twenty-eighth 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: It could just be the standard sensation of air on wet skin, but if you bother to check, you might notice the steam rising from your body, barely there and gone within a minute. By the time you get to the showers, it will be clear that it's not just taking you time to adjust. The room is cold — colder than usual, but no worse than the last jump. While it's nothing dangerous, it's certainly motivation to hurry through the usual routine and get dressed quickly.



It's getting closer.




YOUR EYES ARE OPEN.

KEEP LOOKING.

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

elena michaels | pods/showers | ota

[ensnarled]

[ from the moment her knees knock into the metal tiles of the floor, it becomes all too much. she does her best to breathe through it, cold and inwardly panicked, but whatever trepidation she possess is replaced by wrath and irritation in an instant as she gathers herself and rises to her feet.

but it's still too much; each voice feels like it's hammering at her head as she tries to hone in on any conversation she can through the stream of voices, but the sound creates more overwhelmingly loud white noise, almost like static, than anything else. the scents in the air are worse, no trace of anything familiar among them; the combination is reminiscent of each awkward elevator ride she's ever experienced with each powerful note of perfume or cologne on every individual creating a truly nauseating odor, but this stems beyond that — hints of shampoo, soap, sweat and blue goo mingling unpleasantly.

she doesn't puke, through some minor miracle, but her already short supply of patience is dwindling considerably. she moves with haste through the crowd as individuals file toward the showers, hand rising to rub at the side of her forehead as though a simple massage will urge the oncoming migraine to dissipate, but luck isn't on her side when she comes to a blockade in the form of a person.

to her credit, she doesn't shove them aside, even if the urge is there. ]

Move.

[ it's lacking any of the usual venom it would have, voice hoarse and raspy from exhaustion, but it's still not an 'excuse me'. hey, she tried. ]

hello

[wolfinthesnow]

[Jon is quite used to this by now. It's been almost two years, by his count, so he simply showers and goes, and does not look at anyone else. Nudity does not bother him so easily, not even when it's women, as long as he keeps his eyes on their faces.

He is almost clean when he hears move, and he turns just as Ghost, enormous and still covered in goo, pads into the shower. He is full grown now, and large as a horse, and he shakes covering both him and the woman in the blue fluid once more.]

Ghost.

[But the direwolf is focused on the woman, legs stiff and he moves between her and Jon.]

Tauriel | ota

[woodlander]

Showers / Lockers

[ It is hard to believe that she has been here a month. When consciousness returns she rushes to the showers, desperate to remove the blue residue from her skin. Last month she had been so concerned about someone seeing her, but it is difficult to care about that now. Her mind is too focused on those crewmembers who had been left trapped in the Bridge. What had been their fate? She must find out. The guilt of leaving them still weighs on her, a heavy burden to bear.

She finds her locker as quickly as she ca, dressing in her own green and brown uniform instead of the blue garb that the ship leaves for her. When her weapons are gathered - arrows, her long knives, and a bow - she moves through the gathered crowd, searching to see if those poor souls have made it here. ]

Gardens

[ Later, when she has discovered all she can, Tauriel returns to the warmth of the gardens. More comfortable here than in any other place, she has made the gardens her home and no longer even visits the room she was assigned. She could never feel at home there, but here...

Here she has more hope of that. Though she has had little cause to use them yet, she sits surrounded by cleaned lengths of wood, while her knife whittles them into arrows. The danger of this place has been made very clear to her, and she will not be caught unawares by it. ]

gardens

[summerlord]

[There's a certain sense of peace in the gardens that Elrond far prefers over the artificially sleek corridors. He does visit the room assigned to him -- it's good to have a place to one's self, even if it is stark and lifeless -- but the majority of his time is spent between the gardens and Medbay. It's the gardens he visits after a jump.

He comes upon her as she is working on her arrows and quietly stands near a tree opposite her. He will wait for her to acknowledge his presence before he speaks. He has not met her, but he has heard of her; it's time to make her acquaintance.]

Miles Edgeworth, OTA

[jurisimpudent]

A: Pods
[There is time between the jumps, large spans of time, perhaps months. And so that Edgeworth's first thought when he comes out of stasis, retching and ill on the floor: that they have been dead, now, for months; that is has been months since he failed; and yet that the agony of it is fresh, like it was but minutes ago.

He did some damage to himself on the bridge. He knows that. There's a blossom of red in the white of his eye, an artifact of a burst blood vessel, and his head feels as though it's being split apart with the force of his headache. He ought to see a doctor. And he ought to find Pess, and he ought to find Tyke and report in to her to find out what would be done to keep order in the wake of all of this, and he ought to find that idiot girl Dana to make sure she isn't going to take her own life now like he so brashly, foolishly told her to, and he ought to do a hundred things.

But at the moment, all he has the wherewithal to do is find a towel, and wrap it about himself, and find a corner to shove himself into so that he can just stare down at his hands and think about what they lost.]

B: Lockers
[He doesn't know what he feels, that they all survived. It ought to be joy; he knows that. A more reasonable person would be jumping up and down and hooting and celebrating, joyful to have them back. But, God, he just feels shell-shocked and ill. He is glad, yes, but the terror and misery and sorrow of the past week isn't just wiped out by their return. He feels shaken, upset, happy - yes - afraid -

Once he's dressed, he just drags a hand through his wet hair, and takes a breath, and steadies himself a few minutes by holding onto the metal tightly.]

lockers

[redheaded_rock]

[She catches up to him at the lockers. Her hair is wet and messy, jacket thrown over her arm, and she's looking stressed.]

Hey.

charles xavier. pods, lockers; ota.

[forgodssake]

PODS (OTA);

[ If it's any consolation, Charles Xavier is as surprised that he's here as any of you.

More shocking, almost, than that first jump, when sensory overload had rendered him mute and he'd been processing the fact he could move his legs. Now, he's staggered to collapse on all fours, gasping hard enough to brush uncomfortably close to retching, hot tears that are far more to do with physiological shock and adrenaline than saccharine relief to be alive, to be honest, complex emotion stumbling to catch up with visceral reaction. He is dressed like he'd had mere seconds to live before jumping into stasis -- no time to strip down, he wears the shirt and slacks and shoes he'd gone in with, now plastered with viscous blue and dripping.

He tips over like a sick dog, onto his side, rolling onto his back. Breathing. As if the panic that had been the blurry sprint through the halls had somehow carried over through stasis to emerge again as giddiness, ramping up anew. Holy god. He almost laughs. Kind of does. Perhaps he is found there.

Beyond the pods, there are people he has to find too, and he wanders through a crowd in pursuit of them, moving a little like a he'd stepped off a battlefield. ]

LOCKERS (OTA);

[ The high has worn off.

Charles has abandoned his ruined clothing since showering, dressed now in Tranquility issued uniform. His hair is wet and slicked back from his face, and he has yet to shave -- bristled brown shadows his jaw and throat, lends a little age to an otherwise soft and tidy face. Shadows have returned to his eyes.

He sits in the locker room, waiting to meet others he has not yet found, elbows on knees and hands folded together.

