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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Well, there was the question now, wasn't it. Fili let out a sigh, giving a slow shake of his head, "We came from the Battle of Five Armies, lad. We know our fates." As sad as they were, he would not hide from them. There was nothing for it.

[He nods, completely sure of his answer.]

Lots. I fought them.

Did they attack you?

That's what Wes called it. [ kanyeshrug, tig. doesn't matter if you don't know who that is, she knows. that's the important part. ] He's a tightass Brit, good call on the tea.

[ tig you're twelve kinds of interesting, faith is js. ] Sounds about my speed, too. [ a beat. ] Nice ink. Kinda familiar, like... [ she snaps her fingers, grinning. ] Like Prospect's— sons of whatever the fuck, right?

[ she means jax. ]

[ arya she absolutely does ]

No— yes, but no. I shouldn't.

[ but oh my god does she want to. ]

He meant well, even if— he meant well.

[ Really. Good boy, Haymitch.

It's kind of hilarious sight, really; Spot especially dislikes being manhandled, while Jones and the two kittens are much more relaxed about the whole thing. Now dressed, Carolyn pauses by the lockers to watch, smiling a little bit before moving to scoop up an irate Spot and hold her to her chest. ]

Thanks.

I'll say I did it.

[ she'll even take the fall for you, this is love. ]

I threw all his clothes on the lawn once, when we were kids. While all the sprinklers were on.

[ you get her, man. ]

Maybe I'll do it again later, but for now... [ she holds her arms out to the sides a little, a question and an invitation. normally jax is there when she needs comfort, but the situation's harder when he's the reason too. ]

[ arya does not need much else. she's been needing a hug since the pod spat her out; it's better when she doesn't have to ask for it. two quick steps and her arms go around tara's waist. arya can feel some of tension ease out of her shoulders. ]

It's fine. My wife's always saying I could talk a person's ear off, especially about spaceships.

[Though really, when it came to spaceships he had nothing on Kaylee]

Everyone has to learn this stuff eventually.

Barred them? And how would have proposed to do that? With your overwhelming authority as a member of the security team? Yes, I'm sure they would have bowed their heads and slunk right on back to their rooms if you'd told them so.

[That... does complicated matters]

There's still a chance. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there is.

[ she has to mindfully keep herself from clutching too hard, but just having someone close and relaxed does wonders for helping that along; after a moment the grasp turns to more of a pat, gentle and comforting. ]

Now that we know the idiot is alive— how are you?

I wasn't about to leave you in there.

[He says it like it should be obvious, and he feels like it should be. She should know by now how much he cares about her, after all the talks they've had and...everything else. But he takes the thanks with a nod, slight as it is, and accepts the kiss easily for what might be the first time ever. Affection can be handled after horrible drama. In fact, it's deserved afterward.

Even if they're standing out in the way of anyone walking by, even if people stop and gawk at them, he's not letting her go. They're practically naked and covered in the stupid blue goop, but he's not going to release her from his grip for a good long while. When you're sure you're lost someone but it turns out you haven't, you never want to let them go, just in case, right?]

I thought you died. I was sure you did.

Rick bends at the waist to collect his gun, on his feet, now -- he is not overly tall, but with a string bean wiry strength kind of quality to him as if negative space could somehow seem as imposing as being filled with height and musculature. Life has taken bites off him and left behind only the necessary parts.

Mostly. There's a skeptical curl to his eyebrows at the conditions given as to the conditions under which tinman might grab men, a look aside in the midst of checking his gun over before reholstering it.

"Rick Grimes," he says. "From jump number twenty six. You?"

I thought I was going to. I thought I'd never see you again. Or Jai, or anyone for that matter.

[She doesn't care about anything but him right now. Nothing but the way he's holding her and the fact that he's solid and warm and safe and there, that she feels like she has nothing to worry about anymore. Perhaps now that he's seen her at her worst, he'll be able to accept all of her freely and fully. Or perhaps he'll run away. She doesn't know, can't know, probably will never know, but that's alright. As long as she has him for the moment, she's content.]

It was so lonely. I didn't want to leave you. I love you.

