IC INBOX ( SAIL )

[goodweather]

TEXT ‎‏‏‎ ☀ ‎‏‏‎ DELIVERY ‎‏‏‎ ❄ ‎‏‏‎ ACTION

cabin: 137

Comments

Text, somewhere around 10/14-15-ish?

[serialskiller]

Hi.

Can I talk to you?

[goodweather]

Of course

On text or in person?

[serialskiller]

Either.

Whichever.

You pick.

[goodweather]

[ … ]

Is it urgent?

Not from Darcy

[saltwaterlungs]

[ Early on in the month, a new folder of photos appears on the recipient's phone. Inside is a selection of photos from various points in Darcy's childhood. Key photos are as follows;

-baptism and confirmation

-a handful of pictures from her first fencing lessons at 8, and subsequent first competition at 12. Features a medal presentation with three other girls about her age.

-Darcy on an idyllic looking farm somewhere mountainous, looking bored and uncomfortable in gumboots

-Darcy at a Christmas market, utterly delighted and chewing on some cured meat.

-a slightly blurry picture of her asleep on someone's shoulder as a toddler, drooling a bit.

-a single picture of her at a princess themed birthday party. Darcy wears the haunted expression of a war veteran and a bright orange flouncy dress.

-several embarrassing photos of her doing dumb kid shit that she is willing to murder over.

Any additional or specific photos I leave up to your discretion, go nuts have fun physically kill her with embarrassment. ]

[goodweather]

[ He hems and haws for about an hour, wondering if he should hold onto these for secret blackmail. The thought very nearly tempts him. Nearly. ]

You look very fierce.

[ IMG_tournament.jpeg ]

[saltwaterlungs]

YOU TOO!?!???
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST
DELETE THEM PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

[ But hey Phil doesn't get threats, that's gotta mean something. ]

[goodweather]

[ It means all the world to him. ]

Can’t

[ screenshot_0001.jpeg

It’s a screenshot of the same photo within the album program. The delete option is missing. ]

[saltwaterlungs]

[ There's a knock at his door at some point a bit before the wedding. ]

Phil? [ Darcy calls, ] You in? I need help with- it's just dumb or whatever but- yeah- if you're not busy.

[goodweather]

Just a minute!

[ The door opens not long after. Phil looks quite put together; his hair and his feathers are all carefully groomed, and he's got a new suit tailored to fit him just so, plus a stylish lapel pin for a tasteful bit of expensive flair. It's a handsome ensemble that he wears as well as a second skin. One would think he wore a suit every day for 30(??) years in a time loop or something. ]

Hey, Darts. What going on?

[saltwaterlungs]

[ Darcy, meanwhile, is nowhere near as polished. Her hair is her usual 'straightened so it isn't curly' and loosely combed. She's in a crushed velvet suit that was last seen at the Battle Royale party. Only instead of the turtleneck that went with it, she's buttoned it up and is holding a black tie. She blinks for a moment, because hey Phil looks good and that's a weird feeling, before she holds up the tie. ]

Hey. I sort of. Realized I can't actually tie a tie like... a couple of minutes ago. And I'm not going to be an asshole and not wear one to a fucking wedding, and I know you wear suits a lot so- if you're not busy, I'd really appreciate you teaching me.

[goodweather]

[ Oh, wow, that's a cute suit. Aw, Darcy's making the effort. ]

Oh! Yeah, of course, come in.

[ Don't mind stepping over the remains of Rosalind's projects that he's done his best to sort off to the side, but it's not like Darcy hasn't been here before. He shuts the door behind.

Phil undoes his tie, so she can follow and get a feel for it with her own hands. ] Okay, here. Pop your collar and put it on your neck, make sure you have the right side facing out. Every tie is a little different, so you kind of have to get a feel for each one, but generally you want the thin side about halfway up the length of the wide end.

[text] briefly, while texting with fio + ava

[light_mischief]

I thought you might want to know that the thing turning our memories into playgrounds has made contact with Vance, who in turn told Fio that it promised "to eat her last."

