ataraxionlogs | twenty-eighth jump;

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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.

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[He stabs the call button, for the lifts--and then, inside, he stabs the button for her floor. The thought of returning to his own is something he can't manage, right now.

He stares furiously at the buttons, as the lift goes up, ignoring the drop in his stomach when it starts, ignoring the hot feeling behind his eyes--focusing instead on the clench of his hand in hers, the way that tenses his arm.]

James is gone.

[The words come out, dull and flat.]

[...yep. Clearly says worse herself. Good instinct in suspecting that. He stares over at Arya for a beat--and then laughs, and it's tired but it's certainly less grim than the previous laughs. Less at her, more amused, too.]

Good advice. I'll remember that next time.

[And he's not the politeness police, or anything, so he doesn't comment on the feral wolf girl routine. He does shove himself away from the counter to fetch himself a fork.]

What name do I get called if I ask you if you were raised by the wolf of yours.

[ He settled it with himself while he was still trapped, that it was worth it even if they did die. He wasn't the only one. They revealed a part of their enemy's hand, and Nathan is confident that they're one step closer to getting out of here because of his actions.

They will get out of here. And even if he has to wait for his chance to say 'I told you so', it'll come. He'll just have to bear a few other people saying the same thing first. He'll survive it somehow.

But it's good to see Bail, good to see all the familiar faces around him. It makes him feel alive. ]

I did. Did you know with everything else going on, I didn't think to leave a change of clothes down here?

He doesn't block it or even try - he can tell when something truly disfiguring is coming at him in half a heartbeat and this isn't it, so he'd rather deal with the pain than have to waste more time squashing a rebounding spell. He feels the jinx in his arm straight to his bones but it doesn't make him flinch. There's nothing supernatural about his lack of reaction, he just doesn't care.

Sirius lunges at him and Severus moves away, but not quick enough to escape. Fortunately (or something), the lift doors choose then to open back up, apparently having decided that if these two idiots aren't going to press a button already then they can leave. There's nothing behind him now so Severus falls back, hard, banging his elbow and wrenching a knee and that hurts more than the jinx - not that he'd ever say so. He shoves back at Sirius in his own way from the floor, that blast of a spell again, forcing the other man off of him.

"Someone should teach you how to use one of those properly," he snaps, glaring up at him, mouth twisting into a mocking smile. "Not enough heat behind it."

[So wracks her brain for a moment and then stops herself - he's from ahead of her as well then. Or from some other universe entirely, though at least one where she looks the same, maybe even one where she sometimes makes the same decisions. He'd called her Siha.]

And Joker. We're on a ship - the Tranquility - in the Andromedan galaxy. Something in its jump tech is misaligned and has it punching holes through the space-time continuum. [There's a faint curl to her lip because yes, those words just came out of her mouth.] It might be Reapers, might be something else.

[There's an urge to gloss over the rest, but she wrestles it down.]

The last thing I remember is getting ready to jump through the Omega-4 Relay to go after the Collectors. I've been briefed on the rest. [Imperfectly, but it's not like she can ask for more than that.]

And that something must be Moloch.

[Even if his first month on board the ship has given Ichabod evidence that it and their previous mission are unrelated. Why else would Abbie have received such a thing? He steps over to her, his expression going a touch softer. As disgusting as it is now, that head did once belong to one of his fallen brothers.]

Would you prefer that I took care of it?

"Yeah, it doesn't look like this place is too picky about the kind of people it's chosen to snatch up," she agrees, and a thought crosses her mind, briefly, of the possibility of running into Sylar somewhere in these halls. Regardless of whether or not Peter's confident in his switch over from the dark side or not, he's still one of the last people that she'd chose to come across this far from home, in unknown territory with unsuspecting buffet items at his disposal. "Kind of a scary thought, though. I'm not actually interested in getting eaten by wolves anytime soon."

She can't worry about that right now, though, trying to get her bearings as much as she can. The shower had blasted away most of the fuzzy haze that had permeated her experiences at the pods, so she basically has no choice at this point in their brief, stilted - but growing marginally more bearable? - conversation other than to extend her free hand out toward him and say, "Sorry. I'm Claire, by the way."

Maybe it's a mistake to use her name, at least until she figures out where she is and what's going on, but that opportunity might never come and probably not any time soon. He did dry her off, anyway.

[ It's underwear, but for someone who's spent summers in bikinis and used the boys' bathroom to do everything from brush her teeth to showering for the better part of two weeks, there are more invasive situations. Still, she's more comfortable in a towel than without it. Warmer, too. ]

It's okay. I have the towel on. You don't have to hide behind your hand or anything.

[She holds on tight, moves in closer. James and Seraphim had only met peripherally - they weren't close - but she knows how important he was to Sirius, or at least she has an idea.

That's one benefit, she supposes, of not having her brother here. He would never disappear. Although Seraphim deals with those things differently, she closes her eyes and tries to disappear into the blackness behind them, as if it could swallow her up.

When the lift opens to the sixth floor, she leads the way. Her room is it's usual nest, white pillows and blankets everywhere.]

His expression flickers oddly when she mentions being eaten by wolves, as if he almost laughs, and not in a positive way. But it's brief. Maybe it's unrelated.

