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

captain hook | ota (replies might be slow until monday!)

[capsize]

pods.

[ hook doesn't know the first thing about new york, but it doesn't exactly take a genius to guess this isn't it. the initial sensation is a bit like drowning, vision swamped in blue; then he's being unceremoniously ejected from the pod, and he only just manages to get a good grip on the side with his good hand and avoid slipping on the slick fluid. there's a reluctant pause to regain his bearings. or to make an attempt at it, anyway. a few seconds of observation tells him absolutely nothing of use, other than the fact that he's naked and he hasn't got his hook, which — not ideal, but he's far too irritated to dwell on the details.

the absence of his hook doesn't stop the phantom sensation of the metal sunk deep into the dark one's shoulder. the poison would kill him. hook's as sure of that as he is of anything, but there's still a sense of being cheated of his victory, the chance to watch a coward confront his death. and in the end, it doesn't matter that hook has no idea where he is. his mind's still there, back in new york, on the quest that's occupied his thoughts for the past three hundred years. wherever this is, the way forward is simple: find his hook, find the person responsible for the untimely interruption, get back to rumplestiltskin's cooling corpse.

at this second, however, he simply runs his hand through his hair before shaking blue fluid off his fingers onto the floor, looking altogether unbothered by the fact that he's just fallen naked out of a pod. any apparent nonchalance is quickly betrayed by his voice — it's hard to miss the irritated edge, matched by a smile that's far too sharp to be friendly. ]

This seems like quite a lot of effort just to get me out of my coat.

[ there's a handful of people capable of being this much of a magical thorn in his side — whether they're listening or not, the derision's meant for them. which sounds cool in theory, even if it mostly just means he's standing around naked talking to himself. ]

lockers - interrupt wherever!

[ if there's one thing a lifetime (or several) in the enchanted forest provides, it's adaptability. it's easy enough to humor the routine of the ship as soon as he's been brought up to speed, and soon enough hook's standing clothed before his locker. he doesn't retrieve the familiar silver hook until after he's put on his coat, and even then he's in no rush; takes a moment to study it, check it for traces of poison, blood.

it's clean. probably for the best, as far as the poison's concerned. regarding the blood, it's utterly disappointing. his expression's more disgruntled than angry while the realization settles, then he raises his left wrist and smoothly fastens the hook in its place. the pistol's abandoned as he secures the sword to his hip, and though there's a brief hesitation over milah's portrait, he ends up closing the door without removing it from safe keeping.

the moment he turns away from the lockers, he reaches out with his good hand to catch the nearest passerby by the arm. the gesture isn't necessarily forceful, but it's probably surprising enough to stop them up short. ]

If I were to say New York, you'd say... ?

LOCKERS hi

[boogiewoogiebugleboy]

[It says a lot about Blue and who he is that when he's grabbed by a man with a hook for a hand, he doesn't seem to be even slightly bothered by it. But then, he's seen weirder. He is, after all, a teenager with a trumpet hanging from one hip and a sword from the other.

(The fact that it's the most powerful sword in the Homelands is probably worth thought, but really, Blue tries not to think about it.)

He turns on his heel when the man grabs him, looking up, because naturally, he's taller than Blue. Everyone is.]

Papaya King or Gray's Papaya?

[Actually he would say Fabletown but, well. Mundies.]

hEEYYY

[capsize]

[ hook's seen weirder than blue, too, but that doesn't stop him from noting the trumpet and the sword. unique choice, if nothing else.

there's a slight pause after blue responds, just to make sure he's heard him right. then his expression slides into something best described as "judgey". ]

Papaya what? If your king was looking to inspire fear in the hearts of his people, I'd say he's missed the mark.

[boogiewoogiebugleboy]

He's looking to inspire hunger in all his subjects.

[Blue says it with a straight face, and doesn't seem at all bothered by judgey McJudgey Pirate.]

They're restaurants. Famously in battle over who has the best papaya smoothie and hot dog. What do you want to know about New York? I hope you're aware, this isn't it.

[Oh man what Blue would give for some Papaya King.]