[She sighs, tucking her head against his. There's no special weight to those words, not that she gives them. It's more like a plea than a confession, an insistent turn of phrase.]

[He already accepts her for everything she is, all the good and the bad. He has for a while now. It's hard to not take her bad with the good when her bad is what drew him to her in the first place, made him want to help her and protect her. Although, her worst did make more of an impact. But it also made him want even more to help her.

His mouth opens to say something, maybe to just shush her and tell her it's okay because she didn't die, she doesn't have to be lonely anymore, but he can't even talk over her when he hears that word. Love. It doesn't sound much like a confession, but it's still shocking. Going still, yet not letting her go, silence falls and his eyes open, leaving him staring over her shoulder at the wall, and whatever lie between it and them.

Love. How does he respond to that? Maybe it's just an overreaction, one caused by all the emotion, by the traumatic experience. Maybe it's... He's not sure. He's just really not sure. He has no idea what to think.]

You do?

[The words are quiet, barely even a whisper, almost just a breath that brushes against her hair. He's quick to direct the topic another way though, thinking that maybe he shouldn't have acknowledged it. Or, maybe, he should have acknowledged it better. Never let it be said that he knows what to do with these sorts of things.

It's worse than usual, because she's managed to both surprise and confuse the hell out of him with just three words.]

It's okay. You don't have to leave again, and you're fine. It won't happen again.

In such a place we have all the more reason to band together, do we not?

[Ianto nods at that.] Everyone is miserable in this place.

[And the Doctor has been here before, but he doesn't mention that.]

Still, I shouldn't have avoided you like I have been, and I'm sorry for it. You've nothing to do with my Doctor issues and it was wrong of me to take them out on you.

It's called a tattoo. And it isn't something you can remove--others have tried; it simply comes back. So don't injure yourself in any attempt.

The sorrow which he saw reflected in Jehan's face was mirrored in Bahorel's heart, for he knew that what he had said could not be portrayed in any gentler way and be any more effective. A man whose love for another man surpassed that of the love for a woman could never end well, especially in a time of uncertainty or war -- this he knew -- and it would end all the worse for Jehan if he were to be caught up in such a whirlwind of emotions.

"Ouai, and young men are not to be blamed, only guided." With a small sigh and an apologetic smile to couple the subtle shake of his head.

But before he could continue, Bahorel was forced to release Courfeyrac's shoulder, momentarily surprised, having not realized that he had not done so already, and steeled himself with a frown at the other's rebellious words. Gruffly but not unkindly, and unexpectedly docile for the reputation he held:

"I worry less for your overindulgence and more in the directions you send it. In either case, your admiration for my concern would be better shared with a level head, mon ami."

A warning, for this was a conversation best had without the subject of their discussion trembling tearfully before them.

[ The set of his stare hardens. Not so adept a liar as to hide the brief flash of sclera (caught), but close on its heels is the flare of his temper, frustration bleeding out in a grinding of teeth and the roll of his shoulders.

The dip of his own chin falls less curious, more testy.]

I can hit you again if you require clarification.

I won’t stop you,

[ says Erik, whose slump has listed (and is still listing) into something lazier. Pietro pls. ]

Clearly. [ he bites back, fists curling at his sides but latching only onto a verbal attack where the physical is— complicated. Impossible, without compromising a code of conduct he values, though it seems only marginally more than he hates appearing soft right now.

A nod to the ceiling, their surroundings, whoever is running this horror show. ]

Have they dulled your teeth?

[ —Clumsy redirection aside, this is the least metal he's ever had flying at his head in a fight with Magneto. ]

"Jumps?" she asked, tilting her head curiously. "Curious."

She did not remember being able to jump whilst cramped in that tube.

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twenty-eighth jump;

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they're v sorry (no they aren't)

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omfg autocorrect what did you even try to correct

ALMOST ANSWERS WITH SMILEY OOPS also lmfao god even knows autocorrect hates us all

best surrogate mom is clearly the evil smiley face. imagine the birthday parties

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oh good god no never attend one of his parties the guy never brings snacks

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X *

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no problem! <3

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