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

[ he's not particularly pleased to be naked, but it's pretty low on his list of concerns right now. unknown location and unarmed and where is my team? rank far higher up there and so he disregards it for the time being. gather intel, subdue hostiles should you encounter them, find supplies (weapons, clothes, protective gear preferably, he has training enough to deal with this kind of situation but that makes him no less tense, ready to spring at any moment.

except the person he encounters isn't hostile, or if she is, she's the least aggressive hostile he's met in all of his career with shield. covering her eyes and babbling about clothes of all things?

no, veronica, asking him if he's ryan gosling's body double is not a good question right now. ]

No.

[ that answers both her questions, actually. ]

[ Right, okay. Veronica's not a good judge of character — god knows that if first impressions were always right, she'd be able to do something about the people she once trusted — but he's obviously not a talky-talk kind of person (and, in some weird way, she kind of thinks of both Shepard and Anderson, that maybe the common thread there is a little too much Rambo). It's not that she's knocking it — they're more adept than she is — but there's a certain carefulness that comes from talking to people like that.

Veronica kind of— takes a step back, lowers her hand but hovers it right below his chest. At least trying to have some kind of normal conversation might help. ]

So do you always stroll around in The Empire Strikes Back buck-ass naked, or should I continue being terrified?

[ Experiences with military personnel: not actually pleasant, historically speaking. ]

[ he's not a talky-talk kind of person and he is very much rambo and close enough to actual military personnel, certainly in training — so her first impression really isn't far off. he won't be congratulating her on that anytime soon, or ever. he's wary and worried and it translates into shortness, into tension along his back and in the lines of his shoulders and jaw, but he isn't openly hostile or going to beat her.

( part of him wishes there was an immediate threat because it would make this easier; the world is rarely so black-and-white, but ward deals best with those obstacles that he can hit, fight, beat. ) ]

What are you talking about? [ and, seeing how she is apparently the talky-talk kind of person: ] Where is this?

[ Right, okay x2. Veronica kind of— makes a face, massages her temple (singular, with her other hand still busy) because she's only been here a little while and it's not like— why do they not make pamphlets on this kind of thing?

(She's never met someone who looks so serious while pulling full-frontal in her whole entire life.

Which is still terrifying, in a round about way.) ]

You're on the Tranquility. It's a space ship, and we're in space — there are windows down in the bay — and we're all. Around. What you experienced was a jump, and then there's other, metaphysical—

[ A beat. ]

Sorry, I have obviously not watched enough Star Trek for this explanation.

[ ward hasn't watched any star trek, but that is negligible in light of the information she's offered.

a space ship. space. ]

That's— [ impossible, he wants to say. but is it really? he may not have met thor, but he has met asguardians and he has suffered the consequences of alien artefacts.

very little is really impossible, they've all learned that lesson. it is still sinking in, for most of humanity. ] How did I get here?

[ Oh god, Ward, you seriously drew the short stark. Veronica smiles brightly, though it's tinged at the edges with how should I know, jackass, which is rude but also kind of her M.O, when faced with things she doesn't know the answer to. And also when she's nervous.

So, you know. Situations like this. ]

Well, I don't know about you, but I pissed off the wrong pony. Had a cutie mark shaped like a little pitchfork. I should have known, am I right?

[ he never watched my little pony either, so that reference just goes right over his head. what he does get, because he's not a complete idiot, is the sense of mockery.

so he doesn't ask if she's serious; she's clearly not. he can draw his conclusions from that. ]

You don't know.

[ why not just say so? ]

Sorry. No dice.

[ She'd feel like an asshole. Or, you know, apologize, if she didn't feel like OH THAT'S RIGHT HE'S NAKED. ]

Do you maybe want to find something conveniently small to hide behind?

No.

[ sorry, but his own nudity is not important right now. figuring out where he is, figuring out how he got here, figuring it if his team is here and, if so, protect them from whatever threat presents itsef, those things are important.

finding weapons is higher on his list of priorities than sparing anyone's sensibilities is, right now.

besides, he's not the only one naked, apparently. there's plenty of people stumbling out of pods sans clothes. ]

[ Yes, Ward, you are not the only one naked, but you are definitely the only person who Veronica is so close to that she could like, make a pottery replica of your penis. ]

This is— so not how I pictured college. And yet, I'm pleasantly surprised.

[ please don't make a pottery replica of his penis. he would not be amused. ]

This isn't college.

[ he doesn't yet know what it is, but it most certainly isn't college. ]

twenty-eighth jump;

chinhands!!

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