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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"Oh."

Sounds like something Michael would say. Liz knew that was one of the driving forces behind Michael's desire to get the hell off the planet and go back to Antar. Home wasn't great and she'd had the (mis)fortune of seeing that with her very own eyes. His foster father hadn't really been a stellar example of humanity.

"I'm Liz. Can I ask where home's supposed to be?"

It's true, safety is something people take for granted — something she'd taken for granted and hadn't realized how much of it she had until she hadn't. She'd been safe before she was shot, safe under the wings of her parents, secure in her promising future in science with the guidance of the various teachers who encouraged her to aim high and seek out her dreams. Safe was more like a memory these days, something she knows she had once, but will likely never have again.

"I don't know if having a welcome wagon upon a rival would be more comforting or not."

Beautiful things can be just as deadly -- vampires being one of the prime examples of that.

"This? It's what everyone wore back in the twenties." At least she's had enough of this world hopping business by now that the conversation she's having doesn't seem nearly so strange.

"Tyler. And it's Mystic Falls, Virgina."

He's not really expecting her to have heard of it -- it's a pretty small town, honestly. Easy to miss if you weren't looking for it. It'd be unremarkable if it wasn't for all the supernatural creatures it seems to lure in.

"Naturally. Why make any of this easy on us?"

But she doesn't sound too bothered by that. She's a very resourceful woman and she's been through far worse suddenly somewhere else situations before. At least nobody's switching out her crew for an alien population this time. That's a plus.

"Well, it looks very... archaic compared to ship designs I'm used to. Both those that float and those that don't. I can tell you that much."

And no proper definition of time means that applying the Temporal Prime Directive is going to be tricky. She could already feel the headache building. Among her least favorite of activities is dealing with matters of time. She hates time travel and all the anomalies associated with it. Understanding the principles of it doesn't mean she enjoys it.

"Let's start with this: My name is Kathryn and it's supposed to be 2374 for me."

Spider-man lifts his hand up, giving her a salute. "I think I can help you with both of those things... since the door still seems to be locked for me," he says, and while there's a mask, the tone of his voice clearly points out the frown in the tone of it.

"This way."

Logan smirks when her glass taps with his own, and he lets out a short laugh.

"You guess? Is there something else you think we should be toastin to or are you not too sure about this being a silver lining?" He asks as he downs most of his drink in one shot.

...so much for being polite and civilized there for a moment.

"Can't say I blame you for the second."

He doesn't really come off as a silver lining in most cases, which is kind of funny given the claws.

Peter has his head ducked a bit again, poking at the mechanical thing in front of him. He smirks though at what she says, looking back up at her slightly and scratching the back of his head half in thought. Peter tries to think back to the first time he ended up here, but it's... been a long time now. Maybe whatever the hell this is thought he really needed the vacation.

...not that he completely ever slows down or takes a load off even when he's here instead. Just not wired that way. He carries his guilt and his burdens and his responsibility always.

"Guess it depends on the welcome wagon," he says with a light smirk still, ducking his head again. "But appearing on a random mysterious, nowhere boat with a bunch of people waiting for you... might up the creep factor."

"I guess..."

She sets down her glass after a sip or two, picking up the whiskey bottle and gesturing for him to set his glass down so she can refill it. This may not be her bar or anything, but she's a proper Southern lady--no one's going to go without in her presence.

"I guess I just wasn't sure if you were thinking the same thing," she says, stealing a faintly-smiling glance at his face as she tips the liquor into his glass.

Logan smirks a bit wider, lifting up his drink toward her and giving her a quiet thanks when she fills it again. He leans against the bar, looking down at the drink (aware of so much all at once, the sounds of the water against the ship, the smell of the metal of it in the air, her faint smile in his peripheral vision) and then he looks back up at her, meeting her gaze this time.

He nods.

"Well, now you know for sure," he says, taking a smaller drink from his glass this time. "How's your drink?"

She holds his gaze when he looks up at her, her smile lingering. "Now I know," she echoes. It's a more honest answer than she was expecting from him. That's no indictment of his character; she just knows how the strong and serious type usually are: loathe to share what's really on their minds.

She glances down at her drink, her smile blooming brighter. "It's really good. I'm going to remember your advice and make them for myself from now on."

Logan lifts his eyebrows, and he is wondering what the chances are that he has somehow met someone else from space. Not from space itself, but from a place where ships fly in space and not just on the water. The whole idea of space travel is absolutely unsettling to him. He's not a huge fan of being on the water either. All that metal grafted to his skeleton means he has a tendency to sink.

