ataraxionlogs | twenty-sixth 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: Your average, run-of-the-mill jump—except some characters don't seem to be waking up from stasis like they should.

Don't worry.

THEY NEEDED THE REST.

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

Yeah. So what're you yelling for then?

[Ellie doesn't have her knife on her and Katniss just looks like a stupid kid, but maybe change those variables around a bit and the proximity could merit a shanking. As it is, Ellie doesn't even take a full step out of the way, though she does take a second to tighten her towel around herself.

The implication in the statement (because it really is more that than a question) is clear enough: there's a lot of people here, potentially dangerous. Yelling about it ain't gonna do shit but get you in deeper trouble.]

So what's this person look like? Girl or dude?

He's not a girl.

[ because what's a dude. ]

He's about this height,

[ she gestures. ]

Blond, broad shoulders...

[ she trails off, because she's from a series without a lot of descriptors. besides, he's been on every television screen in panem. ]

Peeta Mellark? The victor from District Twelve?

[Wow, such help. Very informative. Ellie mentally runs through her mental database of 'blonde dudes she's seen on the comm.' There's more than a couple. Luckily that last part is weird enough that she can say for sure it doesn't ring any bells.]

Never heard of it. Or him either.

[--which is kind of shitty of her to say, she guesses. Ellie frowns at herself for a moment, mouth thin. She wrinkles her nose, then:] But it's a big ship. He might be here and just doesn't use the comm much.

You've never heard of Peeta Mellark and his star-crossed romance?

[ that last bit a little wryly. but she's genuinely surprised — everyone watched the hunger games, it was mandatory in the districts. everyone knew her name. but maybe — she's young, and doesn't look capitol, maybe she got away with skipping it, like katniss used to let prim. ]

He'd probably be grateful if he knew.

[ not really, peeta was good at being famous. she's grateful, because the girl hasn't recognized her, either, and it's not because of the blue goo. but it's an inconvenience, too. ]

I have to find him. And fast. If you help me, I can help you, after.

[Ellie makes a face, unimpressed. Maybe even a little offended.] I don't need your help. [But whatever.] --Fine. Look. Maybe start with this.

[She catches a towel from a nearby rack and throws it at the girl, tightening her own around her slight frame.]

What's your number? If he came here this round then I guess he might be near your locker.

[ katniss catches the towel out of the air and wraps herself up in it. ]

My number?

[ she asks, but then remembers: the tattoo where her tracker is. she looks down at her arm, grimaces at the reminder of being marked. ]

Twenty-seven, twelve.

[ twelve, like her district. curious, she looks at the girl. ]

What's yours?

Twenty-four, twenty-seven.

[Her hand skirts briefly to her arm though, clamping momentarily over a patch of skin near the tattoo. It's not the number - because if she cared, she sure as shit wouldn't say anything -, but it's the bite: the scarring on her arm and the lumpy growth of tissue there.

Which is stupid to do. It's more tell than anything given that a moment later Ellie drops her hand away, turning quickly in the direction of the lockers.]

Come on. If he's anywhere, it's over here.

[ katniss follows, but her sharp eyes had caught that movement, and she can't help but ask about it. ]

Do you have a chip?

[ because that's her first assumption. mostly because she's got it on the brain. ]

A tracking chip?

[That gets a sidelong glance and a clear expression of 'What're you, nuts?']

Uh, no? Not as far as I know anyway. And I'm pretty sure someone would've mentioned shit like that. They're pretty loud about all the other weird crap.

[Cause that's fucked up bro.]

But your arm...

[ katniss feels out the place under her own skin where she can still feel the hard chip settled against her pulse. she's not crazy ok!!! ]

Do you want to find your friend or not?

[She fixes the girl with a glare, skipping past the showers--] You'll want to go there to get all this shit off you though. [--and heading straight to the lockers. It takes a few minutes, but eventually she finds the right row and motions down it.]

Your locker's number twelve here. If your friend came this jump, he'll figure this shit out eventually and come find his.

Okay.

[ it seems pretty straight-forward. she can hear the soft shushing noise of water on tile, and a shower sounds really good right now. and a locker might mean weapons so she'll try that first. ]

Thanks.

[ she's not really sure what to do with someone so small and aggressively foul-mouthed, but she means it. ]

[Which earns her nothing more than a simple shrug and a terse little frown - though it's not really directed at her so much as it is something private, something just for Ellie. She probably shouldn't be doing any of this shit (just like the ship is probably dangerous apparently, and the people here could probably kill her in her sleep if they wanted to).

So yeah: shrug.]

Sure. Good luck finding your friend.

[And she goes so far as to give the girl a thumbs up.]

twenty-sixth jump;

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