( the inside of cabin 108 may remain sanitary by the ship-wide standards of the shades that do the housekeeping, but that's right about where the cleanliness ends. it's an over hoarded mess, has been since day two or three, but there are least some semblance of order to the chaos that ruby will inevitably wake up to. between the alarm of newly arriving, the call of the letter from ebalon and beetlejuice on the bedside table, and the supernatural drag of her legs to the muster station, a better look will probably be gotten upon her return:
all along the wall beneath the porthole window, there's stacks of supplies pilfered from around the ship or else "purchased" at all and sundries. stacks of notebooks, several brightly colored pool noodles shoved in a corner, at least thirty bottles of water and a serena eterna branded tote bag overflowing with prepackaged snacks and candy. travel sized deodorants, soaps, packs of dryer sheets, hair sprays and dry shampoos, lighters, pens and pencils, individually packaged over the counter pain meds, duct tape and glue, rubbing alcohol and salves, ace bandages and packing gauze.
on the desk in the room there's a... frankly alarming amount of small vials stolen from the infirmary, predominantly labeled morphine and penicillin. no needles in sight, several mostly-full boxes of bullets stacked, one or two freely rolling. the helmet of a hazmat suit sits in a silent, unflinching vigil as well.
starting on the wall behind the desk, a veritable wall papering of torn pieces of notebook paper, written on extensively and taped to the wall. what may look alarming and outright crazy at first is fairly logical upon closer inspection: they are nearly written passenger manifests, names crossed out when it became apparent people had left. they're rough, hand drawn but diligently label maps of every level of the ship, arrows leading to notes in the margins. they're pages of english translated poetry by julia de burgos, ripped from library books with certain passenges underlined in red. they're pages and pages of notes about the ship, what they know about the captain, gal friday, the shades, and pirate jenny. there seems to be a species tally as well, featuring human and augmented human right alongside gods, wizards, vampires, sea jelly — not a jellyfish? and sin-eater??
there's a recreation of the battle royale betting pool.
there's a tally sheet of every death on the ship that she knows of. next to it, a rendering of the internal organs in a human being, the left kidney circled.
(there's layers of paper too, nothing thrown out as new information is discovered and old thoughts amended. and interspersed, hidden but not with much effort: a smattering of sketches, pencil portraits of people who had never been on the ship. a composed, intimidating woman.a man with soft eyes.a rocket, breaching the atmosphere... there are so many portraits.)
...basically, if a conspiracy theorist opened a general store, this is probably what it would look like. alternatively, take a suspicious teenage warlord out of the resource-thin apocalypse and give her free reign of a store and limitless medical supplies, this is what you get. )
—
( clarke is inevitably out and about, having caught wind of new arrivals and casually assessing new faces. just people watching, but a little bit like a creep and with heavy handed judgement based on how each new person she spots is conducting themselves. eventually she has to return to her room to jot down some notes, makes a brief detour by the buffet hall for a cup of coffee, and has to juggle piping hot styrofoam, a notebook, and her ship issued cell phone to open the door to her cabin. and once inside, ready to breath for a second and bask in the newfound solitude since kara disappeared — )
Who the hell are you?
( there's a person. another girl standing in her room. why, who, where, and what the fuck run through clarke's head, and while she could absolutely parse out what this means — they need their cell phones to unlock their doors, not just anybody could get in — suspicion and instinct still have her dropping that cup of coffee. hand immediately falling to the grip of a gun in her waistband.
[ The state of the room is... a lot, to take in. Not that the rest of the day hasn't been a lot to take in, too! Or... even the twenty-four hours prior to arriving on the ship, actually. It's been one thing after another for Ruby for a while, now, and in the last forty-eight hours she's neither really slept (except for prior to waking up here, she supposes) or eaten anything but a small meal shortly after the muster drill.
She's tired, and on edge, and maybe kinda thinks she's dead, and trying to process everything in the cabin is simultaneously beyond what energy she has left in her and something she attempts to do anyway. The hoarded supplies is simple enough, it doesn't take a genius to recognise it for exactly that, but the papers on the wall are a little more... alarming? Confusing? Until she takes a closer look, at which point she starts to see it for what it is—information, and a lot of it—but she doesn't get to look at even half of what's there before the door opens.
