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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"How weird are we talking about?" Because after living in Mystic Falls -- well just about anything can fall under the word weird, honestly.

"Wait." She sits up a little, gingerly, just in case her stomach has other ideas. "So you're saying the second you get used to where everything is, it changes up on you?" That sounds like someone's idea of a bad joke.

"And what do you do? Like while you're stuck here? Do you have a room?"

"We all have things we're not proud of, Logan," she says, easily. If he was expecting judgment here he's not getting any. No one person is any better than anyone else where she's from, regardless of their education, job, outlook on life.

"And someone's got to do the heavy lifting, right? Sounds like you've lived a full life. Seen a lot."

Logan wasn't certain what to expect. He's starting to learn (already, he's a fast learner when it comes to some things) that Christine is not someone you can have expectations about. She seems to defy them without even batting an eyelash that a big, tough guy like him has done things he's not proud of.

"Yeah. Guess that's one way of puttin' it. Never seen space though." He smirks lightly, approaching the bar and leaning over the side of it to see what's there. No bartender but plenty of alcohol. That's not disconcerting at all. Where the hell does it come from? He shoves the question away, feels his muscles lock up in the back of his shoulders but shrugs that way too as he searches the shelves for something he wants. Something strong.

She's about to point out that there's no bartender, but Logan seems unfazed by this. Maybe this is the way it always is, in the bars here? It's weird, but what about this ship isn't, honestly.

She steps up to the bar too, gazing up at the bottles. No one turns up to make drinks while they wait. "That's it."

She hops up onto a stool, spinning it so her back is to the bar. Then she hoists herself up onto the bar proper, her butt on the surface. Legs raised (but still maintaining her modesty, even in that tiny skirt, she's skilled, okay) up and over the bar, and she drops onto the other side.

"I'm having a Black Russian. Can I make you anything?"

Damon notes the way that she seems to know her way around very well, and it is starting to make him a little tense that the thought of leaving may not be easy at all. Things were going his way for once. ...sort of. He was saved from near death because Elena thought his life was worth saving.

Then they kissed, and he kind of wants to get back too that though he's not looking forward to his brother finding out (~~lol oh Damon~~). He follows her up the stairs.

"...a couple months? No. I can't be here a couple of months. How often do you check the non-opening door to see if it'll open with a little more force?"

Logan hasn't seen anyone in charge around this place and hasn't seen anyone servicing the bars or the stores. It's like a disconcerting ghost ship, and he doesn't trust anything about it but damn, he needs a drink.

He lifts his eyebrows as she just hoists herself up like that incredibly skilled like, watching as she drops down to the other side. Then he just kind of smirks. See what he mentioned before? Don't have expectations when it comes to Christine.

"Best bottle of whiskey you can find?" He asks before he leans over the counter to grab them each a glass, setting out one in front of her and the other in front of him. There have been times he's had alcohol straight out of the bottle but this... won't be one of those times.

"All right. As I recall from my days in nursing school when bartenders were trying to get my number, they keep the good stuff up high." She takes a step back, looking up, scanning the shelves. "That one," she declares, reaching up for the bottle and turning to set it on the bar, pausing to favor Logan with a smile.

Then it's back to the shelves for what she needs: Kahlua, vodka, some ice from under the bar. "I don't honestly know the proper recipe for this," Christine admits, tipping the vodka in after the darker liquor. "Let's see how this goes. Logan, did you want some ice or a mixer? Or are you drinking that straight?"

"Can't say that I blame you. Every ghost I've ever tried talking to has always been a giant pain in the ass," Jenny says, and her smirk widens a bit as she shrugs. There's one of them now, walking around, visible but clearly see through. She lifts an eyebrow at them. They're dressed like they work on a cruise ship, but don't seem to realize or care that they are... well, dead. She lifts an eyebrow at them. "I wonder if they even know they're stuck on a ghost ship going nowhere."

The comment is made thoughtfully more than anything else since she knows answers aren't going to be given easily. If there are any answers.

Logan smirks lightly when she mentions how bartenders were always trying to get her number. He can't say he's at all surprised to hear that she was asked for it often, and he reaches over for the bottle. His hand brushes against hers as he takes it from her, lifting his eyebrow as he looks down at the label. "Good choice." He looks across the bar at her with a tiny smile when he sees her smile his way.

