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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At least, as kidnappings to other worlds go, these he doesn't mind so much.

It's maybe his fourth time waking up in the now-familiar stateroom. He'd exhausted himself trying to get back the first time; by now he knows better. A vacation's a vacation, no matter how haphazard and enforced.

He dresses leisurely, lighting a cigarette as he heads for the door. It's still dangling from the corner of his mouth as he leaves his room, closing the door behind himself.

He still hasn't worked out why this keeps happening, or how. May as well have a drink and enjoy himself, see what this visit has to offer.

We hope you don't mind tiny witches, Constantine.

Mireya is definitely too young to be having a drink, but seeing as how this is the first time she has ended up in a ghost cruise ship with no way back home (at least, not one she has found -- not even her magic is working on the door), she has decided she has earned her glass of fancy red wine. Besides, she might technically not even be in the States anymore. If this was Europe, she could totally have some freely. She straightens when she sees the old dude (sorry, Constantine, you are old to Mireya) step in, warily eying him from her vantage point.

"I'm armed," she blurts out before she can think of it any further. If she was armed -- which she is not -- the smartest thing would be to not announce it to the world, or a potential ghost captain that has trapped them all here for ... what, exactly?

Miri is more bravado than is good for her sometimes.

And that's him looking as good as he does thanks to demon-tainted blood. Can you imagine if she knew he was really forty-six? Rather than looking vaguely late-thirties-ish? Awful. Absolutely awful.

He blinks at her, apparently unconcerned by her declaration. "Thank heaven for small mercies, eh? God himself only knows what sorts of miscreants are roaming this ship. It's a wise move on your part."

... Oh. That's not the reaction Miri was expecting. Her slight confusion is probably equal parts comical and obvious. Late-thirties-ish or not, Miri knows an interesting person when she sees one. Also, he is the first person she's seen ever since she got here and it is vaguely reassuring.

She props her chin on her hand and looks his way. "Do you really believe in God or is that just a figure of speech?"

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?"

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.

"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."

"I'm Mireya," she says with a slight smirk.

It is the little things that speak volumes, but Miri has yet to find the little things in John. Still, he seems like a pretty cool guy; one that isn't quick to judge. "Miri for short," she adds for a moment, before she props her chin on her hand.

"And you, John, seem to be taking this way too in stride."

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?"

"First time," Miri confirms, before she eyes him a bit curiously. She's been wondering what happens in her own world while she is gone, and if she will ever see it again. "Does that mean it sends you back where you came from? How exactly does that work?"

"I'm not real clear on it, myself," he admits with a shrug. "I only know it's got me coming and going. I just wake up in one spot or the other."

Miri smirks in spite of herself. "Is the alcohol how you manage to keep from punching holes in the wall every time it happens?"

He chuckles. It's charming, how direct her questions are.

"No, love. The drink is just recreation. My life's a bit full of nonsense like this. Well--this, this ship, it's new and a bit different from the rest. But overall, weird shit happens to me a lot, yeah?"

Helen's moved on from the deck, and now finds herself trawling the corridors. She's not entirely sure what she's looking for, but she doesn't seem to mind so much. This boat is pretty darn cool and while she hasn't quite realised she can't go home just yet, she's simply having fun exploring.

She's been trying every door she passes - but none of them open for her. Must be all locked. Or something. The doorhandles won't even turn. That's.. weird.

She's busy trying the next door down from Constantine when she hears him leave. Not sure who it is, she snatches her hands away from the handle, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

"Umm." she put her hands behind her back. She could have just walked away like no big deal, but she notes the cigarette dangling from her lips and cringes slightly.

"Hey, mister. Those things'll kill you, yanno."

Yes, that would be a sixteen year old angel giving you health warnings.

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."

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.

Helen grins and then chuckles, "Oh, don't worry about that." she tells him brightly with a quick shake of her head, "My mom would probably kill me, don't think I'm gonna take that risk."

Helen nods, taking that in. She hadn't really thought about going home; she was having too much fun here exploring to really remember that there's that big door in the middle of the deck to take her home. Well... eventually? "What, you mean you're here for however long, then you go home again? Huh.."

She takes his hand with hers and give it a quick shake. If John's paying attention, he might notice her skin's a little on the cool side than one might consider normal. "I'm Helen. Nice to meetcha."

A thoughtful pause, her brow furrows. "So we get our own rooms?" she says, "Ain't that like someone's expecting us? Sounds... I don't know, bit creepy?"

There were times, in the distant past, when the fleeting thought crossed John's mind: would he have turned out different had his mother survived having him? Had she been around for him to say, "I can't, my mum would kill me?"

He'll never know. But it concerns him that whatever is behind this ship is pulling girls still young enough to worry about that kind of thing here. He doesn't like it.

He lets none of that show on his face. "Pleasure, Helen. And yeah, bit creepy. But since we don't know how long we'll be here for each time, the room's good to have. D'you want help figuring out which one's yours?"

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[party post] come sail away with me

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