It's the coffee cup hitting the floor that actually makes her jump and spin around, scanning the new arrival with a rapid threat assessment that does not at all miss where that hand is. Immediately, Ruby's reaching back to the handle of her own weapon—Crescent Rose—where it's folded down into its rifle form and strapped across her lower back. She doesn't want to pull it, but if this girl's going for a weapon... she's not going to take chances, either. ]
My name's Ruby. I just got here. [ despite the hand on Crescent Rose, her voice is calm and measured, she's kind of... used to talking down people who may or may not attack her ] This is the room I woke up in, but I guess it was yours first. Right?
( one reaches for a gun, the other reaches for a blade, and then neither of them move. there's enough tension in the air to be carved at with a butter knife, let alone a scythe or speeding bullet, but the hint of hesitation; not a stand-off with any real intention to kill, just weary teenagers sizing each other up. the hot coffee pools and spreads across the carpet, clarke can feel the heat of it through the thin canvas of her boat shoes, but doesn't flinch. stares directly at ruby's face when the other girl introduces herself, then squares her shoulders slightly.
gives a slight nod, and unlocks her knees from a prepared fighting stance. but she's still hovering her palm above the cool, comforting grip of her glock. )
Mine, and my roommate's until she disappeared. ( on the passenger manifest list, kara had been right below her own name, and mournfully crossed out about a month ago. they hadn't been close, but the android had never stepped on her toes nor openly judged her taste in décor. )
I didn't — ( she'd gotten used to being alone in that time. as "alone" as one could be with a veritable revolving door of newfound friends and long-time homeworld companions coming and going for murderboard sessions. somehow, the prospect of a new roommate hadn't crossed her mind, a disappointing oversight for sure. some warning would have been nice, clarke would have at least shoved the pool noodled under the bed. but the bitter feeling over the perceived invasion of personal space is undercut by the reminder that this all meant ruby was new here.
and probably reeling a little, regardless of how calm her voice was. )
...I'm Clarke. And I'm sorry, you just surprised me.
[Nobunaga didn't forget. He DID give her time to get ready and maybe try to escape, but this is a game of hide and seek with a fellow hunter, and it doesn't matter how well she hides, he's going to seek her out and find her! Despite hangovers, he was probably the first one awake as is usual for him. And he headed out to deck to greet the sun (Amaterasu) like he does every morning, this time he just mentally called her a bitch a bit more than usual.]
[He played darts with Six, got green tea, got ice cream, kissed Gile's forehead because wtf are boundaries (on the bright side, he knows not to do this without warning people now!?) and pestered Arthur with ice cream and education on random shit. Next on his TDL is teaching Ruby the basics.]
[He starts with checking her room, but he has no problem with scouring the whole ship. Endurance is the game of hunting. Especially humans to animals, but while women are better at endurance than men, Nobuanga has at least very nearly twice Ruby's age in experience.]
[And the first thing he does upon finding her is give her one of his hollowed out gel pen shivs. It's red, his favorite color. But hers too, he gets the sense. So red it is.]
The first trick is to never be unarmed.
[Just guess how many shivs he has on him right now. It's less than 50.]
[ She really did not plan ahead for how hungover she was going to be when she agreed to this. She spent the morning with Undine, ate with Ryan, fell asleep in the library until Smith came in and they chatted... so, she's surviving, the headache's even mostly gone by this point, but training is going to be a stretch.
She's on her way back to her room to lie down for a bit when he catches her and is absolutely briefly bemused before her brain catches up with her after being handed the shiv. ]
Oh! Um! I'm usually not anyway, [ she has Crescent Rose on her lower back again, even today ] but thank you?
Your Crescent Rose is flashy and brilliant, and if you're ever kidnapped, they're going to take it away from you. I've been kidnapped... dozens of times. Hundreds. [Everyone has a hobby....] Not quite a thousand. I should do something special for that -- if I ever reach it.
