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

[handelaar]

The- oh. Uh.

[That's weird, the just casually chatting thing like nothing's weird at all. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, confused, flicks a look over to her locker and then back to her and frowns. Well shit. This is kind of... awkward. But he's not one to pussyfoot around facts, and the fact is that she was gone, so he nods to her wrist before reaching up and tapping his own numbers.

Check yo numba, girl.]

[cons]

[ sigh. but her number is wrong, she knows it's wrong. ( no, not wrong, different, but she doesn't like that answer either ) her hand moves to cover her own number before she looks down to scope it out again, like it's something to be worried about. the fact that it's different. meanwhile, it's mostly just annoying. ]

Yeah, I caught that. I was kind of hoping I just conked out for an extra jump or something. [ a beat ] I'm guessing... not the case.

[handelaar]

Mm.

[A "no" sort of a grunt, and just in case that wasn't obvious he thins his lips and shakes his head as well.]

Left. For - [that's. actually hard for him to recall, between all the people who left in the span of a few jumps and having conked out for a jump himself. he scrubs his mouth with his hand while he thinks] - couple jumps, at least.

[He has the gall to sulk in her general direction after that statement, too, before shuffling his weight to the other foot and huffing.]

So I can greet ya now, right. Properly.

[cons]

[ she wants to ask more questions first, like what's happened, who's still here, did her sister show up? ( because that would be her luck, Little Rock would show up right after she left, which would explain why no time went by. but probably not. hm. ) but he's shifting around and looking huffy and she nods, even though she still needs to find her new locker and like, put clothes on. it doesn't really matter. she's clean, at least, and her towel isn't going anywhere, so. ]

Sure. Greet away, greety.

[ she'll even hold her arms out with a teeeeny tiny smile ]

[handelaar]

[Problem is that he hasn't showered - never does, just yanks on his clothes and checks the Gardens and showers later - and he doesn't want to get her sticky. Sticky is kinda gross. Besides, he has a better greeting and so he does what he was going to do before she implied he was going to make out with her face. He snorts at her and leans down, does a quick one-two-three round of cheek kisses, then leans back and explains himself.]

Haven't showered yet.

[To demonstrate, he sticks two fingers onto his opposite arm, pulls them off slowly so that the noise is as loud as possible.]

[cons]

[ it's probably a little funny how quickly Wichita goes from grinning a bit to frowning.. so deeply.. ]

Wow, that was so charming and then you had to go and do that.

[ grooooosssssssss ]

Go shower.

[handelaar]

[Hey, gotta get your kicks when you can, around here. So yes he's a little amused that she's appropriately grossed out.]

Mm, later. Gotta take care of that asshole first.

[He jerks his thumb back to "that asshole", which happens to be the tiny ball of black-and-white floof that is his rabbit. Said ball of floof got bored with the reunion ages ago and is half-asleep on a spare towel under the bench. Aaaand with only a grunt and a nod as a "see ya" Netherlands turns on his heel and goes to scoop Lodewijk up and carry on with his jump routine.]