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 smiles a bit awkwardly when she says she doesn't mind. Peter Parker tends to be an awkward person in all his mannerisms even when he isn't feeling particularly awkward at the moment.

"Being careful is really, really good. I don't even know if there are lifeboats on this thing," he says, but he feels like he should probably figure that out. Just in case. Peter stretches his hand out, taking her hand in his own. He has heightened senses so he feels how cold it is immediately, colder than most hands, and he blinks a bit in confusion. "Uh, Peter. Peter Parker. What do you prefer to be called? How-- Can I ask how you got wings?" And a body temperature that is much colder than the average person's.

Martha fights the urge to cringe, but she can't help it. Kidnapped? But when will it end? When will she be able to go back? "Kidnapped isn't a... really good word to hear, isn't it?" she says a little nervously, wringing her hands. "I mean, I guess... if we get to go home again eventually, then it's not too bad? But... yeah."

But it's a boat. It's hardly getting locked up in a cell. Unless it's just a really fancy cell. It's not really a nice thought.

"Oh! Me? Well. Technically? Neither." she says with a small laugh. "I'm a third year med-student."

She looks a bit young to be one, but she is completely telling the truth here, Jason. "I-- uh, I'm Martha. I'm usually referred to by my surname, Masters. It's.. like, a work thing? I don't mind."

Helen isn't very awkward as a person, and she can deal with awkward quite well.

"There should be, I mean this looks like a pretty big boat." she says, tilting her head to the side. "Unless this is that... oh, that big boat. I can't remember the name. I learned about it in history once. It happened like... a thousand years ago? It hit an iceberg!"

Help her out, Peter?

She shakes his hand enthusiastically, grinning brightly. She's not really fazed by the confusion. He might be like one of those Wanderers, a new one? Or so she guesses, anyway. "Nice to meet you!" she says and then pauses in thought. "Oh! Well, nobody really asked me that before. I guess I'm pretty okay with anything. You could just go with Helen, if you like."

And then she grins a little more. "You're like a Wanderer, right? Well... you could say I'm born with them? But not really. I only got these a few months ago. I'm an angel," Then, with a little more calmness. "Well... an angel of death. I became one when I turned sixteen."

Jason looks sympathetic, understanding. He hates the word too, hates that it is wholly applicable to their situation, and there's no one they can hunt down for answers about why either. It just... is. "Well, I found my way back home the last time, but it didn't let me just walk out whenever I wanted," he says, leaning back against the wall.

It's not as bad as it could be, but he doesn't trust this place yet.

He smiles at her. She doesn't really look like someone who'd lie so he believes her. Jason can usually tell when someone is lying. "Cool, Martha. I'm Jason Dilaurentis. Usually just referred to as Jason, but I mostly volunteer and go t school for my work."

So maybe that'll change.

"The... Titanic, but wait, what do you mean by a thousand years ago? What... year are you from?" Peter has run into people here who have been from the past and some from a few years in the future, but if the titanic happened a thousand years ago for her...

Wow. Peter scratches the back of his head before he looks at her with a smile, nodding at what she says. "Uh, you too, Helen." Nice to meet her too. Words are not a thing Peter does well necessarily if he's not in the Spider-man suit.

He shakes his head a little. "I... don't really know what I am, but I don't have wings so I'm not--" Peter tilts his head to the side, curiously. "Wait, you're an angel? Like something out of the Bible or-- No, those angels don't become one at sixteen, they just are. What's an angel of death? That sounds--"

Peter grimaces a bit. It sounds painful.

Chicago was burning. It was disappearing before her eyes, burning and dissolving into nothing. In a way, Cassie felt glad she was leaving Chicago behind.

She had lived in the city for over three years, and while it was her home, it was a home of hurt and bad memories. She’d been through so much, too much. She had been almost killed at the hands of a man she thought could be a friend, tortured by an angel when she found herself a guinea pig for his experiments, been caught up in various disasters and then there had been so many people she’d lost. There were countless that had simply disappeared, but some of them she wouldn’t forget. Sometimes it was easier when they disappeared, it still hurt – but maybe it hurt less when she remembered the violence that fell upon her other friends: Robin, Dan, Iris, Elizabeth.
Chicago had been a city that had worn her down, pushed her to breaking point time and time again. Cassie knew she wasn’t the girl she was three years ago any more, but she knew she was still just a girl and there was only so much she could take.

The end of the world meant a new beginning.

But when she finds herself on the deck of a huge ship, she's left panicking. She's alone. She didn't realise it would happen so fast, she thought she had a little more time.

