ataraxionlogs | fourteenth jump;

Entry tags:

fourteenth jump;

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.

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The first thing he felt was relief. Relief that he stepped into that gravity couch one month ago, he actually woke up.

Of course, the relief would mean nothing until Murphy knew for sure that everyone else he knew had made it out okay. Anne, Heather, Alex, Nepeta... The others... He'd have to check up on them, but that would have to wait when he was more decent. Showers, then clothes, and then sort out his thoughts. By now he had this down pat that Murphy Pendleton might be considered a post-jump pro.

He just felt rattled. Shaken. He didn't know why. Maybe the broadcast still unnerved him. Maybe the radio silence made him uneasy, made him wonder when the next time would come that the next cookie trail would fall onto their laps.

For now, it was all about baby steps, and Murphy was literally aching to lay back down again. Funny how a month-long sleep could wear him out like it did. Time definitely hadn't been very kind to him.

Now clean, dressed, and ready for that bed if not for other concerns he's had, Murphy started to make his rounds through the locker area when one woman wearing a towel who had opened her door and... lo and behold! a riding crop and chain came spilling out the locker and right in front of him.

This is starting to become a thing, isn't it? Personal stuff just coming out of people's lockers for him to see, and--

Okay. Okay, he'll bite that, because why not? Riding crop, that was normal. Everyone had their thing and who was he to judge them? Normal. Just about as normal as... Oh God, she's still wearing a towel -- Murphy, don't look.

"Oh, uh... huh." No. No judging, Pendleton. No judging, just stop it.

She hears you Murphy, she hears you. Which is why she stops looking into her locker and turns to focus on you. Her weapons are still on the floor, lying near her feet but instead of crouching to get them, she shrugs one shoulder, blows the damp hair covering her eye out of the way. Eileen's lips quirk into a half smile.

"Leave your tongue back in the tube?"

It's a little weird, starting a conversation with someone in just a towel but there are people all over the place, in similar states of undress and she cannot get over how many people were in that room. Or the showers. Ugh. That, that was fun.

That smile? Murphy can't see it; he's not even looking at Eileen at this point. In fact, he's more inclined to keep going and pretend that he didn't even say or do anything, but then--

Aw shit, that question was directed at him, wasn't it? That oddly makes things somehow more awkward if he just kept on walking now, wouldn't it?

"Erm, yeah. Maybe, I uh..." No wait, that isn't right. "S-Sorry, I should... probably leave you to it."

Leave her to what, exactly? To her own devices? No, wait, that'd be a terrible thing to say, too.

Yeah, this guy's refusing to look at her. It's kind of comforting and amusing and weird all at once. There's being polite and then there's - well. This guy.

Her fingers tap on the locker, creating a metallic rhythm.

"I do want to get dressed. But after I do, you think I could ask you some questions?"

Questions? For him?

Well, it beats a smack in the face. Not that Murphy hasn't been making an effort to keep his eyes averted. Although coming in and out of these jumps surrounded by under dressed or undressed is about enough to mortify him into a monthly dose of cardiac arrests.

But anyway, questions. Right. "...Sure. No problem. Ah. I'll... I'll be standin'... over here."

Over here. Facing away from you. Hi, nice to meet you.

She appreciates that. Truly.

It doesn't take long for her to change, she drops the towel and slips into her clothes. She fingers the material of the jumpsuit still left in her locker while she's at it, then quirks a brow before abandoning it. Sliding into her shoes, she finally notices the communicator and grabs that too.

As for the mess on the floor, should she take these? Or leave them in the locker? The fact she came here with weapons makes her wary enough, maybe she should take one with her, just in case. The chain ends up in the winner's circle, collected in one hand. Purse slung over her arm, there, she's ready.

Clad in black capris and a red sweater, she walks over to Murphy, a teasing note in her voice.

"Thank you for being a gentleman."

Word of warning, sir. Given the nature of her sweater, you can see her bra strap what would her mother say.

Murphy is a patient guy. He's fine with waiting it out until she says she's good and ready -- he's breezed past this sea of people in the midst of dressing enough that he's practically mastered avoidance into an art form.

On her remark, Murphy turns to her with brows slightly raised. It's funny, but... seriously. For a guy who was brought up on modesty always being A Thing, he doesn't hear the word "gentleman" being said all that often to him.

"Hey, no problem." He even manages a slight hint of a laugh when... Shit, that is a strap to something, isn't it? His eyes dart from Eileen's shoulder, to her face, and then towards the lockers where--

Oh.

Oh, that would explain a lot. Murphy, you need to stop meandering on the newbie side of the locker room. "Just got here?"

"Apparently, although I doubt this is what happens when everyone else falls asleep in the tub."

She grimaces, green eyes closing shut briefly. Looks like she was right, he was one of the ones who looked like he knew what was going on. As much as she wants a rapid fire question and answer session, there's a better way to go about it, so she might as well take it.

"Honestly, this isn't my first world hopping rodeo." Or is it universe now. Space. It's frightening and just a touch exhilarating, however it's the only answer that makes sense. "But space is new. Definitely new.

I won't bore you with the usual questions, I mean, I would like to know how long you've been here and anything I should know now."

"Was driving, actually... then Rolling Stones, then the floor." It was a surprise that Murphy didn't immediately start to think that he was dead or something when he could have just as easily fallen asleep at the wheel. Nope, a talking skeleton had to come along and break the good news for him.

World hopping, though? Murphy pauses a moment, but then decides to let that one slide off. She's the one with the questions, not him. Not--

"Space, huh? What makes you think this isn't Area 51?"

Shut up, Murphy.

