voyagers | [party post] come sail away with me

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[party post] come sail away with me

You've come through a door, and you are on a boat. Specifically, you're on a cruise ship in the middle of some giant body of water. You've come through the door behind you which is attached to nothing and may now be locked. It's relatively empty as giant as it appears to be. The only other passengers that are here appear to also have come through the door for the most part and it is not nearly enough to fill up this entire cruise ship.

Also, who knows who the hell is driving this thing since all of the employees appear to be either ghosts or holograms...

Is this your first time here or your hundredth time here? Do you want a drink or a dip in the pool? Is it day or night? Do you stumble on your room or some other situation either fun or painful within its many rooms, shops, and facilities? Do you run into someone you know or a complete stranger?

The possibilities are unlimited!

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No, nothing takes away from that point, Mary Jane, but he has to admit there is something seriously sexy about like having her wrapped up in web and being able to kiss the hell out of her. And stuff. He really loves the way that that feels, and his hands tighten around her as he deepens the kiss against her neck. Mm.

Peter has this problem, and the problem is he can't help himself from poking the sassy badger... or poking Mary Jane Watson sometimes.

He snorts lightly at what she says. "I would take the Vulture any day over an angry Mary Jane Watson. Also, the couch is cold," he says, making a face that's almost like a pout. He is kind of an adorable puppy sometimes, but he really doesn't want to sleep on that couch. She should also get to be free, ahem, so he will use the knife!

Peter moves forward, gently tearing into the webbing with the knife until it is loose enough, then he reaches up, grabs hold of it, and breaks the webbing, pulling it all off of her and from her clothes. It... is sticky, as he simultaneously grabs hold of her with one arm, setting her gently down against the floor again with his arm still around her.

"No more burrito!Mary Jane." :)

Bela does quite feel the same. And as skeptical as she is that this woman is really looking out for her well-being, she doesn't feel like standing in a Mexican stand-off for however long it takes either. Her nerves are on edge and she doesn't know what is going on, but eventually her hand trembles, and she drops her gun to her side.

Then she exhales slowly.

"I'm not sure kidnapping is the word for it."

"Wow, so there could even be... do you think there are any dinosaurs somewhere on this ship? I mean that would be so, so cool. A dinosaur on a ship." she does a sort of giggle-snort and waves her hand, "Totally forget the whole being eaten and stuff-- just, dinosaurs!"

Hey, he said any time.

Helen ruffles the hair on the back of her head for a moment. She doesn't know just how painful it'll be. It's not what she's going to focus on when it comes to her Calling. Well, she'll try her best.

It lingers back in the back of her mind. Pain. Pain. Pain. Death. Going mad..?

No.

She is scared of what'll happen, but she knows she'll be able to do some good too.

"It sounds like it does, don't it?" she says finally, her voice cracking for a moment before she quietly clears her throat. "But, hey, it's not so terrible. I'll give people a little peace. I don't know exactly how it'll be, since it's never happened for me yet - but.. but I think it'll be a good thing too."

"Never ever!" You heard it here first, Sarah.

Helen's not foreign to the tactic, not that she minds it. Her mother's a bit like that these days. When she was little, she was always so vocal and stuff - but she was still an Archangel then. Having a First for a mother - things start getting a bit more quieter, more of a less forceful protective presence.

Not that she hated how over-protective her mother was when she was little. No, not ever.

"Nope, I don't feel sea-sick at all. I think I'm lucky." she says with a grin. "Fun aside, I wonder where we're going, though. There's got to be a destination, right?"

She pauses, frowning slightly, "Or even getting back." she pulls a face, "Do you know how to open that big door? I really like it here and stuff, but my Mom'll get worried if I'm gone too long."

Helen's heard stories about people disappearing to other places, but she's never witnessed it herself. This is all pretty new to her, and while she's not entirely sre with what's going on - she's rolling with it.

And pretty well, actually.

She turns her head at the voice and glances up at a man approaching her. He looks familiar, like maybe she's seen his face before. Maybe in a photograph, something like that. But she's not really sure and she just smiles a little, shoving the thought away. Maybe it's all this sea air.

"I'll make a big splash, duh." she says with an impish smile. "But no, I'm being careful - and I'll keep it that way. So don't worry, mister."

From the bridge of one ship to the deck of another. Kathryn's no stranger to being uprooted without warning, but this is certainly a new one — or one of Tom and Harry's latest creations. A cruise to go along with Neelix's Paxau Resort program. It's entirely possible she zoned out and missed her legs carrying her from Deck 1 all the way down to Deck 6, considering she's been awake for the past forty-eight hours, running on little sleep and a lot of coffee. Par for the course, but explanation enough as to why she's suddenly strolling through the holodeck when she swore she was just on the bridge.

But things are never that simple, and it soon becomes apparent that this isn't a holoprogram. The computer isn't responding, none of her command overrides are working, and the walls aren't pulling apart to reveal the hologrid behind them. And worst of all, nobody was responding to her attempts to reach the bridge or anyone else on the ship. Which meant she wasn't on the holdeck; and if she wasn't on the holodeck, then she wasn't on her ship.