She spends over an hour pacing that deck, lugging what little possessions she has on her up and down - not really sure what to do with herself. When she can't pace any more, she sits down on by the edge of the ship, legs dangling over and her arms and chin resting on the railings. She really wants some booze, but she doesn't think she can drink.

Her stomach's starting to churn a bit too. Cassie's not sure if it's the shock of what's just happened, or if she has sea-sickness. She's never even been on a boat before.

Helen's eyes widen and she clicks her fingers. "That's it!" she says with a wide grin. "That's what it's called! Titanic!" She stops suddenly, looking confused when she's asked the year. "Year? It's 2867, of course." she frowns slightly. "It is... isn't it?"

She tilts her head to the side, he's never heard of the term, so he must be fairly new. It still hasn't clicked that she might be in another universe right now. "Wanderer. No? Nothing? Erm. Name we give to folks that travel the Rift. They get cool powers and stuff. My grandpa Fletch has this Wanderer feel about him, even though he's an angel too."

Helen laughs, "Bible? Gosh no, like I totally get the bible thing but no - we don't follow God or anything. It's a genetics thing." she shrugs, she doesn't understand it all. She just is who she is. "My Mom's an angel, her parents were angels too. And grandpa Fletch, he's one too. You get all sorts. Mom and Fletch are both archangels."

And then her chattering stops and she falls quiet for a few moments, noting the grimace. "Sounds a bit scary, don't it?" she says gently.

She chews her bottom lip for a few moments, wringing her hands slightly. "Well... to make it sound easy... I... help people die. What'll happen is one day, maybe quite soon, I'm gonna see someone die. I gotta find them... and then I help them die."

Martha tries her best to smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She then turns back to the door, giving the handle one last try. It doesn't budge, she can't get back right now - she'll be here for the long run. With a sigh, she then turns back to Jason.

"Okay. So. We're on a boat. Stuck, on a boat." she brushes her hair out her eyes and straightens up. "So, what do we do around here?"

Because surely there'll be something to do here. Or maybe the boat'll travel to somewhere, even if there doesn't appear to be any land in sight on the horizon.

"Oh, cool. Well.. that sounds cool. Are.. are you like a teaching aid?" she asks with a small smile. "My Dad's a classic chair, actually. At Columbia University. That's kinda cool."

He hums noncommittally, huffing out another lungful of smoke. He'd say this wasn't the direction he expected this conversation to take, but he's long ago learned not to expect anything.

"Dunno. Haven't met him personally. People swear by him though, yeah?"

Dear, oh dear. John was never that young, was he?

He was. He was, and he was just as unpracticed at hiding that he was up to no good. He might've been even younger than this girl, precocious thing that he was when it came to trouble. It makes him indulgent.

"Don't I know it, love." His lips twitch slightly around his cigarette. No, see, he really knows it--they already have once, lung cancer, but he pitted the Lords of Hell against each other and was restored to health.

...Not the most inspiring story. Especially not to tell to a teenaged girl in a cruise ship corridor.

"You lost or something? New here?"

Oh. Hello, Mr British Man. Helen's eyes widen in slight wonder and she smiles for a few moments. This is kinda cool. But--

"Then why keep on doing it?" she asks him.

She falls silent for a few moments, frowning slightly. What would it be like to take the pain of cancer away? Maybe she won't know, maybe she'll deal with unnatural deaths. Maybe she'll deal with the murders, the car accidents, the suicides.

But if she did, if she dealt with the diseases, the old age - what would that feel like? Would it hurt? Bad?

It's all waiting for her, one day. She's not sure when, but it'll happen. She's not sure how she feels about that just yet.

Making a small, quiet hum at the back of her throat, she tilts her head to the side. "New? Yeah, new, I guess."

She scratches the side of her head and shrugs. "I just got here this afternoon. Decided I've have a look around and stuff, but the staff are holograms and almost all the doors I've tried are locked - so it's pretty darn not fun."

Rachel sighs. She settles back comfortably, head resting against the chair, turning only her face toward Ethan so as not to start her stomach roiling all over again.

"None of this makes any sense," she says, frowning. "I don't see the point. If you have all this power, why do something like this?" She knows the world frequently isn't a logical or sensible place, but this is really beyond the pale.

"Though I guess it's a comfort knowing you can go back. And that you aren't missed. I mean, can you imagine? If you just vanished and people were worried about you?"

"Not... for me, but this is a place that exists between time and space so you can... end up here from any-- any time," Peter says, and if he sounds a bit dazed, it's because he is, because it is hard to wrap his head around when she is from. And it is amazing too to think of people being from a when as well as a where.

