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

[boogiewoogiebugleboy]

[He nods, still looking down, away. It's just embarrassing, and a little intrusive, to watch all these people in their underwear. Really, couldn't this place give them more clothes? A jumpsuit that they could wear during the jump?]

Sure thing. Showers are that way.

[chuffle]

[She keeps going forward on her belly, her nose moving. She could grab it if she wanted to, she thinks - she's fast enough, and he's not so big - but this is part of the game too.

Then she backs up, picks the towel up in her mouth, waves it a bit like a flag.

Trade?]

[mindtricks]

I'll walk you there.

[ she kind of needs to shower as well, anyways, and she can look for jax won the way to the showers just as well. it'll make her feel better to see charles there safely, to keep an eye on him for a moment longer to reassure herself that he isn't going to collapse —

he almost died. ]

[wheeloffire]

[ Frodo doesn't exactly know how to answer that. According to some, he's been here for a while, only to disappear and come back again. But as far as he knows he can't remember anything, so he nods.

He listened carefully to what she had to say. A jump? So he must have arrived with this jump, then. One question answered, then.

Frodo nodded, before rolling up the sleeve of his uniform. ] And what of this...? [ He didn't like it. No matter how hard he tried to rub the ink away, it just seemed to stay the same. ]

[darkart]

Of course he's going to say one more thing.

"If it's so important you don't see me, by all means, cut your godsdamned eyes out."

Severus was always competent, at least mostly able to hold his own against him - them - but primarily focused on studying, making him easier to get the drop on than most would-be future teenage terrorists. You'd think he'd learn, but the truth then is the truth now: that there are things far more important in his life than Sirius Black, and things far more frightening. Perhaps the most frightening at the moment is the notion that his carefully set-up detachment might crumble and he'll think too closely about Lily and the anger at Sirius he's held onto for three years. So what if it wasn't Black and it was Pettigrew, it was still one of them, and if Harry spoke at least halfway correctly, Black is working in security. The same old exploitative bullshit, powers-that-be still willing to hand the world on a silver platter to moronic Gryffindors incapable of even keeping their supposed friends from coming to harm. If there's anyone the world would be better off without-- well. Severus is a teacher. What's Sirius doing with his time? Keeping some Dementors fed, too much of an imbecile to prevent himself from being framed by the likes of Peter Pettigrew. How useful.

[wheeloffire]

[ He slowly shakes his head. ] No no, miss. I didn't mean to seem as if I assumed you were. [ His kin from the Shire sometimes thought he was crazy. Frodo didn't like to assume something like that on others- it might not be true, right? ]

Are you alright? [ Not in the mental way! More like are-you-okay-because-you-said-you-almost-died way. ]

[wheeloffire]

A short lass with long, dark hair. Grey eyes, and a free mouth. Frodo can't help but smile at that. It kind of reminds him of Sam; he wouldn't be one to utter any foul words, but at the same time he spoke his mind. Especially about certain things......or people.......

"Elizabeth it shall be." Thank goodness! Frodo didn't want to be rude, but to remember such a long name! There were many things that were slowly starting to slip from his memory, and he didn't want important titles to be one of those!

As Elizabeth starts, Frodo starts beside her, making sure his cloak was fastened around his neck. Without his normal clothes, this was about as close to comfort as he could get. He made sure his pace was quick, though. She was kind enough to offer him aid, and the last thing he wanted to do was slow her down in any kind of way. Elizabeth was looking for someone important like he was, after all!

Plantagenet of York...that hardly sounded familiar, though. "Where in Middle-earth are you from?" Assuming that this place was anywhere in Middle-earth, because it didn't seem so.

[outliver]

[ Katherine figures that if this is a thing that happens every now and then she'll have plenty of chance to ogle the guys later on. ]

If she already knows you are here, and you already know she is younger than you remember, then there is little else to say about it. But I get it, it's probably a little to weird when combined with everything else.

[ And then Katherine gives her what might be the first honest smile since she arrived. ]

Thank you, and my thoughts are with you.

[onsilksheets]

Right, yeah.

[ she nods. ] This jump is just a little more significant for me. Marks my second anniversary.

