voyagers | open } {in the still of the night...

The ship may seem quieter lately than usual.

It is a quietness that is both eerie and noticeable even to those who may not be as perceptive as others. The stars are brighter or perhaps it is that the sky that they are blanketed across is somehow darker. The waves seem to kick up so loud against the sides of the ship that it can be heard from the top of the deck.

The holograms and ghosts have all but disappeared for the time being.

Maybe it feels like the calm before the storm.

It should.

On the deck of the ship, there is a man who has a very specific purpose for being here. He is clearly not a hologram or a ghost. He is quite obviously very real, but there is something noticeably different about him that would be picked up on immediately whether you find him at the bar having a drink or find him smoking out by the railing. He is in black and white while the world around him remains in color. Ever seen Pleasantville? It's exactly like that.

Clark is specifically looking for Elena Gilbert but is happy to talk to anyone who might approach him. Elena is the one started looking for answers about the ship to find a way to prevent someone she loves from returning to the world he is from. The looking set forward a chain of events. More people are looking for the answers now too wherever they can, trying to poke into pieces of the ship.

The universe took notice, and now he is here.

The answers are out there, and Clark has been given the task of showing them the way to get those answers. He doesn't know the answers himself. All in all, it feels like he knows very little, like he is as much as a part of the mess as all of the people on this ship (even more so perhaps). He only knows what he is supposed to do, what his role is to play, and Clark intends to play that role whatever it takes.

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Clark has not seen Gone with the Wind. He turns at the sound of the voice though and the music spilling forth from the headphones. Those are a lot of questions all at once, and Clark doesn't have all of the answers. He doesn't have most of the answers, but there is a light smirk at that last question.

"Too expensive. Didn't want to blow the budget on that."

He doesn't actually know the reason for that either. His existence is somewhat of a mystery to him.

"As for the rest, I'm afraid I can't help you with it all. I'm here to guide to answers that I don't have myself. This is a ship in the middle of worlds. It takes people, and it doesn't always let them get to choose when to walk back to where they came from."

From the look on Peter's face, it's clear he doesn't grasp what Clark says. "What? How do you... 'guide to answers' you don't have? Does that mean there's someone else who has the answers?"

Someone else he should be staring down and glowering at, clearly, if that's what it takes. He's not pleased about being taken off his ship, away from his friends.

"I know the way to the one that has the answers," Clark says, nodding after a moment, and he looks genuinely friendly despite the confusion on Peter's face. "In the meantime, you can get anything you might need here other than people. Can't call those through the door. Not in my power, I'm afraid."

He has some power, but he is limited. He doesn't even know what or who he is really, but he knows what his role is.

He knows what to do next.

"So what's the way?" Peter demands. He doesn't have time for games, for this mystical woo-woo about finding the way. "Show me where to find the guy that has the answers, so I can get them."

He pauses a moment, considers the rest of what was said. "So, wait--I can call things through the door? Just not people?"

"It can't be done alone, I'm afraid. The ship needs to set course for the place where the answers are, which means first retrieving the navigational codes which aren't on this ship," Clark says after a moment, taking a long drag from the cigarette as he looks over at Peter slowly.

He shakes his head. "Not exactly. But the ship has a tendency to give you what you want or need within reason whether that's a ham sandwich or a room that can throw birthday parties."

Of course, sometimes it throws things at people that they don't need or want too but that is far more rare.

"Listen, I don't need all this... did you just say 'ham sandwich' because that sounds pretty good right now."

Peter. Focus. He draws himself up to his full height, back straight.

"So where are these navigational codes? I'll go get them."

Clark smirks a tiny bit before he nods, and then like that, it appears out of thin air like magic on the top of the bar. "Never gets old," he murmurs, holding the plate out to him. Granted he hasn't been on the ship very long but he watched the cigarettes appear out of thin air, a glass of scotch. All of those things, they felt, tasted real.

It's a delicious ham sandwich from the looks of it.

"I'm putting together a crew to go on a small boat to get them. Have to put together provisions before we can go. It'll be dangerous, but you look like you can handle it. You interested?"

Peter can't answer for a moment, as he's crammed one corner of the sandwich into his mouth. It's amazing. He hasn't had a proper ham sandwich in years.

He's not sure how you make an excellent ham sandwich appear out of thin air. Hopefully this won't kill him or anything.

"I'm in. When and where?"

Clark lifts his eyebrows in amusement at the way the man downs the sandwich. It's impressive.

"Soon as the crew can be gathered and supplies put together. Don't know how long the journey will be." So he wants to make sure they are as prepared as possible. "I'll be checking the ship. Keep an eye on your journal, you'll get one in your room. I'll make an announcement when it is time to set sail."

There is a pause then before he stretches his hand out. "The name's Clark."

He bites back the urge to go yeah, I know, I saw your movies, man. This whole ship thing is crazy, maybe the poor black and white dude doesn't know what's going on either. He did say he didn't have the answers, right?

Peter wipes his hand on his pants, shaking Clark's hand. "I'm... Star Lord."

You've heard of him, of course you've heard of him.

Clark stares at him for a long time with a clear lack of recognition and a bit of confusion even, but he takes the offered hand, shaking it firmly.

"...that's one helluva name."

He has not even remotely heard of it used before. Clark is trying to decide if most people on this ship have names like that one or if it's unique to this fellow in front of him. There are lots of answers that he doesn't quite seem to have.

Cue one very bright, very pleased grin.

"Thank you. It strikes fear into the hearts of an entire galaxy."

...Or something like that.

"So what do I do to get on this mission?"

Clark smirks lightly at that response.

"Good to know. "

He shakes his head slightly at the question.

"Consider yourself already on it. It's that simple. I believe the people who are meant to go on it? They'll go. You have skills we could use."

He'll be grateful for them.

Why can't everything be this easy?

...Because there's some cost. There always is, and there will be here, Peter's convinced. But for now, it's costing him more to be here, away from his ship, his friends.

"I'll be glad to help. So I wait for a sign or a communication?"

"You wait for that, and it will be time to go."

Clark reassures him of this as he looks his way. There's a soft smile on his face, and then he leans further against the railing.

There is a quietness to it but a certainty to it too.

"All right."

He's still not pleased about being stuck here. But at least there's some semblance of a plan. Get the job done, get that much closer to getting back home.

"I'll be ready."

open } {in the still of the night...

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