Which is why the uniform-clad redhead peering over the side of the ship looked as if she were about to pitch the nearest person overboard.

She's dreaming. She fell asleep at her desk and this is her subconscious telling her that she should've stayed in Florida and gone on a cruise instead of heading back to Roswell before school started. All because she bumped into Max Evans, because bumping into him has thrown her plan of attack all out of whack. Liz had it all clearly outlined with her internship, her classes, her goals, the scholarships she was eying and the corresponding essays she was already planning on writing. Bumping in to Max was not on that outline, he wasn't even a sub-point to any of those bullets. He was part of some whimsical notion that amazing things happened to normal people, a poorly thought out rough draft that had already been balled up and tossed in the trash months ago.

Dreaming or not dreaming, at least she's not dreaming of Max. That would only be adding insult to injury, and she was through with being hurt and pushed aside.

Though apparently not when it came to being messed with for reasons that were beyond her, because it's quickly becoming apparent that this isn't a dream. (Mindwarp? No, Tess couldn't hold it together for this long and it's been hours.) She's on a boat in the middle of the ocean and she's not dreaming. She's not in Roswell, she's not at her desk, she's not filing those folders Congresswoman Whitaker had left for her to take care of, not locking up the offices on her way out—

"This isn't happening." Denial is strong with this one. Sometimes. A realist with a dreamer's denial streak. "This can't be happening."

Not again. It was supposed to be over, the crazy part of her life. No more aliens or FBI agents, no more running, hiding, and being scared all the time.

Slumping down against one of the walls just outside the changing room near the pool, Liz pulls out her cellphone and tries to dial home for what has to be the millionth time, but nobody answers. Not the Crashdown, not her parents, not Maria, Alex, or Kyle — not even Max, whose number she dialed in a last ditch effort to raise someone. Anyone.

He doesn't answer.

"...this is really happening."

"It has been," she agrees, and there's no small amount of pride behind her words. She serves on the Federation's flagship, after all. They've accomplished a lot in their short time together and they're only getting started.

She shrugs, looking over at him. "Not much. The room where I appeared, the hallway, and just out here. Are you in the mood to explore?"

"I don't know about impressive," Christine replies, shrugging a little. "Necessary, I suppose. If you're gonna send officers into deep space to explore, you've got to send doctors and nurses right along with them. We're needed."

Christine Chapel may be a woman of fine Southern breeding and manners, but she's not one that's going to point out or get fussed by a lapse on someone else's part. (An intentional breach of manners is another story. That's clearly not happening here.)

She smiles. "I don't suppose you know very much about what's happening here?"

Peter, you freak.

Mary Jane loves this freaky side of you. :') She will encourage it shamelessly, as is probably obvious by the tiny noise bubbling up her throat while he kisses her. She wriggles in place, for an entirely different reason, sighing deeply into his mouth. She forgets, if only for the duration of this kiss, that she was angry at him to begin with. She will be soon remembering. Maybe.

It's a really good kiss, folks. In case you were all dying to know.

"Also, these webs are sticky," Mary Jane reminds him, making a face of her own. The reminder serves to let him know it is the fact the webs are sticky and she is wrapped all over them that should be the priority here. Hmph.

Once the webbing comes loose, Mary Jane nearly collapses on the floor, or would've if he hadn't grabbed hold of her and set her down gently on the floor. She extends her arms up to her sides as though stretching them, before she looks over at him with a smirk. You're sometimes too cute for your own good, Peter.

"About time, tiger." She twirls the mask with her index finger, lifting it back up in offer to him. "So this is the snazzy, creepy ghost ship?"

He shrugs. "I've been here before. Dunno why--ship's taken a liking to me, maybe."

Or it's just that he's a magnet for this kind of trouble.

"First time, then, love?"

"I may have to acquaint myself with the other suspects later," she says, taking the water with murmured thanks and a faint smile. "Once I'm sure I can keep it down."

She takes a few small sips from the bottle. "...Which begs the question. What do you do when you're here? Where do you stay?"

She grips the rail to steady herself, gingerly looking up at the newcomer.

"...Let me know if anyone down there looks up here like they're gonna kill somebody? Especially if they look like they're covered in my lunch."

Her mouth curves a bit in what would likely be a troublemaking smile if she still had enough trouble in her.

She makes a face as she easily finds the staircase. She's gotten to know this ship like the back of her hand in the time she's been here, an escape from a life she doesn't want to be living, and she hasn't exactly been too eager to get her door to open again.

(She doesn't want to live in a world where she's afraid all the time, and as crazy as this ship is, she feels stronger here than she does in a world where her power means nothing.)

"A couple months?" she admits, doing the tally in her head. "My door hasn't opened yet." Not that she's been actively checking.

Lois smirks. She can't help it. The intense ramble is kind of adorable and clearly he is off his game. That's when her reporter instinct usually tells her to strike, but she's got more important things to worry about at the moment.

