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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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

[fade_away]

[Cole shakes his head slowly, now that he's got his things back in his pockets. He takes his hat, holding it in his hands and turning it over for a few moments there.]

I'm sorry. If I did I could tell you something, but I don't know.

You think I'm going to hurt you, like you were hurt before, but I'm not.

[He knows a lot of things.

He knows what happened in the tower. Especially since Cullen wears that pain like a badge of honor right now. Cole puts his hat on after speaking.]

[troops]

[He goes still at that, the slight amounts of leniency he had been offering Cole gone now. Is he so easy to read? How does it know? Cullen's expression hardens and he pulls away from the locker, half-tempted to grab Cole by the collar and- and do what? He has nothing to go on here, no leads, and certainly nothing to accuse him of that he hasn't already.

He doesn't think about it, what Cole is implying. He hasn't thought about the specifics, doesn't let himself remember anything except for the warning and the knowledge of what even the most unassuming mages are capable of. Time and contemplation had tempered the anger and distrust, but it's important not to forget the result. It's important to know how heavy the weight is when you're putting it on the scale, even if you make it a point not to judge every weight by the heaviest.

Still. He doesn't think about it.]

You should... follow the messages on the wall. I need to talk to the others.

[A pause, and then-] ...we'll speak again.

[It's a warning as much as it is anything else, and Cullen backs off. He doesn't want to continue this conversation, not from where Cole had taken it, and he doesn't think he can get anything more out of him. Cole has gathered his things by now, and with any luck, he'll be off on his way- Cullen need not join him. Being near him is uncomfortable, having him read every action, every thought, it's- invasive.

So, he takes the opportunity to excuse himself, offering one last glance at Cole's shoddy, untied laces, before shaking his head and getting out of there. What more can he do? Cole could be a danger to others, but with no ability to remove the threat, he simply has to retreat, maybe find Dorian and come up with a plan of action.]