He straightens where he's standing when she gives the year that it had been for her.

"Logan. It's supposed to be almost four hundred years in your past for me, and this ship looks like the kind I would've seen."

Even if as far as he can tell, there's no set date or time on it.

Logan's smirk softens, and he takes another drink from the glass in his hand, palm wrapped around it. He can be direct. He's not really the sharing type but a bright spot in the middle of a magical kidnapping seems worthy of directness.

"One of my few good pieces of advice," he says so he approves of remembering it, keeping it in mind. Recipes for drinks aren't nearly as important as liking what you're drinking. He releases a breath, straightening his shoulders back again and looking over the cruise ship. "Keep thinkin' somethin' gonna pop up."

The calmness of this place is almost unnerving. He doesn't relax easy... especially not out on a ship in water magically fucking transported to (she should see him in air... or in space.

oh wait, she will :D).

"What would be the fun in that?"

Rebekah isn't particular bothered either -- but after her time in Chicago and her experience with the rifts she's a little used to it, honestly.

She takes another sip, and then she nods, lowering her glass. "Honestly, Logan? I've been feeling the same thing since I came through that door. It feels..." She sighs. "Too peaceful and quiet. You know what if mean? Like it's manufactured, made to keep you off guard."

They'd run into feelings like that on the Enterprise. The calm before the storm, so to speak.

Maybe the answer, for now, was to take shelter. At least until they could get some more information.

"I wonder if we're supposed to have rooms. Isn't that how these ships worked? You got your own quarters for the trip. Since it doesn't seem willing to let us go right back home... Maybe we should look for a room."

"It just doesn't feel like being taken against our wills should be so damn quiet and peaceful," Logan says in agreement, and maybe if they end up coming back here or being here long enough, it won't feel so manufactured. It'll be easier to relax here, but he doesn't understand the purpose of this place or the purpose of taking them all.

Logan drinks from the glass in his hand, trying to let the alcohol hit to calm him, but it takes... a lot of alcohol to affect him in any meaningful way.

He looks up at her with a nod, filling up his glass further as he's thinking he'll be taking it with him.

"Yeah, it is. Usually like to avoid ships myself, but you buy your way, get a room, food and drink sometimes included. Might be rooms. We can have a look."

She nods her agreement; it makes sense to her. If it was just what it appears to be on the surface, they wouldn't have to be brought here against their wills, she doesn't think. People would want to come, not have to be dragged.

"I think people have to be staying somewhere," she points out, topping off her glass with one bottle, then the other. "Unless you and I are the only non-holographic or whatever people on this entire ship."

"I've never been that far east, unless Florida counts. I don't think it does." It was more south than east in spite of sharing part of the east coast. "I'm from Roswell, New Mexico."

"Maybe, but it could be worse. Horror movie worse. Unless this is the Queen Mary, then we're definitely already in horror movie territory."

Somehow, being on the deck of an infamously haunted ship seemed preferable to being strapped to a chair with FBI agents surrounding her. She'd never been in the white room personally, but she saw flashes of it in Max's mind and it was probably the most horrific thing she'd ever seen. No movie would ever compare to the terror she felt ripping through Max while Pierce interrogated him.

"It doesn't really -- I've never been that far west though." Most of his traveling has been limited to the Appalachian Mountains.

~~Oh, Damon~~.

Zoe glances back at him with a raised eyebrow for a moment, before shaking her head as she hits the stairs. She takes them two at a time, making it to the first landing before answering his question.

"I'm pretty sure that if it were possible to break to down, someone would have figured that out already."

"Ahhh so you're one of those 'vigilante' types." There are very visible air quotes around the word "vigilante." This is Lois from before she goes all gung-ho heroes. There's still a healthy bit of skepticism to that, but she knows that Oliver and whoever the Blur is make a difference.

She just doesn't know this guy well enough to have that kind of faith yet.

"I've got a friend like that back home. But he's more of a fan of green leather."

He pauses before turning and handing it off to her. While he's probably sure that sooner or later he'll need it again, there's no reason he can't let her borrow it for a little while. "Here. Knock yourself out."

But last time. Last time, was, well.

"Last time I landed in Chicago. People got brought in there all the time, falling through holes in the universe. It was actually kind of cool." Or it would have been, if half the time it wasn't monsters falling through.

"Don," he says with a nod and a sympathetic smile. He'd say that at least now she knows, but he has a feeling that that might not make her feel any better. "Let's see if we can find a concierge or a pharmacy or something."

Given that it was unclear how long they would be here, it was probably best to settle her stomach sooner rather than later.

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[party post] come sail away with me

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