Telling you now so that if Darcy mentions it, you won't be completely caught off guard. I'm not sure if there's anything to do more than prepare people for the possibility of another "ghost event."

[goodweather]

Great

[ Six minutes later: ]

Thanks for the heads up. Tied somehow to whatever was in the bar with Ava I imagine but this pretty obviously bigger than just the ghosts.

You're right, I think most of what we can do is sit tight and prepare. Something's got to give. What does preparing look like though? Just information?

[light_mischief]

Two people so far have come forward with memories linked to the Captain and ❌. Okie witnessed a moment in the Captain's adolescence, while Vance had the aforementioned meeting with Fio's friend.

I wonder if there have been more odd memories that people didn't think much of at the time? Maximilien and I were considering that there may be important information hidden somewhere in these memories, something that we could use. For what? Not a clue. Maybe help negotiate for our souls? Something to give the Captain an edge over the part of him that's doing this?

Have you heard of anyone else experiencing memories that aren't from the perspective of a fellow passenger?

September 2nd, Before Sunrise | Action

[moonlesstides]

It's the little sounds, so sharp to an owl's hearing. The faintest scrape of metal-on-metal, tiny adjustments that come with metal-on-cloth, pressed against dead flesh. The subtle squeeze of plush and cloth - stuffed animals, maybe, being held too tight? The faintest sounds of a voiceless throat trying to express a misery it will never be whole enough to speak aloud.

The creak of Phil's cabin door, when weight is adjusted against it. Someone is sitting in front of it, leaning against the steel.

[goodweather]

It's a safe night. A better night. One where Phil can trust himself to be alone in the dark again, and so he's alone.

The muffs have slid off his head while he slept, which is the only reason he hears this now. Metal. Movement. Cloth. No heartbeat. Must be a bad night for him. Phil slips from bed, stepping to the door; he grimaces against the hallway light as he opens it, sniffing once and rubbing his hand over his eyes, his third eyelid not quite keeping up with the others.

"Mmmh, hey, Darts," he says, voice cracked with sleep. "You wanna..."

And he looks down.

"Oh, you're not... him. Grace?"

[moonlesstides]

Grace startles, looking up with a bleary lack of awareness; she hasn't slept, though her dead body can hardly show the signs. It's the distance in her eyes, the way it takes a moment to comprehend that Phil is here.

~I did not mean to wake you, gentleman Phil. I...I had a dream.~

[goodweather]

“It’s okay,” he mutters.

…

“Do you… should I just leave you to it? Or…”

In the last few days of January

[not_the_last]

Sometime in the evening, a text shows up on Phil's phone.

Master Connors, I've found something I would like to bring to you. May I?

[goodweather]

The reply comes some fifteen-ish minutes later.

Of course

What is it?

[not_the_last]

A treatment for pain, if I am reading it correctly. Where may I find you?

[notinflictthem]

The evening of dinner arrives, and Phil makes his way up to Hawk's apartment. It takes two knocks before the door opens, and there's a very rumpled looking Hawkeye with half his hair pressed flat against his face, awful stubble, a blanket around his shoulders, and a deep malaise about him.

...

"Dinner," he seems to remember quickly, pointing at Phil with both hands before half closing the door.

"Just a minute!" he calls back, and there's a sound of shuffling about before the sound of half a giraffe toppling.

[goodweather]

Phil, for his part, is entirely put together; his clothes are clean if slightly askew from flight, a shiny silver double-chained pocket watch adorning his waistcoat and as many molting feathers combed out of his wings as he could manage. When Hawk appears looking like he just came out of a depression hibernation (which Phil is deeply familiar with), his brows raise in mild surprise, but not much else. At least he's taking it in stride.

"Take your time!" he calls up after him, and sits down on his front stairs with a sigh of effort to watch the street.

[notinflictthem]

If Hawk can be grateful for any part of the army, it's that it takes him only a short while to at least get himself presentable again. He's still tying his usual ascot in place when the door opens again, his face is still wet and fresh with aftershave, but he's combed and in his garish waistcoat and pinstriped pants once more.

"I remembered we were on for it, I just didn't know today was the uh- the day. You look good."