Collecting himself. Processing. Subdued. ]

[mindtricks]

[ by the time she sees him, he is standing and not quite laughing but something close to it, his mind giddy and disbelieving — and it's a rush of relief that comes with questions. did they all survive? how did they get out?

anderson moves towards him.

it'll mean erik will not go entirely and unpredictably mad, she thinks. for all that they have differences, there is a dependency there that anderson has yet to untangle, one that she isn't so certain she wants to touch or look at too closely.

for now, it's just good to see him alive.

she stops in front of him, an aborted movement born from the urge to hug curbed by instinct and training and the blue goo dripping from him. ( that, more than her own state of undress, is noted. ) ]

Charles.

Nathan Petrelli - Heroes - OTA

[cargojet]

1. [ He was running, still running, all through stasis. They'd just made it, and Nathan hadn't even had time to absorb the fact that they were still alive, or why. It had just been hell for leather, a chase from one side to the ship to tumble into their pods. He'd burst out of the pod with the same breathless urgency, the rush of pounding fear and terror, more adrenaline that he'd felt in his life, and all that he could do was fall down, at last, beside his pod, all his energy drained away.

His head dropped back, settling against alien steel and glass, and the room kept spinning, spinning, but his heart beat, and the roar in his head finally finally subsided.

Oh god, but he was alive. Let him just sit here for a while. ]


2. [ Nobody had told him that surviving the bridge incident would make him such a damn pariah. There was a reason why captains went down with their ships when they made mistakes, and if he'd had any sense he'd have stayed outside the pods and let everyone survive but him. It wouldn't be noble so much as smart, because surviving...surviving wasn't smart. Surviving meant questions. It meant being the focus of other people's rage and relief, and it was more than he could deal with right now, exhausted as he was. He wanted to fall into his bed and sleep for days, not get up and do it all - do all this - again.

Waking, showering, dozing through his life day after day after day. It was what had driven him to action: and here it was again as though he'd never left. Disappointment and relief went hand in hand. Frustration bubbled up brighter. All of that, insanity and almost dying and they were here again. But now there was a whisper, a promise of immortality. It had let them go.

The water was a balm to his nerves. To tell the truth he didn't want to leave at all. It was cold out in the medical bay, but the water was warm, refreshing, washing away the dust that had layered up on everything on the bridge, including them, washing away the stasis fluid that had turned it into a thick, adhering grime, washing away the shame that he hadn't been able to free them from their prison. A little peace before he went back out there to face the music. ]


3. [ There was nothing Nathan wanted less than to put on his clothes again, clothes that felt like they were still heavy with the sickness that the bridge had brought to them. They'd lay there beside his pod for god only knew how long. No. No, he wasn't going to put them back on. He'd trudge up through the icy corridors wrapped in towels if he had to, but those clothes were done. He wasn't going to put them on ever again if he could help it. He'd take up naturism first.

Wrapped in towels, shoulders squared, Nathan made the slow march through the locker room, heading straight for the queue. He'd sleep in his lovely locked room on level six--sleep for as long as he could get away with it, and nobody would be able to disturb him until he was good and ready.

No more. He'd had enough of people already, his face hurt, his body ached. He'd just had enough. They could line up to punch him again later. ]

[chuffle]

[She's furious, then.

It's hard for her not to give into her rage, and to be honest, Nathan is probably not the source of it, but if questioned later she will never admit to it. But she's just showered when she sees him coming out, and the rage wants an outlet.

She doesn't really think about Jax, although Jax is part of it. Jax, who is one of the few that she would call a friend, but also the arrogance of a human who doesn't know when to stop.

So she gives into that rage, into that feeling of destruction, before the shift takes over, and walks over to him, grabs him by the shoulder, and pops him one on the face.]

You fucking arrogant shithead-

[That's all he gets, though her eyes flash a bright amber for a fraction of a second.]

jax teller | closed to tara + ota.

[kutte]

( PODS | CLOSED TO TARA )

[ for a little while there, jax had sincerely thought he was going to die. he'd thought it was over, and he'd raged against it, but the doors hadn't given an inch and--

and then they had.

he'd never run so hard in his life, slamming into his pod just in time. there hadn't been time for relief before the pod closed around him, so it washes over him now. the adrenaline makes his hands shake, makes him sink down on the floor next to the pod to take a deep breath, rub a hand over his face to remove the excess goo. he's alive.

he's alive, and tara's going to kill him. that registers very clearly. and speaking of-- ]

Tara?

[ trying to pull himself up, stand upright. the clothes he'd yanked off were soaked, piled wetly on top of chris's gun. he tries for composure, though it doesn't quite take. ]

( LOCKERS | OTA )

[ there's not really a point in going to his locker. jax is still soaked, a towel clutched around his waist and another slung around his shoulder. he has his clothes clutched in his hand, chris's gun in the other. everything still feels faintly unreal, like he's dreaming, like he can't quite believe he's here.

when he yanks open his locker, he just sighs. he recognizes the guns within, sets chris's down to pick up his own. these are all his, except for the tech-9's, and he realizes it's a good thing to have, but there's not a single hint of-- ]

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

[ not a single box of ammunition. not a round in the chamber, nothing. jax has to laugh, hand pressed against his mouth, to tamp down the immediate, furious anger, the need to lash out and hit something. guns and no ammo. this ship had a sick sense of humor. ]

[mindtricks]

[ she saw charles first, so she knows that they made it out with barely any time to spare — but charles hadn't been sure that everyone had made it and so a thread of worry had remained. but — jax is there, laughing and angry at the same time. it's definitely his mind and it's definitely him and anderson allows herself a moment of sheer relief.

it's dizzying and stays still until it dissipates, until the relief has settled, only then she squares her shoulders and steps closer. ]

Jax. [ not jackson, not teller — ]

AM | OTA

[godofthemachine]

Pods

The room was cold. It was cold last jump and it's cold again. The temperature of the ship has gone all over the place, and yet this one room has remained consistently cold. Leaving the warmth of the pod was like leaving the comfort of the womb - not that AM would ever know what that felt like. But it was uncomfortable to step into the coldness whilst completely naked, and he could feel goosebumps pop up on his arms. Was this temperature change a permanent fixture of the ship now? How lovely. How much worse was it going to get? The ship was alive and it was screwing with all of them, just as AM once did with his human pets. Having been in that position, he knew how to identify it.

Speaking of the sentient ship, those fools who declared mutiny must have been dead now. Crushed by the jump. The thought both amuses and frustrates AM, because it seemed like their options for controlling the ship were running out. Of course, storming the bridge like those fools had done was a stupid move, and it should have been done more stealthily if they wanted any hope of succeeding - so he's amused that they met their deserved fate. But frustrated that he could have been one of them. Had AM decided to go along with that pathetic mutiny, he would be dead. Gone. A horrible thought.

Immediately he wrapped a towel around himself to alleviate the coldness, but he was a bit slower in his movements than usual. He tried to look around for any of the people who stormed the bridge. While he was certain they were dead, there was a pang of doubt in his mind.

Lockers

It was warmer now that he put his jumpsuit on, though his dripping wet hair made him shiver a bit. Good thing he had stuffed a jacket in his locker this time just in case the coldness didn't go away. How strange that AM had gone so long without any other clothes than the jumpsuit, but only a few short months ago he was finally able to grab a couple spare outfits from that horrible luxury ship. But the brown leather jacket he slipped on certainly helped him warm up.

AM is more curious about people this jump. His eyes scan the area, looking for anyone interesting, observing the people and silently judging them. If anyone catches his eye for whatever reason, he will watch them for a bit, attempting to sum them up in his head. So any passersby might get the uncomfortable sensation of someone watching them.

u___u

[wheeloffire]

The odd little thing tells him to find the blue lift.

