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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Peter laughs at her feigned gasp, and he ducks his head before he looks back up at her slowly with a tiny smirk that widens into a smile at the sight of that gorgeous wicked grin. "You do?"

He lifts his eyebrows, and then he laughs. Sometimes he can hardly believe it-- That they're here, that they are with each other, that he has her, this beautiful in every single way person who makes him so happy. He thought happiness was stolen from him, but he has found it with her.

Peter stares after her with a slow smirk as they head into the room, and the smirk widens a bit. He slides out of that red and blue suit as she presses him back against the door with a small thud. His arms wind around her waist as he pulls her in against him tightly, his mouth finding her own, as he is stripped of the suit, and the backpack falls to the ground at his feet.

And there is only Mary Jane and this changing room as his hands slide up her back, and he helps remove more of her clothing, piece by piece until she is bare and pressed against him, muffled noises and wanting with an intensity that can't be doused by anything but their bodies tangling together like this. His mouth fastens over her own.

"God, Mary Jane." That might be heard too, because it is impossible to stay quiet with the strength of how he wants her, and he doesn't think to be quiet about it tbh.

"Ahhh," he says with a nod, a bit of a knowing smile crossing his face. "You mean those pains in the ass who are always looking for information about an ongoing investigation they can't have?" He means it good-naturedly. That's clear enough, even with his tone.

Carol pauses for a moment, before shrugging slightly. She doesn't know. She hasn't tempted fate by trying, but she doesn't know if the door can simply open at random at any time.

"I've been here a few months and it hasn't happened yet."

"No, my emptying of cases and whole wine cellars is more every day, less sudden trans-dimensional free-fall. Old habits die hard, and I'm certainly not going to let a little change of scenery stop me from continuing to indulge."

He's completely serious about emptying entire wine cellars. How many times has Helen had to restock after he's been in her house too long? Far too many times, she'd say. Usually he left the bottles with sentimental value alone, but every once in a while he'd indulge temptation and take one of them down from the shelf. Like that bottle Churchill gave her, not that he was sorry he drank it. The British didn't exactly have a history of being kind to him. Churchill's bottle was practically begging him to drink it.

"Not a fan of history, I take it?"

Liz wouldn't say she was a fan or that she wasn't. She was somewhere in the middle of finding it interesting, but not so much as to actively look things up without having a good reason to. That was more Alex's department. Her passion was science.

Alek's smirk is mirthless.

"You're not missing out on much," is what he ends up saying, a hint of bitterness he couldn't hide even if he tried. It's true that it opened up the world for him in many ways. Many worlds. They are also the reason his home was effectively destroyed, and he can never return to it. He's not sure the trade off is fair.

"Good."

As far as Tyler is concerned, it never needs to happen.

"I'm glad...you have this place."

Instead of just being dead.

"Not particularly."

He's not much of a school/studies person in general honestly. Once, in middle school his mother had to write a whole paper for him so he wouldn't flunk. It's a thing. He's not dumb it's just not something he really cares about.

"Guilty as charged," she admits, with a soft laugh. "I'm one of the more insistent pains in the proverbial ass, according to the LAPD."

For a moment it seems to her that the hallway rolls a bit further than the subtle sway underfoot she's trying to get used to. Maybe the ship changed course, or hit a swell. Or maybe it's just her own thrown-off sense of balance, who knows.

Whichever it is, she winds up squeezing her eyes shut, halting in place and holding onto his arm much more tightly, as if to keep from falling over.

"...Sorry. You're sure you're okay with this?"

"It can't be that easy," she agrees, draining her glass. For a moment it seems like she might mix herself one more, but she decides against it. She leans down from her perch on the bar top to set the glass safely behind the counter.

"Since I don't really know how long I'm going to be stuck here, I guess I'd better go find a room. Are you game?"

The tightness of the hug keeps her grounded, lets her know that this really is happening. Mark's hugs are almost like his trademark and she could never imagine this, never mistake it for anything else but real. She can feel his heart beat in his chest and that angel-coolness of his skin and it can't be a lie, it can't be imaginary. She still feels Chicago's decay on her, the smell of fire and ash in her nose and throat and the tremor of the world giving way in her feet. The presence of her friend being here both keeps those things inside her and pushes them away all at once, and she doesn't know how else to react but babble away and keep on crying.