[... Where was he? A gesture to the shiv.] Turn your clothes into hiding places for weapons of last resort. Sleeves, pockets, hem linings, shoes. [Nods. Regrets the nod. That was a mistake.] The little things like this aren't enough to kill or easily maim someone, but they can buy you enough time to survive, and sometimes that's all you need.
The rifle scythe has more firepower than I've seen of anything outside of a cannon. It's very impressive. But when you fight a human, you want to leave enough room to make them back up, back off, and still become an ally if they're strong enough to survive, and you're smart enough to figure out the way to.
Okay... I need -- air. Yeah. [He thought he could do a lot of talking. He was able to get a lot of poetry out with Arthur, but maybe, it was because it was cold in the ice cream parlor?]
Erin Peters has, at times, called herself a clown. It's not always true; sometimes she's just stressed, or beat down, or genuinely concerned for the other person in a kiiiinda overbearing way.
But tonight the circus is in town. After leaving her date with Crabb, specifically and explicitly to go attend to her standing appointment with Ruby...
...Erin manages to forget that Ruby will be there, in her cabin, since she left the door unlocked for that purpose.
Erin hurries in and shuts the door behind her so she can let out a muffled squeal of delight with her hands over her mouth. She sinks down to the floor, gunpowder going absolutely bananas with crabs and hearts, and finally uncovers her mouth to let out a sigh of pure contentment.
Local youngblood sits up on cabin's main bed, Penny and Weiss plushes currently in her cross-legged lap, head tilted as she takes in the All Of That that just walked into the room. The squeal, the flurry of crabs and hearts, the sinking to the floor...
Now, look, Ruby Rose may be a rather oblivious soul when it comes to her own romantic inclinations, but you'd have to be a special kind of dense not to catch those signs and connect those dots.
She's just polite enough to not immediately go 'ohhhhh someone has it bad'. Despite genuine temptation. (It's the little sister in her.)
Erin jumps. She really does. From ass-to-floor to half a foot in the air in a fucking instant, with a loud yelp. She catches herself by pressing her ass against the door, heart going a mile a minute (snapshot from inside her mind: WHERE THE FUCK IS MY SWORD?) before her ears report that this is, in fact, Ruby, who has every right to be here.
Erin lets herself sit back down, laughing the whole time.
"Snitching again, is it?" Erin scoops a spark into her hand and pets it with a fingertip before it goes off. "I just had. The best night I've had since I got here. Got to put my head in Crabb's lap while she read me a book from her world and then -" Erin can't finish, because she has to cover her mouth to squeal again. She lowers her hands.
Tries the word again. It's not happening, so when she lowers her hands the second time she finishes: "We're dating now! Officially! I could keel over now and it'd be a life well-spent!"
[ Ruby stares at the message for a long, long time trying really, really hard not to cry and... ultimately failing. Maeve's back, Maeve's back and she doesn't know, right? She mustn't, if she's the one apologising here.
...she types and retypes her own responses a dozen times. ]
you don't have to be sorry! it's not your fault! I'm just glad you're you again now I should be the one saying sorry I think a do-over would be nice, though
[ Just sandwich the unexplained apology in the middle there. ]
[The reply makes her both relieved and even guiltier than she felt before. She frowns a little, turning over.]
I'm still sorry, darling. I feel...off. Just adjusting Last time memories were missing, they were just hidden. Sorry for what? You didn't do anything. I'll plan something.
[ Before Ruby wakes up, Pratt & Sharky's gift basket delivery service has come and gone, leaving a festive parcel outside her door. There's a tasteful notecard reading GET ALIVE SOON BUDDY.
[ Let's say there's a trinket/tea box because money is no object and rubber duck because it's ridiculous.
Unlike the other basket being delivered to 108 this one will actually be unpacked by the end of the first day. The plushie joins her little hoard of her own. ]
Ruby scrambles up from laying face-down in her pillow, an often assumed position the last couple days as she processes the whole dying thing, and attempts to make herself look half-way human as she heads over to the door and pulls it open.
Hey Ruby quick question were you in the market for a new sibling because Helena went to the deep familial feelings shelter and adopted me after the staff described me as feral and difficult you should maybe go see her about it.