It's hard for him to find it, though. There's so many big folk moving around, and he's not at all familiar with the place. Frodo can feel himself retracting into himself, like a turtle to his shell. The crowd is starting to dwindle, and he would much rather leave soon, rather than wander around with no one to guide him.

There was a stranger nearby who seemed to be searching for something of his own. Frodo started to approach him, trying to ignore how unpleasant he seemed at a first glance. Never judge a book by its cover.

"Excuse me. I am trying to find my way to the blue lifts. Could you help me?"

Katherine Pierce | OTA

[outliver]

[Showers]

[ Okay, this is was seriously not part of the plan.

Get Elena's body?
Check.
Make sure Elena never resurfaces?
Check.
Destroy Damon for funsies?
Check.
Win Stefan back?
WIP.
Ending up in a completely gross tube naked, and then crawl out to some showers in the middle of the cold? Had she missed an episode or something?
No, seriously no.

Had Elena resurfaced anyway and got herself in some stupid situation, as she usually did? It didn't seem that way, and Katherine was not going to entertain the thought of losing everything she had just gained, so she just showered as fast as she could, trying to avoid people in general. There was talking around her though, and the moment she stopped freaking out the words started to make sense. Abduction, time travel. Space? This was beyond stupid. ]

[Lockers]

God bless for adequate clothing.

[ There was her uniform, and there were her clothes. She didn't even need to think about it. Still, she might need the uniform later on, who knew? Katherine had kept an ear on the ongoing conversations; lots of useless crap about people's life she honestly didn't care about, but more talk about time travel and being trapped. She didn't like it one bit. Better find some answers right away. ]

lockers.

[skjalf]

[ beyond stupid, and unnatural. add that word to the list, katherine. her throat still feels raw from that tube someone had shoved down it. whoever has done this to so many people really should end up in the tower.

except they're in space, and elizabeth has no idea just how far away it or the year she knows to be the current one really are. all she knows is that there is a young woman here who appears to be her age, and might be able to help her, god willing.

if she can find her bloody clothes and get out of this towel, she will feel a whole lot better. so clearly the best idea is to ask. politely. ]

Excuse me, madam. [ she gives an incline of her head. ] Would you be able to assist me in finding my clothing, as well?

[ she has no idea just how wrong of a person this is to ask. or that there is a chance that she might recognize her. ]

Lúthien | some ota and some closed

[fertilefeet]

[Pods - ota]

[The pod deposits her on the floor and she doesn't quite fall this time but she doesn't land so gracefully as others are able. It's not much better than the last (and her first) jump but at least this time her mind and memories aren't fuzzy. And she doesn't believe that she needs escorting this time. The same basic idea this time: keep her face hidden, move quickly and head to the garden. Simple enough.

This time though, she was determined not to be rushing straight to her locker and covering her clothes with blue goo.]

[Showers - Jack Harkness]

[Lúthien goes quickly to the showers, rinses herself off rather than fully cleaning the goo (anything left she can clean off in the gardens) but she makes sure it get it all out of her hair. With a towel wrapped around herself, hair dripping on the floor, she leaves the showers quickly and glances around in the hopes of going unnoticed by certain parties.

She's looking in another direction when she steps right into someone and stumbles, a faint cry escaping her. She grips her towel tightly so it doesn't fall and turns to look at who it is, quickly muttering:]

Forgive me.

[Lockers - Morgoth]

[She's practically running to her locker, head partway down so her hair would cover her face but enough that she could still check the lockers and find the one marked with her number. And that wasn't difficult, she could remember where it was from the last jump when Legolas had helped her and escorted her safely.

Lúthien pulls her belongings out quickly, determined to get dressed and get out as quickly as possible. And still she keeps her head down, not saying a word to any others unless she needs to, carefully peeking through her curtain of hair to make sure who was around her.]

[Gardens - ota]

[The gardens are peaceful and quiet and a welcome reprieve from her encounter at the lockers. Her hands are still shaking and she can't quite bring herself to sing yet but at least here she knows she's safe, sitting by the flowers she'd encouraged to bloom during the last jump. And she has her kin nearby if she needs them.]

Re: Lúthien | some ota and some closed

[morgoth]

[ It's from behind her that Melkor's shadow falls; already showered, neatly dressed in a fresh jumpsuit, the chain slung over one of his shoulders and a strange bit of metal tucked under one of his arms.

But she can feel the darkness of his mind, seeking out hers, sharp and hard as a whiplash against her own spirit, and like a wolf who has come upon easy prey, he bears down upon her. Tangles his hand in her hair, where the bottom of her skull meets her neck, and uses all his fearsome strength as leverage to pin her body up against the metal of the locker, her clothing only half-done about her lean body. His lips are peeled back from his teeth, bared like beast's. ]

I heard your voice, in the last minutes before we had to flood the medbay like rats seeking safe haven from a flood. Heard your dirge for the dying, heard the familiar timbre and warbling notes, not so different from those you'd sung to me in MY OWN HALL!

claire bennet | ota

[pushfall]

lockers & beyond.

The breathing tube is no trouble, uncomfortable and cloying but hardly the worst thing that she's ever spit out and decidedly less metallic than the handful of bullets she's dealt with in the past. Whatever liquid she's been submerged in is unwelcome and unfamiliar, smells strange and leaves her skin cool and cooler when she's deposited on the floor of the bay, but she deals with it, shrugs it off without saying a word for as long as it takes her to reach her locker, running her fingers over the strange numbers inked into her skin. A brand. A mark of recognition. Claire has to stop herself from thinking about it too hard, giving herself time to regroup before she actively needs to consider the weight of what it is she might have done.

While she might not be necessarily inclined to do so, she is perfectly capable of falling into step and keeping her head down. Confusion and the potential threat that wants to bang at the edges of her consciousness are kept at bay in the interest of self-preservation. Thought doesn't come quickly, at least not at first, for as much as she wills it not too, memory slow to catch up in the same respect with everything that's pulsating all around. Chatter. Fear. Everything hanging heavy with tension. Claire doesn't say anything.

Even waking up from death the couple of times that she's had to do it never left any lasting consequences of this caliber. They certainly never produced any hallucinations or lapses in time that would explain any of this in a logical way. The only explanation is the very real and very tangible metal underneath her fingers and the looming possibilities she's actively choosing not to face. My name is Claire Bennet, she thinks, taking a deep breath as the locker comes open under her hand and she chooses the jumpsuit over her immediate belongings, save for the jewelry, which she puts back on in the interest of not losing it. Stay focused, she thinks, figure it out, staring down at the number on her arm and trying half-heartedly to wipe it away with the swipe of her thumb.

[boogiewoogiebugleboy]

[He has a towel.

No, really. That's what he's got, a towel. He's already dressed and showered, his pod opened earlier than hers, and he was heading back when he saw her pod open and well. It's just polite. To hand her a towel, and look away.]

Uh.

Hi.

Haymitch Abernathy | OTA

[killarevolution]

[So he survived.

Barely.

Haymitch doesn't have a lot of concrete memories after a certain point on the bridge. It was a haze of alcohol withdrawal and detoxing and wishing someone would have had the mind to put him out of his misery.

But here he is. The odds were in his favor after all.