/adores yes four

[cargojet]

[ It was an odd turn around for the two of them. Nathan was usually the one tugging Peter in the bathroom to fix up whatever scrape he'd gotten into. He'd been a boy after all, and Nathan had outgrown most of that. Still, an older brother would usually go about fighting his younger brother's battles for him. That hadn't been the kind of brother Nathan was. Part of what he'd tried to instill in Peter from a young age was that he had to fight those battles himself, that Nathan wouldn't always be around to do it for him.

So it was funny how that had switched up on them, how Peter was now the one pulling him in the direction of one of the adjoining rooms, and Nathan couldn't help but chuckle, brushing his lower lip with his own bruised knuckles - because, well, he had fought back. He was still a Petrelli after all. ]

Looks worse than it is.

[ If it was going to be an inversion of the trope, then he might as well play along entirely. ]

[outliver]

[ He is perhaps the one person she is actively looking from among the crowds. If she's surprised about something is the fact she does not find it surprising to find him there, back to her, tense as only Stefan knows how to be. The thought comes in suddenly and without permission: just which Stefan is this? Ever since the guy ended in Mystic Falls again he had had so many emotional struggles it was like trying to win the Russian Roulette of Emotional Issues with him.

So she comes by slowly, making her presence obvious to him. He's nervous, she can tell, so he'll be vigilant. It's better this way, since approaching him too suddenly could end terribly.

So she's just going to stand over there for now. ]

NO NEVER IT'S PREMACKING YOU CAN'T MAKE ME

[cargojet]

[ It's lucky, really, that the words catch up to him before the punch did, because by the time Jenna comes to see him he's already well on edge, ready to flail back with his fists even though the exhaustion of fighting is starting to get to him. It's just hardwired in. He wants to get out of the medbay, go to sleep and recover, and anyone who gets between him and that is going to get a piece of his mind.

But Jenna pulls him into a hug, and his mind blurs into a fuzzy feeling of relief. He sinks slightly against her. God, but the ordeal he's had. The only thing he wanted is a hug after everything. One. And this is his one hug. He feels completely boneless, drained, bruised. His words slur. ]

M'pretty glad m'alive too.

[onsilksheets]

I have never heard of it. But I don't think it really matters where you come from; you'll just get taken to here anyway. [Bela was just curious about why he had used the hook in the first place. A few ideas sprung to her mind but she'd rather hear it from the source to confirm it for her.]

While I am not much of a vigilante, I can understand why it would appeal to people. Besides, it wouldn't be my place to judge, considering the career path I took back home. [A beat.] Must have been important for you to go to such great lengths.

[humanistic]

[He's evened himself out a little bit, by the time the waffles have finished cooking. The sound of the plate scraping against the countertop still makes him look up, sharply--but he fights down that feeling again, and, after a moment, reaches for it.]

Thanks.

[There's something more subdued in him now that he's got his hunger under control again--at least for now; that could all change in a second. And with that is this vague feeling of shame, for talking all tough at a kid, and getting her to cook for him. w o w mitchell everyone is impressed with you.]

Look, I'm sorry. It's--these fuckin' jumps. [saying the fuck word around 12 year olds isn't really a high crime or anything; she's old enough to be cool and probably says worse herself.] They aren't exactly a walk in the park.

[wolfchild]

[ she purses her lips. ]

That doesn't mean you have to be a camel's cunt about them. [ if her mother could hear her now. ]

[ arya dumps the dirty bowl in the sink and wipes down the counter a bit before hopping on top of it. balancing the plate on her lap, she eats with her hands, ripping the waffles into little pieces.

on second thought, let's not have cat walk in on this. ]

[wolfchild]

[ a sudden snarl rips out of nymeria. the earlier game ( for it is a game to her even as arya grows angrier in the playing ) is forgotten with elijah's approach. arya's head swings between elijah and nymeria, trying to discern what set her off. ]

Stop it!

[ arya pushes her wolf's head into the spray. nymeria snorts and growls and obeys, if begrudgingly. turning around again, arya extends a hand for the brush. ]

Thank you. [ it's mildly apologetic. her brow remains furrowed. ]

[wolfchild]

After almost a year on the ship, she had plenty of advice.