Zivia's gotten a general description of Ruby since the Visitors' Center, and has been keeping an eye out for her. Yes, it's occurred to her that she could try writing a letter or reaching her by sending stone, but trying to write down what she might say has resulted in a spiral of caveats and disclaimers and eventual giving up in disgust.
On this particular night at the Oak & Iron, hanging out in the common room with a cup of tea to watch the crowd, she might spot a young woman answering to that description.
Ruby cuts a rather distinctive figure, really. The ombred hair, the eyepatch, the long black cloak... the first two become obvious once, as she steps in from the evening chill, she pulls down the hood and looks out across the room. She seems to judge how busy the seating area is before heading to order food and sit down.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action, her first day here, cabin 108
all along the wall beneath the porthole window, there's stacks of supplies pilfered from around the ship or else "purchased" at all and sundries. stacks of notebooks, several brightly colored pool noodles shoved in a corner, at least thirty bottles of water and a serena eterna branded tote bag overflowing with prepackaged snacks and candy. travel sized deodorants, soaps, packs of dryer sheets, hair sprays and dry shampoos, lighters, pens and pencils, individually packaged over the counter pain meds, duct tape and glue, rubbing alcohol and salves, ace bandages and packing gauze.
on the desk in the room there's a... frankly alarming amount of small vials stolen from the infirmary, predominantly labeled morphine and penicillin. no needles in sight, several mostly-full boxes of bullets stacked, one or two freely rolling. the helmet of a hazmat suit sits in a silent, unflinching vigil as well.
starting on the wall behind the desk, a veritable wall papering of torn pieces of notebook paper, written on extensively and taped to the wall. what may look alarming and outright crazy at first is fairly logical upon closer inspection: they are nearly written passenger manifests, names crossed out when it became apparent people had left. they're rough, hand drawn but diligently label maps of every level of the ship, arrows leading to notes in the margins. they're pages of english translated poetry by julia de burgos, ripped from library books with certain passenges underlined in red. they're pages and pages of notes about the ship, what they know about the captain, gal friday, the shades, and pirate jenny. there seems to be a species tally as well, featuring human and augmented human right alongside gods, wizards, vampires, sea jelly — not a jellyfish? and sin-eater??
there's a recreation of the battle royale betting pool.
there's a tally sheet of every death on the ship that she knows of. next to it, a rendering of the internal organs in a human being, the left kidney circled.
(there's layers of paper too, nothing thrown out as new information is discovered and old thoughts amended. and interspersed, hidden but not with much effort: a smattering of sketches, pencil portraits of people who had never been on the ship. a composed, intimidating woman. a man with soft eyes. a rocket, breaching the atmosphere... there are so many portraits.)
...basically, if a conspiracy theorist opened a general store, this is probably what it would look like. alternatively, take a suspicious teenage warlord out of the resource-thin apocalypse and give her free reign of a store and limitless medical supplies, this is what you get. )
—
( clarke is inevitably out and about, having caught wind of new arrivals and casually assessing new faces. just people watching, but a little bit like a creep and with heavy handed judgement based on how each new person she spots is conducting themselves. eventually she has to return to her room to jot down some notes, makes a brief detour by the buffet hall for a cup of coffee, and has to juggle piping hot styrofoam, a notebook, and her ship issued cell phone to open the door to her cabin. and once inside, ready to breath for a second and bask in the newfound solitude since kara disappeared — )
Who the hell are you?
( there's a person. another girl standing in her room. why, who, where, and what the fuck run through clarke's head, and while she could absolutely parse out what this means — they need their cell phones to unlock their doors, not just anybody could get in — suspicion and instinct still have her dropping that cup of coffee. hand immediately falling to the grip of a gun in her waistband.
not drawn, but ready. )
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[ The state of the room is... a lot, to take in. Not that the rest of the day hasn't been a lot to take in, too! Or... even the twenty-four hours prior to arriving on the ship, actually. It's been one thing after another for Ruby for a while, now, and in the last forty-eight hours she's neither really slept (except for prior to waking up here, she supposes) or eaten anything but a small meal shortly after the muster drill.
