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

[Of the Originals Tyler checks for every jump -- Elijah isn't one of them. To be fair, he mostly checks for Klaus. Because Klaus has been on the ship before and it sucked and apparently according to Elena in the future Klaus runs him out of Mystic Falls. Because killing his pack and his mother wasn't good enough.

Rebekah really isn't much better, all things considered. Elijah is the one Tyler doesn't know though -- but he does know of him. Tyler was sired to Klaus for a while, after all. He remembers Klaus' desperate attempts to get those coffins back, what was inside of them. So he recognizes the man, if nothing else.

But as it is one of Klaus' siblings -- well he isn't really feeling the help thing.]

There's not really much to be helped about this place.

[ Swept up onto his feet and back against metal doors, Charles is as well swept up in the cut and dry simplicity of unburdened relief. His eyes blink round, startled, breathing hitched high along with some inarticulate vowel sound when whatever complicated feelings he was feeling are bulldozed through. Or are sat on.

His hands rest almost incidentally on both shoulders, pressure placed there from elbow to palm in some intermediary point of keeping Erik at bay without asserting as such. Relaxes, instead, accepting both this invasion of space as well as the thoughts that comes with it. He, too, is exhausted.

Fingers squeeze. Confirming that he is present and accounted for. That Erik is as well.

~~NOT GOIG TO FCUKINH CRY~~ ]

[ It is difficult not to believe in the futility of all of it, but she would not say that out loud. She would not do anything to take away some semblance of hope - though it appears it has been taken from him just the same. ]

Yes, I had planned to return there.

[ But she voices the thought hesitantly, uncertain now. She does not want to leave him in such a state. ]

[ he doesn't show it, but when she turns at round, he's surprised. her resemblance to rose is uncanny, barring very superficial changes. and of course, the tone, the posture — none of it's quite right. briefly, he suspects he has another jenna on his hands and braces himself for a scolding.

none comes. how curious. ]

And equally refreshing for someone to oblige. [ he offers his hand to shake. ] Elijah Mikaelson. Have we met before?

[ and he listens to the telltale heart for evidence of a lie. ]

That's a new a one.

[ not the words he expects to hear - and the hug? definitely even less so - though he isn't quite sure what else he thought she'd do. the shock and awe thing pumps a steady rush of fear into his veins because the real words are 'it's been too fucking long,' instead of ones that just mean he's tagged along for the ride. because those words don't make sense and then everything else suddenly makes even less sense. and then it all lands lands back on the space shit.

... what the hell is he talking about, tara so far is the only thing he knows since he's opened his eyes. he gives her a gentle squeeze, still treading carefully (if he's even capable of doing that.)]

Guess I don't even need to ask if you missed me.

Everything you've said is technically correct.

[He looks down at Pess' ears.]

So what do we do as a result?

In his defense, she's probably equal parts nosy and concerned. They bleed into each other so frequently that sometimes there's no telling the difference between the two of them. She likes to think that she's a good enough person to favor concern over curiosity, especially in coming across the only real person she's had an exchange with that didn't leave her confused or aching. She still hasn't been able to shake off seeing Nathan and has shoved it back into the corner of her mind somewhere in favor of focusing more directly on the dark splash across the color of Severus's shirt.

Blood she can deal with. Seeing people she's buried walking and talking like nothing has changed is what's got her all caught up.

"You look pretty fine for someone who obviously got punched in the face," she says, stomping on the urge to make an you-should-see-the-other-guy joke. "More magic? And how exactly did you manage to entice someone into trying to break your face?" She kind of laughs, not outright and more as her own way to break tension over anything else. "We've been here, like, five minutes."

We--

[But he cuts himself off, because there's no good answer. And there's that hopelessness, again, made sharper by the loss of James. His throat suddenly feels thick and tight, and he doesn't say anything for a moment.]

We can't do anything.

