ataraxionlogs | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ ward is wary, tense — expecting the worst. but — whatever is happening here, wherever he is and whoever has taken him, they seem to have taken others as well. while he can't discard the possibility that this is an elaborate set-up, that some of the individuals here have been planted to extract information, he also cannot disregard that some might need help.

so he stops when he's approached — and she can't be very old at all. he has to push down a wave of rage, shove it aside to deal with later or never at all, whenever is more convenient. a little girl. ]

I don't. [ that came out harsh, and he takes a breath, lets it out slowly, and makes a deliberate effort to soften his voice. ] I'm sorry. Are you all right?

[ wanda winces a little at the initial harshness of the human's response, pet's body unused to such anger -- wanderer herself is not surprised, humans tend to get unnecessarily harsh when they are afraid, or surprised, or really anything but happy. but this body has never even been spoken to in this way before, and it instinctually shies away from it. the man makes an obvious effort to calm himself, and wanda offers up what she hopes is a friendly smile -- she has no idea how her usual expressions look on this face. hopefully she can find a mirror sometime soon and see what she looks like. ]

I'm not sure, I'm very disoriented. [ her voice really is high, isn't it? almost like a bell. ] I've never experienced anything like this before...

[ and with as many lives as she's had, that really is surprising. ]

[ the smile looks friendly enough, and her voice is high and confused — and ward doesn't want to think back to his little brother, but he can't help it. she seems to be about the age his brother had been at the well — he's not thinking about that.

( the berserker staff had brought it up and ever since, ward has been having trouble keeping it down. ) ]

Are you hurt anywhere?

[ one step at a time. he can't help with the confusion, but whatever this is — he can try to keep her safe. ]

I don't think so.

[ wanda takes a moment to assess her body. if she were with souls, she would be able to answer with certainty -- no one would ever insert a soul into a damaged host body. the damaged host would be discarded quickly and painlessly, and an undamaged body would be found. but she's with humans, and she doesn't know what her friends did to pet to get her to the caves, or what happened between then and now to get her here.

after a careful cataloguing of all of her limbs, pressing her hands to her face and head, she looks back up at the man and shakes her head. ]

No, I'm alright. Disoriented, like I said, I can't really -- remember much, everything's fuzzy.

[ her own memories should be coming back to her easier now, but the life she remembers best is still pet's. memories of her time in melanie's body are there, they're just... distant, harder to reach. if only she had some awake, she's sure she would feel better.

she has a sudden thought, and her eyes widen, her hand going to touch careful fingertips to the man's arm. ]

Are you hurt?

No.

[ he doesn't jerk his arm away, but he isn't entirely comfortable with the repeated intrusion of his space, either. get a grip, ward — she's just a child, and she said herself that she's disoriented. the least he can do is help. he definitely has to help. so he keeps his arm where it is and pushes any discomfort aside. ]

What's the last thing you remember?

That's good.

[ wanda drops her hand, looking genuinely relieved that he's aright. his question, however, has her wrinkling her brow, trying to think. what is the last thing she remembers? she had been giving melanie's body back, about to die -- but she can't exactly explain that to an unknown human.

the realization that she will have to lie freezes wanda up for a moment -- she's right back where she started. if these are all humans, as she believes that at least this man is, then she will have to lie constantly. do they know how to check for souls? her hand flies to the back of her neck, fingertips pressing over the scar there. how will she keep herself safe here without ian or melanie, in such a small body?

she takes a deep breath, choosing her words slowly and deliberately. ]

I was with my friends. We were talking -- I can't remember what about. They wanted me to go somewhere, so I followed them into an alley... And then nothing.

[ it is not the last thing wanderer remembers, but it is the most recent memory this body has. she has left out details, but hopefully her lie isn't too obvious. and if it is, maybe it can be put down to stress. ]

[ so she remembers just as much as he does about the abduction, namely nothing at all. it's probably a good thing in her case, because he can't imagine that it was particularly pleasant and if she doesn't remember it, that's all the better — but that he doesn't remember, that bugs him. ]

What's your name?

[ wanda lets out a relieved breath at her lie being believed, then begins to fret all over again over his next question. humans have two names, but she only has the one. maybe she doesn't have to give a family name, but she wants to fit in, be as human as possible.

after a long hesitation, she speaks. ]

Wanda Stryder. What's yours?

[ hopefully mel wouldn't mind her taking her name. ]

Grant Ward.

[ the relief in her demeanour is noted, but not further analysed. her pauses could just as easily be down to disorientation as anything else, and ward is careful, but he isn't paranoid. ]

It's nice to meet you, Grant Ward.

[ after a moment of hesitation, she holds her hand out for him to shake. as far as she remembers, that is the proper way that american humans greet each other. ]

Likewise. [ it isn't really — the circumstances mean that nothing is particularly nice right now, but he's willing to be polite, and so he shakes her hand anyway. ]

[ wanda is a soul, she has to be polite. she doesn't really know any other way to be, unless someone is being unbearably annoying, and ward hasn't been anything but kind so far. she shakes his hand and smiles, her grip light as a feather before she lets go. ]

Do you know where we're supposed to go now? I don't see any signs, or anything, and this place is so big...

[ he wishes he had a better answer for her than — ] No clue.

[ a brief survey of their surroundings reveals, however, that most people who seem familiar with the place, or at least not as disoriented, are making their way into one particular direction.

they might do well to follow, so he jerks his head towards it. ] That way.

twenty-eighth jump;

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