synflux | ( semi-open ) WHITE WHALE HOLY GRAIL

a. [ man, fuck this.

migraines? she's used to them even before coming to this world, albeit in a different life and in a different profession. worm monsters? usually a piece of cake. but with the lack of a certain manager to guide them on where to strike and how to strike on top of reviving them from constant deaths, ishmael feel her sanity quickly slipping through her fingers as she hears familiar voices in the dusty mirage that accompanies the worm.

and then suddenly, a distant wailing of a whale breaks through the cacophony.

just like that, she transforms in the blink of an eye -- a giant moth made of pure flame flapping its fiery wings in the already hot and humid air, adding more to the scorching climate by launching fireballs from her legs in a berserker state, not caring on who she hit. if she strikes the worm? great! but there's a large chance she'll target you with a barrage of fireballs so... watch out. ]

b. [ luckily, her mini-kaiju form does not last for long. she turns back to her usual flesh-and-blood self, but that does not mean that she's out of the storm just yet. the whales... they call for her. ]

Need to... put a stop to the Whales--

[ nah, it's her who needs to be fuckin' stopped. thankfully she's greatly weakened from her corrosion state just now so it'd be easy to knock her out from going any further, but that does not mean she won't go down without a fight. she has a mace and shield on her, and she knows how to use it. ]

[ the foggy Lake is pitch dark, save for a few bolts of lightning from the tempests above lighting the way. the boat you currently find yourself in is small and cramped, but it gets the job done as it sails you forth in this mad, relentless search for that one thing ishmael and many other sailors have been hoping to find.

or at least, that's what ishmael was led to think by that woman.

the boat rocks helplessly against the waves as the wind slowly picks up speed as a storm begins to brew, as though it's preparing to defend the sea from your pursuit. at the far end of the boat is ishmael herself, her wild mane of orange hair standing out like a lantern in the dark backdrop of the sea, muttering madly to herself. ]

I remember... [ her eyes are wide as plates as she scans the bleak horizon. ] I remember the way the fog split open. I remember the obsidian sea and the endless tempest.

But the rest of it... All I remember is that the Captain was excitedly delivering a speech at witnessing the legends come to life, and that we were all busy preparing for the Whale hunt.

[ another peal of thunder cracks through the sky. ]

... So, what awaits us ahead is a real adventure. [ she turns to you with a mad expression, except... it's like she wasn't truly looking at you. she's looking past your soul, the soul that does not have the Whale that she seeks. ] We'll be sailing blindly into the night.

[ hope you aren't seasick. ]

Edited 2024-06-01 06:24 (UTC)

[ whew, what a shithole of a week. but ishmael is made of some tougher stuff what with all the worse things she'd gone through back in the city, so she's able to be upon on her feet in no time after spending a couple of days to recuperate in bed.

that being said, she's not in the mood to go out in such a sweltering hot day in vegas like this. so she's staying put at the hotel lobby, minding her own business, until one thing led to another and she's letting anyone with itchy, talented fingers to fiddle with her hair and -- ]

Hey.

[ she's snapping you out of your thoughts with one simple word and a flat look on her face. her hair's braided in different ways, with so much more still left over. she looks like some used doll in this state. ]

Are you just going to stand there and stare? At least make yourself busy while you're here.

[ either by yapping with her or doing her hair - the hot nevada sky is the limit. ]

Edited 2024-06-01 05:27 (UTC)

[ hello... please pick a prompt and i will cook us up a meal:

AHAB a memory of her time with ahab, the infamous captain who's on the hunt for the whale. from the first time of her being recruited, a day in the life on the pequod, the gaslighting, to overcoming the whale. cws include emotional/psychological manipulation, gaslighting, gore, deaths, suicidal ideation
QUEEQUEG a memory of her time with her best friend queequeg. from a day in the life of the pequod, being rescued from the depths of the whale, hanging onto her coffin at sea, to watching her pass away once more. cws include explicit self-harm, suicidal ideation, death
MIDDLE a memory of being completely eviscerated by a Syndicate known as the Middle Finger. you can't die here, but you really, really wish you could. cws include gore, violence, repeated deaths
STORM a memory of her time with heathcliff, a guy on the bus that she has a very... strenuous relationship with, oftentimes having to do with killing each other because sometimes the one person who knows you the best also fucking hates your ass🧍‍♂️ cws include repeated deaths, violence ]

Edited 2024-06-01 11:34 (UTC)

[ i'm here for my memshare, whatever that is ]

[ reaches for ahab or queequeg, whichever u want to write more atm!! ]

[ it reeks of blood and death.

