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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[ in the same tone as "are you stupid:" ] Why would I throw it at you?

[ taking her brush back, arya turns around again — in time for nymeria to shake the water off. used to it, arya says nothing. she purses her lips and shields her eyes until the wolf stops. ]

[ oh, lovely. she sounds just like her younger sister, cecily. ]

Clearly that would be a reason only you might clarify if you had.

[ elizabeth jumps with a yelp when the wolf shakes herself off, and purses her own lips. this is just greaaaaaaat. ]

Should that animal not be in the wild?

[ arya stark: standing in for annoying little sisters everywhere.

the comment is just stupid enough — and offensive enough, nymeria has more a right to be here than most people — to make arya glare scornfully at her. ]

There isn't a "wild" here. There's not even an outside unless you want to die horribly. [ dismissively, she adds: ] You must be very new.

[ such a dubious honour. elizabeth wouldn't be so annoyed if she weren't so new, perhaps.

or perhaps not. the girl is rather abrasive, and it rubs her the wrong way. ]

What are you talking about? [ you have no idea, iarya. she doesn't even know they're in space, yet. she crosses her arms. ]

Yes, I am. [ it's not like she wants to be here long enough to get used to it. ]

[ arya casts another look at her before deciding to affront this as she would with sansa. ]

Have you ever wished to fly between the stars?

[ her lips still pursed, elizabeth shakes her head. ]

Never.

[ to fly free of the dark basement of an abbey, maybe. but otherwise, nope. ]

[ arya gives a careless shrug. ]

Too bad because you are.

[ this is a deadpan, 'stop pulling my chain lil sis' stare. ]

You jest.

Ask anyone. [ arya busies herself cleaning the brush. she adopts the bored tone of having had this conversation too many times before. ] Or you can go to the shuttle bay. It has the only windows on the ship and you can see for yourself.

I am curious. Were you told this in such a casual manner when you arrived?

You might take a moment to understand why I do not believe it.

[ elizabeth won't call her a child. she acts like one, but then she also doesn't. so she will simply ask: ]

What is your name?

It doesn't matter how I tell it; you'll believe me or you won't.

[ the facts of life with arya stark. a name which she withholds for the moment. ]

What's yours?

True enough. But did you, at first?

[ rude, arya. how very, very rude. elizabeth raises her eyebrows. ]

I believe I asked for yours first.

[ in which she is very much feeling like she is dealing with her little sister. ]

[ she thought it a trick by the kindly man. not something she will speak of to anyone, not to her family, not to a stranger. ]

So you should say yours first since you're asking.

[ it's not ( only ) to be a pain. she likes being the one to dictate the terms; it provides a sense of control she needs after having it wrested from her. ]

[ she is just hoping that this is as much a waking nightmare as her life before arriving here had become. ]

That is not how etiquette works, is it?

[ she tilts her ahead, aware now that this girl is better-born than she speaks. and elizabeth can now relate to her, because her life has also been stolen out from beneath her. she has been trying, desperately to claw back some control of her own. ]

Very well, then. Elizabeth is my given name. Should you wish to know the name of my House, you will have to give me your given name in exchange.

Is that fair?

[ she taps the brush against her knee. ]

Arya. [ since the woman expects a family name, she relents: ] Of House Stark.

I am of the House of York.

[ she tilts her head. that is a pretty name. ]

I did not mean to offend with my question, Lady Arya.

I have never before seen a wolf so large.

[ arya makes a moue. ]

She's a direwolf. Wolves are to her what dogs are to them.

[ little cousins. a pack easy to dominate. ]

[ elizabeth turns her grey gaze to nymeria, smiling a little. ]

She is a beauty. I suppose I am not the first to tell you I have never heard of nor seen a direwolf before.

[ not a sight she will ever forget. ]

You're not the sixth.

[ arya seizes the opportunity to jump on nymeria. she stumbles back with a yelp. nymeria escapes to the side but only after several good sweeps with the brush. arya grins. ]

Not as many as I was thinking.

[ bemused, she watches arya try to wrangle nymeria into a good cleaning. she's not surprised when the direwolf escapes.

she glances at arya. ]

Would you like some help with that?

No. [ getting up, she fixes her towel around her skinny frame before it falls. she's not sure exactly what she's offering to help with — no one offers to go near nymeria and for good reason. ] If you try to touch her, she'll take your entire arm off.

—But thank you, my lady. [ someone give the kid a star, she tried. ]

Edited 2014-02-11 04:48 (UTC)

Ah. Then I shall leave her to you.

[ she likes her arms where they are, thanks.

elizabeth shakes her head, though, in response to the title. ]

It seems as though we are closer to equals than not. Please, call me Elizabeth.

...You're not going to tell my mother, are you?

[ because everyone knows cat. ]

[ the corners of her mouth twitch upward. ]

Not unless you tell mine. And I have not met the Lady in question, either.

[ deal. ]

I'm going to get dressed. Nymeria, to me!

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skjalf - 2014-02-11 07:45 (UTC) - Expand

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