ataraxionlogs | seventeenth jump;

Entry tags:

seventeenth 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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[Primrose. They were friends for a short while, before she disappeared. It is rare that people go and come back--and if they do return, sometimes they return having forgotten so much--but Bran's smile jumps quickly to his face when he hears her voice. Seeing her is even better.]

You're back.

[It's a stupid childish thing to say, pointing out the obvious--but he is too pleased to do otherwise, and he wishes he had his robotic legs on, so he might stand and greet her properly. Summer does that work for him, going straight up to Primrose to sniff eagerly at her--beginning with her hands, and moving up her arm from there.]

Summer, leave her be. [But the direwolf ignores him, and Bran offers Prim an apologetic smile.] He is only glad to see you, I think. As am I.

[She doesn't mind Summer in the slightest, and continues to allow him to sniff at her, her other hand coming around to scratch at his neck.]

I'm so glad to see you both again.

[She wants to say that she would be sad to find out they had both left, but she thinks that would be selfish of her. Bran and Summer are her friends, ones that she thinks she'll make more of an effort to spend time around on her second stay on the Tranquility.

She leans down to place a kiss atop Summer's head, laughing as she moves away from the direwolf and over toward Bran. She leans forward as if she's going to hug him, but then hesitates and ends up fidgeting with her skirt instead. She doesn't know if the attention would embarrass Bran or not, and doesn't want to make him feel awkward.]

I hope you've both taken care of yourselves while I was gone. [It's more of a playful teasing than anything, a way of asking what all they've been up to.]

[Direwolves don't know what to do with kisses, and Summer shies back, his ears flicking--not unhappily, merely confused. Bran laughs at his direwolf, and turns his smile up to Prim when she comes closer.]

We have--of course we have, and we have taken care of everyone else, too, especially Robb and Grey Wind. There have been very few dangers, though we found a new part of the ship, where some of the manticores were living.

[That is less happy news, and he chews at his lower lip--but soon brightens as he thinks of something else to tell her.] And I have been learning a great deal, even without going to a school. My friend Boyd is teaching me what he calls slang, and I have heard many stories of other worlds.

[More carefully, he asks:] How-- have you been? [And he would stand, if he could, if only so he could look at her evenly. He is so happy to see her, so happy he cannot stop smiling. It is a good day when a missing friend returns.]

Slang? You'll have to teach me some, too. Okay?

[She moves to sit down near him, so that he won't have to look up at her and so that they can have a conversation without anyone else that might be nearby overhearing.]

I'm not sure what manticores are, but from the sound of it, that's probably a very good thing. [She delays on answering his last question, just because she's not all that sure how to respond.]

Can I tell you a secret, Bran? [She knows she can, so she doesn't hesitate in continuing. She turns to lean in close to his ear and whisper, a hand going up to cup around her mouth.]

I don't remember much of being back home.

[Leaning away, she shrugs, frowning a slight bit.] I think I'm just confused right now. Very grateful to be back, but confused. I'm feeling more anchored down now that I know you're here and safe, though.

[He blinks at her confession, and peers over at her, studying her face as she speaks. What could she mean, she doesn't remember much of being back home? There were some people that came back to the ship after being home for months--and there were some that came back after only a few days--but Prim's answer seems somehow different, and he bites at his lip as he thinks.]

You didn't-- forget your home at all, did you? Or do you mean you were only there for a little while?

[But he feels some need to reassure her, even if she says she feels better already--she might be only saying that, and so he adds:] Everyone who has gone home and then returned has been all right. I am sure you will be, too.

I think I was only back for an hour, maybe. Not that long at all. My memories are just about the same as the first time I was here. But you're right, I'll be okay.

[She forces a smile, trying to be optimistic. She pats at the ground as a gesture for Summer to come in closer. Scratching and petting him is a good way to relieve stress, she figures. It works that way with Buttercup.

But oh - that's sad news she has to share, too.]

My sister is gone. I think she took Buttercup with her. It's not like before when Katniss was trapped in her pod, she's just not here at all this time.