that's the first thing anyone would notice upon finding their bearings in this certain memory, before the realization that they're in some kind of fleshy, veiny chamber hits them, and it does not take one long to realize that they're inside of some animal thanks to a distant, thundering beating of the heart.

ishmael has been fighting nonstop, her harpoon clashing against the mutated weapon belonging to a certain ship captain with stormy gray hair. blood and various viscera clung onto her person like glue, but they don't seem to slow her down as she recklessly charges forth, letting herself be stabbed repeatedly by ahab, crying out in agony every time as she loses yet another limb, another bucketful of blood -- only for a clockheaded figured to turn back the time and make her whole once more. lather, rinse, repeat.

she can't collapse now. not when ahab spins the narrative around and make it look like "THE FAULT LIES WITH YOU, ISHMAEL!" - from pip's despair, to stubb's eventual submission to the captain, to queequeg. being told that it was her fault that queequeg will inevitably die by the pale membrane that's slowly covering her is ishmael's breaking point, and while she was able to finally get a good hit on ahab and made the woman collapse onto her knees in defeat, it seems that ishmael is about to join her dear friend in the pale, too.

this is fine, she supposes. she knows her own blind obsession will be her downfall one day, and now it has finally arrived. there's just... nowhere else to go from here. not anymore. ]

[ the nevada sun continues to be unrelenting as they make their retreat from the worm across the desert. but the outsiders' suffering continues as their implants continue to glitch and spiral out of control, and it's only these women's sheer luck that they were spared from the worse side effects like going blind.

and it's also hsy's good luck that she's dreaming of the stormy seas this time. but hey, at least it's no longer scorching hot, right?

it's hard to make out who owns this memory at first, amidst the but it is hard to make out on whose memory is this at first, what with all the lightning and thunder and the violent churning of the waters in the way. luckily, aside from the helpful commentary from present-day ishmael, it is pretty easy to spot something orange in the raging storm, like a lantern in the night that refuses to go out.

though this time, this ishmael has shorter hair than usual. not to mention in even greater distress than usual, as she hangs onto the rope that's wrapped around a coffin for dear life, watching a nearby ship sink into the sea. she cries and flails, calling for help in the most pathetic voice one could hear from her.

but of course, nobody came. and the memory cuts out like a video clip, and sooyoung can spot an ishmael from outside her van, staring into the setting sun with an unreadable look on her face. look who's got time daydreaming at a time like this. ]

Edited (sorry mad i just woke up and thot of a better way to do this) 2024-06-01 21:44 (UTC)

( also here to put my hands on whatever you feel like writing for them most!! )

[ she's still fuming over elysium, by the way. that much hasn't changed. but she can't deny that they might have some things in common, things that only he could understand -- such as the strong yearning for adventure across the seas, come hell or high water.

every adventurer came from humble beginnings. perhaps elysium came from one too, who knows. ly has to show me that first. but for now, one can't get any more humble than ishmael, who became one purely out of whim, as an escape from it all. the seabreeze wafting through the pier of an artificial island made of steel is a literal fresh breath of air for anyone who's been suffering under the heat of the nevada sun for the latter part of last month, but another sight for sore eyes is a certain freckled redhead, this time with much shorter hair and a typical suit and tie, looking over a billboard covered from head to toe with job postings.

well, this one looks like she's gonna need a nudge in the right direction. why not be useful for once and help her out? 🧍‍♂️ ]

Edited 2024-06-01 22:26 (UTC)

[ saber isn't seasick. with the combination of their riding skill and their experience in the sea, the violent rocking of the boat is something that is as close to them as the rocking of a babe in its mom's arms.

but their expression is hardly anything like the one that ishmael is wearing right now. it's calm and composed, a front to hide the underlying anxiety that stirs in their heart with every clap of thunder and violent shake of the boat. they know this weather well, as if it were etched in their mind with fire.

it's an omen of disaster. ]

And this Whale...what is the purpose of this hunt?

[ It feels....oppressive, wherever it is he is right now. The air feels thick, suffocating, moisture-ridden, and a strange scent hangs in the air, almost animalistic and alive in nature. The distant beat of something rhythmic in the distance - a heartbeat, the longer he listens - doesn't help matters either, instead making him feel walled in on all sides. Swallowed.

But there's no time to puzzle out his location, not when a familiar flash of orange passes by the corner of his eye and a ringing voice echoes through the air in pain and anger. Whatever else might have been on his mind drops and becomes meaningless, all his attention zeroing in on the figure that runs forward, falls, only to rise and fall again. A cycle, broken finally when the older falls to her knees, but there's no victory to be found, not when something white and cloying starts making its advances like a fungus.

