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

[skjalf]

[ 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. ]

[wolfchild]

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. ]

[skjalf]

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?

[wolfchild]

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. ]

[skjalf]

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.

[wolfchild]

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

[ because everyone knows cat. ]

[skjalf]

[ the corners of her mouth twitch upward. ]

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

[wolfchild]

[ deal. ]

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

[skjalf]

[ sweet. ]

Until we meet again, then, Lady Arya.