light_mischief | [come sail away] ic inbox (season 1)

His approval means a lot. More than she wants to admit, but it cheers her up a little nonetheless.

"And I didn't get stabbed or hug him," she adds, "that has to count for something."

Darcy still has the notebook; she flips past the motivational message to the page or two of notes she took, and slides it across the table for him to inspect.

In some places, her writing looks... illegible? If Skulduggery knows shorthand, however, he might recognize it. Mostly filler words, but someone must be teaching her it.

Edited 2022-08-05 03:38 (UTC)

"It counts for everything." Alright, he's in a very good mood, he can't help it, "You kept me focused and, more importantly, you kept him focused. I was worried he would try to get a rise out of you to distract us, but now I know that won't happen so easily." He doesn't say it won't happen at all, because nobody's immune to a jerk, but it was far better than he could have expected.

The shorthand is only familiar in a general sense, but it's not a system he's used to. That's fine, it is mostly filler -- the important points are still legible.

"And you took competent notes the entire time." Alright, he'll bite, "Are you learning shorthand?"

Like a flower being watered, she perks up a little more. Darcy can be hard on herself sometimes, more focused on areas of improvement than enjoying her victories. But it did feel good to have Skulduggery highlight the ways in which she tangibly helped.

"Maybe I'm getting better at this, ehn?"

She nods, and if he's finished looking over her notes, she'll withdraw the book and close it again.

"Monsieur Hands is teaching me. We were looking at some sort of code to put the welcome pamphlet in- and it's just a useful skill to have anyway. Came in handy here."

"By leaps and bounds. You'll be outstripping Poirot by next month." That conversation with Max is still on the brain, apparently, and it is a fitting comparison...

He doesn't actually know Izzy's name at this point, but he's glad to know someone else is helping Darcy with the pamphlets. "It's a good idea. Maybe you'll have to teach me, next." They'll all need to learn it if the information will be disseminated in shorthand, but surely he gets personal lessons!

"Actually, now that you mention the pamphlet -- Venti sent me a summary of everything that's happened so far, from the first days on the ship to now. I'll forward the messages to you, in case they help. He mentioned Natsuno and Clarke, I believe, so they might also be able to give you more details."

Darcy snorts at the comparison, but takes it as the compliment it's intended as. Even if Poirot is Belgian.

"Of course. I'm still learning, but I can show you what I know," because hey, any chance to get to teach him something. It's a love language.

"I already know both of them, so I'll just have to sit them down and get them to tell me what they know. Easy. And yeah- send me the messages, that'll be helpful."

Worrying the handle of the teacup with her thumb, she can't help but feel the comforting feeling of being one moving part in a larger whole. Like being in a Krewe again, with other people to make up for what she lacks. What the Captain says is probably true, her times of despair will almost always outweigh the joy in her life. There's an upper limit on joy, there's no limit to the depths of despair. But... all it takes is a small flame to light a dark room, and being back in her element like this infuses her with... is this optimism? Is that what she's experiencing? What a novel feeling.

"I think we've got this," she says firmly, not a question, "I really think we can work this out together. All of us. Like... you know that thing where if you shove infinite monkeys in a room with typewriters, one of them eventually has to write Shakespeare? I think this bunch of people together is the monkey writing Shakespeare."

For a long time, Skulduggery had worked largely by himself. His friends might have assisted, but it wasn't China or Ghastly who crawled through sewers or poured over evidence. They had resources for him to use, but it was always been a favor to him, not so much a joint effort.

That had changed with Valkyrie. She'd latched on to the murder of her uncle hard and fast, and as starstruck as she had been by magic, there was no way to keep her from following. And Ghastly, frightened for a teenage girl following a madman down a dangerous path, had reluctantly followed. Even China, who he doesn't believe has many good intentions, sometimes makes overtures that seem genuine.

It's different once again, now that he's here. He'd gotten used to working with other people that being left to his own devices here hadn't sat right. He'd immediately gravitated towards curious others, the immensity of their situation requiring as many diverse opinions as possible. Now, he finds himself more deeply rooted to temporal strangers than the friends he'd left behind. And unlike back home, it had only taken months, not decades, to learn to trust the people around him.

