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

[overthought]

[Blue? A nickname - there's only one person that even really calls her by that. the moment that she hears spike's stupid voice, she's elated, thinking that she'd never see his face again or have odd conversations about TV shows (maybe she'll take up the habit) and practically throws her arms around his neck, not really caring about her state of undress.]

Spike! I thought I'd never see you again.

[allbloodyhail]

[ o-oh. his arms slowly coil around her back, bare though it is. yolo? ]

And yet, here I am.

[overthought]

And yet, here you are. If I ever decide to do anything like take over a bridge with a team with no intel again, please restrain me.

[she's honestly just happy to be alive.]

Don't suppose you've seen my friend anywhere around, have you? He got out of my sight.

[allbloodyhail]

[ he moves back slightly, idly brushing some hair away from her face. ] I've got chains.

[ whatever that means. he's starting to notice she's half-naked, but it's too late to do anything about this at this point. may as well just ride it out, and deal with boners as they do or don't appear. ]

And which friend would that be?

[nuked]

[ Chief either has the worst timing or the best timing. In truth, he doesn't know which this is, but perhaps he'll put it in the "best" column. It's easy to lose someone when they've suddenly become corporeal and are no longer in your every synapse, every nerve-ending, right before your eyes, right in your ears. He spots both Cortana and the man and strides over slowly. ]

Cortana.

[ There you are. ]

[overthought]

[it's when she hears his voice that she lets go of spike and practically rocks on her heels. the problem with having a relationship like hers with chief is that they have no boundaries whatsoever.]

Chief, I was just looking for you! [she was looking for your locker, you butt.]

Spike, this is my friend. [since spike has been so nice to her on the ship since they met.] This is Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117. Chief, Spike.

[she gives him a cue to nod his head and be friendly.]

[allbloodyhail]

[ spike understands no boundaries, but he's quick to keep his hands to himself when he looks up at the guy... and up. jesus. ]

Here I was thinking I was your only friend. [ but he'll still offer a hand to the guy, as looming and gigantic as he is. spike is sort of used to other dudes being taller than him, but he's diminutive on a good day. ] She said it right, mate. The name's Spike.

[nuked]

[ Chief sees the hand offered to him and glances at Cortana, who is giving him the sort of look that she used to give him from his visor. Play nice.

He remembers Ivanoff, he remembers being a mouthpiece.

It's not that hard. Right. ]

Just Chief.

[ She already said that. Damn it. ]

How do you know her?

[ Just out of curiosity. ]

[overthought]

[she bumps his arm almost clumsily, but in truth it's a good job, chief. she can't say things inside his helmet anymore like it's a secret, but at least they still have a few things between them.]

I hope it doesn't break your heart. [even as her arm locks around the chief's own, as if she's tethering herself to him.]

We talk about things like "television", and poetry.

[allbloodyhail]

[ poetry? he thinks, but doesn't say, nodding in a way he hopes is bro-y without being threatening for chief. or to chief. or how does he shot anyof this awkward sitch rn. ]

My heart would have to beat to break, luv.

[ he gives a little 'hm' as he looks back over at chief, answering them out of order. ] Know her from here, just like anyone else. I'm guessing you two go back further than all this mess, though, huh.

woops sorry i'm late

[nuked]

She works with me.

[ She's my AI.

She lives in my head, usually.

She lives in my suit.

It's a little surreal. He trails off for a beat before raising a brow at Cortana. Television? Poetry? It takes all his strength to keep from saying "You've been busy" if only because he'll remember the Dawn, and he'd rather leave that in charred and smoking remains. ]

We're partners.

[overthought]

I got bored. [she says as if reading his mind, arm looped around his as she pulls him close.]

Nathan didn't give me much to hack anyway. [there's a look at spike, as if begging him not to say anything about what transpired on the bridge to chief. it's a warning, please please please don't tell him anything.]

[allbloodyhail]

Good old Nathan... [ he has no idea why she's looking at him like that, but lucky for her he also has no desire to discuss the bridge or his boyfriend's brother's actions there. ] Glad to see you made it out, luv.

[ and then there was this guy. this huge, looming... guy. yeah, no, spike got nothin'. ]

Partners, alright. Well, at least you're here together. [ or something. ]

[nuked]

Putting the best to waste.

[ He keeps his observations to himself, particularly the brief look over Cortana's face--that is something he hasn't seen. So he lifts a brow briefly. If anything, it's a twitch. ]

Made it out?

[overthought]

I'll tell you later.

[she should have known that he'd catch that. it's not really spike's fault, considering that he wouldn't know how john would react. the twitch in his eyebrow speaks louder than his words would.]

I'm glad you two met, and I found him. So, I shouldn't keep you waiting.

[allbloodyhail]

[ oh did he say the wrong thing... awkward. ] Right, I'll, uh. Let you get to it, then.

Nice to know you, Chief.