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'd have to talk to him about that. [ there's the hint of an edge in her voice; if he loaned out a gun, it means he enabled this bullshit stunt and everyone in that camp gets a bit of her ire, in the moment.

she nods in return to the greeting. ] Tara. [ 'jax's old lady' is supposed to follow that, but even wearing the club's name across her chest in the moment feels a step away from too much. ] Medical.

[ she gestures vaguely across the hall, like they both don't know where it is— it's just something to do with her hands, something that isn't taking out her anger on strangers for asking innocent questions. ]

[ it's obviously a conversation point that needs to be dragged out. probably best to let it drop. ]

I'll be sure to yell at him for both of us then.

[ another questionable joke, but chris is feigning pleasant for both of their sakes. it's been a rough jump for everyone. he turns towards where she gestures to get a look at it before asking. ]

Were you a doctor back home? [ legitimately curious, consider what's he's deciphered jax did back home. it's...interesting, to put it lightly. ]

[ better not to indulge in the desire to explain how much help with yelling she doesn't need, so— ]

A surgeon, yes. [ it's an ego thing, sorry. she may be a doctor when it counts, but gotta get in that first clarification or why bother with all those insane hours and med school loans. ] I specialized in neo and pre-natal care... but there's not a lot of need for that here. [ because the ship eats babies.

a beat, and she cocks her head to the side for a moment. ] Jax didn't mention that. [ statement, because what is benefit of the doubt. ]

Ah, [ chris has an impressed lilt to his voice at that, both of his eyebrows rising. ] That's a very difficult field, from what I understand.

[ he smiles, a (most likely) vain attempt at smoothing over the mood. ]

He's kept a lot of the personal details vague.

[ and so did chris. honestly, it's how he prefers it. ]

twenty-eighth jump;

he ain't put a ring on it yet i am js

get on that jax (after you sleep on the couch a few weeks, clearly)

with chris as wedding planner natch it can't be any worse than canon

he'll even bake the cake, knit tara a veil.