For a lumbering drunkard with shaking hands and a headache that goes far behind the post-jump blues, he's fast. He's also anxious to put as much distance between himself and other people as fast as he can. A quick shower that he ends up on the floor for most of, and then he's at his locker, yanking on his clothes. The buttons on his shirt are all lopsided, but he gets that far, anyway.

Following that, he pulls his flask out of the locker and goes for a swig, only to find it empty. Agitated, he hurls it across the room with a growl of rage. The odds might be in his favor, but luck isn't on his side.]

[mathematically]

[ The way it goes is this, Lydia sees Haymitch after she's fully dressed, just a flash of him, and she thinks that he's either a hallucination or he's the real thing. She thinks briefly, if he is the real thing, he hasn't been drinking since they went to the bridge, so she decides maybe she ought to swing up to the first floor and sneak some before she comes back—

and is almost hit by that fucking flying flask. Oh you asshole. She's not even going to feel bad for the half-shouting she's doing. ]

I decide to be nice and bring you something to drink even though you almost got yourself killed and you have the gall to throw your flask at me? [ By the time she's done she's right in front of him and she has a bottle of something and the most pissed off look on her face. ] You are such an idiot.

[ And then she hands over the bottle and— hits Haymitch in the chest half annoyed and half really relieved. ]

Sam Winchester | Supernatural

[avengeful]

PODS | CLOSED TO DEAN & CAS (& MAYBE A DOCTOR)

[For once, maybe, Sam should be happy his brother is a lingering overprotective brother who likes to make sure Sam's popping out of the pod in one piece. Not that he can really think much on why he's in space right now; the last image he had was his brothers blurry face close to his, looking troubled, mouth moving despite the fact that Sam couldn't hear anything he was saying. He wasn't in pain, though. Not anymore. Wasn't in pain until his eyes snapped open in his stasis pod. He jerks frantically in the goo, forgets what it is or how he got here, and pain bursts through him like a gunshot blast.

Blood mixes in the blue-tinted liquid until he's dumped out unceremoniously in nothing but the standard undergarments. Instantly, something warm pours over his back and the air smells like iron, and he realizes belatedly that he'd just -- been stabbed. He's stabbed. He's bleeding, and Jake had twisted the knife, and -- and he was dying, and Dean was patting at his hair and face and he couldn't even really feel it. He tastes the tang of blood in his mouth and coughs against it in his throat, flecks of blood hitting his hand and forearm as he struggles to move.

He can still move his legs a little now. Spine must be intact. But it's all still pumping out of him freshly and he's already seeing black at the corners of his eyes. Focus, Sam. This place -- it's a spaceship. How does he know that? It's all familiar and coming back to him in-between strangled breaths of pain.]

MED BAY | OPEN TO ALL

[So. Not dead. Castiel is really fucking handy, let him just say.

But he's still got a hole in his back that needed stitches, still needs a few pints of blood poured back into his veins, so he's taking the time to lay in the medbay on his side in an attempt to get a little rest. The events of home make him anxious, twitchy, and he tries to piece together how it had come to that. The memory of Ava's neck snapping, Andy's corpse, Yellow Eyes showing him his mother... it's a lot to take in for the few nights it had happened.

Cold Oak is burning fresh in his mind. And he's got plenty of time to dwell.

And maybe pilfer more sleeping pills when he gets out of here.]

[faithlessly]

[ it's the same as always; he crawls out of the pod, takes a moment or two to not throw up all over the place thanks to the tube jammed down his throat during the jump, gets up and finds a shower, and then gets dressed before venturing about to make sure everyone he cares about -- sam, jo, cas, charlie -- are all still there and okay.

he doesn't get far with that part of his routine, not when he finds sam out of his pod and bleeding furiously all over the slick floor, blood gushing out in a way dean only remembers ever happening once before--

it stops him short for a moment, dread filling up icy cold and fast, freezing him to the spot for a mere half second. he's had nightmares of sam disappearing again, only to be found dead after a jump. of sam running off into the halls never to come back and dean left wondering where how why like the firs time. he's played out a lot of scenarios despite trying not to, most ending with blood and death-- but this. this is a memory from home he never thought for some reason would follow him here-- follow sam here. all this time though, he should have know it might come up. ]

Sam--

[ dean's there a second later, hands on his brother to steady him, to-- something. but blood is pouring out in quantities that can't be normal, and he's not-- he doesn't know what to do.

one hand comes to the side of sam's face, to get focus, to get some kind of recognition that he's not too late yet, the other sliding over the wound in a pathetic attempt to stop it from bleeding. ]

Shit, shit-- I got you, okay, just-- hold on. Stay with me. [ he'll fix this, somehow, he'll fix it--

his voice cracks a fraction as he whips his head, looking for something, someone who can do something, who can fix his brother from bleeding all over the floor. it's also in that second he calls out just as he's done a hundred times back home, screams his thoughts in one general angel's direction in the only way he knows that might help.

cas-- ]

Cas, I need you to-- get here right now.

TAKESHI | LOCKERS | OTA

[throwsdown]

[Takeshi got something new in his locker from the ship!

Wow, amazing, so cool!

It's a poster or something, so he unravels it out in one big swoosh like he's getting the dust out of a rug. And what does it look like? It looks like --



......

NOPE FUCK THAT.

With a surprised cry, he throws the embroidered thing the instant the face reveals itself, and then a very loud metallic echo rings out in the locker rooms as Takeshi PUNCHES THE SIX-FOOT CLOTH CREATION INTO THE LOCKERS WITH ALL HIS MIGHT. So he kind of ends up denting in his locker and a few around it like a lovely five-foot by five-foot intense crater. And then he stands there panting, in a fighting pose, staring at a painting with the face sort of... punched out... It's kind of stuck in the metal and hanging awkwardly there, rustling a little from the vent above.

Awkward silence.]

dang this kid is a handful

[sweetmotherofgod]

[Heather's just moseying along here. Once she's clean and dressed the cold isn't too much of a pain (not now she's expanded her wardrobe to include sleeves, at least) and last time around she was in such a rush to get out of there she missed the return of somebody she knew and cared about.

Wouldn't it be funny if that happened again?

The stroll doesn't last. The moment she hears Takeshi yell she breaks into a dead sprint, yells his name - she's coming, kiddo - and skids to a halt at his side, ready to...

...stand there...

looking perplexed. It's not so much that she doesn't notice the thing, just that she doesn't get the relevance.]

Uh. Takeshi? What're we killing?

Lockers

[elvenking]

[By now it is clear that those who were trapped on the bridge have made it to their pods in time. Thranduil expects they, as much as he, would like to pretend nothing happened for now. So he doesn't seek out Nathan. He knows he's alive. He sees him just as he sees everyone else.

He is mute when he dresses himself and braids his hair and sits down for a moment on a bench. In the end, it had undoubtedly been the ship letting them go. Teaching them a lesson, like any other captor.]

[allbloodyhail]

[ uncharacteristically quiet, spike moves to sit by him on the bench. izzie sits by them and gives out a doggy groan before stretching out on the floor. the brothers grim are off somewhere and spike really doesn't want to catch up with them anyway. ]

Why so glum, chum? [ it's weak, but it's all he's got atm. ]

abed nadir | ota

[coolcubed]

[ ...okay, on the list of things in life that Abed couldn't anticipate, he's prepared to go ahead and call this number one once his head's cleared up a little bit. It could almost be a Dreamatorium simulation gone wrong, with the exception of literally everything being unfamiliar and unplanned. Easy come, easy go. For a few minutes, he's too muddled to think about it further than noticing how muddled he is and thinking that his dad would probably be really mad if he saw the tattoo.