Peter takes in all the information that she gives, trying to set it all straight in his head. He has a good memory for things being as smart and science-y as he is. This is all new information, but he'll remember it. He'll remember this place with its angels and wanderers and archangels.

He watches her quietly as she answers, nodding when she says it sounds scary. It does. It sounds scary and painful really, and when she explains, it sounds even worse. He winces as she answers, shaking his head.

"That's-- that sucks," Peter says quietly because there is no better word for it. He's seen a lot of people die or dead, and he never had to help with it and it was hard enough.

Jason watches as she tries again, looking sympathetic when the door doesn't budge. He doubts that he'll be able to get back right now either, but he'll try again later. For now, he'll keep her company.

"Stuck, on a cruise ship. So it's not like it's a lifeboat or anything," he reminds her with a gentle smile. "There are lots of things, alcohol, pools, nightclubs. I didn't explore it much last time."

But he'd be willing to explore it now, which is why he starts to walk away from the door, glancing over at her as they go. "No, I'm not. I volunteer at my old high school, working with kids who struggle with substance abuse that kind of thing."

Mark does not know how he ended up staring at the end of the world, staring at science at work. He has been studying Rifts for so long, and while he may be a marshmallow about some things, there was always this dread and fear in the back of his mind. He knew the world ending this way was a possibility, but he never thought it would happen so soon or even in his lifetime. The increase in the Rift activity across the world was impossible to predict until-- until the end which they all knew was coming. He still hasn't-- There is still a certain level of shock that spreads over his chest in those final moments. It's like being in the aftermath of something to terrible to wrap his head around (it is exactly what it is, and he knows people are dying out in the city, maybe people he loves even, which is scary and makes him want to fight), and then... then he is on a cruise ship.

He recognizes it immediately for what it is by the long deck that he steps out on even if he is completely confused as to how or why. Mark turns back behind him to see a door, and not a Rift, if he were at wherever he's supposed to go, he'd-- there would be a Rift behind him and not a door. He shouldn't be alone here. This isn't the world he fell into, is it? Is it the afterlife? Did he die without realizing it? Mark swallows thickly past the lump of emotion in his throat. He starts down the deck on one side as if searching-- searching for the people he was trying to go through the Rifts with, the Crowbar when he catches sight of familiar blond hair that has him stopping in his tracks completely.

A part of him doesn't want to say her name out loud in case it turns out to not be her, and his chest aches a bit as he swallows thickly, moving forward as he finally manages words-- a word. Somehow. Her name, and his tone is filled with the emotion of it.

He never thought he'd see her again. Never, and it was one of the most heartbreaking things to him about the end of the world.

"Cassie?"

"It's a beautiful city, isn't it? Remind me--in your time, that was when the really bad hurricanes devastated it for a while, right? Even then, it was beautiful. It came back twice as strong." Counter to his hard and tough ways, then, she's clearly indulgent. A dreamer and an optimist, softer edges, compassion.

She shrugs a little, still smiling faintly. "I'm actually really confused and kind of scared," she admits. "But you don't get far as a nurse or an officer if you can't school those reactions." It's not terribly reassuring to your patients, after all. After a while masking how you really feel in a tense situation becomes second nature.

Icon has never been more relevant.

It isn't that Elena hadn't seen Caroline and Bonnie just a short while ago, but she has found herself in this cruise ship enough times to understand they aren't necessarily the same versions. Their reactions alone confirm it somewhat, and a bittersweet fondness wraps around her as she, in turn, wraps her arms around the both of them to hold them tightly. Regardless of different timelines and universes and years, the fact all three of them love each other does not change.

"And we wouldn't want that, Caroline," Elena says with a wry smile as she pulls back. The boat does seem to be on their side today, as Elena stumbled on a few things that will be important for the celebration. Case in point: she lifts up a bag, before she rummages through it to find the tiara she'd located only moments before, and places it atop Caroline's head.

Some people might take offense but John can see the question for what it is. It's exactly the earnest sort of thing someone young enough and still enough of a good kid to be startled at being caught trying doors would ask.

Christ. He was never that young or that good.

He shrugs, good-natured. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. Don't you ever start; it won't make you look grown up and it's filthy."

And that's where he'd leave it with most anyone else, but... she's just a kid and he doesn't yet know if this ship means anyone any harm. It's a sore spot with him. Messing with kids.

"The good news is, you can go back. You will. There's no rhyme or reason to when or how you go back or come back here." He finishes his cigarette, stubs it out atop a trash can before flicking the butt in. "Everyone gets a room. This one, it's mine. Let's see if we can figure out which one's yours. I'm John." And he offers his hand, clearly for a handshake, nothing nefarious.

