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

[ you people. not entirely sure if he should bother taking offense at that, but considering the fact that he doesn't even know which generalization the guy's going for, he opts for not wasting the effort.

that and he's distracted by the brief intro to space. ]

A space ship. [ the echo's deeply skeptical. ] And I'm afraid you're underestimating just how terrible my life was before my arrival on your Tranquility. [ speaking of— ] Terrible name for a ship, by the way.

[don't take offense to anything han says, because han is generally a little ornery. han shrugs his shoulders at the comment about the name- ] It isn't my ship.

[one, it wouldn't be so slow and two, it wouldn't have so many people.

also the interdimensional kidnapping, that was a thing too.]

Yes, space. The thing above the sky. [uncultured swine.]

[ so there's a difference between not taking it personally and getting tired of the excessive sass; hook's absolutely prone to the latter, but he's currently focused enough on getting an idea of the landscape to humor it. ]

The concept sounds vaguely familiar. [ or maybe just give sass back, whatever. ] And this isn't my first flying ship, but it's certainly— [ whatever he's planning on saying is abandoned when he takes another quick look at the lockers. because this is a great many things, including impossible — which is saying a lot, given what he's used to. ] Is this magic?

[ what were you saying about uncultured swine. ]

Great. Then familiarize it some more. [whether or not it's honor among thieves or the fact that han doesn't really trust anyone since lando's betrayal, he's feeling a little less likely to help a complete stranger.

let alone someone that touched him.]

Great, see you're already learning the ropes. [if there were ropes. technically it's wires.

technically it's a lot of stuff really.]

.... Magic. [oh god, don't use that word with him.]

[ it used to be that it was easy to gauge a remark like that — someone says the word magic with that kind of distaste, it's because someone's turned their brother into a frog.

these days, it's not quite so simple. hook's experiences in emma swan's world haven't been remotely devoid of magic, but he's got the gist of how it's supposed to be. so either that's distaste or it's simple skepticism, or it's both, but— ]

Not my first choice, either, but I've found it's often a necessary evil. [ whatever, banking on distaste. ] What's she use, then— pegasus feathers? [ because who needs technology when you have pegasus feathers. ]

Buddy, whatever it is you're on, I hope you brought enough to share with the rest of us. [which is more or less his stance on all of this.

"magic". the force. darth vader and luke skywalker. whatever it was, it was something beyond han and beyond his realm of understanding. the way that vader just dodged - no, deflected - his blaster shots. it was impossible. improbable.]

My guess is that she's using a core that's too old to handle this much bulk.

[ hook's used to swan rolling her eyes at talk of magic, but she goes along with it all the same; its existence had been proven to her well before he met her. this outright rejection of it is more of an obstacle.

that he'll deal with some other time, actually. not his problem. it does earn a slightly skeptical look, like maybe han's the one who's a bit touched in the head, but that's it. and he's not entirely sure what half of those terms are in this context ("core" ????), but he makes an effort to track the theory. ] Do you mean to say she's dead in the water? [ or space, whatever. just try to stop him from using sea references forever. ]

I'm saying, we're moving at a snail's pace to the middle of nowhere. [han was wondering if he had to start his own mental countdown again every time he encountered someone on this stupid ship.

han pinches the top of his nose, exhaling deeply as he tries to get out of this conversation.]

You want more information, go find someone who is not in a hurry.

In a hurry? To what, move at a snail's pace?

[ previous attempts at manners aside, that's outright mockery; though you could argue it's good-natured, maybe. still, hook isn't much one for social niceties, either, and there's nothing obvious to be gained from interrogating this prickly individual when he's surrounded by others.

rather than thanking han for his time thus far, he just offers a wry smile. ]

I'll leave you to it, then.

Hell if I know. I don't even know what's going on half the time.

[han is just a bristly little hairless wookie some of the time. it happens when the closest thing you have to maternal figure is one - but regardless, he just wants to get on his way.]

Take my advice, keep your head down and try to survive. Maybe the ship won't try to kill you if you ignore it long enough.

twenty-eighth jump;

do go on

harrison ford does not compliment !!

he'll let you wear the coat

n o p e !! your coat is not as wonderful as his tho

WOW SORRY slowest

DON'T WORRY AS YOU CAN SEE I'M NOT THAT FAST EITHER

ZOOMS ALONG WITH YOU

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no subject

I AM SO SORRY WORK IS CRAZY.