[uncurse]

[ emma is disoriented - more than usual, this jump, because she hadn't entirely been expecting to make it through this jump. she still looks out of it even as she approaches her locker, numbly opening it. the haze is broken by a familiar voice - it had been months now since she'd heard it, but it wasn't one easily forgotten - and she finishes pulling on her sweater, foregoing boots to move around the row of lockers and stop short at the sight of him. ]

Hook.

[ it's flat and disbelieving. how does he keep popping back into her life? every time she thinks she's left him behind ... she blinks, pushing down the confusion and collecting herself to offer something more substantial. ]

What the hell are you doing here?

[ or ... in theory, more substantial. more importantly, why the hell is he asking about new york? ]

[capsize]

[ there's a noticeable pause when hook hears her voice, a moment to think before he actually meets her gaze. he's not exactly surprised to see emma swan here — she's more or less everywhere, these days.

the truth is that he's still slightly disoriented from the jump, and admittedly at a loss as to how he went from shoving emma out of the way to being kindly greeted by her in this...

actually, he'll focus on filling in that blank. ]

You're quite the thief — first my compass, now my lines. I was about to ask the same of you.

[ his tone's surprisingly light, but she likely knows him better than to buy into it. ]

[uncurse]

[ she gives him a brief snide look of acknowledgment at the thief remark - because, well, seriously? digging that up? she's put a lot of effort into aggressively not thinking about the enchanted forest and instead focusing on the present, because it's the only way for her to have the wherewithal to go through that pain and loss that greeted her back in the real world. but more than that, she's fairly certain that hook trying to abscond with her magic bean makes them even.

and when he turns the question on her is when she realizes, begrudgingly, that their goal should be the same. what they're doing here is an accident, the real question - ]

The real question is what we aren't doing in Neverland. I should be finding my son, and instead I've been here for six months. What the hell happened? [ it's easy now that hook's here to blame it on him and his ship being defective instead of acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, they're exactly as powerless to get back on track as she's felt all this time. he'd offered his help, and she sure as hell intends to hold him to that when it's her best chance. ]

lockers

[axemeagain]

[He may catch Johanna staring at him as he dresses. Curiosity, especially over his hand. She watches him put the hook in.

Johanna approaches, an axe in each hand. She looks a little threatening, but she's letting the axes hang to her side, just holding them, but prepared for a fight. She has a shaved head and is frighteningly skinny. She's also smelly, like body odor smelly, but she doesn't stop near enough for Hook to smell her (Or at least... so she hopes). She's evidently forgone any clothes. Hope you don't mind, Hook.

She has a smirk on her face, trying really hard to (and succeeding pretty well at it) hide how frightened she is, each word dripping with sarcasm.] We both got shiny little presents. So kind of them. I wonder who to thank.

[capsize]

[ hook notices, but he's largely unfazed by most of it. not the first time a woman's watched him dress while standing around nude, not the first time someone's seemed interested in his hook. the smell's not ideal, but hardly the worst he's encountered (pirate) — the malnutrition, on the other hand, merits some concern.

what's more apparent in his expression as she approaches is him sizing her up, considering the axes and her general demeanor. if he's worried, he does a good show of not letting on, instead offering her a nonchalant smile. ]

If they've any sense of self preservation, I should think they won't give us the chance. [ there's a slight pause, but he doesn't lose the arrogant edge in his voice when he continues. ] And by all means, don't take this as a complaint — but I'd hardly be a gentleman if I didn't offer you my coat.

lockers

[foreshadowed]

[ he would hold onto silk once he goes for her arm, deep purples and blue. The woman whose arm he had stolen would look only slightly startled, brows quirked up and all. she's a bit of a contrast, a fine silk gown, lips that she insists to keep red after a jump if only to give some color to features that are paler than usual - but hair a mess, kept up in a moist bun to keep from wetting the fabric but it seems to nearly give way.

what high ladies look like at 6 a.m sort of a look. she blinks once at him and then looks at her arm, a silent can I have this back please? written on her brow. she has heard the name before in passing so she knows, at least, what to answer. ]

Camelot.