[Summer comes to her side immediately--first sniffing at the bit of ground that she patted, and then settling down beside her. And Bran would smile at that, pleased that Summer has taken so well to Prim--but her news is sad indeed, and he feels the sick pitch of his stomach. It isn't like realizing Arya and Alayne are gone, but it's similar, in a small way, and he tries to think of what to say.]

I'm sorry.

[Stupid, he scolds, he never wanted anyone to be sorry for him--and Prim wouldn't either--but what else can he say?]

We could look for her. Summer and I--Summer is very good at looking for things. He can smell very well. [But when Arya was gone, Bran just knew. Perhaps it is the same. So he frowns, and looks at the bit of floor between them.] I will help you however I can.

[Grateful that Summer sits by her side, she wastes no time in getting to work scratching behind his ears and down his neck. She takes in what Bran says without responding at first. She stares over at Summer's fur and focuses in on that. She's so very grateful for knowing that she has Bran and Summer here with her, and that they'll help her if she ever needs it.]

Thank you. [She murmurs at long last, looking up and over at Bran.]

We can meet in the gardens later today and try looking. Or I could help you get what you need out of your locker and we can look now. [A pause, and her cheeks turn a little pink as she feels a little bossy.]

Or maybe it's better just to wait for Robb.

[But Bran shakes his head, pushing himself so he sits a little taller. He is taller than he was when he first arrived, though he still feels more like a boy and less like a lord or a prince or nearly a man grown. An he feels like a boy most keenly when he thinks of his sisters, and of Rickon, lost or taken from them.

And he remembers well the feeling of waking and finding them gone--a duller pain than it might have been, because at least he had Robb and Jon. Prim is alone. She needs his help.]

We should go now. [He puts on a smile for her, as brave as he can make it.] The sooner we go, the sooner we will know if she can be found. My locker is right there--

[He points; Summer lifts his head and follows the line of Bran's arm, as if he can go and open the locker for him.]

The robotic legs are inside, but if I lean on you and on Summer, I can reach high enough to open it with the tattoo, and then you can help me with putting the legs on. I will tell Robb where we've gone, so he will not worry, and he will follow after us and help us look too, him and Grey Wind both.

Are you -

[She stops herself there, not wanting to be a nag and definitely not wanting to second guess Bran's choices. He's old enough to make wise ones, she knows he has a good head on his shoulders. So she bites at her lip and firmly nods her head, rising to stand.]

Come on, Summer. We can do this. [She smiles down at the direwolf, ruffling the fur atop his head, before offering a hand to Bran. She may look small, but she knows how to be a steady rock. This is something that might take a little time but can easily be accomplished.]

I've got you, okay? I won't let you fall.

I know.

[It's not dignified, and he hates that anyone must seem him like this--but the taste of shame seems less bitter in the face of helping Primrose find her sister. If a knight were injured, he would not let that stop him from helping a lady. Bran is no knight, and his stupid crippled legs are not an injury, not truly--but he can still bear the slight shame of this, for Prim's sake.

So he takes her hand with a small smile. Summer knows without being told what to do--he comes around and stands beside Bran so he can grab hold of him, using both his grip on the direwolf's fur and on Prim's hand to pull himself up. It's hard work, but no harder than the beam he used to pull himself up in bed at Winterfell, and his arms are longer and stronger than they were then, too. He leans harder on Summer than on Prim, shifting so he can grab hold of her shoulder instead--for a moment, he thinks he might miss, but he grabs on just in time, hard.]

Sorry--

It's okay. I'm a lot stronger than I look, you won't hurt me.

[She turns her head to smile over at him, her free hand going up to rest gently atop his that's clutching hold of her shoulder. It's a brief gesture of solidarity, before focusing her strength down in her legs and staying strong and as rigid as possible so Bran won't fall over. She doesn't wait for Summer or Bran to move first and instead takes the lead, counting softly so that she can keep a reasonable pace. One, two, three. Over and over, a whispered timer.]

[It is not an easy journey, no matter how small the distance--but Prim is stronger than Bran would have expected, and her counting helps to pace them. And Summer is a steady presence at his other side, moving calmly along by Prim's count as if following along in a dance.