Oh, this is happening, then, isn't it. He only hesitates for a short moment before he takes her hand in a steady greeting; his palms are rough in places, working too much with his hands and not taking care of them well. Were he not just blast-cleaned by uncomfortable gym showers post-goo-soak his cuticles would be discolored from alchemy ingredients.

"Severus." ... Is a weird name. This isn't a ritual he's used to performing, but he's at least familiar with it, having grown up partially in the muggle world where it's common.

[And Edgeworth looks down. He's quiet a moment, then he raises his shoulders in a defeated sort of shrug.]

Yes.

You too.

All in one piece.

[She smiles as she feels the weight from his hand and hopes that it might reassure him a little. Gently, she places her hand over his.]

[ from the look she fixes him with, "stupid" is an easy guess. ]

I raised her. [ obviously. ] Since she was a pup. I got her when she was still blind.

[ only ghost had opened his eyes when the direwolves arrived in winterfell. she had asked jon if her pup would have red eyes too and he said he doubted it. some time later, nymeria opened her eyes for the first time and between her half-parted lids arya caught sight of a dark blue iris. within days the color lightened and settled on a muted gold that shone as bright a yellow as a polished golden dragon when sunlight hit it. arya still thinks it the prettiest color she has ever seen. ]

[ 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.

Edited 2014-02-10 20:49 (UTC)

All in one piece.

[ Agreed readily, and he drops his hand away for a moment and then decides to risk it, giving her a brisk half hug. ]

Gonna fill me in on what I missed?

It just seems...rude. Sorry.

[He sighs a bit.]

Anyway, welcome on to the Tranquility.

Bela, I would say it's a pleasure, but charming as you are, this still sucks a lot.

[ She's quite charming tho. ]

Got any tips for a newbie space cadet?

It is a weird name, but you can't just go around pointing that out to people and expect them to be okay with it. She had thought Gretchen was a weird name the first time that she met the girl, and that ended up being about as fine as anything else in her life, so going off of experience alone, this encounter at least promises to be interesting. Claire does start a little bit at it, though, just because it's nothing that she's heard before and isn't at all what she had been expecting, never mind that expecting anything had been out of the question to begin with, but she takes his hand all the same.

Her hands are unblemished and soft, and his palm feels rough against hers, and the whole thing feels like some kind of accomplishment on a strange level. She has a firm handshake by default, and she makes direct eye contact and smiles when she says, "Nice to meet you. Sorry it's not under less insane circumstances." She lets go without pretense or fanfare, keeping it short and to the point in an effort not to be anymore awkward than their days already have been.

I go to college. It's going to take a lot more than handing me a towel and immediately looking away for you to convince me that you're being rude.

[ Maybe to make him more comfortable, she wraps the towel more firmly around herself. It reaches beyond her knees. There are definitely times that being pocket-sized works to her advantage. In all seriousness, though, she's at least relieved that someone here is willing to provide answers, even if she does still feel somewhat disoriented. ]

What is this place? The Tranquility. Doesn't really seem so tranquil to me.

Edited 2014-02-10 21:07 (UTC)

[When she backs up, he frowns. And when she picks up the towel, he even almost raises a brow.

He can't read her mind, but he can infer from her actions what she may be getting at. Definitely one of the most interesting animals he's come into contact with.

He stands to his full height, then, holding out an arm and dangling the bag in front and a little above the tiger -- within its reach, certainly. He better still have his hand after this.]

[His response is furrowed brows and a look that says "what". He clears his throat before responding, not sure what to ask first.]

So -- are we dealing with supernatural things here? Just to make this clear.

[His eyes flicker to the stranger as he continues to try to tie his hair back. He turns his head slightly, hair obscuring his scar -- though he knows it's silly. It's not something easily hid.]

I have many more words, some not quite as kind.

[Standoiffish? Well yes, a little. But Yuri manages to remain polite as well, despite his words; it's an easy enough practice, since he's spent years doing it.]

And quite the welcome it is. Sickening, awkward, and disorienting.

His only response to that is a monosyllabic noise of.. something, perhaps it's agreement or perhaps it's just forced acknowledgement because he knows on some level that there's a fill-in-the-blank requirement for normal human interaction. Severus doesn't want to carry on this conversation because it's just as weird - if not weirder - than anything else going on right now. Muggle or not, pretty girls don't walk up to him and attempt to socialize; if it was six years ago that would be 'pretty girls don't walk up to him and attempt to socialize unless it's for a prank', but if there's a prank going on here, it's nothing so crude as that. So Severus leaves it as it is, and goes on his way.

His way leads him to bumping into a few other people, including Sirius Black, an encounter during which he does indeed get punched in the face. Then he gets sniffed by some guy's pet dogs. Then he finally, finally, gets in the damned lift and goes to the passenger quarters, an ordeal that ends up taking him much longer than he would have liked.

Thus, later: Severus is walking down the hall of the twenty-eighth floor, looking much the same as he did when he left the medical bay aside from the even stormier look on his face and the blood on his shirt. He's repaired his face (as much as a face like his will repair), but hasn't bothered cleaning the rest of himself up. He would like to find his room and seal the door shut behind him for a week, at this point.

[Loki keeps a steady pace, every once in awhile having to weave through a small group of passengers that were also going through the jump process. His destination is unknown -- perhaps he's going to check on Thor, or maybe he's merely making his way to the lift to leave the medbay.

He doesn't look back. This continues for a minute or two before he turns another corner.

And mysteriously... disappears(?).]

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