Ishmael.

It's his turn to run forward now, not stopping until he reaches her form encased by a wall of white. Even then his hands remain busy at work, clawing at the membrane as he does his best to rip it away. ]

Ishmael!

[ This better not be the end. He won't let it be. ]

[ this is just like being encased in whale oil again. and just like back then, she embraces the inevitable, waiting for her body and sense of self to dissolve into nothingness.

but it never came. instead, someone is peeling away at the pallid membrane, and ishmael squints at the light that shone around her savior. dark hair, a scar on his face and plenty more on his arms - he's obviously no heathcliff, but ishmael's still-addled mind doesn't question it for now. her lips tremble as she forces herself to speak with a hoarse croak. ]

When... when did this happen...? When did it... I-I didn't realize...

[ she's supposed to die here. there's nowhere else to go. why save her now? ]

[ tags back my het too before i go to sleep

He claws at the white casing until it peels and gives way, a crack forming and growing larger with every passing second. His movements don't slow until the resulting hole is big enough to see through, the alarm on his face easing up when he's finally able to see her face again. ]

Ishmael.

[ A repeat of her name, but instead of worry there's relief in his voice this second time around. Relief that she's still alive and still coherent enough to speak. ]

Are you alright? Can you move?

[ Actually, hang on, there's still so much of this white stuff, he better get back to work on peeling it away. ]

[ she's surprised she's still coherent. but the more wriothesley tears off the membrane, the clearer her head became, and the sheer amount of memories and emotions that come flooding back to her is so heavy that she staggers on her feet, her knees giving up on her as she's about to collapse on the sinewy floor beneath them.

so yes, she can move. kind of. ]

Why... [ she whispers, her voice distant and empty. she looks through him as if he isn't there. ] There's nothing left for me here. I'm going to lose them again.

[ shouldn't she join them too? so that all of this can finally stop. ]

Edited 2024-06-02 08:21 (UTC)

[ it is an omen, a premonition for what's to come. ishmael turns to saber, slightly raising a brow like "bro were u not there when i was losing my shit the entire time?"

but that doesn't matter. she can drill into their mind again, until they understand where she's coming from. ]

The Whale of all Evils... Our Captain sent our crew to hunt this Whale down so that we can finally absolve this world of suffering. That's what she told us.

[ the thunder roars on, but her voice is dark and crystal-clear - perhaps like the rare nights when the Lake isn't brewing up a storm. ]

But she led us all to damnation in the end. I was the only one who survived the attack. And now -- [ another crack of thunder exposes the grim look on her face ] She is going to pay for what she did.

[ the waves here surge higher and higher, but ishmael's form is unwavering as she weathers the storm, not caring that the freezing cold waters crash at them just now. ]

Seriously?!

[ that is the only reaction that saber can exclaim the moment that she announces her intention, seemingly equally unshaken by the water that crashes at them, or the creaking of the ship with each wave that crashes against the two of them.

their voice doesn't waver against the roar of the sea, disguising the way that the cold water chills their heart with fear. ]

To sail in this storm is practically a death sentence! What will revenge achieve?!

( reaches gently for ahab. )

[ Damn, can't believe he has to play the role of knight in shining armor and sweep her off her feet before she collapses on the ground.

Just kidding, he does catch her but there's nothing particularly graceful about the act, just a single hand shooting out to grab her by the arm. Then it's a matter of tugging her through the opening, the force and weight of her body ripping open the membrane more, until there's no space left between them and he can properly wrap his arms around her for support. ]

Don't say that.

[ He means for the words to be reassuring but they come out a little sharper than intended, the futility in her own voice striking an unhappy chord in his own heart. ]

You have your whole life in front of you still. The whole world left to explore. [ A boundless ocean to sail, with whatever friends she chooses to keep at her side. ] If there's nothing left for you here, then…..find somewhere else. A new place where you can see the sun rise and fall, and where you can lower your anchor to rest.