Once he's at least sorted out enough to stand up and walk a straight line, he joins the shuffle of the crowd towards the showers, and everything he has from the pod bay to the locker room is bodily throw into containing and categorizing. There's a place on the genre spectrum for everything. He'll be calmer once he has it narrowed down. This is clearly sci-fi, and if the snatches of conversation he overhears are anything to go by, he's directing his prognosis into Space Thriller. Ridley Scott territory. Matrix territory, even. He can do Neo. Keanu Reeves has a robotic, emotionless approach to most of his recent work that Abed is naturally compatible with.

The unexpected element hits Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy standards, but it's pretty obvious that the lighthearted, comedic yet heartfelt air of that movie (and of Greendale Community College, and the study group) is long gone. It's not ideal. They only just got Troy back and re-bonded as a group in time for a finale wrap-up. But a person hardly gets to choose their solo circumstances. It's usually some kind of opportunity to leave, like going to Paris for two years to work in fashion, or graduating from high school and going to college, or the war in Korea ending after 11 years and going home to AFTERM*A*S*H. One of those things that's sort of a choice, but everybody really knows that the person's going to make the choice for the entire episode. You get written out and nothing is voluntary.

This is apparently one of those times. Severely so.

When he's not righting his perception of the world into something he can generally handle, Abed is observing his fellow passengers with all the subtlety of a WWE wrestler. He's always sort of done that, though. The Tranquility is clearly going to be another challenge in learning ongoing subplots and points of interest for him, which is probably okay. Actually, it's really cool. All he needs is for a Cougar Town regular to show up.

Or one of his friends. He'll have to figure out how long is long enough before a cameo is a possibility- he misses them. They're also a lot better at making connections with other people, and he'd rather let them do most of that work eventually.

Considering he just woke up slime-covered with a bunch of other naked people and basically group showered with them, Abed isn't really too fussy about getting dressed in the locker room (cool ship uniform jumpsuit? that's a cool bonus). There's a point where a person just has to be logical about the modesty business, and this is that point. Anyway, he can't say he actually really had the frame of mind to care about people being naked, so it might be safe to say that it was the same the other way around. Maybe not. He's misread things before. But it's still a little late for worrying.

His locker has chapstick, a grappling hook, a felt goatee, and a handmade friendship magazine, for any onlookers. He takes the chapstick and the grappling hook. But the goatee and the magazine kind of balance each other out, so he leaves them behind for now. Better to get things figured out before dragging either of them off into potential space firefights or whatever lies in store. But hey there, you near the locker area. Yes, you. Whoever you are. Abed has possibly not even looked in that direction yet, being preoccupied with wrapping the rope of his grappling hook up properly. ]

So I'm pretty sure I missed out on a red pill, blue pill question at some point? I can still work with this, but it's a disappointing way to flip genres. Things are a little easier to swallow when you get to make a big life-changing decision to go off into the unknown instead of waking up in the middle of it. And when you actually understand exactly what's going on. None of the technology in my reality is actually this advanced yet, so I have to assume this is alien abduction until further notice. Which I thought might happen eventually, but I was kind of hoping it could wait until I got out of college. [ Are you generally not supposed to casually chatter at strangers fresh out of a sci-fi stasis pod? Because he has successfully never learned that lesson in his lifetime. ]

((and for safety's sake, i'll offer a link to his fourth wall permissions post, whoop.))

[onsilksheets]

[It took her a few moments to register that someone was speaking, and since there wasn't anyone else in the room, Bela assumed that they were addressing her. She looks from the grappling hook to him, and then back to the hook before her gaze settles on his face. It's not the strangest thing that Bela has ever seen in her life but it raises a lot of questions.

For one thing, he doesn't seem to be freaking out.

She also learns that he talks really fast and has clearly been thinking about the situation that he has found himself in. Bela waits until he was finished with his spiel before answering his query like she had done so many times before.]

It isn't an alien abduction. [Sorry to disappoint.] Long story short, you're on a spaceship known as the Tranquility and you were taken from wherever you live when the ship did something known as a 'jump.' Apparently we are all supposed to be heading home but since I've been here for two years, I don't think that is going to be happening anytime soon.

[Yep. She's a little bitter.]

I'm sorry but I have to ask: grappling hook?

emma swan • ota

[uncurse]

PODS:

[ she hadn't expected any of them to make it.

ten minutes left til the jump, when those doors opened, she was sure not a single one of them could get into the grav couches in time. but they had, and however long the jump had lasted, it wasn't long enough to drain the adrenaline from her, because she ripped the tube from her throat with just as much panicked desperation as she'd had when she climbed into that thing.

she spills out of the pod in a pool of blue liquid, coughing and looking around wildly and fully clothed because she was too damn rushed to get out of them like she normally would. she pushes slimy hair from her face, glancing around and panting as she slowly comes down off the panicked high.

they'd made it. she was alive.

with a final exhale, she shuts her eyes and tips her head back, leaning against the pod. she turns her head and spits out blue liquid, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand - as if that's somehow cleaner. she takes a minute to just sit in relief, numbly adjusting to the awareness that their stupid plan hadn't killed them after all. ]

LOCKERS:

[ eventually, she drags herself off the floor and gets herself into a shower. she remains mostly in a haze as she goes through the motions of cleaning herself off and changing into what clothes she's got in her locker. she never thought she'd be glad to be on the tranquility, but when the alternative's dead without any chance of saving her kid, she'll take it.

while she seems at ease, casual even, as she goes through the routine, her eyes are distant still and out of focus, her skin still feels a lingering numbness of recovering from the adrenaline dump, and she doesn't much pick up on anybody as she's milling around, like she's barely engaged with her surroundings. ]

pods.

[wolfchild]

You were in the bridge.

[ it's a guess. eyes narrowed, fingers curled into nymeria's scruff, arya scrutinizes emma. ]

ota

[2leftfeet]

PODS.

['Time to go.' The desperate run from the bridge to medical hadn't been a time for meaningful reflection, but the words burned over the doorway are the first thing on her mind when Shepard slides free of her pod. She's fully dressed, soles of her boots slick with stasis fluid and she feels breathless still - touches her throat, aching from intubation.

Everyone made it, that much she's sure of. Someone or something had cranked open the door on the bridge with just enough time to get all sixteen of them safely down to their pods for the jump. That's not coincidence. She's beginning to think that doesn't exist - not here anyway - and she only knows one thing that writes in red.]

Dammit.

[Shepard wipes the blue fluid from her face, shaking it from her hands before bending to fetch the firearm that she'd unceremoniously dumped to the deck in the moments before the jump. Shower, change, and then she's going to see if she can't track down Jaye or anyone who else who might know more about Smiley than what's been recorded on the comm.]

LOCKERS[ish - closed to Thane].

[The five minutes (three?) she's spent, stripping out of clothes slick from stasis fluid and scrubbing both them and herself clean, has added an additional few points to her to do list. Namely: let everyone know she's not dead and change into something not sopping wet. Most of their lockers are close to her own, so she should theoretically be able to kill two birds with one stone.

