ELEVENTH WAVE

[astrogate]

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

[bruxisms]

[ The third time had perhaps given him some time to adjust, having began already to create a routine during the last Jump. Leave the chamber (coffin more like, he thinks to himself), grab a towel, and clean and clothe oneself as quickly as possible before returning to see which other duties need to be tended to. The fog some days (was it days?) prior had made him wearier, but he knew that he must push on, for whatever came ahead.

And so he began his routine. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his stomach (queerly prude, his brother had once told him) and is about to make his way to the chambers when...

He sees her. Or rather, he sees red. But he knows all too well who it is. Her voice, her eyes, the way her voice seems at once both oddly comforting and unsettling... For a moment, he recalls the monster in that nightmare realm, but it was not her. No... ]

My Lady.

[ He moves to her with some haste, though not before averting his eyes (it was perhaps a sight that he had seen and yet...) ]

[shadowbinder]

[She is one who is well aware of the trappings of power and the uses that they hold. Do not show the cost. Keep them in awe. Remain calm, mysterious, powerful. It is hard to do such when one is all but naked, wet, not exactly presentable. Yet, the air about her as she turns holds that note of certainty, as if it were simply another day.]

My King.

[She has been seeking him, searching the flames for a glimpse of where he might be, of how he might be doing. Yet nothing. Nothing at all of the man standing before her. Melisandre would not have thought to see him here, where ever here might be. A place of darkness as she has named it, as she believes it.]

R’hllor has chosen a strange instrument.

[Yet perhaps she is here to keep him from the dark, or keep the dark from him.]

[bruxisms]

[ His eyes remain averted, though he cannot help but scoff. ]

It would seem to me that R'Hllor has little to do with this, my lady.

[ Little and less, and he could not help but wonder what Melisandre would make of such a setting. He frowns, moving his teeth from side to side, and perhaps giving her a free hand. ]

There is much and more we must discuss.

[shadowbinder]

[He is a man that will not believe truly in her God, but that will use her all the same. She is fine with that. Always dancing that same dance, the two of them, and she would expect no less.]

His ways are mysterious, and the war continues.

[As it would.

And she moves, moves next to him, red eye unreadable, an acknowledging tip of her head.]

There is indeed, Your Grace. Much and more.

[bruxisms]

Yet we will not be there to fight it, should you not find a way to leave this vessel.

[ It had always been the way of things between the two of them, had it not? She served as faithfully as any might, and he placed his faith in her (yet perhaps never fully her God). She had power...

...Yet perhaps this is beyond even her abilities.

As they walk, there is something oddly... comforting (and unsettling) about her presence. She had been his shadow at the Wall, and it seemed only... expected that she perhaps may resume such a role here. ]

This vessel holds many secrets, yet I would first hear of Westeros. My last memory before arriving was leaving the Wall. Some... two months have past since.

[ or so it seems. ]

[shadowbinder]

[It is still a war. Between Light and Dark. Between life and death. Between Good and Evil. That long night that never ends must never come to pass.

He had been gone from the Wall for some time. Was that why should could not see him though? There is much she needs to ask the flames, to see guidance for, R'hllor willing.]

Your wife and daughter have arrived.

[Starting there.]

Alys Karstark came, fleeing to avoid a marriage from Cregan Karstark, and wed Sigorn, Magnar of Thenn, instead. The one they call Tormund Giantsbane arrived, after the wildling princess delivered a message to him. Four thousand wildlings with him. [A pause.] Lord Snow sent a relief fleet to Hardhome, although such has met with disaster. [She has seen that.]

[bruxisms]

...Any why did they leave Eastwatch?

[ a look of annoyance. he had given specific orders, yet perhaps it would seem that his lady wife had seen fit to disobey him. were he a different sort of man, he might demand punishment, but the woman had her own manner of authority, and he was a man of honour.

so instead, he merely frowns, moving his teeth from side to side. ]

And did this Tormund Giantsbane arrive as a friend or foe?

[ And another question. why was the wildling princess roaming freely?

Perhaps he would ask Jon Snow, but the boy knew nothing. ]

[shadowbinder]

She was unhappy with the accommodations and reception at Eastwatch, and plans to occupy Nightfort.

[The seat that was to be their power. Once it was ready for habitation, of course.

And she watches him, knowing his mannerisms as well as she would know the back of her hand.]

The Night's Watch gave terms for peace.

[bruxisms]

She should have awaited my orders.

[ yet what could be done about such? he looks at her for some time, frowning... ]

Are they to join in the fight?

[shadowbinder]

[No comment is made to that.

As to the other part, she turns her head, regarding him as he looked to her. It is the silences that one should read with one Stannis Baratheon.]

They will garrison the castles that the Watch has abandoned. The warriors, that is. Others shall settle in the Gift and the New Gift.

[bruxisms]

Can we count on their loyalty?

[ though truth be told, there is not much to say on that matter for the time being. ]

Yet such will not matter if we remain trapped aboard this vessel.

[shadowbinder]

They must choose, just as we all must.

[One of her answers that was no answer. Yet she would know if they did. If R'hllor allowed her to glimpse.

A hand reached out, to brush along the wall of the ship.]

A dark place.

[bruxisms]

[ A frown, as his gaze remains fixed on her. ]

And tell me, my lady. Do you see some method of escape?

[shadowbinder]

Forgive me, my king, but I have only been here shortly.