ataraxionlogs | eighteenth jump;

Entry tags:

eighteenth 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Some time after their tearful reunion, Albert leads Franz around on a merry tour of the ship, pointing out relevant locations, introducing him to people, mentioning trivia, and so on and so forth. Stopping to say hello to multiple people along the way, the tour probably takes upwards of an hour. Finally, the tour ends at the kitchen closest to Albert's room.]

Anddd last but not least: the kitchen! Ta-daaa. Or at least, one of them, anyway. There's a lot of them. You hungry by any chance?

[Franz is more than happy to let Albert play tour guide. He's always fond of things like that, where he can show off that he knows more than Franz. It's a relief that Albert is here to show him around, he can't imagine dealing with all of this on his own. It's a sobering thought.

And Albert did it all by himself. He's strong of hearts Franz doubts he is. He's probably seen this whole mess as some kind of adventure.]

Are you seriously offering to cook for me? I'm scared.

[Franz isn't actually that hungry, but it's probably not a bad idea to take some nutrition in. Apparently diet is still something to be concerned with while deceased.]

[Albert starts laying out ingredients on the table for some kind of simple vegetable pasta dish. Meat on the ship isn't that great or plentiful, after all.]

Hey! I'll have you know, I've survived here for two months now feeding myself. My cooking is perfectly acceptable.

[Though that's about the best that can be said for it.]

Okay, then. But it had better be 'perfectly' acceptable. I won't accept it if it's 'pretty much' acceptable or 'almost' acceptable!

[Franz finds a place to settle himself, glad to be off his feet for awhile. He looks around the kitchen, wondering if he could ever think of this place as being like home. He's traveled a lot, but always with the image of Paris in his mind to return to. That seems impossible now.]

What-- geez, I'll show you!

[The pasta's on the stove, and while that's doing, he starts chopping the veggies. Nobody's taught him yet that different foods take different lengths of time to cook though, so once he's done, it all kind of goes in at once :').]

So... what did you think of it? The ship. Pretty impressive, huh?

[Franz watches Albert cook with no small amount of amusement and fondness: and like a true beloved supper guests he offers absolutely no help.] The only way this ship impressed me is with how strange it is. [Franz is deeply suspicious of this place. It's unsettling. He'd love to happily accept this extra time with Albert, but he wants, very much, to understand what is going on. It's nagging at him that those answers might be beyond him.] I still don't understand what use the two of us could be on a ship like this. Are they expecting us to set up a colony? Propagate the human race? I think they probably could have found better specimens.

Propa-- Franz! Obviously not! There are kids here! [The shade of red he turns is deeply comical.]

The most popular theory is that it's a malfunction of the warp drive. Though it's just a theory, of course... [he stirs the pasta]

They won't let us near the damn thing.

A warp drive malfunction? I'm not buying it.

Out of the millions of people, over millions of years - and that's discounting things like other universes, and so on - we meet each other again? There must be more to it than that.

[Franz isn't exactly a physicist or engineer, but he doesn't have to be. It's simple analytic thought.

He peers over at the pan to check Albert's progress.]

That actually smells edible.

I suppose... when you put it like that, it does sound rather unlikely, doesn't it.

[What's this? Albert's listening to Franz for a change? The world must be ending. He gives the food another dejected stir.]

Hmph. I told you so, didn't I? [From there, the rest of it cooks pretty quickly, and it's out on plates in a few minutes.]

I don't trust this place.

[And some part of Franz wants to, that's what's terrible. He wants to be here, having Albert fix him 'perfectly acceptable' food while they chat about their plans for a new life on a strange ship. He wants a chance to relax and be complacent. To return to the sort of moments they had before the Count destroyed their lives.]

But I can't see any motivation for this... we'll have to keep looking.

[Very cautiously, Franz winds up the noodles on his fork and spears a bit of vegetable, taking a bite.]

Well I bet if there's anyone who can get to the bottom of it, it's you.