"Well he's the kind of person who definitely shouldn't be wearing it. Not that anyone past 1985 should really be giving spandex serious consideration, but he's got this hipster look that works for him, in an pretentious kind of way."

There's a beat.

"Plus there's no ruling out that the rift might have shoved him into it - in which case I get mocking privileges."

He smirks good naturedly at that, peering over the edge of the railing for a moment to see if he can spot any angry patrons. There's a mess below, but it doesn't seem like it landed on anyone.

"Looks like you're in the clear," he says, before glancing back to her. "I would try to avoid giving a repeat performance, though. Just in case."

"I'm in the same boat, unfortunately." The not knowing where he is part. The helmet comes off and he scratches the top of his head, doing his best to look around and try and see what's going on. "The whole winding up somewhere new without exactly going there is a bit old hat, but this ... is pretty impressive."

Even for a rabbit hole.

He lets the hand with the helmet fall to the side as he glances back to her again. "I'm Don. What's your name?"

"Well good. I got enough worrying going on lately. If I had to add you to it too, who knows what I'd do."

He flashes her a warm smile as he does, before extending a hand. Saying hello and introductions always seem to be the best course of action, even if there is something about this girl that is a bit familiar. He doesn't know where, but he feels like he's seen her before.

But his memory ain't what it used to be either.

"My name's Charlie."

Well then. Seems like she made the ideal choice in that respect. She gives directions as to where to set it up, before eyeing him curiously.

"I'm Carol, by the way."

She smiles a bit at that, before shrugging. "It's one of those things I'm still really good at. And there aren't many of those things that you can do here." Besides, it's a good way to keep on top of where on the ship to avoid. "This place is a little crazy, but compared to Mystic Falls it's more ... manageable."

"What?"

Sorry, Peter, she's sort of thrown by the spandex. She's covered in pie filling but it's the red and blue spandex that takes her by surprise. Or maybe she's just trying to digest the idea of an evil clown running around, which is honestly not that far fetched.

Because Haven.

"No," she shakes her head, before pointing to the wooden door. "I opened it and it just ... threw pies at me."

It's not every day you can say you've experienced the end of a world.

This isn't to say Alek is necessarily proud of the fact. If he'd had a choice in the matter, there wouldn't have been an apocalypse to boast of. The rifts would've continued down their crazy path without making the entire universe collapse with it. He didn't necessarily understand all the scientific jargon being utilized in the broadcast prior to the event. All he knew was the rifts were at fault. They were the reason the world was eating itself from the inside out, and soon enough, it would be gone. The only home he'd ever known would be wiped along with it.

At the end of the day, he shouldn't have been surprised. Whether you're a good person or a bad person, something shitty is going to happen to you sooner or later.

(If Liz is a realist with a dreamer's denial streak, Alek is a fatalist with a dreamer's bruised disappointment.)

In some ways, if he's honest with himself, maybe he's relieved. The fact Chicago is nothing but a distant memory now means he doesn't have to confront the things he knew he lacked the bravery in confronting. It meant he and his brothers wouldn't have to keep running from their father and a destiny he never chose. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, Alek dreams of him. A howl that splits the moon in half and claws that sink right into his heart, but he never says this.

He has left it behind him.

"It's happening," a voice from behind her confirms. Alek is leaning across the opposite wall, his arms folded loosely across his chest. He's been watching Liz's argument with herself for some time now with some faint amusement that's very much inward. "If it helps, eventually you get sent back. Most of the time."

Not his first rodeo where kidnapping cruise ships are concerned.

Jenny doesn't know how to do that either. She usually makes inappropriate comments or sarcastic comments when in the presence of people who live normal lives, and it is just-- She's not any good at it anymore, and she doesn't want to be if it means that she has to ignore all the shit that happens. Jenny tilts her head to the side slightly as she looks at Danny. "Yeah, I've experienced a few threatening ghosts before myself so... we're talking Casper the friendly ghost types? Do they talk at all or mostly just move around?"

She is betting if they do talk then they likely don't make any sense or answer direct questions. This ship doesn't give the impression that it'll hand over its answers easily.

Clementine smirks softly at his laughter.

She is still folding her arms across her chest a bit as she looks at the door, and then she turns around again, tilting her head to look up at him. "Oh," she says, and this is all strange to her. There is something about universes, and there are places where magic exists and places where Walkers exist. "That sucks. Who decides who gets the magic and who gets the Walkers?"

Cause she'd like to have a word or two or like a hundred with them!!!!

"But also it is kinda cool." Cause magic.

Jenny mostly prefers not shooting people if she doesn't have to, and there is no telling whose trigger finger is happier so no telling who would get shot first in this whole scenario. If there was some freaky creature to shoot, she'd be all for it, but...

Not the case here. She lowers her gun, and then smirks at that, shrugging a bit.

"What would you go with? Forced teleportation? Magical... upheaval?"

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[party post] come sail away with me

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