It's something she decides on, mentally compiling a checklist while under the spray of water, eyes locked on the flat, featureless drain beneath her feet as the water swirls down, down, down - runs blue and then clear and then red and-- Shepard presses the heel of her hand to her eye, blinks and looks again. Not red. Clear. Water's just fine. She shakes herself, stepping out from under the water and wringing the jumpsuit as dry as she can get it before slinging the still-sopping article of clothing over her shoulder, snagging a nearby towel and attempting a beeline for the lockers.

Which means a lot of sidestepping - turning her shoulders to cut through the shuffling throng of newcomers and old hats alike.]

[battlesleep]

[ He had been running.

Not at the moment he ceases to remember - at that moment he had been doubled over trying to catch his breath, trying to force oxygen into his body through sheer will so that he could reach Shepard.

But before that he had been running, and now he is coughing, unable to tell if it's because he had been coughing before or because of the tube that had just come out of his throat, his vision -

His vision is wrong, and as it clears (not entirely, not into the ranges he is accustomed to) he catches a glimpse of his hands, lifts them up to examine them and then glances down. Well this is all - unexpected. Pushing himself up is slow, but then he coughs again and his throat clears and it isn't painful the way it should be, has been for months.

Others are moving around him, many of them clearly used to this, others new as he is it seems, and he follows quietly in the wake of those who know what they're doing, uses the shower as a chance to more fully examine this human body he has found himself in before turning the water off and looking to follow the flow again. Standing out is the last thing he seeks to do right now, but then -

There's an angle of shoulder, dark hair and he knows the shape of that nose and the cut of that cheekbone (far better than he knows himself right now) and the call is almost involuntary even if not loud. ]

Shepard?

the isaac clarke extravaganza : ota!

[wrecktified]

pods

Isaac's body was built for panic. It was his auto-pilot. Seconds in to consciousness, he was struggling- against what, he didn't know, or why. His arms and legs sluggishly fought against liquid, something was happening inside his throat, and the only helpful information his brain supplied was a frantic flash of can't breathe drowning.

He toppled out of his pod in an ungraceful heap, barely even registering the pain from his fall before he was hunched over and gagging violently. Nothing came up- there was nothing to come up, which was all well and good. He didn't want to be wallowing in a pool of his own vomit in addition to... to whatever all of this slime was.

Isaac croaked out a groan while he caught his breath, willing his stomach to calm its uneasy rolling as he rested his head down, against his forearms. "Okay," he rasped. Deep breaths. One after the other. "Okay..." He stayed like that for a moment, and slowly, pieces of memory returned to him. His apartment- the door. A brief glimpse of a man he didn't know, something hitting him in the face-

He froze. Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

Tilting his head up a few inches, he hesitantly peeked over his arms, taking a look around at last. So, someone had finally caught up to him, and now he was in... something. Another psych ward. Prison. A jelly zoo. Nothing good, basically.

"Fucking Christ."

lockers / lifts

Today was a day of firsts, apparently. First time waking up in a tube of blue snot. First time finding a tattoo on his body without knowing where it came from. First time showering in a room full of other people- the first time in many, many years, at least. It was a weirdly nostalgic experience, like he was back in gym class all over again, only more disorienting and disgusting.

Isaac had hung back, keeping himself as out of sight as he could until much of the commotion had quieted. Being surrounded by so many strange faces made him skittish, and the fact that no one else seemed to be wearing a RIG made him feel exposed and vulnerable. Surely they hadn't all had their units removed... Isaac had no idea what to make of it; all he knew was that he felt as though he stuck out like a sore thumb.

He was still on edge when he finally made it to the locker room, scooting awkwardly along the wall to minimize the view of his RIG whenever he had to pass by someone. It looked stupid as hell, he knew, but he could at least blame it on poor balance if he had to. He located his locker, hastily dressing in the provided jumpsuit and frowning once he realised it fit around his RIG without issue, leaving it perfectly visible. Well, fuck.

At least his tools and plasma cutter were there. Silver linings. Isaac grabbed his belongings and made a cautious break for the lift. Though he no longer felt physically ill, his equilibrium wasn't 100%- he swayed here and there, and once, accidentally clipped something with his shoulder pretty good. He didn't pause to see who or what it was, just mumbled a quiet (though genuine), "Sorry," and took the last few steps between himself and the lift.

Belatedly, he hoped he hadn't apologized to an inanimate object, because how fucking embarrassing is that?

Sighing at himself, he stepped inside, immediately wedging his back in to the corner and triple-checking the status of his plasma gun. Probably didn't look too inviting to anyone else wishing to board the lift with him, but Isaac didn't have a great history as far as peaceful elevator rides went. Better safe than sorry, in his opinion.

( ooc: for those of you wondering what the hell a RIG is, it's a glowing piece of what looks to be machinery embedded in isaac's back! pic references here and here. the spinal bar is full and glowing that pretty blue color, which means he's happy. jk he's never happy. forget the blue half-circle thing btw, it's not on. )

lifts; come to me engineerbro

[unsentimental]

He wasn't used to it, not yet - it was his first 'jump' since he'd arrived on this ship, and it felt just as jarring and awkward as the first one. Still, he was now familiar with his way around the medbay, and climbing out of the pod and making his way to the shower, washing off, pulling on his clothing - it was something he'd done once, so it was easier to do it again.

Still a little nauseous, but a lot less disoriented, he was pulling his polo shirt over his head, straightening the communicator he stubbornly wore around his neck, when someone knocked hard into his shoulder, threw him almost off-balance. He was about to brush it off at the muttered sorry, dismissing it as probably someone new that he had zero desire to help coddle through their first few hours of arriving on the Tranquility, when he shot a glance after the guy and all the tech he carried and the blue glow at his back caught his eye.

Well. That was interesting.

Closing his locker, he turned and trailed after the guy as he wedged himself into the elevator and checked what appeared to be some kind of gun. Mace jogged to catch the lift, jammed his hand through the door to make sure it wouldn't shut on him, and slid himself inside, shooting a glance over at the guy.

"You new?"

hayley || open

[consequence]

|| lockers ||

Her shirt sticks to her back as she moves from the showers to her locker. She knows what's in there and maybe she's walking a bit slower on her way there. That jar of blood. It has to be blood and maybe someone made a mistake. Maybe someone just think she's a vampire instead of a werewolf. The ship is confused. Which isn't the craziest thing to say given what's been going on lately. Who even keeps blood in a jar other than sick trophy keeping serial killers? Blood needs to be put in those bags. It can't even be good for platelets... or white cell counts or who knows.

She stands in front of the closed locker door, a towel rubbing at her hair as she stares at the locker door. She wonders who is around. If she looks suspicious. If she can just leave it in there. The only thing is that there are graham crackers in there and she thinks Goldfish crackers too. She really wants those.

Inhaling a deep breath she just tries to pretend like this is a normal thing.

|| on the way out ||

Her jacket covers the jar tucked into the crook of her arm. She's hoping the fact that she's eating Goldfish crackers will serve as enough of a distraction, but she's certain that if she can smell the blood so can a few other choice residents of the ship.