[He's waiting for Franz to eat first before eating himself-- not out of any sense of politeness, but rather because he's waiting for a reaction. This is the first time since he made disastrously bad spaghetti for Jehan nearly two months ago that he's cooked anything for another person.]

[Franz makes a good show of eating the food. And honestly, it's not as bad as he was expecting. It's not great, the vegetables aren't cooked through evenly and it could do a lot more for flavoring, but it's not actively killing him, so, better than expected.]

Wow... that really is perfectly acceptable!

Will the shocks of today ever cease?

Ah-- good! I did tell you, didn't I?

[Satisfied that dinner is not a disaster, Albert digs into his own. He's been talking non-stop for a while now, so he's content to spend the rest of the meal in comfortable silence. Though occasionally he looks from his food back up to Franz, almost as if to check that he's still there.]

[Franz picks at his food. He eats as much as he can to be polite, but can't manage much more than that. While they've lapsed into silence he has more time to think over their situation, and it doesn't exactly give one much of an appetite.

He shoved the sword back in the locker moments after he saw it. He'll have to go get it later. Not a good idea to have a sword just lying around.

And none of it seems real. The fight, the sword shattering, and...

Dying.

Albert was crying, wasn't he?

The night before almost seemed ordinary, even while they prepared for the duel. They laughed and drank together, not so unlike this.

Franz catches Albert staring, and dabs his mouth with a napkin.]

I do believe that's the finest meal you've ever cooked for me.

Since it's the only one and all. [He grins cheekily.]

Yes, well. Don't go depending on it, I won't cook for you every meal!

[Though actually he would, if Franz asked him to. Albert may have gone through the many stages of grief after his friend's death, but the one thing he hasn't been able to move past is the guilt. The intense feeling that it's his fault his friend's life was cut so short, that he could have stopped it if he'd only listened, if he'd been a better friend...

That feeling hasn't gone away since Franz's arrival. If anything, it's intensified. Not that he particularly wants to talk about it... so if he's acting somewhat more kindly towards Franz in the last few hours than he has in the last few months of their life, he isn't going to mention it.]

Maybe you'll have to learn too.

I actually know how to cook a few things already. Though I don't know how I'll ever survive after knowing the perfection that is... this. [Franz gestures to the half-finished dish humorously.]

Oi oi! Is this how you treat your benevolent host now? I see how it is.

[He stands and takes his own plate in one hand and then Franz's in the other, so he can rinse them off.]

What? You don't believe that I've been overcome by your culinary talents? That I've been transported to an entirely new realm of flavor?

[Franz truly can't help egging Albert on. He ought to be kinder, since Albert is making such an effort to make him feel at home. But it's easier to behave like things are normal.

It's not that he's consciously avoiding being serious. Much.]

I believe I'm familiar enough with your brand of sarcasm to know it when I see it, you jerk.

[Cleaning up as he talks.]

You're just lucky I've got my hands full.

Or what? [Franz laughs. Goading Albert - even if it's going to get him mussed, and possibly covered with soapy water - feels good. Right. Normal.

He can't resist the temptation at the best of times, and this, frankly, is a bad time. It's good to be alive if it brings Albert comfort, but this situation has the potential to get bad very fast. It's difficult to relax here. He suspects any peace found on this ship would be an illusion.]

[It's always been easier for Albert than Franz to ignore that niggling voice in the back of his head that says something is wrong. This time is no exception. Maybe he'll address it later. But not now. Not yet.

He grins and turns around from where he's standing at the sink to flick the sodden washcloth he was using in Franz's direction.]

Or this! Soapy doom!

Ack! Have at you! [Franz flicks his napkin at Albert, lightly hitting him.]

[Laughter]

You'll never defeat me like that!

I'm only defending myself! [Franz snickers, ceasing his silly napkin assault.]

Hey, you started it!

[Everything washed and put away, Albert dries his hands and lets out a small "phew."]

... You know, I've never appreciated servants so much in my entire life until recently.

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i have just the icon for this

dfsldk franz what a cutie

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