TENTH WAVE

[felinely]

CHARACTERS: any and all
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond
WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one


You wake up in darkness.


There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.


There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.
 

Comments

[maleit]

[ And somewhere in the midst of it all, the faint scent of rot, of something dying. ]

[ Yoite makes it a point to beeline, he has every jump by now - the showers aren't even a question. He's been long dressed by the time Peter's up and about, gloves on and coat neatly buttoned even as he impatiently pushes sticky-wet hair from his cheeks and keeps an eye out for all the new arrivals. Powers. He's looking for some good powers. Everyone's life force pulses, varying levels of it. It's like looking for a particularly sharp needle in a stack of otherwise dull ones. ]

[ And one of the most promising has about an entire chunk of the cow sitting casually next to him. ]

[ He likes to think he's sneaky when he keeps an eye on the newcomers, but not much is more painfully obvious than the scrawny teen sitting by lockers with his arms folded, his eyes carefully searching out what have you from under the brim of his cap. He's not far from Peter, approaches the bench slowly, fingers working against his arms. ] You need to refrigerate meat, you know. Or it goes bad.

[ Y'know. Just in case Peter doesn't know. Concerned citizen here. ]

[seared]

[ it's hard to lie to a werewolf. not impossible, not hardly near, but only if you have the right practice, and the right kind of disposition. this-- peter inhales, thoughtful-- this barely more than a child has neither of those. ]

I'm sure I'll find a way to get rid of it fast. One way or another. [ peter's grin is friendly, his tone mild. ] You know, I couldn't tell you what it is exactly that you are-- [ it's clear he doesn't mean gender as his own eyes go red. ] but I can tell you that I'm a much bigger dog than you.

[ he may not be, but the jump still has him reacting like more like a wolf than ever, uncontrollable. derek's a necessity, but he'll only bow to his nephew as an alpha because of that necessity. no one else is a necessity, not yet. ]

[maleit]

[ Yoite's heart does skip a beat right on cue, flutters weakly and nervously in his chest even as he doesn't budge. But strangely, it's not the powers that seem to unsettle him. Actually, his heart rate levels out when Peter's eyes flash, and blue eyes fix unbothered on red ones. ]

[ And Peter's ki shifts, roils around a quiet but dissonant kind of power there. He looks human. Yoite has a feeling he's not. ]

Because I'm not a dog. [ He says, flatly, not even particularly jokingly. ] But I bite. [ A beat, and then, ] You sound sure about that. Being bigger.

[seared]

[ that injured bird little flutter of anxiety makes the wolf peter's hiding behind a human face eager, vicious. bite and rip and claw and tear, prey. take it down, fear means weakness.

men do not bite jugulars, however, and peter confines his urges to looking at where he could deliver a bite and make everything red between them. ]

Metaphorically speaking, in your case. [ he smiles proudly, like his newest curiosity's told a fantastic joke at an important cocktail party. ] We have that in common.

[ he shrugs and holds out his hands, see-sawing them in a measuring gesture. ] Arrogance, ability. They really do travel hand in hand.

[maleit]

[ He read about wolves once, an in-depth summary, packs and dens and females with narrower muzzles. They focus their attention on weaker areas that bleed the most profusely in order to slow their prey, the nerve tracks, the perineum, the carotid artery. ]

[ Peter's eyes momentarily go to Yoite's throat and he thinks of that book, but he's not sure why. ]

Arrogance isn't always earned. Assumed sometimes. [ His tone is skeptical, and he adjusts the brim of his hat. ] I want to ask what kind of teeth you have.

[ He doesn't - he waits for permission for that - but he wants to. ]

[seared]

[ peter was raised a wolf who's a man who's a wolf; he learned to pretend to simply be a man with an ease that escaped much of his pack, but there's a touch of the canine in everything he does anyway. now, raw and still confused and in unfamiliar territory where everything reeks of a few unfamiliar wolves, it's closer to the surface than ever. ]

Trial by fire clears up a whole realm of mysteries. [ he tracks the movement of hands, alert and focused in. ] 'The better to eat you with, my dear'. [ he can smell the hesitation, and he nods after grinning to himself a little at his own joke. ] Go ahead then, ask me.

[maleit]

Little Red Riding Hood.

[ Is a joke still a joke if awkward lighting is shed on it directly after? The words come out carefully but sagely, knowingly. The reference is actually one that's not lost on him. But she was a pretty little girl, and he's an ugly little something else. He frowns minutely. ] So you're used to winning. A lot. So am I.

[ He gives a nod, and tucks his hair back behind his ear again, getting too long and hanging in his face. ] Okay. What kind of teeth do you have?

[seared]

Well yes, if you need to spell it out.

[ peter's annoyance is indolent, though, more amused than truly piqued. god, it's like another derek. ] I try and make it a habit.

[ and he does; peter likes to win, and he's not afraid to take a loss in the moment to secure a later battle, or to retreat and regroup. wolves are extremely adaptable predators, and the trait bred true. ] The kind I can use to hurt, or to heal-- so if I were you, I would be careful with exactly how close I examine them.

[maleit]

Sorry. [ He says but it's just as idly, like a passive understanding that there should be an apology if he ruins a joke, but not enough to know or even care why he's apologizing for it. ] You know, habits break.

[ It sounds like a vague threat, something accidental he spits out as easily as anything else. Yoite fixes Peter with a long, hard look as he bites down on the thumb of a gloved hand. Both, huh? ]

You're not a ninja. [ It can't decide if it's an observation or a question. ] But how does a big bad wolf heal?