thirty-ninth 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: A feeling of deep dread greets you as you stumble out of the gravcouch, strong enough to hold you still for a long moment, searching your surroundings for the source of your wariness. Nothing becomes apparent, only your fellow passengers waking up. Eventually you gather the resolve to pick yourself up and start moving, the feeling fading slowly as you progress through 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.


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ＹＯＵ͘ ̨ＷＡＫＥ̢ ̧ＵＰ ́ＩＮ ＤＡ̛ＲＫＮ̢Ｅ̕ＳＳ̶

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.

ＹＯ́Ｕ̴ ̧Ａ̨ＲＥ ＮＯＴ҉ ̷ＡＬＯ̨ＮＥ҉

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.

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Comments

[humanistic]

"Christ, you'd think the neighbor's cat was a man-eating lion, the way he goes on about it. Remember when it bit him? And he said, he was just going in to pat it on the head, I don't know why he even tried--"

Although, to be fair--Mitchell looks down at his hand, with faint criticism.

"Animals... don't really like us very much." Cats or dogs. "Maybe we really are better off with a heart, even if it's creepy."

[invisibilitea]

She looks at the heart again. It's not creepy, it's kind of cute, actually. Adorable, really. "We ought to name it," she decides, then. "I think it's a girl."

Sometimes Annie gets this way, and Mitchell, really, it's best if you don't argue with it. Besides, it distracts from the sorry fact that animals don't like vampires.

[humanistic]

It's a sad fact for Annie, maybe. Mitchell has grown fairly indifferent to animals, thanks to a few lifetimes of being unable to approach them without hissing and barking and whining. Still-- not entirely convinced that keeping a heart as a pet is a normal thing, or a good idea, but--

"A girl?" He laughs, despite himself. It's easy to go along with Annie, humour and indulge her. She's quick to attach herself to things, and quick to enthusiasm. Right now, that's cute. "Last time I checked, hearts didn't have sexes, but... What makes you think it's a girl?"

[invisibilitea]

"Oh, I don't know. It's so glowing and pretty," she says, because obviously, those are girl traits, in Annie's head. And maybe she just wants someone (something?) on her side. Not that the heart is going to help her win any arguments.

And maybe she knows that Mitchell is humoring her, but really she doesn't mind, not even a little bit. Instead she seems to take it as a point of pride. "What do you think we should name it?"

[humanistic]

He could probably argue that, too--glowy, absolutely, and while beauty is in the eye of the beholder or whatever, he's pretty sure that extending the description to disembodied hearts is stretching things a little, but--

"Oh, we're naming it now. Really getting into this pretending-it's-a-pet thing, aren't we." Then again, Annie looks pretty happy. Continuing to humor her on this won't take that much effort. "Ah, I don't know, I'm crap at naming things. Uh. Rosie." Because it's red, see, and-- Valentines, and stuff.

[invisibilitea]

She looks at it for a moment. "Well, Rosie, that's not a bad name, if it's short for something. Like Roxanne, you know, like that song by the Police. I think it's rather clever, then," she adds, because Roxanne put on the red light, and all right, maybe Annie is missing that it's about prostitution, really, but who cares?

"It's likely a better pet than any animal, isn't it?"

[humanistic]

"Yeah, but... Roxanne, that's a bit--"

Prostitute-y, but then he thinks better of saying it. You've got to pick your battles sometimes, and if Annie wants Roxanne "Rosie" the Heart, then she can have it that way.

"I mean, Roxie's usually the nickname for Roxanne, yeah." Smoothly navigating away from his critique, Mitchell keeps going with Annie's train of thought. "And I guess it's a little better. I mean, it's not going to piss in the house or anything, or-- eat any shoes." It's not really going to do anything, but maybe that's all right. "It's not... like, beating or anything, is it?"

[invisibilitea]

"Well, Rosanne is a terrible name," Annie says, with a wrinkle of her nose. "I suppose we could name her Rose, but that's rather, well. Well, no. Rose, then. Rose." She holds the heart up to eye level.

And actually, it is beating, faintly, and Annie nods. "But not, well, just a little quick, yes, but calmly, I like it."

[humanistic]

"It is," Mitchell agrees, evenly, "so it's a good thing I never suggested Rosanne." Rose, or Roxie, or both interchangeably: it doesn't actually make that much of a difference to Mitchell, who is fairly indifferent about having a heart for a pet. Less indifferent about Annie, which is sort of how this began anyways.

"Maybe don't squeeze it anymore, if it's beating," he suggests. "'Cause I think that means it's alive."

Some... how. This should really be weirder than it is, but they're a couple of supernaturals standing in space, so maybe it doesn't matter.

[invisibilitea]

Well, it's a new thing, so probably it's a bit of a fad anyway. Although when Mitchell suggests that-

"Oh, no, I hope I didn't hurt it," she says holding it up again. Now she's handling it again, but very carefully, like maybe it is alive.

[humanistic]

"It looks all right." Mitchell squints at the heart in question, already reassuring even when he doesn't have any actual idea of what he's talking about. How would they know if it wasn't all right? How would they know if it was?

"Come on, let's get back to the room," he suggests, for-- lack of a better suggestion. "D'you want to wrap it up, so you're not seen carrying a glowing organ around the ship, or are you secure in that image of yourself."

[invisibilitea]

"It does, doesn't it?" she says, and then remembers why he's saying it, and - "oh, well, yes, I think it's fine. It's still glowing, right?" she amends, because maybe that sounds a little less like she's admiring the lovely glow of her heart.

Which she totally isn't.

So she takes the end of her jumper and wraps it up. "There. Safe and sound."

[humanistic]

This is, Mitchell thinks, with a bemused little smile, going to be like Tim all over again. Except instead of a ghost baby, it's a heart.

But there's worse things out there. And this happens to be making Annie very happy right now, which she's not been in a long time. Far be it from him to kill that at all prematurely, with good sense and questions and okay-but-Annie-the-heart-does-probably-belong-to-someone-somewhere-also-it's-a-bloody-organ. The glow of the heart shows through the thin material of her jumper, like she's got a low-level lamp wrapped up in there--and, despite himself, Mitchell smiles, and holds his hand out to her.

"Come on, then. We'll go slowly so we don't wake it."

[invisibilitea]

She reaches and takes his hand, and squeezes tight. This is like Tim all over again, or it will be, if she ever has to give it back (ha ha). She smiles at him, then, pleased with herself, and starts heading towards the elevator.