking inside before moving on to the next. Why does the apartment have to be so damn big? It’s a meeting in which they’ll be out of the apartment anyway, down in the lobby. Is his mother really going to need all these rooms?

“How much longer?” comes his mother’s voice again.

“Nearly done.” He tells her. “It’s looking good.”

The last door on the right, he’s pretty satisfied with the place. Just this one last room to check. Without a word, he opens the door and steps through. But instead of finding some random office-room or whatever the hell this place needs another room for, he steps out onto the wooden deck of a ship and a cool, sea air hits his lungs instead of the faint, perfumed smell of the apartment.

He blinks, counts to five and slowly draws the sword from its hilt at his side. He lets two huge, dark wings slide out from between his shoulder blades. His spare hand keeps steady on his pistol. He looks around carefully, not moving an inch. His whole body tense to the world around him.

The door slams shut behind him with such a force that he spins and fires a round into it.

He’s a good aim, but even he can’t believe it when not a single mark is left on the wood.

Shit.

He notices the static in his ear. He puts his finger to the device and looks around. "Hello? Can you hear me?" What the fuck is going on here. "...Mom?"

Where the hell is he? "Mom?!"

And now there's a very confused, very annoyed, very heavily armed Archangel standing on the deck. Anyone who knows a certain female red-headed Archangel from Chicago might recognize the sword held in one hand.

Approach with caution, but please feel free to give the guy some help.

[Helen's found this ship has a ton of stuff on it. Mostly parties, which are pretty damn cool - but she's probably too young for that kind of stuff. Her mom would kill her if she had anything to do with speed-dating. Probably Grandpa Fletch too, but they're not here.

Still.

But most importantly, there is one question still left unanswered, one that is probably the most important question of them all.]

soooooooooooooooooooooo~~~~~

has anyone found a ball pool yet?


OR. better yet. A BALL POOL ROOM.

:D?

BALL POOL PARTY, GUYS. :DDDDDDDDD

[It's taped into the journal somewhat haphazardly, as though it was for someone that it's clear wouldn't care about making sure that it's perfectly aligned. The picture has lines in it that showed that it was just printed recently, possibly by a printer that was running out of ink, but the picture is clear enough, at any rate.

You really can't mistake it for anything else.

Written under it, on an angle in sloppy handwriting, but by some miracle still legible:]

Do you think we'll have to shear you?


[This is technically supposed to be a private message to Alek Hale. But Ava is so invested in getting it to him that she ... may have forgotten to lock it.




W h o o p s.

Hi, boat. Do with this what you will.]

“Welcome to Caritas!”

That’s what you’ll hear when you make your way down the stairs into the Karaoke Club. Dark and atmospheric, with glowing tables and a stage that faces the bar, if the sights don’t make it obvious this is a karaoke bar, the crooner up on the stage will.

He’s dressed to the nines in a cream suit, deep purple shirt shining under it as he belts away, welcoming you in. He apologizes for the intrusion, but it seems the ship wanted more than just his beautiful, sultry voice.

“My name’s Lorne, and I’ll be your host for tonight! So hit the bar and drink in your courage, Sailors. Because you might not be able to leave until you give us a show!” That's all he gives you before slipping into what he thinks is a pretty appropriate tune for the occasion.

If you didn’t come here by choice, hopefully Lorne’s words will give you a hint? The ship is hungry for bad belting. For some, the door will reappear after they chirp a few bars. For others, a few songs are required.

Some people have even gone up, struck with the strong feeling that they must do so, even if they’d been railing against singing at all just a minute ago. The ship just really wants everyone to sing and enjoy themselves, OK?

