twenty-sixth jump;

[ataraxites]

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.

Comments

[striking]

That's a clever ally, then. Better than a person.

[ katniss' body language turns far less aggressive, hands turned palm out, weight leant back on her heels like she's considering leaving. ]

Must be hard to feed both of you.

[wolfchild]

[ it soothes some of arya's ruffled feathers. nymeria is better than a person. all the direwolves are. ]

There's not much hunting to be done here— [ none if she were being absolutely honest ] —but there's plenty of food.

[ she will grant the stupid ship that much. ]

[striking]

No hunting.

[ it's flat, annoyed, though not at arya. ]

That's all I'm good at.

[ she explains after a moment. an abundance of food is all well and good, but katniss still doesn't like it when it just comes from nowhere with no work put into it. ]

[wolfchild]

[ she lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. ]

There are animals in the gardens, but they're not to be touched. People get angry if you do.

[striking]

People get angry about a lot of things.

[ katniss practically mimics the movement. considering she wasn't supposed to hunt back home, either, restrictions don't really bother her. what they don't know won't hurt them. ]

[wolfchild]

[ she'll learn quick enough. until she does— ] Don't hunt the direwolves. They're all ours.

[striking]

I wouldn't.

[ she looks at the wolf, and maybe her quick protest could be mistaken for some kind of awe for the animal, and while that's not entirely untrue, she kind of ruins it with her practicality. ]

Carnivores aren't good meat.

[wolfchild]

[ it's an answer she can accept. ]

Long as you know. Come on, Nymeria.

[ she leads her off to the showers to get clean. ]