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.

ＴＨ̀ＩＳ͜ ̶Ｉ͠Ｓ͡ ͘Ｙ̵Ｏ͝ＵＲ ̕Ｗ͝Ｅ̛Ｌ̨Ｃ͡Ｏ͝Ｍ͏Ｅ Ｐ̛ＡＲ̴ＴＹ͜

Comments

[strayed]

[Cora is quick on her feet, werewolf senses and all. But the jump tends to mess with that, slow it down a little, muffled at the edges. Where she might have just avoided colliding with Kieren at all, she runs into him rounding a corner on a row of lockers, immediately reaches out to brace him, as if there was chance of actual falling over from walking into a 5'4" werewolf.]

You're awake.

[Stating the obvious, but she'd spent enough time at the pods over the last month that seeing him out and walking again is almost bizarre. Especially with everything else that had been happening with it.]

Are you okay?

[She frowns slightly, looking him over, as if she might be able to tell if there were any further adverse effects of an undead guy being bottled for a month. Like wandering into people.]

[traumata]

[ To be fair, he's not quite as graceful as he used to be. He keeps his balance, though, giving her balancing grip on his arm a curious look — most people aren't usually so quick to touch zombies, but then again the passengers here aren't most people.

Recognition settles in a moment later, the answer to her question automatic. ]

Yeah, I'm fine.

[ A little dizzy, sure. Disorientated. But that isn't abnormal. Side effects of the medication, and the jump can't be much help. It's only then that her first observation sinks in; his brow furrows, confusion obvious in his voice. ]

Sorry— shouldn't I be? Awake, that is.

[strayed]

[She looks up at him a little sceptically, like she doesn't quite trust him to be honest about it, or maybe even know. He's hard to read, his heartbeat off, scent wrong, and she wonders how willing zombies would be to admit they needed any help.]

You were in stasis for a month. A lot of people were.

[Including Derek, which brings the urge almost immediately to go check for him, brow pinching slightly as her attention turns to looking over the crowd back in amongst the lockers.]

[traumata]

A month.

[ It's on the verge of offended rather than upset. He's already missed enough time. Another month seems unfair, though that's tempered somewhat by the fact that it was a month on the ship, not at home — the ship's something he could do without, frankly.

He seems caught up in the thought for a moment, brows furrowed, but then his expression relaxes as he looks at her, catching that concerned distraction as it crosses her face. ]

You too? Were you stuck in stasis, that is.

[strayed]

[The question pulls her attention back to him better than the offended statement had, the look she gives him pretty clearly communicating how would I know you'd been in stasis for a month if I had been too?]

No. [A beat, like she's going to leave it there, but then adds:] My brother was.

[So she was down here checking the pods regularly, is the part she doesn't say. She glances back to the crowd, but without Derek readily apparent, looks back to Kieren. Maybe she can do this quickly.]

How much do you know about what's happened here?

[traumata]

[ Oh, right. No shit.

Although in his defense, he was just in an extended coma, and he thought maybe she could've gotten an update before him, but— ]

Is he awake?

[ She's offering to fill him in. That much is obvious, but the mention of her brother is distracting, gaining quick priority — and it seems fairly obvious that she's distracted by the thought, too. ] If you need to go check on him, it's fine. I can find Simon.

[ "A friend" might've been more useful. He doubts she knows Simon, but inferring should be easy. ]