It takes a few moments, but they eventually do reach the lockers, and Bran stretches his arm up. A moment, and the lock clicks, and he smiles in grateful triumph over at Prim.]

It worked. Here, I will sit down now--and we can put the robotic legs on, and then we can go and look. They are not so complicated as they look, there are only a few straps. It's a little like putting on armor, I think.

I've never had to put on armor before, but I think you're right, it won't be that complicated.

[She moves to help him sit down, smiling in satisfaction that they were able to get Bran back to his device that helps him walk. She crouches down and waits for Bran to take the lead, prepared to help tighten straps or whatever he might need her to do.]

I'm glad that someone was able to get you something to help you walk. [She pauses, glancing up at Bran briefly.]

There are people where I'm from who don't get a second chance to do that. Some people don't even get a first chance. I think that maybe District 13 needs robotic legs and arms. They're amazing.

[The straps go on easily enough--he works on his left leg and leaves the right for Prim, carefully demonstrating each tug and pull and buckle so she can follow his movements. Free of Bran's weight, Summer moves with cheerful restlessness, roaming around them and sniffing at the floor.

But Prim's words catch Bran's attention, and he looks up at her too, pausing a moment in putting on the robotic legs.]

What happened? Was there a battle?

[Or perhaps a fall, though he does not say that. Thinking of falling leaves his mouth dry, and a scared sick feeling in the pit of his stomach--because he is only a boy, not a knight or a lord or a prince, not truly. His fingers fumble at the strap they are holding, and he looks down.]

Do they have wheeled chairs, where you are from?

There's fighting every year, but much more than usual this year. The battle isn't contained anymore, it's everywhere. Panem isn't a very safe place, but I think that it will be eventually. And then all of the people who can build amazing things will be free to make legs and arms just like this.

[She thinks of some of the victors of the Hunger Games, thinks of how they survived but have injuries that are terrible. She thinks of how the injuries inside their heads and hearts will never go away. That makes her frown deeply.]

There are wheeled chairs in the Capitol, and probably the wealthier districts. The district I was raised in was very poor, you see, and so were the ones surrounding it. Usually when children were hurt so badly that they couldn't walk, they end up starving or being cast aside.

[She doesn't want to say out loud that their parents would most likely cast them aside on the streets to die, despite it being the truth.]

People died every day in the streets of District Twelve. [She glances up at Bran, eyes glossy as she keeps in tears. She's angry for her people, sad for the loss of her home district, and determined to not let more people back home die needlessly.]

[Of all the stories that he has heard of other worlds, Bran has learned that none of them are safe or easy. There are some safer than others, yet each still has its dangers. He isn't a stupid child, so he knew that already--but it's different to hear it, and different, too, to see the sadness on Prim's face. There are people who deserve easy and safe worlds. Prim is one of them. Maybe a knight would go back with her, to Panem. Maybe a knight would stop people from killing her friends, and would carry the broken children to maesters and houses of healing, to be tended and cared for.

But Bran is no knight. He can only look at Prim, stupidly, and feel sad for her and for the people of her world. There is sadness in Westeros too, but it only makes him sadder still for Prim, that she would have to feel any of that.]

When you go back home-- [He looks down at the robotic legs, ducking his head a little so he need not meet her eyes.] When you really go back home, I mean--when they figure out how to send us back. I think you should take my robotic legs with you.

[He had thought of taking them--would it even be possible? But if it was, then Prim should have them, for some broken boy back in District Twelve.]

They will better help someone in Panem. Someone can study them and learn how they were made, and then they will have robotic legs for the crippled children very soon. That would be good, wouldn't it?

Bran, no.

[Her response is instant. Both of her hands go over his robotic legs, and she shakes her head.]

You need these. I don't think I could handle you doing without them, not ever. If I study how they work here, maybe I'll be able to remember it the next time I go back.

[She sounds a little doubtful, but she hopes that might be the case. Her look of concern melts into something more warm, and she turns a smile in Bran's direction as she finishes making sure his device is strapped in nicely. Once she's sure, she holds out her hand to help him stand up once again.]

