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

[doggedly]

[He gives something of a smile at that--sad and quiet and not at all happy. Because she would. She's beautiful and clever and dangerous, in her way--he knows, even if he doesn't often think of it, because they're always smiling when they're together, and she is never anything but sweet to him. A little sad, sometimes, but he can always coax a smile out of her--a better smile than the one he gives her now.]

I know.

[It means something to even have the offer, even if she can't. And he wouldn't ask it of her if she could. The price would be too steep, he's certain of that, at least--but instead of saying that, he reaches for her hand. And it's stupid, but the next word comes out too thick, and he can't correct it once it's been said--]

Thanks.

[mansuetus]

[ he takes her head in his and he says 'thanks' and something in her becomes very sad, something in her becomes very angry. if she had a person to blame for this, she would have had blood for this as a borgia's wrath is always a terrible things. but he takes her hand and it helps her relax a bit. it's odd to have his gratitude, odd to have gratitude for something so natural to her as her love for him is. and she's being too affectionate, she is, especially here and now where all can see and talk but she leans to press a kiss of comfort to his lips, small and gentle and very warm and smiles. ]

always.

[doggedly]

[He's quicker to respond to her kisses, usually. This one gets no immediate response, besides his slight smile in return to hers. And his fingers wrap a little tighter around hers, for a moment, before he relaxes his grip.]

More kisses like that and I'll be quite all right in no time.

[It's a little empty, but it's what he would usually say, so he says it. The faster he readjusts and gets himself back to the way he ought to be, the better.]