[ the reassuring words and the warm hug feel alien to her - not just because she thinks she doesn't deserve them, but the gestures on their own feel too intimate at a time like this. no one, not even her fellow sinners on the bus and their manager would ever wrap their arms around her for a hug. only queequeg had ever done it to her, the person who ishmael cherished more than anyone else in the world.

and now, right behind wriothesley, ishmael can see her dearest friend lose herself to the pale. ishmael weakly pulls herself from him and staggers forth, collapsing to her knees at queequeg's side and apologizing profusely, tears finally streaming down her face after being held back for so long. queequeg speaks slowly as she's come to accept her fate, and makes one more request for ishmael.

suddenly, wrio is pulled into yet another memory - a brilliant sunset at the sea's horizon, a younger ishmael with much shorter hair and dirty overalls, and a queequeg with a bright smile on her face as she asked for the redhead's name. and, well, who was ishmael to deny her that?

the memory within a memory doesn't last too long, though. the ishmael of this current dream tearfully introduces herself the way she always does to anyone she's ever met, and when queequeg finally succumbs to the pallid membrane, the entire dream melts along with her as wriothesley was yanked back to the actual present. the first thing he'll hear is ishmael's own quiet sobbing right beside him, her head leaning against his shoulder. the rest, meanwhile, had already hopped off the vans to prepare dinner with the others.

this is why you shouldn't nap during the late afternoons, y'all. ]

[ y'all know what to do here ]

[ the way i was about to say, 'girl, its been a month??' but it's only been two weeks what the hell. anyway. she'd be perfectly valid to hold that grudge for however long regardless. unfortunately, elysium is equipped to deflect both wrath and fury with the ease of an imperishable cockroach, so here we are: him rousing to her dream brimming with utter curiosity.

As with any new and foreign area, his instinctive urge is to explore, whys and hows secondary when they'd inevitably be answered throughout a journey. Still, he doesn't get to it with immediacy: he takes the time to admire his surrounding environment first, reminded of the "home" he'd once had. Artificial island it may be, but if there are people about? It's already doing miles better than his hometown in that regard.

What catches his attention next: bright orange, a colour he's come to associate with Ishmael herself, long and eye-catching as her hair is. Except, that's the thing, isn't it? The person his eyes settle on is… younger. He recognises her face well enough. Her hair isn't any less eye-catching, but it's at most a tenth of its former (or should he say… future?) length. Hm. It ultimately doesn't stall him for long, though, before he's bounding right up to her and toeing the edge of impropriety. ]

Thinking of a career change, miss?

[ never reach gently for ahab, tf

although, maybe you don't have the urge to strangle the old hag just yet. you are just another sailor aboard the pequod, a little wet behind the ears, but every seadog's got to start their journey as a sailor somewhere. it's raining on the ship once more on this dreary night, the showers a little lighter for now, but with the thunder rolling in from the distance it's only a matter of time before the weather truly turns for the worse.

but it seems that trouble's afoot on this humble boat. sailors young and old gather around as a boy in his early teens(?) rubs at his teary eyes, his frame wracked with guilty sobs. ]

H-He got bit, trying to save Pip... [ pip talks in third-person, dwbi. ] The Whale bit him when he tried to save Pip, he--

[ the man in question is gurgling on the wooden floor, a veiny, pale membrane spreading across his skin and clothing from where he was bitten. luckily, a certain redhead with shorter hair comes into view -- or rather, she's more or less hiding behind you as she peeks over your shoulder, watching the second mate Stubb slowly transform before her eyes like every other person who succumbs to the monstrosities of the Lake. ]

It... got him too, huh. He's turning into a Mermaid like all the others.

[ her voice is meek -- less than determined than how you usually hear her. but perhaps you've heard her sound like this before, all those months ago. ]

Edited 2024-06-03 05:52 (UTC)

That's the point.

[ the futility in ishmael's voice is palpable as the boat continues to rock vigorously against the waves. in the midst of the storm, she alone remains resolute - for no one else will be resolute for her. only she alone can do this. ]

My revenge will achieve the death of that bastard. Even if it'll cost my life. And... I have no plans of coming back from it.

[ then, a series of steel-colored pillar-like structures the size of skyscrapers come into view, jutting out of the water like buoys. ishmael weaves the boat with relative ease, managing to avoid the pillars, but not the oncoming wave that is half as big as them. ]

[ one day she'll give him a tour of the portship, but it's gonna take a while. ptsd has affected her view of her little corner of the City, after all.

anyway, she startles at the sudden appearance of this random dude, blinkly curiously at him. he... doesn't look like one of the more able-bodied people who work around these parts of the docks, but it's not like ishmael doesn't stick out either in her OL get-up. ]

Yeah. I quit a while ago.

[ she tightens the tie around her, like some sort of nervous tic, as she scans the bulletin board for something, anything that catches her eye. ]

I don't really know what to go for, though. And... I don't really care for much, either.

( semi-open ) WHITE WHALE HOLY GRAIL

the storm calls.

city of dreams.

rest and recovery.

closed memshares.

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🌇 (cw depictions of violence, death)

she gets the moby dick ending...... ⚰️

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he's getting the only good ahab memory... 👔

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cw suicidal ideation too, sorry

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wildcard.

my honour.........

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