Darcy's sentiment closely mirrors his own, filling him with relief. "I think I know exactly what you mean," he chuckles, tapping the tabletop between them. "It had to happen eventually, given how many times he's done this, but it does feel as though we've come together with purpose."

"It's the power of friendship," she teases, reaching to tug gently at the strings of his bracelet.

Her Krewe, her Geist, her team... being here has given her a different perspective on all of them. Darcy died alone, that much is as deeply entrenched in her own personal mythology as Jean d'Arc's visitation by angels and saints. But... maybe she needed them more than she had been willing to admit to herself. Maybe she was a strand in a bigger tapestry, and it took being snipped free to recognize that she really, really couldn't do this by herself. If she ever went back home again, she owed some people some apologies. And speaking of home, and Izzy hands...

"What do you think will happen, when this is all over? Like... do you think everyone will just go home, or?"

They've joked about it so much that maybe, in some strange fashion, they've made it real. Skulduggery isn't sure if he believes in that sort of magic spontaneously manifesting, but stranger things have happened both in this life and his last.

Her question makes him pause, although she likely wouldn't notice the difference. "I'm... not entirely sure," he says, which is the truth. Mostly. Sort of. "I... know that as it stands, you can't return back to your reality and remember what happened here. We're... separated from the timeline, you see. We're outside of our own experience. If we want to 'go back' to that, then we... can't really afford to remember what happens here."

Like any other bad news, he figures it's best to try and be direct about it. "That doesn't mean that's the only option, or the only way things will end up. That's simply our main obstacle in achieving some sort of... return flight."

"Oh."

Even if she had been considering returning home, that's entirely off the table. To forget everything that has happened here would be to forget a version of herself that she's genuinely starting to like. A version of herself that she doesn't wake up hating, with people who like her. Someone who has been described as 'kind', even if she doesn't believe it, who is worthy of love. Darcy would go back to being the powerless, angry kid that haunted her old life back home.

So that settles it. Darcy will never go back to her own timeline. The girl who used to live there will never come up for air again.

"And... what sort of options would there be other than a return flight?" she asks, caution clear in her voice, as if she half-fears the answer already.

"We stay here." He lifts one shoulder, as if the answer is easy to admit or accept. It's the simplest one, at least. "Thanks to Jenny, we know now that it's possible to maintain this reality without forcibly taking the souls from passengers. We could stop the intake of new passengers so that nobody else is trapped against their will."

Or, he thinks aloud, "There's the possibility of creating a new reality for us to live in. Something more than a ship in an endless ocean. We would need power for that, though, and we've already seen how that's generated..."

"And... if there's another option? Like... going somewhere else?" she asks. But that's probably unclear, and she needs to tell him about this plan at some point, so...

"Izzy- Monsieur Hands- he... thinks that if I were to come back to Stede and his's world, with my powers I could-" rule the seas, but that phrasing makes her sound like a megalomaniac, "really make something of myself. Like... I don't know, be a real honest-to-god legend or something."

She's fully expecting him to laugh at the idea. Or something. But... if he doesn't, then there's always the option for him to come with her. Maybe he'd like swashbuckling and living free?

He doesn't laugh. He doesn't move for a second or two after she says it, mulling the idea around in his head. From the way he understands things, there's no way for them to simply go back into the realities that they inhabit. He assumes that means that they can't join other ones, for the same paradoxical reasons.

He tilts his head after a moment of thought. "Going back to their exact reality would likely cause some sort of... collapse, I would imagine. The same way returning with our memories would serve as a sort of butterfly effect. But diverting the timeline, maybe, branching it out from the point of re-entry..."

Creating a whole new timeline for them to exist in... It's a wild idea, and one Skulduggery imagines will turn out to be impossible for some reason he can't fathom, but he can't help entertaining it nonetheless. "It wouldn't cause a paradox, simply because the timeline wouldn't have existed prior to your arrival in their world?"

"So it could work?" Darcy can't hide her excitement, her grin genuine and broad.

