eighteenth jump;

[mathematically]

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

[discretion]

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.]

[assumedposition]

[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!

[discretion]

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

[assumedposition]

[Laughter]

You'll never defeat me like that!

[discretion]

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

[assumedposition]

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.

[discretion]

Is it such a revelation that they weren't cleaning up after you because it was fun and easy?

[Franz leans on his elbow with his chin on his palm, smirking.]

[assumedposition]

What? No, I knew that...!

I just don't think I ever considered how much time and effort it takes to do everything by yourself, before.

[discretion]

There's a reason they're called chores, Albert. [Franz sighs, shaking his head.] An alarmingly large portion of Earth's population grows up doing them.

[Franz grew up in a modest household compared to Albert's, even while his father lived. When his father died, the estate started hemorrhaging money, a situation that was more or less beyond repair by the time Franz was old enough to partially take on baronial duties. They kept on the aging cook and butler mostly for his mother's sake and because their families had been associated for ears. That is why he knew how to cook and how to look after himself. It is not the sort of thing he speaks of Albert about, of course]

I'm really having fun imagining you ironing and patching up your clothes, though. Did you start any fires? Require any visits to the medbay?

[assumedposition]

Oi, stop mocking me, it's not funny... the first time I tried to use the washing machine was a disaster. [WATER EVERYWHERE.]

But that aside, I think I've been doing pretty well for myself, you know! No fires or injuries, at any rate. Oh-- well-- I have a couple of bruises from that whole incident with the pirates, but nothing requiring medical attention...

[discretion]

Incident with the pirates? There were pirates? [Franz sounds incredulous, near laughter, really. Mostly because he has no idea how else to react.] And that wasn't the first thing you told me about? [Maybe it's different because the Count wasn't here to save him, Franz thinks sourly.]

[assumedposition]

What? Well it's not like they're still a threat... they're gone now...

[discretion]

Still, it seems like the thing you'd want to tell me about first - stranded on a ship out in the middle of nowhere, and there are pirates! It sounds like something out of a novel. [Franz realizes his joke is in poor taste too quickly. Albert's craving for excitement and adventure might have landed them in the Count's lap. He's probably not quite as enthusiastic to be put in harm's way like he once was.]

[assumedposition]

[Maybe if things hadn't ended the way they did, Albert would have been excited to tell Franz all about it. But after the pirates had been captured, they had been brutally executed in cold blood without so much as a trial... and so the whole experience had left a sour taste in Albert's mouth to remember it.]

I suppose... I thought so too at first, but it was actually pretty dangerous. A lot of people actually ended up in the medbay, and there are a lot of women and children on this ship too.

1/2

[discretion]

I met a few. How are we supposed to protect all these people in a place like this? It's huge and sprawling, and everyone just sort of wanders around.

[Franz frowns. Really, all it takes to weigh down the tone of their conversation is to bring up basically any aspect of what's going on here on the ship.]

2/2

[discretion]

[And then a pause.] --Wait a second, did I just hear you say something mature? I feel like we should be having a toast or something!

[assumedposition]

Come off it, Franz! I've said plenty of mature things before now.

[The pout is perhaps just a tad exaggerated, but the point stands.]

[discretion]

You might have said one or two mature things, but balancing that against a life of boneheadedness... I think I still have the right to be surprised when you act grown-up.

[Franz is proud, but like hell he can say that.]

[assumedposition]

[And there might have been a time when Albert would've argued that, would have said he was already quite grown up, but... he knows different, now.]

... Well. I suppose it had to happen eventually.

[And that thought is too sobering, hits too close to the bone in light of the events following Franz's death. So he rushes on.]

Anyway. Enough about the pirates. I feel like the jump is catching up to me, so it might be time to turn in.

[discretion]

[Is there no way for them to speak without constantly touching these poisonous barbs of memory? Franz attempts another smile.]

Right. The last thing I want to do is deal with you when you're feeling tired. You're always such a whiner when you're ill. [Franz wonders if it's terribly obvious that he feels rotten too, has no appetite, no vigor.] Your place, then?

[assumedposition]

[Perhaps someday, when the trauma of the last few months has receded, things will be easier. But for right now, it's still too fresh, and Albert is loathe to talk about it. And it's kind of difficult to begin the healing process if you keep trying to ignore the wounds. Albert these days is not entirely unlike a man with a sprained ankle, insisting that he's fine and continuing to walk as normal because it's the only thing he knows how to do.]

Sure. It's not far from here. This floor, room number twenty-nine.

And that's hardly fair. I hardly ever get sick in comparison to you. I think I'm entitled to whine when I do.

[discretion]

That's probably because you've never stayed up all night studying.

[Franz says it gently, though. He sort of hates that he keeps being a little bit mean to Albert, he just doesn't know what else to say, how else to react. The atmosphere isn't the same, no matter how they try. He's supposed to be the strong and knowledgeable one, and here Albert is explaining everything to him.

Here's Albert being strong.

Without thinking, Franz takes Albert's arm while he follows.] Not far, then. Good.

[assumedposition]

[They walk in comfortable silence for a while then, Albert leading the way. Contrary to Franz's strange discomfort, Albert actually feels strangely okay with their sudden role-reversal. It actually feels good to be the one taking care of Franz, for a change. To be relied upon, instead of the one always relying on. It isn't the first time it's occurred to him since Franz's death that the balance of their relationship before was horribly uneven.]

... Here we go, then. Home sweet home, for now.

[And the door opens at Albert's touch.

If he had more belongings, the room would be an absolute mess. But as it is, it's mostly just kind of sparse with a few things scattered here and there. Albert's spare clothes lie slung over the top of the chest of drawers, his passport next to them, his pajamas disheveled on top of one of the beds, and a book from Jehan by the pillow.]

[discretion]

[The mess Albert's left is somehow comforting. Franz sees the extra clothes and makes a mental note to retrieve his other things from the locker. The other clothes, and the sword...]

Getting by without servants perfectly well, I see.

[Franz throws himself on the least-used bed, stretching out.]

Hmm... not bad.

[assumedposition]

[Albert shrugs.]

It's not like I have a lot to clean up. There almost doesn't seem any point in putting it away. I'm beginning to feel like one of those cartoon characters. You know-- the ones who wear the same clothes every episode? [He laughs and sits on his own bed opposite.]

Not bad, he says, as he makes himself at home.