It would be very good to have someone be able to make these for the children of Panem, for everyone in Panem, but I won't let you make that sacrifice. You're very wonderful to offer, though.

[A pause, and she wonders something she's never cared about before.]

Is it okay if I ask how old you are? And if your legs have been the way they are for very long?

I want you to take them. I won't have need of them. When I go home, my fate is different, and I won't need to walk. It would be better to take them with you and study them at home.

[He will not be a knight. But he will learn to fly. How can he explain that to anyone without sounding like a child, or a madman? Even when he tells it to Robb and Jon, he sounds mad. He looks to where her hands are pressed to the robotic legs--a worker's hands, and a lady's, even if she is young and poor. Being a lady does not always mean riches.

But he must answer her questions, even if the second of them makes his chest feel tight.]

I don't know how old I am now. I haven't been marking the time very well--not since I came aboard this ship. [And not before, either. Without his mother keeping careful track, the time didn't seem to matter as much.] I was nearly ten summers when I first came here. And my legs have been broken-- [He feels a little dizzy when he says it; he thinks of climbing, something he only does in dreams now, and his hands clutch at nothing in his lap.] They have been broken for some years now.

[She admires his courage, and finds his insisting that she try to take them to endear him to her further. He's a brave boy, and a good friend.]

I think that the number of years someone is, it isn't always close to how old they are in their mind or their heart. Some children see too much, hear terrible things, have to live through things they shouldn't.

[She thinks that maybe both she and Bran are two children who are like adults before their time. Her hand moves up from his robotic legs to his hand that's resting on his lap. She gives it a gentle squeeze, and smiles for the both of them.]

It's selfish of me to say that I hope you stay here, so you can be able to walk and run and do anything that you want to do. But I know that when you do go back, you'll do amazing things. With or without robotic legs.

[She hopes that he's able to keep them, though. She just won't say that out loud and offend him.]

We should walk, don't you think? If we stay here, we'll only end up making ourselves feel sad.

[He would explain, if he could. I am not a child, I am nearly a man grown--but that's not true, not really. A man grown would not need someone to hold his hand, nor would he feel so warmed by her prediction. You'll do amazing things. That's something of what Jojen has told him; that's something of what the three-eyed crow has promised. You will fly. But it's different, to hear it from Primrose. It makes Bran feel larger than any knight, and banishes the stupid scared feeling, and the shame of being a cripple. If Primrose says it, then it will be true, and he can believe that.

He twists his hand so he can hold hers, and more of that dizziness leaves him. And he manages a smile at her, too--she is so good and brave, even alone, even without her sister. She deserves a smile from him, at least.]

Yes. We should walk. We shouldn't be any sadder than we might happen to be. [But he isn't very sad, not right now. Not with so great a friend as Primrose--and Summer, too, and his brothers, and all the other friends that they have made aboard this ship.] Thank you, Primrose--for your help, and for-- what you have said. I am glad you are back. Maybe that's selfish, too, but-- I am.

It's not selfish.

[She dismisses the thought, a completely serious look on her face. She moves to head off, taking the lead, but glances back over her shoulder at Bran and Summer. ]

I'm glad to be here, to get to experience this place again. I feel safe here, most of the time. And even if Katniss isn't here, it's a chance to learn how to do things on my own. I have a chance to become stronger here, to really grow up.

[She laughs at that, at feeling like an adult in a small little body. She knows that she's delicate and looks so frail, that everyone thinks she needs full protection. Maybe in some ways she does, but she really does feel that the Tranquility will teach her a great deal about becoming strong and rising above what everyone expects out of her. It's one thing to be a nurse that heals others, but she would much rather be a nurse that is able to keep herself and others safe so healing isn't needed in the first place.

But she is what she is, and in this moment she feels very much like a little girl that needs to find her lost sister. So she does what she did when she really was only a little girl, and she takes off at a slight run toward wherever Katniss might be, her pigtails trailing along behind her.]

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seventeenth jump;

lockers!

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