"Don't go into the halls. They change and you can get lost in there. There are monsters there too. Don't miss the jump or you'll get turned into a puddle and then we have to clean you up. And don't be stupid."

The last should be obvious, but if experience had taught Arya anything, it was how stupid people could be.

timeywimey lockers i guess!

[dilemma]

[ this hasn't exactly been the least nerve-racking jump he's had the pleasure of experiencing. it's sort of a relief finding out elena made it out alright and didn't get splattered across the entire bridge, but the possibility of that happening is still weighing heavy on him, compounded by the stupid post-jump sickness.

that's why he's a little shaken, that's why the whole situation is still weighing on him. (keep lying to yourself, damon salvatore.)

he's not sure why he glimpsed down that row of lockers on his way to the lifts. maybe in hopes someone else's familiar face might be down there (maybe stefan, but if he's going to lie to himself about anything it's definitely wanting his brother here). instead he sees another familiar face. ]

Wichita. [ it's not even a question as he approaches her. ] Please tell me this isn't some memory loss bullshit again.

[ he should probably sound annoyed, and it's there among the desperation. damon's got a short list of people he cares about and his bartender is apparently on that list. who knew. ]

[onsilksheets]

Afraid not.

[ But she likes the sound of those suggestions. ]

A pleasure, I'm sure, Katherine. My name is Bela. Bela Talbot. Welcome to the Tranquility.

[deagle]

[ chris materializes on the other side of derek's open locker as if from nowhere. he knows derek knows he's standing there, but a minute or so passes without acknowledgement before he says something to break the silence. ]

You've been here a while. I had something I wanted to ask you.

[ he probably could have put it in a text but those are so much easier to ignore. ]

[jurisimpudent]

They were idiots.

[He shakes his head. There, at least, there's no hesitation, no uncertainty; he had said from the beginning that the course of action was idiotic, and now that they've not been killed he can assert that even more strongly.]

But that doesn't mean that more intelligent action won't work.

[mansuetus]

[ she sees the edge just beneath the surface and doesn't try to expel it. She is a Borgia through and through, she knows of blades and plots and things not many would think her knowledgeable of. If Lucrezia is painted with the same edge, a hint of something sharper beneath her smiles - well. it usually doesn't show. ]

I do not think it knows. There is little reason here; I think it just acts. I do not think it decides nor chooses.

[ everything here seems random. for her to be here. for him to be here. ]

[cargojet]

[ A breath of relief that it's Clara and not someone else, and Nathan claps a hand on her shoulder, catches her with the real sensation of the weight of his hand because otherwise he might squeeze the impossible girl into an impossible hug, and his knees are likely to stop supporting his own weight if that's the case. ]

I can't tell you how glad I am I got to see you again.

[doggedly]

Of course he says one more thing. And it's not even anything particularly vitriolic or cutting, it's just a last word--but Sirius is wound too tight to permit a last word; he's too ready to snap, just now, because the world isn't fair, because James is at least good and decent, and the ship's traded him out for the slimiest git Slytherin house has produced in ages--grown older and eviler, and nothing of what he's been told of the future (that Snape ends up helpful if not decent) will ever convince him to tolerate Snape.

Sirius doesn't bother with any real answer to that, though he thinks up a thousand, instantly--everything from a childish I was here first to that with slightly fouler language--but instead, he whips his wand up and swipes it, diagonally, viciously. A stinging jinx, unless Snape can block it--which he might, but it hardly matters, because he steps in as soon as he's got the spell off, intending to shove Snape down, or at least up against the wall of the lift--not that it's so great a distance; the space they're in is terribly close.

[doggedly]

Like what.

[He spits out the last word, his teeth grit together.]

Like what, exactly. We go over and over this, and there's never an answer. This ship does whatever the hell it wants, it takes anyone, any time, and there's nothing we can do! We can't get home--when we do get home, we can't remember being here--that's if we were ever there at all, because who's to say it's not just shoving more shit into our heads, making up memories for us--it's just one thing after another. Intelligence hasn't got anything to do with it. The ship, whoever controls it, it's got everything and we've got nothing.