She's tired, and on edge, and maybe kinda thinks she's dead, and trying to process everything in the cabin is simultaneously beyond what energy she has left in her and something she attempts to do anyway. The hoarded supplies is simple enough, it doesn't take a genius to recognise it for exactly that, but the papers on the wall are a little more... alarming? Confusing? Until she takes a closer look, at which point she starts to see it for what it is—information, and a lot of it—but she doesn't get to look at even half of what's there before the door opens.
It's the coffee cup hitting the floor that actually makes her jump and spin around, scanning the new arrival with a rapid threat assessment that does not at all miss where that hand is. Immediately, Ruby's reaching back to the handle of her own weapon—Crescent Rose—where it's folded down into its rifle form and strapped across her lower back. She doesn't want to pull it, but if this girl's going for a weapon... she's not going to take chances, either. ]
My name's Ruby. I just got here. [ despite the hand on Crescent Rose, her voice is calm and measured, she's kind of... used to talking down people who may or may not attack her ] This is the room I woke up in, but I guess it was yours first. Right?
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gives a slight nod, and unlocks her knees from a prepared fighting stance. but she's still hovering her palm above the cool, comforting grip of her glock. )
Mine, and my roommate's until she disappeared. ( on the passenger manifest list, kara had been right below her own name, and mournfully crossed out about a month ago. they hadn't been close, but the android had never stepped on her toes nor openly judged her taste in décor. )
I didn't — ( she'd gotten used to being alone in that time. as "alone" as one could be with a veritable revolving door of newfound friends and long-time homeworld companions coming and going for murderboard sessions. somehow, the prospect of a new roommate hadn't crossed her mind, a disappointing oversight for sure. some warning would have been nice, clarke would have at least shoved the pool noodled under the bed. but the bitter feeling over the perceived invasion of personal space is undercut by the reminder that this all meant ruby was new here.
and probably reeling a little, regardless of how calm her voice was. )
...I'm Clarke. And I'm sorry, you just surprised me.
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Action / Day after NHIE & Hangover day
[He played darts with Six, got green tea, got ice cream, kissed Gile's forehead because wtf are boundaries (on the bright side, he knows not to do this without warning people now!?) and pestered Arthur with ice cream and education on random shit. Next on his TDL is teaching Ruby the basics.]
[He starts with checking her room, but he has no problem with scouring the whole ship. Endurance is the game of hunting. Especially humans to animals, but while women are better at endurance than men, Nobuanga has at least very nearly twice Ruby's age in experience.]
[And the first thing he does upon finding her is give her one of his hollowed out gel pen shivs. It's red, his favorite color. But hers too, he gets the sense. So red it is.]
The first trick is to never be unarmed.
[Just guess how many shivs he has on him right now. It's less than 50.]
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[ She really did not plan ahead for how hungover she was going to be when she agreed to this. She spent the morning with Undine, ate with Ryan, fell asleep in the library until Smith came in and they chatted... so, she's surviving, the headache's even mostly gone by this point, but training is going to be a stretch.
She's on her way back to her room to lie down for a bit when he catches her and is absolutely briefly bemused before her brain catches up with her after being handed the shiv. ]
Oh! Um! I'm usually not anyway, [ she has Crescent Rose on her lower back again, even today ] but thank you?
cw: casual kidnapping
Your Crescent Rose is flashy and brilliant, and if you're ever kidnapped, they're going to take it away from you. I've been kidnapped... dozens of times. Hundreds. [Everyone has a hobby....] Not quite a thousand. I should do something special for that -- if I ever reach it.
[... Where was he? A gesture to the shiv.] Turn your clothes into hiding places for weapons of last resort. Sleeves, pockets, hem linings, shoes. [Nods. Regrets the nod. That was a mistake.] The little things like this aren't enough to kill or easily maim someone, but they can buy you enough time to survive, and sometimes that's all you need.
The rifle scythe has more firepower than I've seen of anything outside of a cannon. It's very impressive. But when you fight a human, you want to leave enough room to make them back up, back off, and still become an ally if they're strong enough to survive, and you're smart enough to figure out the way to.