"Fuck- fuck! This is so fucking cool- God, and then I could bring you and everyone and we could-"

Her excitement halts for a moment, suddenly swarmed by self-consciousness as she realizes that she let her daydreams speak up without filtering first.

"Sorry, got carried away. Obviously like, I'm guessing you'd want to do your own thing."

Her excitement is contagious enough. Skulduggery finds himself envisioning some reality where Darcy's otherworldly pirate crew takes the world by storm. (Possibly literally, depending on who she enlisted in her crew...) He doesn't know if it's possible, doesn't know if it's a foolish thing to encourage her to hope for, but frankly, at this point, he doesn't care.

"I'm flattered that you would want to keep me around after everything I've put you through." It's both teasing and sincere at once, a balance he tends to strive for when talking to Darcy. "I would at the very least like to see what sort of ship you'd have. Make sure that the people you brought aboard were trustworthy. That sort of thing."

"Oh yeah, it's been so hard being your friend. I hate actually feeling like I'm useful."

Teasing and sincere in turn. The fact he still isn't laughing at her makes Darcy at least a little bit more willing to be open, and some of her enthusiasm comes back.

"It'll be a pretty badass ship. The most badass. And I'll probably want your help to name it, so."

Even if Skulduggery thought the idea was absolutely ridiculous and infeasible, he wouldn't be able to laugh at her. Optimism is so hard to come by these days, even if you discount their entirely surreal situation, and he isn't about to stamp it out of one of the most sullen, stoic people that he knows.

"Absolutely. With a motorcycle for the figurehead," because that's what badass women ride, clearly. "With a name everyone will remember. Mmmm..." In his somewhat-sincere consideration, Skulduggery finds himself recalling aloud, "The Shark Puncher, perhaps." So she can take any name other than that one for herself.

"Fuck, I'd have to try and explain what a motorcycle is to some pirate carpenter. Probably should pick something easier, like, I don't know- an angel with a sword or something."

Gotta keep on-brand after all.

His suggestion coaxes another genuine laugh out of her. Mostly because he actually remembered it, considering that was their first meeting however many months ago. It's sweet, even if he's making fun of her.

"At least there I'll actually be able to find a shark to punch, ehn? Really earn the name. And then if I get a fleet, we can name them all like that. Like- the Manatee Mangler, and the Fish Destroyer."

It's nice. There's a lightness to this that makes the prospect of the future less terrifying, even if it's a future she's going to like.

"Oh, that's extremely good. Maybe make her a mermaid, too. After all, you want to cover all your bases." He has no idea what a figurehead is for, but he assumes the more things you jam together to make it, the better it is.

The idea of Darcy living the undeniably rough life of a pirate should worry him, maybe. Concern him at least, given how short and murderous the time period was. But all he can see is the way the prospect excites her, animating her in a way that he doesn't think he's seen before. Izzy's right about her. She'll be a legend.

"Well, at least that's settled. All we have to do is figure out how the ship works, and how we can use it to send people to the realities they want to be in. After all, I don't think Maximilien is going to be a fan of the pirate life..." And Fio, she would want somewhere where she could go to school, maybe. Somewhere where she could make friends. "If we're very clever, we might even figure out a way to prevent it from being a one-way trip. People may like the ship better once they can come and go freely."

"And if they aren't having their souls sucked out," she agrees, "But... it would be nice."

Look at them, talking like they know they're getting out of this. It's a nice fantasy, and one Darcy wishes she could stay in for longer.

There's still a way to go before they get to that point, before pirate adventures and visiting each other's worlds. But before it fades entirely...

"You could even visit my world, then, maybe. Maybe even meet my Krewe. Or something. That might be nice."

"That has always been one of the very first things on my list of things to do to save the day." He banners the words with his hand, then mimes striking items off a list as he says, "Stop our souls from being siphoned, stop the Captain from torturing us, turn the ship into a nexus between realities, and then, pirate stuff."

Seems reasonable enough to him. More reasonable than going back home, where he'd lose his memories of this reality and be left with nothing but the same centuries of trauma and pain that he's always had. He's someone different here, something entirely new, with a reputation he can be proud of. Not one worthy of his family crest, no -- but maybe one worth making a new one over.

