onepassingnight | [Gate of Heaven]

[ The luxury cruise liner, the San Ariel, is truly a breathtaking sight, as it parts the sea about its bow, the only source of waves on the still surface. From the railing lining its massive deck, the world is water in every direction, pure, glittering blue to each horizon. Warm Spring air and the scent of saltwater fill the atmosphere, the sky above caught in the perpetual twilight of sunset.

And all throughout the ship, a sort of celebration seems to be going on -- every person is in high spirits, though they hardly resemble the type one might think to find populating such an extravagant ship as this. Almost all of the partygoers are... Well. Pirates, by all appearances. Their sense of style is tragically cliché, striped shirts and hook hands and peg legs and all. If approached, however, they're also quite friendly, willing to point even their "hostages" in the right direction.

Or toward the captain, more likely, because he does so love to meet new people.

Though, at the moment... He seems to be a bit seasick, hanging halfway over the rail at the bow, while one particularly surly young man stands at attention nearby, holding his hat for him. Some kind of miserable, incoherent groan drifts up from the other side of the railing, and then--

Was that a hiccup? ] Haahh... Have I ever told you about the time I fell in love with a mermaid?

[ He sounds positively dreamy as he asks, though the ridiculous question doesn't seem to be intended for the unflappably stoic man next to him, who doesn't reply. Maybe it's more like alcohol sickness, that he has, liable even to mistake members of his own crew for new faces, from this angle. ] It's a really beautiful story!

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[ she nods wordlessly, and turns to look into one of the pantries, finally letting go of his hand. ]

[ He's careful not to wander too far out of sight, just in case -- collecting a few courses' worth of appetizing food doesn't take much effort in a kitchen tailored to his perfect personal preference, anyway. Soon the polished wooden island through the center of the room is covered in plates and platters of warm, fresh food.

There's even a cute tea set, though he's mostly forgotten what they've come for in the face of a decent meal. ] Ah, say, what kind of food do you like best? I bet they've got it, here.

[ she's found tea, sugar, but now she's looking for a kettle. when she looks back at him, she almost speaks, before she notes the feast of food.

... her eyes go from it, to him, and she speaks. sort of. just trying to overlook the fact he's feasting after vomiting. ]

French...?

[ Such is his life. Even in his waking existence, he tends to change gears so quickly it's liable to give even innocent bystanders bad cases of whiplash. Especially where food is concerned. ]

Oh, you mean like the Mont Blanc or Mille-feuille? This ship serves the most exquisite desserts, you know.

[ she nods slightly. ]

Well, then, if you can't think of a favorite, I guess you'll just have to try some of everything, too!

Isn't that wasteful? [ she looks over the feast again. ]

[ He deflates, just a bit. ]

...Maybe a little. But it's a party! Isn't the point to indulge? Really, you can have anything you like. Food or not!

Food or not? What else is there?

Anything you can imagine!

[ After a second or two of contemplation, he adds: ] Though you look a bit young to drink, so I'll have to put my foot down, there. Otherwise, really, the sky's the limit.

[ she pulls a face at the thought of alcohol, and then thinks, trying to collect her thoughts. ]

Is there oeufs à la neige?

[ Without a second's hesitation, he nods, standing on the spot and turning right around to march abruptly through the swinging doors behind him.

It takes him only an instant to reappear, but there's no telling how long he might've been gone on the other side -- his entire outfit has changed, a long, pristine white coat over a dark, high-collared shirt, matching pants and a pair of sharp boots, almost the photo negative of his usual somber uniform. A bird's feather is brushed off his shoulder with the motion as he steps forward, holding out a plate to her with one black-gloved hand.

Upon it, as per request, is her dessert. ]

One floating island, in the middle of the sea! That's almost poetic, you know. [ Or maybe just all food is, to someone like him. ] A sign of truly impeccable taste, if I do say so, myself.

[ Babydoll sat on a tall stool, starting to tighten the coat around her thin waist. he comes back before she can do something--she notes how he's changed, though distracted by the dessert. she actually smiles, content and nostalgic as she takes it from him. ]

My mother loved it.

Oh, fond memories? I can certainly understand that. [ Taking a seat on the other side of the long counter, Abel idly plucks a bit of bright green leaf from his long, silver bangs as he talks. ]

And I hope this one doesn't disappoint, on that account, too. It's quite simple, but it can be terribly easy to ruin even the most basic dessert, can't it? [ A genuine lament; this is a real tragedy, in his humble opinion. ]

[ she takes a spoon from one of the drawers and takes a small, modest bite: she smiles warmly, tilting her head down away from view. ]

It's really nice.

Ah, thank you. [ Though it throws off his balance, he bows from his seat -- and then nearly topples, laughing just a little as he catches himself on the counter's edge. ]

...I'm glad you like it. If there's anything else I can do, you only have to ask!

[Gate of Heaven] – [Act 2]

html and i are breaking up >(

html: /stands outside your window, holds boombox overhead, plays peter gabriel. ;o;

fjsklfjslfs okay html is forgiven

my work here is done

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