"I'm real, you're real." she utters, stammering over her words. The echoes of Chicago's destruction drum on in her ears, but she can still hear his voice over it and to her, she's never heard a more beautiful sound.

To say she's happy to see him would do her feelings enough justice, so she doesn't say it. She can't describe her joy and relief. "Oh god, oh god, I just-- it's gone, it's all gone, and--"

She swallows a lump in her throat, hugs him just as tightly back, breathing him in and letting it and the relief wash over her. "We made it," she murmurs, her voice pained. "It's gone, but we're here. It wasn't goodbye in the end."

Cassie lets out a small laugh, her voice still cracking. "Bloody boat, we're on a bloody boat. I haven't been on a boat before, but we're on one--what even is--"

At first, Cassie doesn't register the sound of a dog barking in the near distance, the roar of the ocean below and the crashing of Chicago rings in her ears and leaves her with little room for anything else. With a shaking hand, she wipes at her face, the tear tracks marking lines through the dust on her face. She doesn't know where she is, she doesn't know where Aaron is and--- why does that dog sound so familiar?

She turns her head just in time to find a very familiar puppy coming to a quick stop beside her and bonding and spinning with excitement. She stares for a few seconds, mouth hung open in shock. She knows this puppy, she knows him very well.

"Gabriel?"

And then that achingly familiar flutter of wings, the blur of trench coat in the corner of her eye. Her heart skips in her chest and she suddenly feel like she can't breathe. She almost doesn't want to turn round in case it's not real, that she's imagining it, that it's just a cruel trick.

She doesn't want it to be a trick.

Moving her head, she looks round and up - a fresh bout of tears forming in her eyes. It's him, he's there and there's that smile. She lets out a breath, feeling it catch in her throat and she gives a little shudder of relief. "Cas."

She scrambles to her feet, stumbles toward him and quickly wraps her arms around him and buries her face into his trench coat without another word. She's still for a few moments before she utters a small sob. "You're here, Cas."

Helen laughs, "You'd end up being a really worrying kind of person, I guess. Or something like that, I had something really witty in my head, but it came out super lame." she tells him. "But nope, nah, no worryin' over me."

She shakes his hand with a bright smile. "Nice to meet'cha, Charlie. I'm Helen. But you can call me El or Ellie. Or Helen." she scrunches her up nose up a little as she smiles. "Sorry, I ramble. Call me anything, I'm good."

The name Charlie is very familiar too. She's trying to put names to faces in her mind and she can't quite do it.

"Don't wanna be rude or anything, but you're like familiar... like, sorta?" she says with a slight tilt of her head. "I don't think we've met, but I think I've seen your face before. Like, a long, long time ago."

Helen smiles but then pauses for a moment, making a small 'hmm' in the back of her throat in thought at the word 'rift'.

"You reckon that door's like one of those Rifts?" she asks. The mere mention of them gives Helen the impression they're probably from the same place. "You mean like the ones they have in Chicago?"

She's a way into the future, but she still knows what a Rift is. The ones in the city have lessened over the centuries, but activity still happens from time to time. She's read things about them before. But she's never experienced any of it, she doesn't even live in Chicago. ... so how does that work out?

Helen scratches the back of her head with one hand, "This day just kinda keeps on getting weirder." she still smiles, though. "Thanks. I know I'm like a grown up, okay, well, I'm sixteen - but I still think I'm a grown up - but anyways, yeah. My mom can get super protective sometimes, they're... well, they're moms, you know? My Grandpa Fletch can be even worse."

She sticks out a hand. "I'm Helen, by the way."

Helen lets out a small giggle. "Or even an entire room with just a huge bouncy castle in it. Oh man, I think I might like this place." she says. "I think the general rule we might have to use here is 'just roll with it', huh?"

She smiles sweetly, nodding her head in appreciation for the touch on her arm. "Thank you, that's real nice of you." she says. "I don't even know when it'll be - but yeah, if I end up on this ship again, I'll definitely come looking for you."

She pauses for a few moments, pursing her lips. "Who did you see die?" she asks quietly. "If you don't mind.."

Yes, she is, and she uses it to her advantage.

Mostly in letting people underestimate her so she can take advantage of that. Oops. But she has learned how to survive because she had to, because she was taught some things and others she just picked up herself.

Clementine stares up at him with a rounded :o to her mouth as she listens to his description, looking a bit skeptical if only because that is something else that has served her well at the end of the world. "Really? So she can make things burn?"