"I'd like that. I think I'd like to do a little reality-hopping for myself before settling down to be the mascot for your pirate crusade, and meeting some of your friends would be enlightening."

"You wouldn't be the mascot," she corrects. Even if having a literal skeleton in her crew might help the whole 'ship of the damned' concept she has in her head.

"You'd be- I don't know, first mate or something. Apparently I need someone I can trust in that position. Even if I had to teach you swords and shit so you didn't get stabbed."

She shrugs, like she hasn't just offered him arguably one of the more important duties on the ship.

"It's not like I have that many back home. It'd be a quick trip. And you're not meeting all of them, anyway, you'd freak out my fencing team."

Skulduggery chuckles. "I have a basic understanding of sword-fighting. You'd find me a reasonably quick study." Of course, he was never one for fencing, having mostly honed his skill on 18th-century battlefields. And it's been a while since he'd put aside blades for his more reliable pistols...

"Are you sure you wouldn't want someone with more experience in that position, though?" He can't help being genuinely surprised; he's... not the sea-faring sort, and he was under the impression she wanted to look better than ~~Stede~~ other pirates.

One thing Skulduggery won't miss, no matter how things play out, is the way he had to hide from mortal eyes. No disguises, no facades. He doesn't have to worry about exposing some secret community to the world, or that he'll scare someone to death. He doesn't know if he could really ever go back to that.

"That's alright. They can learn about me through rumors, like an urban legend."

"... and you never told me?" there's genuine disappointment in her voice, "we could have been sparring this whole time?"

Another person to practice against with no chance that she'd accidentally cut and injure him, and another reason to spend time with him. It sounded perfect.

...too perfect, and straying too close to needing him. Too close to the whole... fatherly thing she had still been pointedly avoiding. He was right, he had no sailing experience, and she'd only suggested it out of excitement that he'd want to be going with her at all. Darcy needed to rein herself in.

"You're probably right. I should probably find someone who knows how to sail or something."

Back to her usual disaffected demeanor, her practiced neutrality.

"Something like that. Anyway, it's super late, I should probably try and get some sleep," she notes while checking her phone as if it was an actual observation about the time and not a convenient excuse to get out of there.

"I... haven't exactly kept up with the skill since the turn of the 20th century." It seemed completely irrelevant. To him, it would be the same as mentioning that he baked bread once when she told him she enjoyed cooking.

But apparently, that was the wrong assumption to make, as he sees Darcy's walls rebuild themselves almost instantly. He really should have known better, given that swordsmanship isn't only a major hobby of hers but something ingrained into her core. But he hadn't. He hadn't thought about how she might want to practice with him, or that she might want lessons with broadswords, now that she had that bag of hers. He hadn't thought about it at all.

("You are such an idiot," Valkyrie hisses from behind. Skulduggery moves his hand instinctively to swipe at thin air, catches himself before it looks too odd, and instead folds his arms over the tabletop.)

"...Yes," he agrees, nodding. "You're right. And successes make for decent sleep." So he's heard, anyway. So he hopes. She needs more rest than she's likely getting, especially if she's been keeping watch for Dimitri. "I'm..." Sorry? He wants to say it, but she'll probably just brush it off. Even if she didn't, he'd probably make it worse in the apology. "...Thankful that you came along. I don't think I would have been as clear-headed all night if it weren't for you."

It's a little bit embarrassing, being reminded that not everyone who can use a sword is planning on living and dying by the blade. Maybe her sample size is a bit skewed considering the sort of people she's friends with; Dimitri and his fire for vengeance, Izzy and his clear striving for excellence. She's a zero or one hundred kind of girl, the sort of person who doesn't start things unless she's happy to be the best at it. Having a skill that you don't use is an entirely foreign concept to her.

Darcy remembers after a moment that the people here tend to notice her walls coming back up, tend to be aware that she's not just a cold disinterested bitch, and she forces herself to ease them down a little. She's not mad at him, and it's not a deliberate move against him, especially since he seems genuinely grateful for the help.

Offering a fist out and a small smile, she says- "Don't mention it, ehn? I'm here to help if you need me, with anything."

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