He watches as she sets it all together on the top of the bar. "Think as long as you like the taste of it, you've made it right. You're the one drinkin it," he says, and he is already pouring the drink into the bottle. "Straight. Not easy for alcohol to do a damn thing otherwise." Both cause he's a big dude and also cause of the whole mutant thing.

She glances up as their fingers brush; catching him smiling makes her own smile grow a bit wider, and her gaze drop. "I, um. Hadn't thought of it that way," she admits, meaning her drink. "But you're right."

And the only way to know if she likes the taste is to try it; she sets down the bottle, sips from the glass, makes a face. Too dry. More Kahlua, she likes it more sweet than dry.

Once she's fixed the drink to her liking, she hoists herself back up on the bar, meaning to make the return trip. But there are bottles and glasses on the bar top where there weren't before. Rather than swing her legs back over and risk spilling something, she just stays where she is. She picks up her glass, holding it up in salute.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You're the one drinking it. It only matters if it tastes right to you," Logan says with a bit of a shrug though the smile is still in place in a quiet kind of way. He's a rough guy after all. Smiles don't come easily to him.

He lifts up his glass to take a sip from it as he smirks softly in amusement at the face she makes when she sips from the glass. It's cute, and he doesn't really think very many things are cute.

Logan stands up, leaning against the bar. This makes them fairly close to eye level if only because he's tall (at least this version of him is, ahem). He lifts up the glass towards hers when she holds it up, and he smirks softly.

"To... finding something not so shitty in the whole kidnapping mess."

And by not-so-shitty, he means pretty fucking nice, but what are words?

That is totally right, Rafe! Peter Parker doesn't need sleep at all! Actually, he really wishes that were true. He can go longer than the average person without sleep, but he tends to go even longer than that and then ends up passing out, sprawled over his girlfriend at random hours of the night... sometimes morning.

He laughs softly at his reaction. "Man, why can't every New Yorker be like you?" There are not as many fans and confidence as y'know... there are people who are like wtf is this guy on? They also likely noticed the big trouble didn't fully start hitting the city until suddenly Spider-man. He doesn't know how he ends up creating as many superviillains as he does. He really doesn't.

There's a soft snort and a cocky tilt of the head. "Yeah. He's about as lame as he sounds," Spider-man says in agreement. "But the door's not opening anyway so."

Looks like he is stuck here in his spandex.

Peter has his moments (he also has his moments of being a complete idiot).

He would never tell her about most of the close calls. It would make her worry unnecessarily, and he knows she already worries so much as it is. He doesn't know how it never stops her, but he is so grateful that she is still in his life, that she loves him and wants him.

Peter can't imagine his life without her in it. The biggest fear that he has it's losing her. There's nothing else that could compare to that fear.

He laughs a bit when she bump-checks, and he laughs a bit, sliding his hand into her own. "Okay, actually maybe you can go with me, waiting right outside of the dressing room or... you can go with me like inside of it too."

Ethan lingers against her hand as she squeezes it like that. It is impossible to describe what she does to him, the effects that she has on him. His thumb slides over the side of her hand, and he doesn't know if it's wrong because she's-- she's not his Elena, but he is Elena. She is an Elena who has had the things that he wanted so badly but never thought was possible.

He looks over at her when she ducks her head like that, and he breathes in slowly, shaking his head. There's a moment where he just holds his breath, because there's no way he could anticipate it what she says next, no way he can anticipate how it will hit him fully and intensely. He looks down at the water as he swallows thickly with that emotion wrapping up in his chest.

Ethan shakes his head. There aren't words for how much it means to him to know he could help her-- help her with that, help her to do more than live, help her to look forward and to want to move on and move forward, to feel alive. His eyes burn more, and his face crumples a bit.

"That's-- I had no... idea," he says softly and then breathes in sharply as he looks over at her. "I'm so happy I could help you too. I didn't--" He shakes his head again, sliding his hand behind his neck. He didn't know, and it-- it makes him really happy he could have a powerful effect on her life too.

"What? Like she does magic? What kinds of magic?"