[ because she assumed he is from New York, so the next stage would be to say she is not. ]

[capsize]

[ to say hook wasn't expecting to run into a lady of any note here would be an understatement. there's a slight pause when the gown and her general demeanor registers, and then he withdraws his hand — not quickly, and it's mostly a show of manners in response to her expression.

her response is even farther from what he's expecting. there's only a vague familiarity in the word, but there's enough for him to know it's yet another distant realm. which... so is new york, and for some bizarre reason she's associating the two. ]

... is in New York?

[ there's a polite note of confusion in it, but there's no pretending he's not looking massively skeptical. ]

( lockers )

[specialism]

[ ward is tense enough that the hand on his arm doesn't just stop him, but that it takes a conscious effort not to break the man's arm for touching him — as it is, his muscles tense for a moment and he takes a step back instead of acting aggressively. ]

Battle of.

[ it's not a bad idea — testing associations to check familiarity. except everyone knows the battle of new york, it was televised so widely and it's not the kind of news you miss, so it isn't really giving away much, either. ]

[capsize]

[ not televised in the enchanted forest, unfortunately. hook easily releases ward's arm when he moves away, but the tension doesn't go unnoticed.

as for the response, it doesn't actually mean anything. hook has no idea whether or not there was a battle of new york — but it does make it clear that this man's familiar with the city, if nothing else. the easy assumption to make is that anyone familiar with new york is from there; the problem is that hook's known too many people displaced from their worlds, so assumptions will have to wait. ]

And this place, is it in the same realm?

ay girl i'm gonna make it hideous up in here

[ensnarled]

[ there's too many people flitting around to make for a comfortable atmosphere; every voice she tries to hone in on only gets drowned out by the constant buzzing of a crowd, but the migraine that nearly causes is nothing in comparison to the mixture of overwhelming scents — perfumes, the aroma from the strange blue goo, body odor. the haste behind each of her movements, then, is understandable. she thinks she's almost free to search the stragglers before she goes to collect the rest of the items in her locker, try to pinpoint a familiar voice, but that line of thought is halted by a hand planted on her arm, a clear sign of someone trying to garner her attention.

it takes a lot of restraint not to break his hand as soon as he initiates contact, due to being startled and having no patience for a stranger, one whose intentions aren't entirely known to her, touching her in her current state. ]

You say New York, I say get your hand off of me before I dislocate your wrist.

[ it's said evenly without missing a beat, a spark of irritation lurking underneath the surface ( directed at him, but more so the situation they've found themselves in ) but the harden gaze she turns on him as her brows furrow indicate it's far from an empty threat. she makes no move to remove the hand herself; she's given fair warning. should he refuse to heed it, she'll follow through — but he hasn't made a move yet, so she'll let him withdraw of his own accord while trying not to be aggressive.

fat chance. ]

girrrrrrrl

[capsize]

[ the hostility's impossible to miss even before the woman speaks up, but if there was any doubt, that certainly clarifies her intentions. there's a slight delay while hook considers it — stepping down isn't his instinctive response, really — but then he pointedly removes his hand, flashing a smile that's far too fake to be considered polite. ]

Easy, lass. It's the only hand I've got; I'd rather keep it in fine condition, if it's all the same to you.

[ he raises his hook as he speaks, just to make his point clear. there may be some inherent threat in the gesture, drawing attention to a weapon — but otherwise, it's entirely conversational. ]

lockers.

[carbonite]

[why is it that people want to talk to him while he's at the lockers? why is it that people want to talk to him about things that won't get him back to cloud city? why do people. at this point, it's lucky for hook that once han finally gets all the goo off him that he's in a somewhat better mood (plus, the technical stuff like he didn't die and he didn't return to be tortured and frozen in an experimental freezing process only used for mining- go han). so when he gets touched, instead of the proper smuggler greeting of punching a guy in the face and telling him not to touch you, hook gets a huge eye roll and a small shove. don't touch me again.] I'd say you're far from that magical place that lets you touch people without expecting not to get socked in the face.

hello space pirate

[capsize]

[ while logic would probably merit treating that like the threat it is — and in his defense, hook does withdraw his hand — all it really does is encourage a broad grin. proper smuggler greetings, not unlike proper pirate greetings. ]

I doubt such a place exists. [ the amusement's plain in his voice, but despite the rude response he's undeterred from questioning. ] What realm is this?

