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

Fair enough. Looks like we're at a stalemate.

[ hey, she can't really argue with that. then again, the relativity of a word like normal, especially in conjunction with a stranger, might be a bit more pressing and concerning. ]

Do I look like a pain in the ass? [ she can be, truthfully, but she wouldn't exactly call herself someone anyone would like to avoid meeting. then again, she's practically a monster in normal people terms, given that she's not entirely human, so maybe she's wrong on that. ]

You'd be surprised at how long I can hold a grudge.

[ it's a very very long time. ]

Best I can ask for with a woman.

[ actual attempts at flattery, feel real good about yourself elena. that doesn't come out all that often. ]

You want me to answer that truthfully? [ because he's not about to be slapped for saying yes, so excuse him for asking. ]

I'll let you in on a tiny secret, ain't much that surprises me any more.

[ see also: southern women ( and men tbh ) are queens of grudges tbh. ]

Edited 2014-03-14 06:42 (UTC)

Spoken like a man scorned.

[ it's a joke more than any observation — but for someone scorned by every person ever (maybe not every person, but the point stands), she knows how it feels. and actual attempts at flattery with mccoy, everyone. he tried. ]

If you say yes, I'm slamming your head into something. [ and that's said so dryly it might or might not be a legitimate threat. who knows anymore. elena michaels doesn't just slap — she goes all out. ]

For the record, that almost sounds like a challenge.

[ and no one wants to see how much longer she can possibly hold a grudge against someone tbh. ]

[ there's no verbal reply to that, just a pursing of the lips like she hit the nail right on the head. he doesn't want to talk about it so he won't. ]

Then I'm keeping my mouth shut. [ said equally as dryly because you know what maybe he was going to say yes. the world may never know. ]

You really want to hold a grudge against me that badly?

[ that hurts tbh. ]

twenty-eighth jump;

i always tell the truth!!! my dad did invent toaster strudel, it's true

i know you don't!!! and man tell your dad thanks tbh

lies!!!! i will ty now you know why i'm so popular, it's the strudel

truths!!!! and never underestimate the power of strudel tbh