thirty-fifth 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: You wake feeling cold and alone. There is a strange sense of emptiness, and the jump holds no surprises for you. There is nothing buffering the jump sickness and disorientation for you this month, and those still suffering the lingering effects of August's plot may find it more difficult than usual to get through the post-jump routine.

New arrivals will find messages spraypainted across their lockers telling them not to follow their tattoo numbers, and instead to find a room on Floors 001-010.


----------------

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

[spellmight]

While I had no choice, I have played the part of the dutiful apprentice well.

But to be perfectly honest, I share your sentiment exactly.

( it is precisely now that her dog emerges from the stall she had commandeered for him, and decides to shake himself all over half the room.

sam gives the dog a deadpan look, and sighs. )

This is Griffon. Sadly, despite my best efforts, he still behaves like a boor.

[milagros]

( mila is briefly, genuinely amused - it softens her in a way that's rather flattering, for as rare as it happens. )

My father keeps wolfhounds. I'm familiar with the attitude.

[spellmight]

( the mabari gives an enthusiastic bark as though he approves of mila's opinion, and comes to sit expectantly at sam's side. she glances down at him and shakes her head with a small grin. )

Does strenuous exercise keep them out of trouble? I've had no such luck with Griff here.