[Part of him wants only to shove off, to go into the ship and tear down a wall, or at least wreck hell on it. And he will, later. He'll have to, to work out something of this tight feeling that's building up behind his eyes, and he looks at Alayne and he thinks--

Nothing. She looks pale, and a little uncertain. But she hasn't left yet. The clash of emotion in him ebbs a bit toward something quite like sympathy. Which is stupid. She doesn't need his sympathy, and he doesn't need hers, but he doesn't shove off.]

Don't go yet.

[He's asking, even if there isn't the lilt of a question to the words.]

Stay. Just a minute longer. All right?

[Yeah, all right. He huffs a laugh at the look that she gives him, something short and bitter--but he looks away again, his shoulders hunched.]

That's not what I do.

Oh, good, he could stand on his own. Isaac was relieved- he wouldn't have to pull him around anywhere else. This was awkward enough, he felt like he'd overstayed.

Even though this was his locker...

Isaac pushed away from the lockers, righting himself as well, and acknowledged Nate's gratitude in the kindest way he could. "I know," he said with a sigh, voice sounding suddenly tired. The way he looked at Nate practically radiated a sense of don't make me regret it.

"Well, since you've got this under control, I'll leave you to it." Isaac had places to be, things to take care of. Like this crusty shit on his skin. That wasn't going to work. And he couldn't think of a tidy way to wrap things up with Nate, so he just... awkardly moved away and headed for the showers.

Edited 2014-02-11 15:52 (UTC)

Wow, that wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting- and it likely showed on his face, too. He was glad he'd asked, though.

Sort of.

"The... halls change?" What was this, a funhouse? Regardless of how interesting he found the notion of trickster hallways on a spaceship, he shook his head. "Nevermind, you said monsters?"

That was more important. Isaac frowned, all of a sudden looking tense and perhaps even a touch ill. "What kind of monsters?"

She's caught off-guard, having just bounced from one strange encounter with Spike into someone else's waiting and grasping arms. It feels desperate and cloying, not in a territorial or possessive way but warm and full of relief. The sort of hugs that her father - Noah - used to wrap her up in, when he returned from business trips, as if he was exhaling all the potential of disaster, or when he plucked her from another fray of disasters and could not, despite her power, believe that she was still alive.

But it's not Noah. She knows that right from the start. The posture and height is all wrong and she's been in this hold before and it belongs to someone else entirely. Claire knows without having to look up, without having to investigate, the impossibility of what she's found herself in, and as a result, there's nothing that she can say or do other than to pull back and to stare into his face.

It's another lie, a trick, someone pretending. Sylar. She buried Nathan.

All she can do is stare.

I'm sorry; I'm just very attached to my limbs.

[He tugs at his finger, as though to demonstrate.] Lots of ligaments.

[He adds, while prodding the webbing between his fingers --] Cecil.

[It's certainly an unusual name. But then, Cecil is quite accustomed to unusual things. He continues to hover, concern evident on his face.]

Is there anything I can do for you, Ilde?

And that's it, then. His anger spills over entirely, overwhelming him, white-hot and unrelenting. He doesn't drop his wand--a wizard never drops his wand--but he shoves it blindly into his pocket as he goes for Snape with a sound that's very nearly a growl--

It's been easy to avoid thinking of his family, it's been easy to distance himself, because no one knows them. No one hears the surname Black and makes those automatic connections that Sirius was once so used to--and hearing Snape say Bellatrix's name careens him back to that place, to being a kid who hates his family, hates them and anything to do with them, deliberate in never being like them or thinking of them--and here's Snape, throwing them back in his face again. And James is gone, and that's enough for Sirius to want to end this now, brutally, in a way that will shut Snape up.

And so he shoves his wand into his pocket and he goes for Snape, practically tackling him, shoving him back against the floor with one fist gripping at his shirtfront, the other pulling back to punch him in the face again--and then again, heedless of the ache in his hand--

[ bela doesn't hesitate in taking his offered hand, shaking it in a firm yet polite manner. ]

I think I would have remembered if we did. [ she smiles. ] It's a pleasure, Elijah. My name is Bela. Bela Talbot.

