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

[cogere]

[ does it snarl simply because he approaches or because of what he is? he has to wonder, though it doesn't particularly matter. he almost laughs when she shoves nymeria into the water. it's the action of a child, and he hardly interacts with children these days.

with a smile, he hands the brush over, returning his hands to his pockets. ]

Not a problem at all. My sincerest apologies if I've upset your — [ not dog, no. ] — wolf.

[wolfchild]

Direwolf, [ she corrects him. it's not rude as it generally would be since he had the sense not to call nymeria a dog. ] She gets like that.

[ arya drags the brush over nymeria's back. the wolf is distracted. she narrows her eyes at elijah. ]

[cogere]

[ direwolf. well then. elijah's expression remains innocent, wholly unaffected. ] Not a fan of strangers?

[ or vampires, probably. it's a sketchy thing to be. ]

[wolfchild]

No.

[ arya glares at him over her shoulder. ]

Do you want something?

[cogere]

No, but I'm called Elijah Mikaelson.

[ he inclines his head as if to bow. with a small smile, tone genial. ] And I'll be on my way.

[ but you are interesting, and he will bother you later. ]

[wolfchild]

[ arya finds herself reminded of jaqen h'ghar. a little frown furrows her brow. ]

Goodbye.

[ weird guy!!! ]