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

Lockers!

[argentinus]

[The entire thing is strange, even for Silver. But unlike everyone else he's not stumbling around naked for long, in fact it's only moments after he stands and realizes he's you know, naked, that he thinks up some clothes (his usual, a suit) and heads where everyone else is going, magically oddly enough, clean. But not before he sees the numbers on his arm and tries to figure out what that's all about.

Eventually however he makes his way to his locker, and while he should be looking for familiar faces, he's not sure they'll even be around. Sapphire and Steel, they weren't where he could get to them, were they? And he doubted he'd have gone this long unmolested if Lead was around, and Gold would've already contacted him.

So he's alone. Except for a bunch of humans but they're humans so...

With a sigh he starts to rummage around his locker, staring at the jumpsuit for a few moments before digging through a bunch of boxes. Which really makes it seem like he raided an office supply store with all the clips and paperclips and such in there, but he seems oddly delighted with it all and takes his time shoving it into his pockets.]

[sapphir]

[Relief washes over her as she finishes speaking with another passenger and spies him out of the corner of her eye. He looks mildly content at the very least, and she's glad of that much. All good company is appreciated.]

I see you have your toys, Silver.

[wrecktified]

(isaac had been doing a good job of minding his own business. freshly dressed in his own jumpsuit, he navigated his way through whatever bodies happened to be in his path, careful not to touch any even as he attached a strange looking metal piece to one of forearms. it was during one of his quick glances up that he spotted silver. the oddity of his movements drew isaac's eyes right towards him, and he paused to watch.

it wasn't every day he saw someone stuffing... office supplies?? in to his pockets. it was a little weird, but isaac's paranoid sense of self-preservation determined the guy was probably-not-dangerous. possibly just an overenthusastic secretary. still, he stayed. and even had commentary to offer, how about that.) Uh, it might be easier to just take the boxes? (how much pocket space could he possibly have...)