Okay... I need -- air. Yeah. [He thought he could do a lot of talking. He was able to get a lot of poetry out with Arthur, but maybe, it was because it was cold in the ice cream parlor?]
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Action, Late Night Nov 7th; Cabin 134
But tonight the circus is in town. After leaving her date with Crabb, specifically and explicitly to go attend to her standing appointment with Ruby...
...Erin manages to forget that Ruby will be there, in her cabin, since she left the door unlocked for that purpose.
Erin hurries in and shuts the door behind her so she can let out a muffled squeal of delight with her hands over her mouth. She sinks down to the floor, gunpowder going absolutely bananas with crabs and hearts, and finally uncovers her mouth to let out a sigh of pure contentment.
Youngbloods noticed: 0
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"...Erin? Your gunpowder is doing— uh. Things."
Local youngblood sits up on cabin's main bed, Penny and Weiss plushes currently in her cross-legged lap, head tilted as she takes in the All Of That that just walked into the room. The squeal, the flurry of crabs and hearts, the sinking to the floor...
Now, look, Ruby Rose may be a rather oblivious soul when it comes to her own romantic inclinations, but you'd have to be a special kind of dense not to catch those signs and connect those dots.
She's just polite enough to not immediately go 'ohhhhh someone has it bad'. Despite genuine temptation. (It's the little sister in her.)
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Erin lets herself sit back down, laughing the whole time.
"Snitching again, is it?" Erin scoops a spark into her hand and pets it with a fingertip before it goes off. "I just had. The best night I've had since I got here. Got to put my head in Crabb's lap while she read me a book from her world and then -" Erin can't finish, because she has to cover her mouth to squeal again. She lowers her hands.
Tries the word again. It's not happening, so when she lowers her hands the second time she finishes: "We're dating now! Officially! I could keel over now and it'd be a life well-spent!"
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nov 3rd [text]
Is it too late for a belated Happy Birthday?
I'm sorry.
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...she types and retypes her own responses a dozen times. ]
you don't have to be sorry!
it's not your fault!
I'm just glad you're you again now
I should be the one saying sorry
I think a do-over would be nice, though
[ Just sandwich the unexplained apology in the middle there. ]
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I'm still sorry, darling.
I feel...off.
Just adjusting
Last time memories were missing, they were just hidden.
Sorry for what? You didn't do anything.
I'll plan something.
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Inside is various candies, a wiener dog plushie, an extremely tasteful sign that makes no sense, and various other odds and ends. Go wild picking things out.
Welcome back to the Serena Eterna.]
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[ Let's say there's a trinket/tea box because money is no object and rubber duck because it's ridiculous.
Unlike the other basket being delivered to 108 this one will actually be unpacked by the end of the first day. The plushie joins her little hoard of her own. ]
text the day after getting back
But whenever you are ready, I'll be here
I love you.
T_T
I'll be back up and about soon. I think.
I'm sorry.
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You've done nothing wrong.
Take care of yourself. If you need anything, all you have to do is ask.
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two days after the winter excursion returns
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"Uh— coming!"
Ruby scrambles up from laying face-down in her pillow, an often assumed position the last couple days as she processes the whole dying thing, and attempts to make herself look half-way human as she heads over to the door and pulls it open.
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(A sufficiently sharp nose would catch the smell of spices, including cinnamon, from underneath it.)
"Hello," she says, and for a moment has no idea how to go on.
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Text | October 13th
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Erin you tell me these things in the weirdest ways!!
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MOUSE FUCKING SPOTTED AAAAAAAA ASDKFNAASDFA MOUSE THE MEESEN MOUSE LOOK AT THE MOUSE
mause
THE FURRY ONE RISES AGAIN
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Wrap?
Wrap!
Late September to Early October (time is a weird soup)
On this particular night at the Oak & Iron, hanging out in the common room with a cup of tea to watch the crowd, she might spot a young woman answering to that description.
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Ruby cuts a rather distinctive figure, really. The ombred hair, the eyepatch, the long black cloak... the first two become obvious once, as she steps in from the evening chill, she pulls down the hood and looks out across the room. She seems to judge how busy the seating area is before heading to order food and sit down.
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