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

Of course. [Fortunately for her, he's an elf lord who sometimes doesn't mind being bossed around. He sits, hands folded on the table.] What are they?

It's like a cake. You can have it with fruits and syrup.

It sounds delightful. Do you wish for help? [Not that he'd know what to do, but he could at least offer.]

[ um. ]

Can you crack eggs?

I can manage that. [He stood and made his way to the counter.] Tell me what you need done.

You can crack the eggs and put them in the bowl. Oh! The milk. That needs to be prepared first.

[ powdered milk is magic. if not as good as fresh milk. ]

[He pulls his hands back from the bowl and raises a brow.] Ah. How does one prepare the milk?

You pour water in it. [ obviously. ]

[Oh. Right. Obviously.] Perhaps you should do that.

I'll get it.

[ lords are so helpful. she gets the things she needs then instructs elrond through the process. ]

That's it. Now we cook them.

[The most helpful. Always.]

A simple batter. How long does it cook?

Only a few minutes. You can sit, Lord Elrond. I will serve it.

[He does hesitate, just a bit. He would like to be of some use but she has this well in hand. And, so, he makes his way to his seat.]

You are eating with me, are you not?

[ she was now, but she's reminded she didn't ask— ] I guess.

[ arya bites her lip. ]

I would hope so. You have done all the work, after all.

[ she gets the plates and serves the waffles once they're done cooking. a brief search yields some fresh fruits from the gardens. she serves them in a bowl alongside the waffles. despite her noble upbringing and her usual roughness, she folds easily into the manner of a servant — quiet, diligent. ]

[He sees that and wonders how she is able to fall into the role of a servant so easily. He does not speak, simply waits for her to finish and sit.]

[ arya sits across from him and waits for him to start. ]

I hope you like it.

I am sure that I will.

[He indulges her and takes a bite. It's... sweet but not too much so. He could eat this again. Smiling, he nods to her.]

[ arya returns the smile. reassured, she digs in. ]

They're easy and quick to make. It's why I like them.

I can see that. Perhaps I might try it sometime.

My little brother loves them. He showed me how to make them— [ she breaks off to chew on a piece of waffle. ]

Is your brother here?

Three of them are. Baby Rickon isn't.

[ this close to having her entire family. ]

To have your family nearly whole is a blessing indeed. Hold fast to them.

(no subject)

wolfchild - 2014-02-24 04:16 (UTC) - Expand