[look]

[ will's immediate reaction is to flinch away, shake him off, but he does stop. looks across at the lockers to their left, then down, brows lifting, mouth doing something twitchy. ]

It's a hell of a town?

[ despite his wry answer, it's not exactly an unexpected sort of question. new people, situating themselves. probably this isn't the first time he's been kidnapped. maybe not even the first time he's been kidnapped to space with a bunch of strangers. ]

I'm from Virginia.

laughing already

[capsize]

[ it's hard to miss the flight response regardless of how quickly it's crushed. the wry response does more to confuse it than clarify, if only because hook can't quite decide if it's an awkward joke or strangely deflective.

the directness of the follow-up is appreciated, but— ]

Virginia. [ what a ridiculous name. but if he's mentioning it, it must somehow be relevant to the question. ] Is that near New York?

lockers

[afraidofthe]

[Bigby stiffens immediately. He's not terribly fond of strangers coming up to grab his arm, even though the question paired with it was a bit curious. Regardless, he gives the man a look -- and noticing the glimmer of the hook in place of the other man's hand in his peripheral.

Odd. But he's seen odder.

A pause. Fabletown. But he can't say that, and so his mind just searches for something else, seemingly random.]

...Cab fare.

[Coming from a man who can't drive, it's legitimate enough.]

[capsize]

[ legitimate, maybe, but completely useless as far as hook's concerned. or close to it — whether it holds meaning to him or not, the fact that the man has any point of reference implies new york is part of his reality, at the very least. it's a start.

hook makes a show of removing his hand in response to the pointed look, but it's clear he's more amused than threatened. ]

Then you know of it. [ it's a rhetorical statement, and he doesn't bother waiting for confirmation before continuing his line of questioning. ] Tell me, have we left its realm?

pods, i'm going for pods.

[wellrested]

[This ship has taken a great many things from Aurora. Mulan. Her chance to rescue Phillip. Everything she knew. The Tranquility is only starting to become familiar to her, these strange jumps included. But she knows enough to have already found a towel to cover herself with.

She stops in her tracks when she spots him; even the nausea seems to abate. The ship has taken so much, but right now it seems to have given something in return: a chance for revenge.

Aurora doesn't have her dagger on her, but she does have her mighty fists, which she balls up as she marches over to him, ready to punch at arms, shoulder, throat. Whatever.]

You heart thieving wretch! How dare you show up here!

living dangerously i see

[capsize]

[ it's not exactly the last voice he's expecting to hear, but it's certainly close. it'd be an exaggeration to say there's anything like remorse at being confronted with his crimes; more than anything, the realization that aurora is here means one thing: he's likely back in the enchanted forest. inconvenient, considering how much time he spent getting out. and while he'd like to get right to questioning her about that, he doesn't get a chance before she marches straight up to him, her intentions clear.

there's zero attempt at maintaining his modesty, and instead hook raises his hand — hands, theoretically, though without his hook the one is just a bare wrist — and offers a smile, faking at something like chagrin. ] You wouldn't strike an unarmed man, surely.

[ unhooked? whatever, the joke still works. ]

lockers!

[unforgives]

[emily has gotten into the habit of lingering just a bit longer after the jumps, whether it's talking to new people or even people she is already acquainted with so when she there's suddenly a hand on her shoulder, she is completely unphased even if her normal reaction would be shake his hand off or break his hand for even touching her. she just smiles with a friendly tone to match with her expression] I'd say that's something we have in common if you're from there too.

hello i heard you like revenge

[capsize]

Alas, I'm afraid I'm not — at least not originally. [ directly, yes. there's no rush, but he removes his hand a moment later once it's clear he's got her attention, easily matching her friendly tone. ]

But I'd very much like to get back. [ not that he thinks there's an easy way to accomplish that, but hey, worth trying. ]