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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[Pepper doesn't entirely understand the analogy, so she focuses on the question instead.]

You don't have much of a choice. [Time waits for no man, as it were.]

As for me, I focused on what I knew and settled in.

[Shell skip the part about being the significant other of the head of engineering and just happens to also be a superhero, or that having to deal with weird stuff constantly for the past three years at home has been the norm.]

What are you good at? I could probably point you in the direction you'd be most comfortable in.

[No Harry, she can not point you in the direction of 'home']

Sam wasn't here...? But how was that possible?

Frodo frowned as thought over that. So if Sam and Pippin weren't here, then where were they? He hated to think of them being alone somewhere, here or at home, lost with nobody to turn to. It stabbed him with guilt just thinking about it..."Where are they...?" His voice was no more than a whisper.

As he heard more about those who were home, Frodo did find himself relaxing quite a bit. If Galadriel was here, and Elrond too, then things should be be safe for him, for anybody. But the thought of them being in such a dreary place was also just a little concerning. It was concerning for all of them, in that manner.

Anyway. He looked to Taruiel, and bowed his head. "Thank you, Taruiel. You have brought much comfort to me."

I thought so. Involuntary trips to space are kind of limited for possibilities. It's an abduction either way, but I'm open to different sources. [ He's sometimes wondered whether he can really rule out alien himself. But those are just the roads life takes. Alice would be right along his niche in most situations: part of the main cast but still disconnected from the family as a whole. Abed doesn't see much reason to change the style now of all times. ]

You seem pretty familiar with the situation. Have you had a long stay or are you just part of a higher conspiracy plot for some reason?

Oh no, don't say such a thing. [ He looks up to her, and smiles. ] You have been a great help to me as it is.

[ Frodo looks down to the flowers for a moment or two. ] I was being a little overly-curious. I'm sorry if I seemed to be prying in any way.

[It's such an idiotic thing to say. Classic Edgeworth. Sirius glances over at him, a smile tugging suddenly at the corners of his mouth.]

Yeah. I know.

[And it's good, that he does. That goes unsaid. There's a beat, and then he reaches over to clap Edgeworth on the arm, once, bracing, far more like his usual self.]

You're a prat.

[ The release of pressure sees Erik buckling slowly floorwards, where he will have time and space to think about the things he has done to arrive there. One long leg folded under, the other extended out, he catches his breath at a dry remove while a steady nasal drip sullies the breast of his shirt.

Sure to be the first stain of many. ]

I don’t know, [ he says. Condescension leaden at the tip of his tongue. ]

You should hit me to be sure.

Edited (yes its me) 2014-02-18 06:01 (UTC)

Six... jumps. Or, months, as I'm led to believe the two modes of time pass similarly.

I am glad to hear that but much of what I have done is pass on what I was told when I arrived. I can hardly take full credit.

[She laughs softly and reaches, lightly brushing her fingers over one of the nearest of the flowers. They aren't quite so lovely as the one she grew for Nuada but that had been a special request and she had to put quite a bit of effort into growing that one specifically.]

No, no, you were fine. I do not mind questions.

[ he nods, automatically, expression pensive. ]

Yes. Of course they do. And everyone eats stale cookies and pretends it isn't awkward to be in a room with everyone a person has ever had cause to meet -- or left an impression on. Which, really, is a better outcome than the reason such a tradition was originally employed.

[ then slowly, he puts things back into perspective and context. ]

Would you like to hold a wake, for. For James?

[He looks up at her, a little wide-eyed.]

A inshinerador?

[He lets down his guard just enough to turn toward her bodily, eyebrows beetling together.]

Sounds really important!! We should do that!

I — I dunno! I mean, like, a monster! You ever meet monsters?

Sometimes things turn into 'em even when they shouldn't.

[NOD NOD!!!]

It sucked.

[He deflates a little in the shoulders, looking grouchy.]

Everything was boring and most of the shit was pretty linear, in terms of what you'd expect on the bridge. It was mostly the weird hallucinatory stuff that made it a bitch to be down there.

[He might still be a weeee bit fucked up over that. Not that it's totally that obvious, since he's already a little unhinged from the start.]

If I thought it would help... [ Flat. ]

[ But his gaze flicks to the red seeping into the other man's shirt once, –twice, as if debating whether or not to allow himself to feel guilty about that. (Maybe later.) His jaw sets instead. The tension in him has settled into (admittedly bewildered) wariness, but not abated. Just because he's stopped attacking doesn't mean he's inclined to be kind. ]

Your name, if you please, before you bleed everywhere.

Magneto.

Good. [ Another stubborn raise of the chin, although there are flecks of more complicated expressions (confusion, uncertainty, fear, respect, loyalty, anger) behind his eyes. ] That saves me the trouble of an apology.

But you do not know me?

Edited (slow decent into editing madness) 2014-02-18 09:46 (UTC)

Rick has his finger out of the trigger guard as his first order of business, his brow lined with puzzled suspicion as what had been an oncoming noise flips into scrabbling retreat before he can really assess the threat. His teeth are bared and set together, gun twitching, lowering, aware all at once at glass and metal and sleeping bodies in stasis fluid.

Uncertainty has him standing still, torn between putting his gun away and keeping it in hand, finally opting for the latter as he roams closer, set at a trajectory so that barricade is not a complete one. He can see a slice of sneaker.

"Hey," he says, voice all southern grit even in this one innocuous syllable. "Show me your hands. And get on your feet."

