ataraxionlogs | twenty-eighth jump;

Entry tags:

twenty-eighth 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: 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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[There's something high in her throat at the sight of him and she doesn't know what it is except for some sharp disappointment - not that he's here (or maybe it is) or that he's only recognizable by the particular tone of his voice (though maybe it's that too), but by the time he's closed the distance she's swallowed it down and squared her shoulders despite the sustained bumps of passengers trying to slide past.

With no way to ease him into any of this, especially not when he's been shoved into a new body, she doesn't bother with overtures.]

I've been here five months-- six jumps. [She doesn't loosen her grip on the gun, the towel, but she does instinctively take a step closer to him.] The ship isn't fond of alien biology. Tali, Garrus, Javik - they all have new bodies too.

[ She honestly looks a bit mortified by the whole thing. Her cloak is wrapped tightly around her, trying to be as modest as possible without being rude. Arthur beats her to the crown, holding it in his hand.

Immediately she knows he will recognize it, although it's meaning will be quite different for him than her. Her eyes watch his face for a moment before she lets out a shaky breath.] It... It was in my locker. It seems the ship brought it to me but I am not sure why. [ She forgets that it's the crown she would wear when she is Queen.]

[Now he's floundering. Her missing friend sounds like her guardian and he's only ever been in her friend's position, not hers. This is what he gets for sticking his nose in other people's business.]

Uh-- well... [He doesn't want to give her false hope, but there had to be some well meaning platitude he could spout.] Do you want to get drunk?

[That's really about the best he could do.]

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.

[ Elijah appears out of nowhere as asshole vampires are wont to do. When he hears her voice, that tone, then sees her posture and, more superficially, the lack of hair coloring, he immediately knows who she is. Fortunately or unfortunately (he’ll decide that later, depending on this encounter), he has found Katerina, not Elena. And he might not love her, but he could — and far too easily, at that. He cares about her more than he ought, all things considered. To see her comparatively well, especially after she showed her loyalty, is a pleasant surprise.

He would comment on her priorities, but that would be hypocritical, even for him. You better believe he’d be pissed without one of his suits. ]

[ With a genuine, albeit small, smile on his face. ] Katerina.

[ It's the most emotionally loaded word in his vocabulary tbh. ]

[It does take him a moment, because even something as small as a crown has tugged upon his heart, or at least brought to the surface rather suddenly, how much he longs to return to Camelot. There is so much more there for them. Safety is no more certain perhaps, but it is their world and Arthur is not at the mercy of strange environment. He knows, he can always keep her safe there.

His eyes lift to Guinevere once more and with a breath he finds a smile blossoms for her. As much as the ship presents Guinevere with what belongs to her, it serves to remind him, wherever Guinevere is, is his home.]

I can only imagine the ship seeks to reunite this crown with it's rightful owner- [He lifts it a little, to encourage her to take it, should it not distract from her attempts to remain clothed. He would sooner place it upon her head, were he not so concerned she would not wish it.]

[ Far too easily, that's why she likes you, Elijah. That and probably because you're one of the few truly loyal people left in the world...that actually talks to her, that is. Not everyone can claim to have known her from before everything, basically.

He catches her turned towards her locker, but her smile is so wide he can probably tell from where he is. The sudden, minimal rise of her shoulders, the extra straight posture she takes, she's clearly enjoying her name (her true, real name) being spoken with such emotion. And that accent for the love of God, not even Klaus can ruin it for her.

So she turns around, her own smile, now tiny, as she debates whether she's in enough good graces with him to walk further, or if he's just being a gentleman. ]

Elijah. You're the first good news I've had ever since I woke up full of tubes and slime.

[ 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.

Edited (i'm finished i swear) 2014-02-10 10:57 (UTC)

Oh no, don't apologize, it's— oh, you have got to be kidding me.

[ the relief of seeing elena and nathan ( and everyone else, of course, but she can't pretend not to feel almost dizzyingly grateful for those two in particular ) alive helps a little; it has to, if only because with the cause of a week of anxiety and horror and unfolding grief gone there's nothing to panic or grieve about.

still, the feelings don't fade with the revelation they're unneeded, and a reminder of her death is the last item on her current list of things she needs. ]

Elijah— it's been a while. You remember the last time we saw each other, right? Kind of personally hard to forget.

[ venting a week of frustration and helplessness ( and fine, the two years of resentment knowing that the nice guy she thought she was helping out was lying to her face and using her to manipulate her niece, not to mention was fine condemning her to death ) and channeling it into being pissed off helps, oddly, and her chins juts forward just a bit, combative, as she crosses her arms over her chest. ]

For the record, there's only about two things you can say here that don't end in me causing a much-deserved public scene.

