Come Sail Away IC Inbox

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's voice mail message is in a weary voice: "Erin Peters. If you called in the middle of the night and I didn't answer, I'm dying. If I pick up and someone on your end isn't dying, they will be shortly. Text otherwise."

Comments

ig this is just cw: discussions of ableism all over

[decrypter]

"...calling my blindness an affliction. Asking me if a cure wouldn't empower me."

They had brushed by this, gently, when Erin had made her offer of the dream doll. It was different there - Erin was offering an experience, and with the full knowledge of who she was. The uncertainty, the doubts, they were all listened to.

The difference here is someone who doesn't. Speaking like she needs a cure. Like they look at her, and see what's wrong.

"I'm not hurt. I'm just annoyed." But she says it softly, knowing it's a flimsy sort of falsehood. "But I shouldn't be upset with someone who can't read my mind and who can only judge based on their own."

Re: ig this is just cw: discussions of ableism all over

[crushed_pearls]

Erin on the other hand is audibly restraining a need to commit violence.

After a series of long and painted sounds: "You don't need to change for anyone's fucking convenience."

[decrypter]

"I know." Still softly said. She'll leave out the part where the girl was at braille class - she doesn't need Erin to distrust any of the students. Coming at her with anger isn't going to change her mind, isn't going to show her that she's been incorrect. At least, that's what Helena's conscience is telling her.

"I'm twenty years old - if I was unhappy with how I was living my life, it's not as though I'm forever bound to what I knew. We've got physicians here, we've got magicians, we have people from places where technology can make a whole person. I'd be looking for to change it if I felt afflicted."

[crushed_pearls]

A long silence.

Then: "Yeah. It's not on anyone but you to judge your quality of life. And, well, we damn well know you can handle yourself, you've been teaching me new tricks and I'm the big scary badass. Who knows how high you'll fly?"

[decrypter]

"As high as my jetpack allows, I'd hope."

It's all a metaphor, Erin. Don't think she literally has one, even as Sundries decided to give her a gun.

[crushed_pearls]

"...I can see it clear as day, you with a voice activated jetpack, pelting people with cupcakes as you zoom by..."

[decrypter]

"That'd be a waste of good cupcakes."

But there's a smile in her voice again as she says it. Verbalizing what's going on actually does still help people, fake as it might seem.

[crushed_pearls]

"Clearly then the only proper solution is to get you some water guns so you may achieve maximum mischief." Erin sighs fondly. "You lemme know if anyone gives you grief with malice aforethought, yeah? I don't stand for that shit, both in the specific and uh, in general. I'll throw hands over Security's lack of gender, Ylva being a wolf, you being fine the way you are, and also if I catch anyone putting the milk in before the cereal."

[decrypter]

"Oh, the last one needs more than your hands to solve all their problems."

She tries to say it very seriously, but ends up giggling anyway.

[crushed_pearls]

"Yes, clearly the only solution in that case is to chase the offender through the halls as a living trumpet, dooting their sins for all to hear."

[decrypter]

She has no doubt Erin would do that, and it's why she ends up laughing out loud, temporarily freed of the doubts that plagued her. It helps, to be able to laugh even after all that.

"You can't do it for too long - what if the wrong person tried to play you -"

And then she laughs again, because she just thought about the Erin-trumpet shrieking at the idea.

[crushed_pearls]

"My defense against this," Erin says in a Sage Voice Of Wisdom (patent pending), "is to point out that to play me they'd need to be literally kissing my ass."

[decrypter]

It's not fair, to make her laugh like that. It's not fair at all, but she's helpless against it, and her thoughts from before are swept away in a tide of just laughing at how stupid it all is - sometimes you just need something completely different. And she's trying to regain composure, she really is, but she keeps giggling, calming down and then having to breathe very slow to come back to herself.

If Erin says anything else it's liable to set her off again.

[crushed_pearls]

Oh Erin's not going to say anything.

She turns her head into a trumpet and doors out a series of notes that sound like 'kiss my assssss', holding the last one for a bit, before turning her head back to normal.

[decrypter]

If she could protest, she would, but instead she just dissolves, hands over her face, feeling the tears at the corners of her eyes. Her stomach hurts, but she hardly cares, because it's just funny, wringing out all the tension she's been carrying around all day.

Slow breaths. Slow, shaky breaths. It's not that funny. It is that funny. She's going to die right here of laughter and Erin will be her murderer.

We must slay her

[crushed_pearls]

"You good there lass? Or have I proven to be your...doot?"

Should Erin be trying to murder her roommate with comedy alone? No. Would it be the best murder in the history of this voyage? Yes.

[serialskiller]

A moment later, from the direction of a cabin familiar to both of them: a strangled, squeaky sound that might be an attempt to play 'fuuuuuck you'.

Not here

[takethatnature]

From the vantage point of cabin 124, located in between 134 and 119, those squawky trumpet noises going back and forth sound kind of like someone imitating Wilson's voice.

[decrypter]

The pun would have been bad enough, but she hears the squeak of the sound and it's over again. She has to shove her face into her pillow to not shriek loudly, barely managing to breathe. If she wasn't lying down already, she'd have had to sit down on the floor. If it's possible to laugh while you breathe, she's doing it, and if anyone needs her for anything else, impossible.

She'll survive, but barely.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin settles back down, chuckling quietly to herself, and waits for Helena to remember how to breathe air with her human lungs.

Then, softly: "So. Twenty years, eh?"

[decrypter]

Coming back to the land of the living, she breathes slow, wiping the tears from her eyes, but she has a smile on, flopped fully on her bed like a starfish would be.

"What about them?"

[crushed_pearls]

"Well y'see I can't help but notice you were nineteen when you got here so unless the doot I have laid upon you is so all-consuming that it retroactively aged you, someone had a birthday she didn't tell me about."

[decrypter]

"...You never asked when it was."

Because that will save her, totally.

[crushed_pearls]

"I can, and will, text Security to ask for a trumpet duet."

The threats this boat has produced.

[decrypter]

She sits up immediately.

"Don't you dare. I may have had a birthday, but I didn't do anything to deserve that."