[ A blink, a glance up and down, microgestures that suggest concession. Yes, of course, Alex is all grown up, and Charles has seen the scars of the recent past. The lessons that have made their marks, and now he has one of his own.

Still, even now-- ]

And Senator Petrelli, hasn't he lived through this place too?

It's because he isn't a friend that I listened to him, you know. He told me how I could help, rather than focus only on how to prevent me from doing so.

[ He glances away, watches as others filter into the lockers, his voice appropriately quiet for a private conversation in a public place. When he looks back, there's the earnest, prying search in his eyes, to detect whether Alex understands. ]

You couldn't possibly have known exactly how we'd fail.

[ Quite true. Charles doesn't stand, frustration pressing the insides of his ribcage with a pent up breath in, slowly released again. He'd almost smiled at that moment of barely-there-humour, a ghost of it softening the skin around his eyes. ]

Later, then.

[ Talking: later. Forgiveness: later. Bitter arguments: later. Theirs is a relationship where all these important things are continually postponed, as if it had been left behind in the gravity couches when they'd first been dumped out of them.

If Erik looks back, Charles remains where he is, watching some unknown invisible spot in the air aside from him, perhaps listening to thoughts unspoken from one direction or another.

And later: gone, rather than waiting, to shuck himself from his uniform and hibernate. ]

[ elena's not unnerved by anything katherine does anymore -- she's seen the worst she has to offer, or so she thinks, and is unimpressed with anything else. she's unimpressed with everything about katherine, frankly, and with so many people here on her side she's not afraid of her anymore either. ]

Maybe I'm so pissed at you I'll start biding my time. You don't know me, Katherine, or what I'm capable of.

[ maybe it's the failed mutiny, or the jump being even crappier than usual. whatever it is, elena's sounding more hostile and, perhaps, more intimidating than usual. ]

You don't need anything to gain. You deceive people just for the fun of it.

While we're talking, let's get one thing straight. [ the veins under elena's eyes ripple black, and for a moment, her eyes fill with blood. it won't scare katherine, of course it won't, but a little emphasis can't hurt. ] If you touch Jenna or Ric, I will kill you. I don't care what humanity might be lingering in that shriveled black heart of yours, my family is off-limits. Understood?

You'll just have to trust me, then.

[ which is something elena knows is hard for some people -- hell, it would be hard for her to trust someone she didn't know, and she likes to think she's a pretty open, friendly person -- so she smiles. ]

There are people from the middle ages here, and elves, and things like that. Werewolves, vampires, that kind of thing. I'm guessing they don't have those where you come from?

[ implying that they do where elena comes from, but she's never exactly been good at withholding information from people. she keeps secrets because she has to, because people will die if she doesn't, but it seems like a better idea to warn ilde instead of send her out into the ship with no idea what she's getting into. ]

[ no matter how much elena can understand that -- and she can, she makes a point to never ask caroline why she can't just get over her thing with damon yet because there are some things you just can't get over, and that's fair, given what damon did to her -- she still wishes things were different. it's hard for her, to have her best friend and her boyfriend so at odds.

no harder than it must be for caroline to see elena be with someone she hates so much, though, so elena tries her best not to make any kind of deal out of it. ]

Thank you. For looking after him. Was he okay? I mean, obviously he was mad, but other than that? [ she's pushing her luck by keeping the damon topic open, she knows, but she wants to make sure he was okay -- as okay as he could be when she was in danger, anyway. ]

[ elena isn't about to say no to more hugs, and she clings to caroline happily. ] No more running into danger at all, I promise. Jenna and Ric and Damon would kill me, and then you'd bring me back to kill me again. I like living.

I am unharmed. I broke my hand and dislocated my shoulder trying to get through the door, but that fixed itself up before we even got out of the room.

[ the question has elena shifting uncomfortably again, eyes searching elijah's face -- she trusts him, insomuch as she understands him and understands what motivates him (she trusts that she knows what his general course of action will be, even if she can't trust that it will be one that will benefit her and her own) but anything that begins with a question in confidentiality is never good.

still, this is elijah, and she trusts his word, if nothing else. if he says it has nothing to do with her family, then it doesn't. ]

Of course you can, what do you want to know?

[ oh, god, those eyes are making dana feel worse than she thinks they have any right to. she was full of righteous fury a second ago, and now marty's turned the puppydog eyes on her and she wants to apologize for her complete normal reaction to the not-death of her best friend. not cool, marty. ]

Right. Okay, now that that's clear, and aside from the part where I punched you, are you alright? Any wounds that need attention, psychological trauma that you need to vent?

Courfeyrac's not sure why he's been so concerned lately about their friends disappearing, perhaps it was because R had gone missing too, much like Marius had. And while he had not been close with the cynic while here on the ship, it still posed a threat that reminded him- none of them were safe from leaving.

Waking up, he went through what was by now a very usual routine, albeit a bit quicker because the water was quite unpleasant. Dressed and drying now by his locker, he towled off his hair a little more, trying to calm down the nerves he always felt when coming back from a jump. Jehan would meet him at his locker and then he'd see to looking for Combeferre, Enjolras and Bahorel.

[And at once, a smile of relief blossoms on Edgeworth's face. It looks a bit pathetic, with him looking like hell - as he does - but it's genuine and heartfelt.]

I'm beginning to think prat might be a compliment.

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twenty-eighth jump;

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this is really short i'm sorry haha...

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u//////////////////u

it's okay!

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Courfeyrac | lockers; ota

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