She's trying hard not to bump into anyone. Not to jostle this jar of blood that is resting close to her. She doesn't need it spilling. Doesn't need the jar slipping from her hold and shattering glass and blood across the floor. Hayley uses her reflexes to maneuver around people. She uses her hearing to sense when someone is nearby her. She just needs to get to her room. To put the jar on something stable and then figure out who to ask about it. She has a list in mind already, but approaching the subject of 'So I got a jar of blood.' seems a bit too off-the-wall. Even for her.

|| lockers the second time||

She's back to get her graham crackers. Both hands had been full and her need to move slowly and not bump into anyone meant she had to make a choice. The graham crackers had fallen victim to her leaving them behind, but she wasn't about to just leave them for the full thirty days. Heading back always raised questions, but she knew she could say she was looking for people still in the pods -- because who would leave food behind?

On the way out!!

[lockwood]

It's when he's making his way towards the lifts that he smells it. Blood. It's a smell he would know anywhere -- and not just because he needs it to live. He follows it -- in case someone was hurt or hurting someone and it leads him to....Hayley.

He sniffs the air, narrowing his eyes a little. He hasn't noticed the jar yet, her jacket having hidden it.


"Are you hurt?"

She doesn't....look it. But he definitely smells blood. So spill, Hayley.

Stefan Salvatore | Open

[salvatus]

[It doesn't take a genius to figure out that laying low for the moment is his best option. That once the raw, choking feeling in his throat is smoothed over and the pounding in his head has dulled to soft ache- the best move he can make is to follow everyone else, to do everything but stand out.

It also doesn't take a genius, or even his enhanced sense to figure out that something is wrong. More so than the predicament he finds himself in. People are colliding in a fashion that suggests they've just been through hell and are surprised they made it out the other side.

It takes two, three- five listens before he even begins to believe a word of it, to feel like he's gotten an approximation of everyone's idea of the right story. Kidnapping, space, alternating timelines, and a miscalculation in a hostile takeover. It all amounts to the same thing.

Something he doesn't have time for and that he wants no part of. And that if anyone had honestly thought that was a good idea, they weren't going to be much use to him at all. He taps a sharp, abrupt rhythm with his ring against the edge of his locker, trying to shake the uneasy feeling with the realization that somebody definitely knows, with the dark alluring red stacked neatly at the bottom of his locker. He stops the reflexive counting and makes for the shirt hanging nearby instead.

The sooner he gets out of here, the better]

[ooc: all other threads will be timed after elena's ♥]

[ex_heightens219]

[ after her encounter with katherine, elena had decided to make one last sweep of the lockers, to check for any stragglers who might be from home. she's always hopeful she'll find jeremy here one day, and her family will finally be complete. there are other people she misses, of course -- bonnie, matt, stefan... but jeremy is the last piece of her family still missing, and she wants more than anything to see him here, even if it is a crazy death ship that tried to kill her.

when she sees stefan, she actually freezes for a moment, her eyes wide. she hadn't actually expected him to be here -- not so soon after she got here -- not now --

and then she bursts into motion, next to him in a blur and throwing her arms around his shoulders. ]

Stefan! It is you, isn't it? I'm so glad you're here, I've missed you!

Bela Talbot | Open

[onsilksheets]

[Two years. Her twenty fourth jump.

It was somewhat terrifying to think that she had been here for so long and had gone through a lot in that time- both good and bad. Reflecting on her experiences now didn't cross her mind as she was still groggy from the jump. Instead, Bela gets showered and heads to the lockers to get dressed, searching for anything that might have turned up in her own locker.

She comes away empty handed and makes her way to the medical bay to get some painkillers and a few other necessities. Bela shivers, frowning at how cold it was. Just when she thought the temperature would finally go back to normal, it's still going on. Okay, time to get a move on from the medical bay and look out for people she knows, check if they're still around.

Her thoughts are still a little jumbled but Bela knows that each month she spends here is another month of being alive. She was soon to be dead back home and not everyone knew that. Sometimes, she thought about telling more people but what would be the point? To gain sympathy? The ship was dangerous for everyone, but not everyone had a life back home.

Bela had made one for herself here and intended to keep it that way as long as she had breath in her body.]

[allbloodyhail]

Hey, friend. [ he holds up a hand in greeting as he makes his way over, trying not to feel as vulnerable as he does. but bela knows him best of everyone on board, except maybe angel. maybe. so it makes sense he'd seek her out - something like that anyway.

izzie the black lab has decided to tag along, they're on their way to the gardens as has become his routine. ]

guinevere ❧ ota!

[chambermaid]

lockers

[ gwen is quick, as she always is to get showered and changed into her clothing for the sake of her modesty. she rushes to her locker, quickly opening it and pulling out her clothes. she does not notice what's inside until it falls to the ground with a clatter.

it's a crown.

beautiful and ornate, she does not know it at first, although there is something familiar about it, something she cannot quite place. she moves to pick it up, her expression undoubtedly confused as her hand grips the towel shut.

why had she gotten this? what.... her eyes widen after a moment when she realizes whose crown it is, where it comes from, why she knows it. the crown belongs to arthur's mother, the former queen of camelot, she'd seen it in a small portrait (tapestry whatever) of hers that uther kept.]

Oh.

merlin's pod

[ gwen finds merlin's pod after waiting to see him by her locker, waiting for him to appear. but he doesn't. and she finds him still inside his pod. worry knits her brow, her hand resting on the body as if perhaps he can feel her presence there. she wonders if there is anything she can do to get him free but in her heart she knows she cannot.]

Lockers

[commembratus]

[Arthur knows the process well now; to fall in a heap coughing and gagging only to find showers as soon as his legs will comply. So accustomed now to them, he is sluggish to leave the running water until he feels the very last blob of the blue slime has been washed from him.

His locker isn't so near the others, Arthur finding himself even more eager than usual to be reunited after a last minute dash to see himself secured for the jump, almost buoyant upon this waking for his good fortune, especially knowing the trapped passengers too, were safe. The others seem often to wake before him, so he looks to find them at the lockers first.

A smile is sparked at the sight of Guinevere, though she looks rather focused upon something in her hand, still clutching her towel. He alerts her to his approach, clearing his throat lightly some lockers away,in case she would prefer he delay, lest she need the time.]

Guinevere? [He greets early too, with a concern for her apparent shock, which might also sound a little odd as immediately after he pretends to have caught sight of something upon the ceiling momentarily, for her sake.]

lockers & halls; ota

[cogere]

lockers;

[ By the lockers, Elijah adjusts his suit, straightening his tie and smoothing the lapels. Following his thoughts, his expression flits between neutral and mildly displeased. Evidently, his memories have been tampered with. Someone must be meddling. Still, the only witch he knows that is capable of affecting his mind is Davina, and he hesitates to blame her, an innocent child, for his displacement. Furthermore, considering his tentative partnership with her, she lacks incentive. Perhaps another witch has followed her example and augmented her power with that of others. There are many who possess motive to do so — not against him, necessarily, but his family. They have a well-deserved reputation, after all. Often, he wonders why he bothers with such petulant affairs, though he knows the answer. Always and forever, family above all.

He sighs. Given the wide selection of people — of varying species, if his observations prove correct — in the area, he doubts his family's enemies are to blame. He's not so egotistical as to think that. For once, he seems to have found some trouble of his own, perhaps something even larger than a supernatural gang war. Wonderful...as if he was lacking in messes to clear. Idly, he adjusts his sleeves, and his expression settles in a thoughtful frown. ]

halls;

[ Most of his unspoken questions are answered via eavesdropping.