[ there's a tiny, five foot tall redhead (vibrant redhead) creeping down the corridors of the ship tonight. she's not exactly sneaky, and she's armed with a stake. that's right, a wooden stake that's clasped tightly in her right hand, looking more the picture of sheer nervousness than the lethal threat she has the very real potential to be. ]

Please be vampire weirdness, please be vampire weirdness. [ one might hear her chanting under her breath in the most hopeful voice she can muster through her fear and uncertainty.

careful, though! she may scream, run, or lunge if approached suddenly... or approached in general. possibly d) all of the above. ]

[this is backdated to the day after Ethan's post and before heartbreak, okay? ;o;]

True to his word, Ethan throws the speed dating even after he makes the journal entry. He has had a lot of help to pull it off from people who volunteered, but he's worked pretty tirelessly throughout the day and night since writing the entry to be ready for the party held in the main restaurant of the ship. It's been good for him to throw himself so completely into it, into doing something positive and productive on the ship.

When one enters the restaurant, they will get a name tag to write their name on so they can wear it throughout the night. This whole event is really more about meeting people, making connections with others who are on the ship too. It's about making friends more than anything else though obviously if romance blossoms than it absolutely would be encouraged with great enthusiasm. It just isn't the actual expectation placed on those who might attend today. The event is meant to be light and casual with no pressure at all on anyone. There are plenty who are here for friendship only too though or just to get to know others, which is totally okay.

There are separate sections set up throughout the restaurant, which has been decorated beautifully by Marissa. There's a buffet table set out, and it is filled with Italian food primarily different types of made-from-scratch pizza as well as focaccia (a thanks to Marissa for all her help throughout the event). There are trays of veggies and meat and cheese for little bites of food. Naturally, there's dessert too at the end of the table (brownies). Trust, every piece of food is absolutely delicious, okay?

There's another small section set out with different tables. Each table has a set of cards on it containing a multitude of questions to ask the person sitting across from you (like If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? or If you could have any super power, which would you choose and why? or What's the wildest thing you've ever done?). After five minutes, the timer will go off, which will indicate that you have to change to the next table to meet whoever might be there. There are no separations based on sexual preferences since this is about getting to know people and making friends too. It's a simple but fun way to get to know other people with questions provided to keep the conversation flowing as best as easily as possible.

These questions that are on the table also appear throughout the room on cards left in various places. Some of them are basics but others are more fun and interesting so feel free to turn to your neighbor who you may or may not know and ask them a question from the card. There are even Would You Rather? questions available to ask.

There's a section with tables spaced out in a more relaxed way with board games of all kinds (the Hale brothers searched high and low to keep a full, varied stock of games to play), room to sit and eat and relax. Everything from Apples to Apples to Monopoly to Cranium to games specifically tailored for getting to know one another. There's a final section with space for dancing. There's music always playing throughout the restaurant, but it's never playing so loud that it would drown out the conversation. The mix of music is pretty wide but remains upbeat with only a few slow tunes in case people want to slow dance a little too.

Don't want to attend the party? The ship may just pull you here against your will because the ship likes to do what it wants, okay? Once here, there may be invisible barriers to leaving too. Men, the ship may also spontaneously remove your shirt or any other random shenanigan to spice up the evening. ;) Just cause.

Quick and painless — that was a lie. There was nothing quick or painless about having your neck broken. Maybe it seemed quick and relatively painless to the inflicter and the observer, but to the one experiencing that 'quick and painless' death, the brief moments that seemed to go on for hours and sharp spikes of pain unlike anything you've ever felt before said otherwise.

It hurt. It hurt a lot, and the darkness that enveloped him while he waited out his return wasn't exactly what you'd call comforting. Unsettling was more like it. There was nothing. Nothing but a dark veil cast over you, like you were underwater and unable to surface.

But eventually that ice cracked and Matt surged past it, taking a great big gulp of air that went rushing into his lungs so powerfully it startled him. He bolted upright, bumping against the cool metal of the railing that gnashed against the line of his spine. Vision still blurry, a rush of sounds assaulted him: birds, footsteps, voices, and the distinct sound of waves slapping against the side of a boat.