[ no scolding from her at the moment. she's in an amiable mood, even with the post jump feeling still present. besides, he hasn't really given her a reason to be hostile towards him. ]

[She stands up and shrugs.]

It can't hurt.

[She wishes she could scream sometimes. That she could open her mouth and something would come out. Maybe it's projection. It would make her feel better.]

No-- ah, Christ--

[He sets his teeth together, as the swift sweep of hunger passes through him again. It shouldn't matter whether or not this kid is hurt or not by what he's just said--but it does matter, of course, because he likes for people to like him, because she was only doing him a favor and he owes her appreciation, at least--]

The meat one. The meat waffle, that's what I meant. That's what I wouldn't want. This one, it's good.

[He picks up his fork--clumsy at first, but his grip at it relaxes as the hunger abates a bit more. God, this is stupid.]

Sorry.

[Music speaks to Elves, and the Sindar especially. Thranduil listens, and slowly, he is enraptured. His head turns in increments as the song plays, until his eyes fall on the instrument and the hands playing it. A slow blink, like a contented cat. The lines of worry are all but erased from his face by the time she finishes playing.

His eyes meet hers and he tilts his head to her.]

That was very beautiful.

[ "the lovely elena". jenna makes a face like she's just bitten into something disgusting, but lets it go by without commentary— 'don't you compliment my niece' sounds crazy no matter how you say it, and she has bigger fish to fry than an admittedly innocuous choice of words. ]

You came after us. [ jaw set in a stubborn line, she shakes her head and tries to fight the urge to just start yelling. ] Play the eye for an eye card all you want, but your family invaded our lives and ruined them, not the other way around. I'm sorry any of it happened at all but so help me god if you try and spin this into anything other than that and I swear I'll hit you right now.

[ which ignores the salvatores' culpability and brushes aside history she doesn't fully understand ( doesn't truly understand at all ) but nobody's perfect, and two years is a long time to stew and build narratives. ]

...trouble? [ icy isn't jenna's usual mo, but hearing the euphemism knocks her back for a second. ] Your brother didn't break a dish, he— [ she breaks off, closing her eyes tight as black veins spiderweb beneath them like film exploded to light, shoving back at the tingling pressure she can feel in her gums and jaw. ] I don't care what else you say about me, but you don't get to do that.

[ don't get to take away what he did and make it seem like something else, even if that makes no earthly sense. ]

Yeah, I'd bet.

[ telling him the plan was a bust as far as successful mutiny is concerned is useless; he knows better than she does, everyone locked inside has to. as painful as thinking they'd all die was, she remembers waiting and staring at how everything ends herself— after that the last thing anyone who was on that bridge needs is an immediate i told you so, and nathan least of all.]

Don't scare me like that again anytime soon, okay? [ not stop trying ( because odds are he won't, and neither would jenna in his place ) but the idea of another scare makes her throat feel tight. ] Just take some downtime from trying to see if vampires can have heart attacks.

...Stefan?

[ try as she might to not make any assumptions by faces alone, the question is out before jenna can think better of asking and ending up freaking out a complete stranger with a familiar face yet again.

...still, she can't help but feel sure it is him, once she gets a second to match the familiar body language with his features. ]

I'm not wrong, it is you.

[A little nod, far from happy. But this is not the defeatist screed it sounds like.]

There's one thing we can do, though. We can survive.

[ He's different, indeed. Elijah doesn't know Stefan well enough to discern the exact shift, but he is no fool. Something has changed since their last, brief encounter. He assumes it has to with Elena and Damon's romance, and he doesn't care enough to ask for confirmation (#assholeprobs). ]

Moreso than usual?

[ it's like a game of chicken: who will let slip when they're from first? ]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 41 of 113

twenty-eighth jump;

halls

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

and then i had a table that wouldn't leave

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

oh well in that case GOOD because i love it too 8)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

NATHAN THIS IS ALL SO SUDDEN

ftr so my brain doesn't die this is pre-elijah post-elena timelinewise okay lezz do this

no subject

can you tho