SAIL IC Inbox

[serialskiller]

Messages will be answered when I'm done with this episode of my serial.

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[decrypter]

Something wonderful has happened. Or more accurately, you could say that it appeared.

[serialskiller]

Tell me more.

[decrypter]

It's a typewriter, but it's not a standard one. Rather, it writes like I do. I feel like this has unlocked an entirely new chapter of possibility.

[serialskiller]

Do you think it will help with your writer's block?

[decrypter]

It will help me when I have something I want other people to read, and it's so much faster than doing it all by hand.

Actually, I should say, I've been trying to write, since I talked with you and Mr. Smith. None of it is more than a sketch, not yet suited for anyone else, but they are there.

A few days before Pride, late one night

[not_the_last]

Security,

Would you have time to talk this evening? Or possibly tomorrow?

[serialskiller]

With you? Yes. Where?

[not_the_last]

Anywhere we can be assured of relative privacy? I would offer my cabin, but my roommate's presence is somewhat unpredictable.

[serialskiller]

I can bully Max out of our room. Or we could go someplace quiet like the spa or the formal dining room or a quiet corner of Tommy Bahama or the cheese shop.

[not_the_last]

I trust you're joking when you say bully, but nonetheless I don't wish to put Max out. The dining room will be fine, if it proves to be empty.

When would be a good time?

[serialskiller]

Max is my crew. Of course I’m joking.

I have no plans tonight or tomorrow afternoon. So. Now? Or whenever.

[not_the_last]

[There's a distinct pause before the next reply comes through.]

Now would be fine, thank you. I'll meet you there.

[serialskiller]

Security has, for whatever reason, brought its weighted blanket with it to the dining room, wearing it like a cape around its shoulders as it walks in. It’s got the anxiety, which comes naturally from a ‘can we talk?’ sort of message, but it’s trying hard not to show it.

[not_the_last]

Cassandra is sitting at her usual table in the dimly lit dining room, facing the door, her hands folded together to try to hide her own anxiety.

"I never know how to ask how anyone is, over text," she confesses. "How are you holding up?"

[serialskiller]

“I dunno. Am I in trouble?”

Her sitting with her hands folded evokes memories of Mensah holding herself together under stress. It makes it feel more like it’s being called into the principal’s office or to be examined by maintenance for acting poorly.

[not_the_last]

"What? No," she says at once, her voice going from startled to contrite in mid-syllable. "Not at all. I -- I wanted to talk because I think I may owe you an apology."

[serialskiller]

“Oh. Wait. Why?” It can’t think of a single thing Cassandra has done to it, that calls for drastic measure like that.

[not_the_last]

And didn't Helena ask her the same, at the start of the conversation that prompted this one?

"I --" In a very small voice: "Please sit down?"

[serialskiller]

It hesitates, and then moves closer, sitting beside her rather than across from her, and looking at the table rather than at her face, and it sets a hand on the table lightly, palm-up, but doesn't draw any further attention to it.

[not_the_last]

Quickly, without letting herself pause to think about it and second-guess herself, she puts her hand in its. And just sits there for a long moment, with the contact.

Finally, very low: "Apology might not be the right word. I ... don't know how else to approach talking to you about something I'm ashamed of."

[serialskiller]

"In words, aloud, please. I'm not very good at mind-reading." That is its attempt at a joke to lighten the mood. But its hand folds around hers, and slowly a smile grows on its lips.

It's gotten better at touch over time, and being able to hold her hand like this, it's really nice. No matter what the actual conversation is going to be, it'll suffer it for this.

[not_the_last]

Cassandra's smile has just the smallest flicker of flinch to it. A joke, yes -- but also exactly what Helena said: it prefers to be told.

"I'll do my best. It's ... I don't suppose Helena has talked to you at all, about the conversation we had recently?"

Yes, she knows that's a craven impulse, she can't help it.

[serialskiller]

"Conversation? With Helena? No, she didn't tell me shit. What was it about?"

It's getting to the point where it's more Concerned than curious, and it just sort of wants her to stop cranking up the anxiety dial on it.

via drone, after excursion.

[decrypter]

[the drone can't talk back, she knows. but it listens, and relays the information to Security. and she'll be there physically later, after the rest of the crew has had their time to reunite, to come together. so, she wakes the drone up:]

Good morning. Hope you slept well.

[and puts it back to standby. it'll go back to being constantly at her side.]

whenever demonas tdm is

[goodweather]

Just a heads up, there’s a new passenger here named Demona. Blue skin, big bat wings, red hair, turns to a statue during the day. She almost immediately tried to murder Darcy because he taped paper pigeons to her as a statue. She’s pretty literally genocidal towards humans. I had to intervene and pin her down to get her to stop.

So. Watch out for that.