He'd only been on a boat once, with Elena's family out at the lake before her parents passed away, but the sound of water rushing against the side of a boat stuck with him as one of the most soothing sounds he's ever heard.

It had him twisting around and grasping the railing to peer down over it, to try and get an idea of where the hell he was. Had Damon gone back on his word and done away with his body? Had Elena? Had their attempt to get her to turn it back on gone awry?

Matt couldn't say. All he knew was that he wasn't where he should be, this wasn't exactly a boat, and there was a strong possibility that the ring hadn't worked like Damon said he would and death was having a good laugh at his expense over daring to trust the word of a Salvatore.

Speed Dating Event

So I am incredibly bored. [By bored, he means if he doesn't have something to occupy his mind at all times, he might actually lose his mind in things he doesn't want to and can't think about at all so bored. bored's an accurate enough sum up, right?] Clearly, the answer to this is to throw a little event for those who might want to participate. It is obviously not mandatory, and it will mostly be a party. I haven't thrown a party in a very long time, but I don't think I have lost the ability to do so. [or maybe this is a test of that, he doesn't really know.]

There will be delicious food made by yours truly! [hopefully still delicious, he hasn't made food for a lot of people in a very long time, but he returned to the kitchen before he disappeared, dragged through the door again]

There will be music, dancing, mingling, and talking!

And for those who'd like to, there will be speed dating. You sit at a table for five minutes, meet someone new, discuss things, get to know one another. Romance is not required. Make a friend, make a connection. Take the pressure off. Wear your fancy name tag with your preferences on it whether that's very specific preferences or none at all!

There will even be a table to share advice at whether it be romantic or otherwise if you want to give advice or if you need advice on wooing or what to use to get a particular stain out of your shirt or what have you. ;) It will be this weekend so if you're on the ship and want to stop by, feel free!

If you have any questions or any concerns, feel free to ask me them! I'm here all night while I plan out a menu. Also, I might make food while planning out a menu so there will be extra food in the main kitchen if anyone wants to eat anything.

( Read more... )

[ an older, but maybe not wiser, phoebe donovan was showering when the red door decided to pull her into its clutches. she's lathered in soapy bubbles and not much else.

she's naked, is what we mean. naked as the day she was born and standing in your pool deck, voyagers.

it's a good thing she is not at all the bashful sort, because randomly appearing in the middle of a ship with nothing but her birthday suit on doesn't seem to faze her much. i mean, it sucks and she's not a fan, but she's just staring at her surroundings like she's slowly realizing what happened. ]

Meh.

[ she's not impressed. ]

[ alek hale was in no rush to discover his second animal form.

logan is a turtle. ethan is a chipmunk. connor is a raccoon. he doesn't know if adam's been notified of his own alternative, and he has a feeling if it's as embarrassing as the rest of theirs, they likely won't find out unless he lands in a similar predicament.

which is to say, alek's been gone for a couple of weeks, give or take, and when he's returned to the ship, he is returned as a lamb.

a baby lamb.

a very displeased baby lamb that's still discovering how this whole walking thing works.

do with him what you must. ]

It's rare that Toph goes anywhere by herself. It's not too hard to tell that she's blind; considering she moves slowly and generally has a hand against whatever wall or rail is available.

What isn't immediately obvious is that she's normally relatively belligerent and combative. If Toph bumps into you, or winds up somewhere that's not near food or a lounge chair, she'll pipe up with a squeaked "Sorry! I'm having a little trouble, here," or a practiced "Gosh, guess I got kinda lost again!"

But she may not always show that she's almost always distressed: wisecracks in place of a sometimes stubborn pout set into her face. At least the rails and piecemeal parts of the ship that are metal provide some amount of comfort, though it's certainly not enough to calm her down completely.

"Stupid oceans. Stupid ships. Stupid kidnappings!" Where's her Zuko-shaped taxi when she needs him? Probably off stuttering somewhere...