The smirk on Danny's face is all too brief and subtle, but not impossible to catch. "No good," he confirms. His strength and his talents, if they can even be called that, are no match for the door, or the cruise ship, it seems. The problem with the Mark is that it erroneously feeds you with the mistaken belief you are infallible. Never a god, but infallible, made of steel. It breaks away the pieces of you that once had learned to fear. The thought of him not being able to return back home, however, has him remembering vaguely what it felt like.

"I've found ... two heads are usually better than one," Danny says in agreement, taking her cue. Whenever she begins to walk off in a certain direction, he will be following her. "Do you think we're the only ones?"

To be taken.

"Never?" Sarah asks in an echo of Helen's confession.

She may be stepping closer onto the railing to lean against it herself. This way, she can keep an eye on Helen without outwardly admitting as much, and being there if something were to happen. It wasn't that long ago she was Helen's age, and she was someone that constantly attempted to exert her own independence.

"They can be a lot of fun. As long as you don't get sea sick," Sarah adds with a tiny smile. "Though it looks like that won't be a problem for you."

Cassie's not sure how long she's sat there for. The churning in her stomach continues, but it's the shock that's eating away at her. It's a hot, hollow feeling in her chest and she feels like she can't breathe and she's aware of the tears dribbling down her face. The end came so quickly, just as quickly as the way she first stumbled into Chicago.

She said her goodbyes, tried to see as many people as possible. And then there was Aaron. Aaron had crash landed into her life with as much grace as a ten ton truck. The one night stand that came back to bite her in arse. She didn’t like it, hell; she near-on hated him. He was rude, cold, cocky and he just didn’t seem to care. He didn’t want to be her Guardian just as much as she didn’t want to be his Ward. But the end of the world told Cassie something else: life was too short. She had already lost so much. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to lose Aaron, maybe he was the one who was meant to stay around. Maybe they were meant to be something good, they could start again somewhere as friends. Cassie extended the olive branch, if he wanted to go with her, he could – she wouldn’t force him either way. And he’d agreed in the end.

But she's sat on this deck alone, Aaron isn't here with her and she doesn't know what to do about that. The feeling in her chest continues and she feels like she's burning just like the city was. She doesn't know if she's going to see anyone from Chicago again, doesn't know what will happen to her now. It's terrifying, and it's suffocating her.

The sound of a familiar voice uttering her name feels like fate is allowing her to take a breath. In a way, she's scared of turning around in case it's only her mind playing tricks on her. But she does anyway, because it sounds like Mark and it has to be Mark and surely the world isn't that cruel all the time. Surely there has to be some mercy.

Cassie wipes at her eyes, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him. She says his name, but it doesn't come out right and she half-chokes on it, the noise sounding more like a sob than anything else. Her face crumples in relief and joy and more emotions she can't pick at because there's just so many. Before she can think of anything else, she's clambering to her feet and almost throwing herself at him in what is quite possibly the hardest hug she's ever given.

"You're here. It's y-you and you're here and I thought I'd--" she chokes out another sob. "God, I'm just so happy to see you. It's really you, Mark."

Almost as an afterthought, Danny slowly unfurls his fists, fingers loosening from their tense hold. The question surprises him, for reasons that he personally cannot fathom, and he looks up at her with a strangely vulnerable expression before the moment passes, too quickly to really be noticed.

"Danny," he says after a moment. Tastes the name on his tongue. "My name is Danny."

He doesn't feel much like Danny these days, but that is what he was named.

"You seem very calm," he adds by way of observation.

Miri would think this is a smart way of going about things. At least, she has a tendency to do the same. If you don't expect anything, in her view, you never really end up disappointed.

"My mother does," Mireya acknowledges after a moment. "She has a rosary and prays to saints and everything."

She cried when Miri stopped going to church, when she thought no one was looking.

"Hello, Danny. It's nice to meet you--I'm sorry it's under circumstances like these."

She shrugs, shoulders lifting almost helplessly. "I've been trained well, I suppose. I'm a nurse--and an officer." You don't get very far doing either if you can't maintain your calm.

"I really wish I knew what was going on here."

"But you don't go in for all that, mm?" My mother does, not we do. It's a little thing but it speaks volumes. "That's all right. Everyone's got to find their own way."

And he's seen enough people hurt by organized religion, or having things done to them in its name, to last a lifetime and then some. He won't disapprove.

"I'm John."

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[party post] come sail away with me

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