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

[wheeloffire]

He left him there.

It felt like his heart tore in half. Poor Sam, poor Smeagol! They were left alone at the gates of Minas Morgul. Frodo didn't mean to leave either of them. He was afraid that now they would be angry with him. He never ever meant to leave them! And there was no way they would know. "Are they safe...?"

He can see Tauriel's eyes looking down to him, watching as he grips the Ring a little harder. Elf or no elf, she had to realize that this was his responsibility. This was his burden, and he didn't want anybody to get in the way of it. The Ring was so small, and so precious-

A danger to the ship? As much as he hoped not..."I carry the Ring of Power." His voice is nothing but a whisper; aside from who is standing in front of him, nobody could be trusted with such information. "I was on a journey to Mordor to destroy it."

[woodlander]

To her, that Ring was but a legend. A terrible legend, from the Second Age. The Ring, on Sauron's hand, had almost meant the destruction of the Middle Earth that she knew.

But the Ring had been lost, famously, after the battle that ended with Sauron's defeat. It had gone to Isildur, a son of Men, and from there had been long lost. None knew where it could be now, and to Tauriel's mind, that was the way it should be.

Yet here before her stood this young Hobbit, telling her that the Ring was not only not lost, but in his possession. Here, on this ship, where terrible creatures lay in wait. Now, the temptation to see what he carried made all too much sense to her. Far too much, and if she thought about it, oh the temptation that would be there. The Ring meant power, and strength. Power enough to get home, perhaps? Power enough to return to her own time, her own people, for though the Elves here are her people they do not recognise her, do not know her, and she yearns above all else to go back where she belongs.

She stops those thoughts in their tracks. Her eyes close. No. That is not her. That is not Tauriel. She desires no power for herself, she is no queen, and nor would she want to be. She is happy in her place, or she was. The dark power of that Ring is not for her. She opens clear eyes, and meets Frodo's with a definite calm.

"Frodo Baggins, I know nothing of your friends. I can promise you neither safety nor security, in a place like that, and to say otherwise would be a falsehood. But you must listen to me now." She paused. Internally, she felt a little wild, like she was standing at the edge of a precipice and hastily clawing her way back from it. She could not afford to panic. There were things he needed to know.

"You speak of a great evil, one I thought lost. How it came to be here, how you came to have it, I do not know, and I...pity you, Frodo, for what you carry." He would have to give it up. To reject its temptation had made her struggle; how much harder would it be to hold it, knowing that it would be destroyed? For all her strength, she did not think she could do that. Her voice dropped very low, and now she spoke with urgency. "He is here. The one who made it, who forged it in the fires of Mount Doom, he is here on this ship. And along with him is one he once called master, one whom my people know as Morgoth. You know what you carry. If they should find it, Frodo, I fear your lonely friends would be more safe than any one of us upon this ship."

[wheeloffire]

Taruiel's response to him having the Ring shouldn't have taken him aback as much as it did. "It can't be...!"

He listened silently to what she had to say, noticing that her eyes stayed locked onto his fist all the while. And when it was all said and done...he hardly knew where to start. Or what to feel, even.

The strongest thing thus far was horror. Sauron (or Morgoth...oh, Morgoth...) was nothing to joke about- why would they do such a thing? But Frodo couldn't believe it, he didn't want to. The very thought of Sauron being alive ans whole and here frightened Frodo down to the core, like ice was slivering down his throat. But the Ring...

It was rejoicing. Frodo could feel it get heavier around his neck. It demanded him to go searching, no matter how far or deep. It wanted him to look and look until he would collapse, if it meant finding its master again. It made him feel sick, and weak.

And his friends...oh, he was being so horrible right now, and he hardly even knew it!

He gripped the Ring tighter, looking nervously left and right. "Then I must leave!" At least leave here, anyway. Frodo was a walking red flag just by being in this very ship. "Please, where may I go?"

[woodlander]

"You cannot."

There was such sadness in Tauriel's voice now, such unhappiness and worry. She met Frodo's eyes solidly, her gaze no longer straying to where the Ring lay. Still, she implored him with her expression, and she spread her hands.

"There is none among us who know the secret of how to leave this place. We know not how we were brought, we know not how to leave. You must stay. You can avoid him - indeed, we must try to make sure of that - but both of you are here, and neither can escape.

Above all else, Frodo, you must ensure he does not discover what you carry. He must never know."

But Frodo would know that already. He'd been charged with the burden, of course he would know. Tauriel shook her head, needing urgently to find some solution.

"Do you trust my people, Frodo? Those elders that are here would help you if they could - Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, and my King, Thranduil of Mirkwood. If your faith could be placed in them, I would beg you to seek their counsel."