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CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
LOCATION: MED BAY
WARNINGS: ... Partial nudity? It should be pretty tame, but let me know if I need to add anything.
SUMMARY: Side-effects of a jump may include disorientation and temporary memory loss. Fortunately, there are a handful of others who have been through this before.
NOTES: Yes, it's a rehashing of the game premise. Don't worry, you can personalize your own (re-)introduction!

You wake up, alone in the dark.

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.

Don't worry, 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. They will help you through your disorientation, even though they might suffer from it too.

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.

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There was something about his being naked today that seemed to be attracting young people to his presence, children, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about this.

If she could be called a child. Upon an uneducated first glance, one could almost assume she'd taken the time to slather herself in a grey-face before she'd greeted him, and perhaps was wearing a pair of false horns atop her head. But he didn't see any sign of cord, a band to hold the ears atop her head. They seemed to come right out of her head. And her skin was -- a different quality than his own?

And those eyes were another thing entirely.

Holmes had an answer. It was right there! All composed! And now he's opening and shutting his mouth and -- his eyes the same, briefly, but no, she's still the same. "Not... of importance. Hello."

Attracting young children in their underwear. Try not to think too hard about it, Sherlock.

For Nepeta's part, she doesn't seems all that perturbed that she's meeting people nearly naked. Maybe it's the whole growing up in a cave thing, or maybe it just helps that everyone else is naked. NAKED PARTY. Naked party with humans and other things. Yup.

"Oh, never mind then. Hello!" She smiles, revealing rows of fangs. Totally helping Sherlock's situation.

"H -- hello," is all Holmes offers in return for a moment, repeated, and he's still peering at her rather intently.

Are those fangs? Those are fangs. This is getting more bizarre.

"Idgithig," he says eloquently afterwards, mashing his words together, and then jars his head again, shaking it quickly to get his thoughts clear. "A fan of cosmetic surgery?" He already knows the answer to this before he says it, but it's worth a shot. He's actually leaning in closer now, getting a better look at her skin and basically having no concept of personal space in general.

"No?" The closer Sherlock leans, the more she leans away. What an odd fellow. First he's looking for someone, then he's not, and now he's staring at her like she's a cholerbear with rainbow fur. If anyone looks bizarre here, it's him. Being all... adultish and stuff. Come to think of it, she really doesn't know much about adult humans. Nepeta wonders if she should be worried.

Timidly, she reaches up and pokes his cheek. Okay, good, adult humans are as soft and squishy as they look. If he tried to eat her, she could probably take him.

"Are you alright?"

"Just fine." Sort of. He has a gouge in his shoulder, which he idly brushes a hand across, but otherwise makes no fuss of it.

Well, that's not at all conducive to his attempted inductions. How's he supposed to get close enough to study if she keeps moving away? She pokes his cheek and he doesn't flinch in particular, though he does take note of similarly discolored nails as she does so. It isn't makeup, the application far too even and not porous enough, not with that hint of shininess synonymous without the pancake, nor the dusky shade of a powder finish. Her actual skin.

He sniffs once and then straightens, carding a hand through his hair and peering down at her, for a few moments unspeaking.

"Not... human?"

"Nope! Troll!"

She says it like it's completely normal. After watching him a moment, Nepeta imitates him, sniffing loudly and trying to hold a proper Victorian posture. From her deductions, this guy has a physique that indicates he hunts a lot of large game. The funny accent and disinterest in being wet must mean he's also an ocean dweller.

CONCLUSION: this guy must be an emperor or something.

Not that it matters, really. Her actual conclusion is that this guy will probably be fun to hang around. If nothing else, he's sure fun to copy!

"And you?"

"Ah!" Holmes remarks. As if he knows exactly what she means by 'troll'. As if it is also completely normal. Once again, he has no idea. That's two surprises for today.

He knows the look of someone sizing someone up, if only because he's the one so often on the other end of the look. He folds his hands behind his back and raises up a little in height. It's unnecessary, as he has at least a head or two on her, but it feels necessary. He wonders what 'troll' entails other than the ostensible.

Troll. He's speaking with a troll. His eyes may still be tricking him.

"Human. Completely and unfortunately. Does that frighten you?"

Nepeta also folds her hands behind her head. Since she can't really straighten up any further, she stands on her tiptoes like an awkward ballerina.

She is having such a hard time not breaking out into a grin. Only a constant mantra of don't break character keeps her expression as stony as a Victorian gentleman's.

"Not at all, good sir. Should I be frightened?"

It -- she -- hm.

Holmes' hands tighten behind his back, and at once he looks puzzled, giving Nepeta another quick once-over before he (shockingly, suddenly, gosh, Nepeta, don't hold it against him) breaks the fourth wall.

"What is that voice, is that my voice? Attempted. That's not your voice."