Clementine is all interested now. Of course, she wouldn't believe it normally, but she did just appear on a ship in the middle of nowhere even though she'd been locked in a shed beforehand so her level of believing stuff is higher than normal.

Way higher.

She smiles at him when he comes back, lifting her head up to look way up at him. "Uh, I don't really know ships. I mean, I've never been on one before. Maybe the start of it? Where does the captain sit?" The captain would know stuff! Though she is kind of happy to like stay on the ship for a long time.

Clementine would never even begin to picture it. She's used to the people eating people being very mindless and well. rotting and gross.

Rebekah is beautiful, and she just would never even imagine it.

"Where'd you get an outfit like that?" Cause even before zombies happened, she's never seen anything like that. And well, all the clothes she's seen for the last few years tend to be dirty and bloody and stuff.

It's all about the lack of control here. Logan would never choose to be on a ship. He likes his feet on the ground, likes the forest nearby, likes wilderness and dirt. A ship in the middle of the nowhere sailing endlessly into nowhere does not give him any sense of control, which is why he hates it.

Logan shakes his head. "Far as I can tell, people end up here from any time at all," he says. "But the ship itself doesn't have a time of its own. No calendars, no map, nothing."

No way to know where they are or why they're here, just this endless sea that has no sense of time.

Damon turns toward the sound of the voice, and he tilts his head slightly. His gaze narrows as he watches him. There is always that suspicion at meeting someone new at a floating ghost ship, and he breathes in with a tiny smirk.

"Wondering and needing. Thanks for pointing me in the right direction," he says with a tiny smirk. He needs a drink at the moment, and his eyebrow lifts a bit further up as he looks from one hand to the next. "Just taking the bottle with you?"

Because he can approve of that.

Damon lifts his eyebrows as he turns toward her.

He has no idea this isn't the Elena from his world, the Elena that he believes kissed him back when he kissed her. There is that smirk at the sight of her there though, and suddenly he is not so eager to leave this place. Elena is here after all. The whole reason he'd wanted to get back was that kiss.

He lifts his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

"...what stranger thing has happened to us than getting kidnapped to a cruise ship?"

Damon would really like to know, because he can list out all the things that he knows of, but this still takes the cake.

Peter lets out a breath, and it can't be seen through the mask, but he's smirking lightly. There's the whole-- the whole back story, the part about his Uncle Ben dying, about how he let some asshole get away with--

There's all that, but he can also sum it up.

"To catch bad guys? Without anyone knowing who I am and threatening the people that I love."

Very important. The secret identity.

Clementine isn't traumatized by much beyond the people she loves dying, and given how much of that has happened years ago, she-- well, she hasn't been traumatized in awhile.

"Oh. What happened the last time?"

Maybe that'll help her figure out how to deal with this time. She smiles at him when he says thanks. "It'd be cool to have one of those." A helmet like that.

Logan stares at her at what she says, and he shakes his head, tensing mid-table placement, because that can't actually be-- She has no reason to lie to him after all, but it is hard to process it. "Months?" He sets the table down. "I don't want to be here for months."

In the middle of the sea, it's unsettling to him, makes him on edge at the thought.

She can tell he's not a man accustomed to smiling. He radiates strength and gravity, and men like that aren't given to smiles.

There's also a hint, sometimes, that maybe Logan just hasn't had much to smile about in his past. They don't know each other well enough yet at all to broach it, but she can sense it.

It makes the smile curving his lips now feel that much more like an accomplishment. This close, their eyes nearly level, she can see it even lights his eyes.

She taps her glass against his. "To silver linings, I guess."

"Wormholes."

Once, she saw something she thought looked like the traditional (likely ill-informed) idea of what a wormhole was supposed to be. Or, at least, what the brightest human scientific minds thought was a wormhole. It probably wasn't anything close to it and Nasedo and whatever knowledge Max and the others still possessed from their previous lives could likely prove them wrong, but she'd seen... something. A flash from Max, a quick burst of images that lasted only a few seconds but were so incredibly breathtaking. Swirls of color and light, unlike anything she'd ever seen.

"That's one theory. Did you ever go through any of these Rifts? Frequently? Back and forth?"

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[party post] come sail away with me

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