That'd be useful for the walkers.

"Some. Little experience with all things supernatural and a lot of experience with a few of them," Jenny says, and the few of them is mostly demons, but she smirks softly shaking her head. This is no demon trap or it would be a lot more person specific. There'd be temptations. There'd be that voice in her head. She nods in response, watching his face.

"We won't. I'm not all that great at breaking bad news as is." She tends toward bluntness, which could have bad consequences. "So you have experience of your own?"

Edited 2014-04-01 06:56 (UTC)

Ethan doesn't know that it makes sense to him, and he lived it. He doesn't know how he did it, can barely remember those final moments without being ripped apart so he never tries to think about it too deeply. He breathes in as his fingers lock with her own, and then breathes out in a sharp breath that rattles in his chest. It's something he is wondering about now if he'd somehow missed it simply by-- by being such an idiot.

He's been such an idiot to never say. He wanted to say it in those last moments.

It makes his own chest ache to think of all the wasted time if she'd-- if she'd felt that way. Ethan's gaze lifts up to meet hers when she pulls in that small breath. "Maybe it all could have been... so different," he says in an aching voice as his hand squeezes her own tightly, and his eyes burn because he doesn't want to walk out that door but he will.

It could've been different, but it wasn't and he doesn't know-- He doesn't know why he didn't say. Ethan should have said. There's nothing he will regret more than the fact he let so much wasted time go by.

Edited 2014-04-01 07:16 (UTC)

Damon tilts his head to the side as he looks down at her, gaze narrowing a bit. Of course, it is good to see him, Elena. Why wouldn't it be? His smile widens as he waggles those eyebrows and then winks at her.

"...you know."

He narrows his gaze further at her, because there is no way she could have forgotten.

They kissed. He may be unconsciously tapping his bottom lip.

Yes. >>

Peter sees the reassuring smile, and it makes him smile in response before he nods. He knows better than to judge a book by its cover like that after all. Most people wouldn't think he can handle-- well, most of what he does. Barely. Handle.

"I'm sure you can," he says, and he means that. "So I'm guessing ghosts aren't the weirdest thing you've seen before. I mean you seem pretty chill about them."

"And this place doesn't get boring?" Damon asks as he looks around at the mostly desolate ship, but of course, it is a floating ship in the middle of nowhere, picking up people against their will. He's certain it has more than a few tricks up its... sleeve.

Metaphorical sleeve.

Spider-man needs to go do some action just for this purpose so she can see him in all his glory. ...wait, no, with great responsibility comes not... showing off for glory and-- It's about saving people. He loses track of that. Sometimes. One wouldn't think he would with all the blood on his hands. "Well, I'm... I see myself as more a vigilante, I guess, than a superhero. Superheroes are..."

They don't get people killed. He's not Peter Parker right now, but he is drifting dangerously into that-- into sounding like him.

He lifts his head up again. "...a bow and arrow? Well that's one way to do it. Isn't it harder to use one of those in leather? Like the sound of it."

Clementine plays with the helmet a bit with a tiny smirk before she looks up at him again at the question, giving him a long sideways look if only cause she's not used to people who don't... know what that is. It's been years now.

"Well, people die or get bit and die then their corpse just starts walking around and tries to eat you. They smell gross." She wrinkles her nose. "But they're dumb."

Still somehow responsible for killing most people she knows. ...knew.

Logan shrugs a bit but nods in response. Makes sense when she puts it that way. Well, much as a pocket dimension can ever make sense to him given he isn't really familiar with any of it. He's a mutant and he knows other mutants and their abilities and he's been alive a long time, but... pocket dimensions are out of his league.

"Sounds like you know what you're talking about a whole helluva lot more than I do."

Of all the answers that he could have expected, this wasn't one of them, and he pauses as he works just briefly. He shakes his head in answer, uncertain of what to think... about the wrongness of it. This place can take people from death. Is this some kind of a hell or a freedom from what lies after otherwise? He doesn't know.

"Sorry," Logan says a bit gruffly in a low voice but the response is genuine. He is sorry. She seems like a really wonderful woman and far too young to die (they always are). If he knew someone murdered her, well. He'd want to slice him to bits and pieces.

Edited 2014-04-01 09:35 (UTC)

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[party post] come sail away with me

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sob im sorry this is so late

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