He exits the locker area, moving swiftly to the lifts without acknowledging anyone, fitted in the finest attire in his possession (a suit and tie, naturally). A first impression is crucial, especially here, in an unstable environment. Although Elijah is more annoyed than intrigued, he finds the Tranquility amusing in its own way. Whoever lured him here is worth investigating, at the very least. And this place is certainly dangerous enough to pose a threat to him and his family. Fortunately, Elijah has never been impulsive. He'll do his research and act accordingly. If he can survive one thousand years of supernatural trouble with his impetuous siblings, a brief (oh, it will be brief) stint in a spaceship, of all ridiculous things, is nothing.

He consults his watch as he approaches someone and offers a small smile, just the slightest upturn of his lips, nothing notable. An emotionless expression hardly inspires confidence, after all. His tone is neutral, and accent, implacable; potentially American, with British cadence, decidedly antiquated. ]

Forgive me, but I've only just arrived, and any assistance you can offer is much appreciated.

halls yo

[ex_heightens219]

[ elena has been a little... shall we say distracted since leaving the lockers. first there was katherine, which is never good, and then there was stefan, which should have been good but instead was terrible. she's rushing through the halls, getting her communicator out to text damon when she hears a familiar voice and she stops dead in her tracks. it can't be... can it?

she turns slowly, and when her eyes light on elijah, she smiles without even meaning to. it's been too long since she's seen her favourite original, can barely even remember the last time she saw him with her humanity on, and after the last two encounters she's had with people from home, his face is a welcome sight. if an original had to show up here, at least it was the one she could trust. she'd hug him if she didn't think it'd be awkward. ]

Well, I've only been here for two months, so I don't know how much help I'd be, but I'll do my best.

Juliana | pods + showers

[rubblegoddess]

Pods [closed to Washington]
[Panic. She felt it as she ran to beat the timer on the jump, and she feels it still now as she awakens. Throwing herself onto the ground in her haste to get out of the grav couch, she sits on the floor wide-eyed and gasping for air like she's been running a marathon at top speed. Unsteady, she gets to her feet and glances wildly around for someone--anyone--but there's one face in particular she needs to see. She needs to talk to Wash. Jai will lecture her on her continued recklessness, but Washington... After her comments, he may not even forgive her. She's scared to lose that support, to feel anyone slip away right now, and that's the essence of her panic. Solitude. Loneliness. Loss.]

Where is he? Where are you? [She gives up and just shouts:] Wash?


Showers [open]
[She's had her shower, washed the goop and the fear and the panic from herself, but not the depression. Waiting for anyone she knows to come by and retrieve her, to take her to the lockers so she isn't alone again, she sits against the wall with a blank expression, teased with a hint of an fragile smile. There's nothing really unhinged, just a quiet attempt at dignity. It's... sort of not working, but she's trying. If you're a stranger, she might give a polite nod, but unless spoken to, she won't say anything. If she's in your way. she'll apologize quietly, but in the kindest of tones.]

sO MANY APOLOGIES FOR THE LATENESS

[notthesecondworstfighter]

[The first thing he felt upon coming to consciousness was despair. Despair because he's awake again and the last thing he remembers is damn well being dragged away from the doors to the bridge, cursing and wanting nothing more than to get Juliana out of there. To save her.

But now he's awake, covered in goo, and that means the jump happened. It means he's still alive, and she was trapped, she's gone. Just like everyone else. And she didn't deserve that, especially when all she was trying to do was help people.

He barely notices that his body is practically on autopilot, climbing out of his pod and starting to make his way toward the showers. He can't focus on that, can't focus on anything but the fact that he's lost her like he loses everything remotely good in his life. He's sad and enraged but at the same time he finds that he can barely feel anything yet, it's just...all sort of numb.

But then he hears it.

More specifically, he hears her.

It's her voice, echoing through the room, a shout, his name. Her voice. Head whipping up and around, Wash just stares in the direction he heard it coming from for a moment, standing perfectly still. Determining whether he really heard it, or if it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Wouldn't be the first time.

Whether it is or not though, he knows he has to check. He has to know. So the next second, he's taking off, running in what can only be described as an awkward way because his feet are still damned slippery from the goop, but he keeps going. He even manages to keep himself from slipping and cracking his head open, by some miracle.]

Juliana?

[He shouts back, doesn't even care who hears him, he's focused on finding her. If she's really here.

It's not until he rounds a row of grav couches that he comes to a halt, one that's so sudden he almost falls forward. The figure standing there...it's familiar, all too familiar, and he feels his stomach jump, though he's not sure what the emotion behind it is. Joy? Disbelief? Shock? Relief? It doesn't matter. All that matters is it's her, actually her; he heard her, and now he can see her, standing right there, alive. She must have made it back to the pods, before the jump...

Thank fucking god.]

Juliana.

[Quieter this time, he doesn't know what else to say. He's not even sure what to do with himself, and ends up just standing there, staring at her, his mind utterly blank.]

tig trager | open

[straddles]

[ there's being hungover and there's being hungover. and this? this is neither of those things. this is awful in a way he can't even begin to explain because he's never lived through anything like this before. and as much as he loves his new (new being hideous and awful and unique) experiences, this isn't the kind a guy usually begs for when he's being asked what he could possibly want the most out of everything. out of everyone.

definitely not this.

he doesn't vomit when he's dumped out on the floor like a soggy, gooey piece of trash. mostly he just feels like doing exactly that, like dry retching and dropping his forehead onto the floor and being a pathetic piece of curled up shit. but he swallows hard instead and looks down at himself, picks him up by the proverbial boot straps and checks himself over. looks like an elephant sneezed on him, or something bigger maybe, and he wrinkles his nose. he's not even outright horrified, not really, just kind of unhappy about how nobody asked him if he wanted this or not. maybe he would've agreed, maybe not, but he would've appreciated giving his own version of consent. he lets the bitches consent, doesn't he get a turn?

what's really concerning is the whole being kidnapped part. without being tied down to anything or tortured or... any of the other shit they do when you've been kidnapped; he could name a lot of things and none of them are being done. he's just in a room with lockers and people running about looking exactly like him - like mother fucking messes - and some people getting dressed like it's any other day of the week. ]

What in the fucking shit- [ he shakes his head, still glancing around and wondering how he fits into this equation because he's pretty damn sure he didn't take enough math in school to figure out what's going on. nothing makes sense and he's not high, and he's not wasted.

alcohol doesn't send you to the moon.

a glance towards the showers and it's the first thing that makes him laugh as he slicks his hair back, shuddering at the sensation of the blue shit sliding down his neck. this really, really isn't his week. ] Communal showers, huh. My kinda place.

you knew this was coming

[stacked]

[ dudes hanging out on the floor isn't a new experience on the good ship crazytown; he's either new or a total pussy, no big deal either way. ( she's never seen him around and the scars and ink say new kid, but who knows. ) she's not the welcome wagon and never will be, so she's ready to just walk by and get cleaned up herself when he starts talking to himself.

the comment about shared showers makes her snort, though, and slow her pace from 'get to the showers right the fuck now' to 'stay and shoot the shit for a second'. ]

Yeah, I wouldn't get excited. Too many people playing the 'think about the kids' card to get anything going.

[ not that she's still annoyed that everyone tells her to put her top back on sooner rather than later or anything. ]