Don't worry Holmes, the fourth wall means nothing and everything to Homestuck.

Nepeta finally drops down, laughing as she relaxes. "I was purrtending, silly! Haven't you ever roleplayed before?"

"Well, naturally, of course."

As students and snake charmers and crotchety old men and beggars and women and --

"But why now?"

Wrong answer. Nepeta just translated of course as I ENJOY MAKE-BELIEVE SILLYTIMES AND I WILL GLADLY ENGAGE YOU IN PROPER, SAFE PRETENDYTIMES. COME LET US FROLICK IN THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF FANTASY.

That may be why she's staring at Sherlock as though he's the greatest thing to happen since she arrived on the ship.

"Beclaws it's fun!"

Holmes has no idea what he's gotten himself into. Absolutely no idea.

"Duly noted," he replies after a pause, even though it's not duly noted or even necessarily understood, because when he deigns himself to play a role, it's with a purpose, generally for a case - and though that's often, and, yes, rather fun, he doesn't see much for her reason now.

He tries to remember what being a child is like. He recalls a pirate hat he had to be heartily bribed to remove.

Nepeta will show no mercy.

On the bright side, Holmes is making a positive impression for his species. It's strange to her, seeing so many adults in the same vicinity not only being nice to each other, but to the adolescents too. Interacting with adults--adult aliens--is almost surreal. It's relieving to know that they like roleplaying and not eating the young.

"What's your favorite character to play? Mine's a cat! She has two mouths like my lusus did, and a litter of kittens that she sometimes has to purrtect from her dragon best friend."

Don't be so sure about that conclusion, Nepeta. You've only seen him interacting with a child he doesn't mind so far. He'd at least be delighted to know that he's serving well as impromptu ambassador.

'Lusus', the Latin for 'freak', though he's not sure why to accentuate that word in particular with the different language. A pet name, the two mouths and the dragon friend lending credence towards it being an intellectual creation, perhaps an 'imaginary friend' as children are inclined to have. And perhaps some 37-year-old men who haven't yet noticed their roommate has left at some point during their thought process.

"The chaste, delicate, coy nature of a woman being difficult to replicate in a man's body, particularly with certain strong jawlines, facial features, physical builds. A challenge is refreshing. I call her Francine." He says this with pride, gazing off for a moment, chin high. His eyes squint a little. "Either that or the exuberant squash merchant."

She has impossibly low standards. As long as he doesn't try to kill or creep on her, Holmes is still a good guy in her eyes.

Nepeta doesn't bat an eyelash at the thought of Holmes pretending to be a female, even if she doesn't quite follow the 'chaste, delicate, coy' part of the equation. Instead she nods eagerly and envisions a future of much internet roleplaying, maybe a little dress-up. The safe kind, of course. Hopefully Francine isn't a scary lady like Vriska's character.

"I'm sure AC would love to meet Francine sometime! Oh, AC is my character. I'm Nepeta!"

While Francine isn't quite the marquise, she is not one to be trusted. More bite than bark. Trains shudder in her wake all across the globe.

Holmes really does have no idea what he's inspiring here. Children always have escaped him.

"Ah! The name is Holmes. Sherlock Holmes, that is." Even as she is, she introduces herself as everyone else has - the first name first and foremost, an intimate introduction. "'AC'," he repeats, and after taking a second or two to briefly rifle through all possible combinations of names it could be an abbreviation for, "standing for-?"

Nepeta can't help but giggle at how Sherlock introduces himself. It sounds like a dramatic line out of a movie.

"It stands fur 'arsenic catnip,' Mr. Holmes. That's my Trollian handle!"

She pauses for a moment. He probably didn't understand a thing she just said. Talking to people is a lot like talking to Jasper, except she has a better frame of reference to start from when explaining things to a dead cat.

"It's just a pseudonym I used on the internet. Back home, my furriends all lived far away from me, so I usually had to talk to them through instant messaging. Trollian's pretty much like any other IM program, except it had this feature where we could talk to people at diffurent points in their time line. But that's another story!"

Then... she doesn't like the cats? All the puns, a cat character, all the mentions of felines, and yet an attempted poisoning of the things within her name. Perhaps she just flat out didn't know what the word meant. Holmes studies her for a moment, curiously, before continuing.

Sort of. There are way too many things that she's said that don't make a lick of sense. Holmes is just beginning to think the young girl is mildly unhinged, but perhaps that's his being culturally insensitive in this situation.

"Perhaps our-- technological differences being more widespread than I initially thought."

Then again, Holmes, could you judge what a mildly unhinged troll looks like? For all you know she could be completely normal.

If you said that you'd be wrong but hey it's the principle that counts.

"Quite pawsibly! I don't know much about Earth's time lines except fur a few peoples'."

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