Edited (takes out a word from draft one that straggled in oops) 2014-02-10 12:08 (UTC)

[ dana wakes up when she falls flat on her face. the pain shooting through her nose forces her awake, and she can't help but give a startled shriek, disoriented and confused. where the hell is she? she was just arguing with derek, wasn't she? he'd wanted her to leave the doors --

oh. oh, no he did not.

she shoots into a sitting position, looking around her with growing horror. they're in the medbay, there are people everywhere, she's covered in goo... dana knows what this means, knows what it means derek did, and she gives another wail as the knowledge of what that means for marty shoots through her. her best and only friend, the one she survived everything with, the one who saved her life not once but twice is dead and she didn't even get the chance to die with him.

derek is next to her, dana can smell him (and that will never not be weird, even marty had thought so) even through all the goo and with all the other people around. she slowly rises to her feet, turning to him. there's no way she could look anything close to intimidating -- too bedraggled, wet, small and girly for that. but maybe there's something in her eyes that tell him just how pissed off she really is. ]

You.

I'll murder you then I'll ground you.

[ hooking her chin on elena's shoulder, she wraps her arms around them both, straining her arms as far as they'll extend like she can keep them safe and together through her strength and sheer force of wanting it so badly. ]

Hey. [ her eyes fill quickly, tears leaking out to splash down and hit her breastbone and elena's back. ] I thought you were dead, Elena.

[ the words are solemn, devoid of her usual teasing. ]

[ elena's never felt more loved in her entire life than she does in this moment. she wraps one arm around alaric and the other around jenna, holding her aunt as tightly as possible and ric only a little less tightly. if she ever wants to go do something stupid on the deathship again, she's going to remind herself of this moment, and stay well out of trouble. ]

I will accept both, so long as the murdering comes in the form of a neck snap.

[ oh, god, now jenna's crying and elena can't keep the tears out of her own eyes, though she tries to bite them back. she doesn't get to cry about this, she brought it on herself. ]

I know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jenna, I'll never do it again.

[ her words are just as solemn, completely serious -- never messing with the ship again. she will duck her head and play along like a good little girl and stay with her family. ]

[ Now Charles approaches, as if taking a hollow threat like how Alex won't talk to him as permission to sidle up towards the locks so that he clears peripheral vision. A hand places on the metal to lean in place.

He doesn't wait to be looked at. ]

I'm sorry.

[ It's a little cool, the way this is said, the place it comes from. He isn't prostrating himself at Alex's feet. His voice carves off these words with clinical efficiency, no quaver, no break.

But he is sorry. He can see through to the core of Alex, and for what he sees, he must be sorry. ]

[ she doesn't want to be responsible if he keels over from whatever he has!! ]

I'm— [ arya hesitates. she ought be twelve by now. somewhere along the line she turned twelve and she does not know when. it's an odd feeling. ] —twelve.

[ a moment later and she returns to her almost brusque tone. not rude really, but direct. ] You want one or not?

[ reuniting with elena makes it clear nathan is safe, too; once she and ric make sure elena feels suitably loved ( and suitably chastened ) and she's gotten a shower under her belt and clothes on she goes looking for him, towel wrapped turban-style around her head.

his number is one of the ones she knows as well as her own or ric's, so she makes a beeline right for his locker. ]

Dumbass.

[ the punch she aims at his right bicep is weak, and instead of pulling away after she rests her hand on his arm, using the contact to pull him in for a hug. ]

I'm so glad you're alive. [ scolding can come later ( oh boy can it ) but for now she just wants to hug nathan, reassure herself he's all right. ]

[He looks around, quickly, almost savagely--like that's even a question right now, when everything is so clearly not all right. But it's only Ned, and Digby--and there's a twinge of something very like envy, in Sirius; a dog would feel this sadness but so much less complexly, without everything in him at war.

He looks up at Ned again.]

What d'you do with him, when we do these-- jumps.

[He doesn't look over at her, or smile. He doesn't acknowledge the brush of her fingertips--but he feels them, gentle over the tender ache of his hand. And he wants to twist away, he wants to go off into the corridors and do something--even if there's nothing to be done, he wants to do something--and it's weak, to give in to this, even for a moment. To let her be something soothing. That's weak, right?

But it's all so heavy. And he sags back, a moment, against the lockers, staring dully at the wall opposite. His anger is right there, it'll be back in a moment's notice, or with no warning at all--but it stays, for now.

There's silence, a moment. Just the two of them, no other people.]

How does it decide, do you think. Who to bring and who to send back, and who to leave. How does it know.