Okay this time for real. "Can't say this is all weird to me now, either. This is my, uh..." He glances down at the number on his arm (OPR » 006 » 073) and the locker numbers in the area (014, huh?), and has enough of a mind to put two and two together. "Eight months now, I guess. So you can... bore me with all your questions -- maybe outside?"

Where naked people aren't in the process of getting dressed all over the place? Please?

Eileen gives him a nod. Then her shoulders shake with a laugh, laughing more at herself than him.

"Area 51? I'm not that lucky."

Hearing the words come out of his lips, her eyes do widen. Eight months? Well, shit. But then again, what was she hoping to hear? My stay's almost up and I'm going back soon? She's not an idiot. She doesn't have that luxury of naivety.

Not anymore.

"Outside, yeah, okay. That's fine."

"Yeah, me neither..." Murphy is never lucky.

Unlike most people, eight months has been nothing compared to years spent in confinement. All things considered, things could be worse for him here. Not that it's all sunshine and lollipops, and he's not about to make it out to seem that way, either.

He then jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "Alright, exit's this way, on that blue lift. You can... maybe drop your stuff off in your room, and... whatever, after that. Er, yeah, you've got a room, too -- it'll unlock with that number on your arm." He points to the one he's got on his own, his sleeve rolled up and tattoo exposed.

There's a hard look at her arm again, still, almost contemplative. There are too many things to say. How convenient. Did they know, when they put this number on her body. Did they roll her over onto her stomach and see, needle inking her flesh and reminding her all over again.

Instead she says, voice quiet but with a touch of humor.

"My mother would cry her eyes out if she saw this, graffiti on her baby girl's skin."

She starts to walk over to the lift.

Eileen seems to greet the number on her arm with all the enthusiasm as Murphy had eight jumps ago, when he first woke up into this huge mess. There's always something about being branded that never sat well with him. Like prison again, where all you are is a number. Back there he wasn't Pendleton, Murphy but Prisoner 273A.

...073.

Maybe someone did have a little knowledge in their pockets.

Either way, he isn't about to go worrying any of the new blood with it. Murphy just manages a nervous little snort. "Yeah, I bet... Mom and dad's worse nightmare." He wonders if Charlie ever had the chance to get old enough, he'd have done something like that. Just to drive his folks all crazy. Hurts to think about.

He looks older than her, something small to file away in the back of her mind. Staring at the lift underneath her feet briefly, she looks back over to him.

"I'm Eileen, by the way."

Right now, Murphy's more occupied with the lift, which he kindly escorts Eileen to and then they're off. The least he can do is show her the fourteenth floor...

"...Murphy." He looks up as the lift starts to carry them. "So, uh, 'bout those questions..."

Edited 2013-01-09 00:40 (UTC)

"Does this happen often, everybody spit out from tubes in blue goo?"

Might as well start there. It's clearly happened enough that it's become routine to the people who got up and ambled their way into the other rooms past Eileen.

"And there wouldn't happen to be a guide on this place, would there? If this is a regular thing."

Gesturing to herself, she means her sudden arrival as a spaceship newbie.

"Once a month. Wouldn't... recommend missin' one, unless you want it to wind up bein' the last thing you miss."

Murphy knows. It happened to a guy for the first time once he showed up. Just his luck, right?

But rather than focusing on people getting splattered by the jump periods: "Er, yeah. Pretty sure somebody's organized somethin' on the network, ah..." He causes, takes out his own communicator he's had tucked in his pocket. Good on him for actually remembering it this time! "This thing."

Yeah, that thing. It'd been tucked into her own pocket and she nods.

"Reminds me of a super-tech phone. I'll play around with it."

Once a month? So, where everyone goes to sleep and they toss in the fresh ones they just picked up? Her lips curl, face contemplative again. They've got the power to grab anyone, it looks like. Anyone at all.

...

"So, if they can just pick people up... What about people, people who've already died?"

Murphy nods, and the lift halts. She doesn't look like the type who's going to have a terribly difficult time figuring it out, unlike himself.

He stops at her next question. He's had his own fair share of dealing with people who've already died, so it's not a strange question to ask -- though if you were talking to a normal person...

Who here is really normal?

"I've... heard that it's possible, yeah."

He shrugs and steps out into the cathedral-like hallway.

it's possible, yeah

Eileen's grip on her chain tightens before relaxing, fingers curled just enough around the silver.

Stepping out into the hallway, any distress she was feeling is blown away instantly when the architecture surrounds her, eyes widening and shining bright.

"This is beautiful. What's this sort of thing doing here?"

That... was pretty much his reaction when he first explored the crevices of the ship. Not that Murphy has gone through everything with a fine comb yet, but he's getting there.

"Trust me, don't expect the entire place to look like this. But... it's cozy."

There was a reason for that, Murphy assumed. Probably because the old crew must have been split between the civilians. The passenger quarters were all nice and homey for the people not accustomed to space travel.

Or, at least, Murphy assumed. Because what does he know about space?

It doesn't need to all be like this. Somehow, this sort of grandeur is enough. Still glancing up, she realizes she's holding Murphy up and starts walking again.

"Have you ever gotten lost?"

Murphy doesn't mind letting anyone stop to take in the scenery. Admittedly it is a lot to take in at first, but then some easily take it all in stride.

Good question, Eileen. You almost made him laugh. "Uh, yeah? This place is a damn maze." He shrugs. "S'why I mark the walls in some places. I leave these little symbols, makes it easier to get where I wanna go."

"No breadcrumbs?"

She looks over at the door as they pass, noting the numbers on them - steadily increasing.

"Wouldn't last. Also it'd be a waste of good bread." And Murphy doesn't like to waste.

It doesn't take long before they're up to Room 020, though he keeps a distance in case if she wants him to buzz off while she's getting settled... or something.

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