Yeah, well. What does it matter. It's not like this ship keeps stock. It's not like anything about this--any of this--is fair. Right?

[He steps back, shaking free of Pess, leaning his back against the lockers with his hands shoved into his pockets.]

But hey, we had a mutiny and all those bastards get to survive that.

[We don't have to talk, and a bitter smile jumps to his face. He stares down at her slate, hard, until it blurs a little.

The thing about Seraphim is, she'd make good on that. They could sit and be quiet and that would be all right. And maybe it would help. He doesn't know what would help, right now, because the last time James was gone--he was in the ship. There was something to be done. This is nothing, this is just emptiness. James is gone, and there's nothing to be done about that. He has to live here with that.

He stares at the slate a moment longer, and then, abruptly, takes her hand and shoves away from the lockers, heading toward the lifts. His grip on her hand is tight, and he doesn't look around at her.]

No.

[He says it like he's correcting her, like she could have somehow seen wrong. When he looks at his hand, he thinks, yeah, no, she's right, but the pain hasn't yet set in. It feels distant.]

It doesn't matter. It'll get patched up. Everything here does, so we can keep going. For no reason.

[The dramatic tone of those words makes him scowl, and he stares down at the floor, lets his hand drop to his side.]

Where are you going, after this. To your room?

[That's edging dangerously close to they-didn't-deserve-to-live, and Edgeworth comes dangerously close to protesting the sentiment - but it's not worth it. Of course Sirius would feel bitter. Of course he'd be angry. The lot of them engaged in unmitigated idiocy and lived; James was perfectly sensible and now he's gone.

Pess, satisfied in the attention she got, sits down on Sirius' foot.]

No. It's not remotely fair. Not that we were brought here, and not that people get ripped away.

[ it's superficial, the first thing he notices about her. the red streak in her hair signifies elena, not katerina, though a closer look highlights further distinctions. elena is a miracle. light, warmth, compassion — they're obvious in her face, like they used to be in katerina's. looking at elena, he sees (or perhaps he hopes to see) humanity.

she seems to be in a far better state than he last saw her. and this time, when he smiles, it's wholly genuine. ]

I have no doubts about that. [ a short pause. ] It's a pleasure to see you again, Elena.

[ the real you, he suspects. ]

Jenna Sommers. [ someone is enjoying this — reuniting him and his family with the ghosts of their past. with those they've wronged, often killed. he wants to ask how she is alive, first, but that is not one of the two things she implies, and he recognizes that. he assumes miss bennett has been busy. all these resurrections will come back to haunt her one day, he's sure. ]

I believe an apology is in order, though I doubt it will be sufficient. [ he clears his throat. does he feel...awkward? guilty, certainly. and this is not his forte. addressing his sins is much easier when they don't take corporeal form. ]

I intended to protect all of Elena's loved ones, but, unfortunately, by saving her friend, [ caroline. ] I condemned you to death. I did not know, and if I had, I would have intervened. I failed her. I failed you.

[ his expression remains fairly neutral. he's watching her closely, appraising her. something is different about her. and he attempts to anticipate her reaction. a scene would ruin any potential bids for safety and power. ]

Regardless, I chose my family over yours, and I know you cannot forgive that, but I hope you can understand it.

[ after everyone else - after all the abuse and all the responses and name calling and everything in-between, it's peter's turn. he's already run into not-elle and he's moved on with his life because nathan is looking a little extensively battered and bruised. he's been beat up (why is peter not surprised?) and he wants to help because his brother wasn't the only one involved.

it could've just been them, and the reaction would've been different.

it could've been different altogether.

dropping a hand onto nathan's shoulder, he nudges at him, insistent like a little brother tugging on a sleeve. he's not leaving nathan like this - like a piece of meat - and he's not letting him linger around for further harassment. he just won't do it; nobody's going to kick his brother when he's down but peter. and he's not really in the mood for any kicking. ]

C'mon, i'm not fixing you in here.

[ she thought it a trick by the kindly man. not something she will speak of to anyone, not to her family, not to a stranger. ]

So you should say yours first since you're asking.

[ it's not ( only ) to be a pain. she likes being the one to dictate the terms; it provides a sense of control she needs after having it wrested from her. ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 29 of 113

twenty-eighth jump;

no subject

no subject

no subject

lockers & halls; ota

slams in

no subject

shit katherine has no cute smiles, only marginally evil ones

halls yo

halls what up boo

no subject

but i'm catholic not a member of the church of england it's cake or death and we make you take death

can i have chicken instead

no subject

no subject

3 please and thank you ALSO PRETEND THIS ISN'T A PRE-MACKING ICON

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i'm going with FOUR bc i'm last

no subject