ataraxionlogs | thirty-first jump;

Entry tags:

thirty-first jump;

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: There is something very easy about waking from the gravcouches this month. The sensation of being watched is absent, and so is much of the sickness - even for those characters who entered Engineering in February. Instead the jump feels comfortable, the stasis fluid warm on your skin, the medbay lights not too harsh as you emerge amongst your fellow passengers. The sensation may be unnerving in its strangeness, but there will be a deep feeling of being well-rested, calm and content, that will not be completely lost no matter how much you question it.

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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.

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[Edgeworth opens his mouth, then closes it again. He feels a bit self-conscious, standing by like this while she just talks to Pess. Is he supposed to respond? Or is he supposed to let her have a conversation, or...

He clears his throat.

(It's actually an odd sort of relief, to merely feel uncomfortable rather than miserable.)]

It, ah...I didn't give it to her. Her previous owners did, I presume.

[Ellie's gaze flickers in his direction as Edgeworth clears his throat (he looks like shit, just saying) - and then promptly settles back on the dog. She ruffles Pess's ears, makes a low sympathetic noise.]

You got left here by someone or something? That sucks, girl. But hey, you look pretty great for an orphan. Nice going. Someone's taking pretty good care of you, I guess.

[Oh. That bit of...flattery? That compliment? It's utterly unexpected, and takes Edgeworth altogether by surprise. It means a lot to him, that he takes good care of his dog - and no one has ever commented on it before, and so he flushes, and fumbles over his reply.]

Oh - no, n...o, I mean at - at home. No one...left her here; she is my dog from home. I just mean that she is a - a stray. Was a stray. At home.

[Ellie puts one of her hands, palm up, near Pess's muzzle - exposing herself for a thorough licking and grinning about it.]

Aw, that's not true is it girl? Strays don't have names, right? [She strokes the dog's ears back with her other hand, incredibly fond. Bran and Arya Stark's wolves won't let themselves be touched.] Someone probably loved you a lot and you got separated or something, right? But that's okay. Shit happens.

[And then, finally, Ellie glances to Edgeworth. She doesn't stop petting the dog, though there's something awkwardly taut about how she addresses him.]

You've got a pretty cool dog, dude.

[Edgeworth is normally fairly shy and awkward during encounters like these. Over the network, certainly, that's fine - he's much bolder and fiercer. But in person, he tends to be relatively uncertain of himself.

Yet at that comment, he's uncharacteristically fierce, declaring firmly:]

I have an excellent dog.

[And then a moment later, he remembers himself, and remembers his awkwardness, and clears his throat.]

She...seems to like you very much.

Yeah, well. I'm pretty excellent myself, [very decidedly dropping into 'I am talking to an animal or small child' voice as she looks back to the dog and scratches at her neck, a hand for each side] isn't that right Pess?

She probably like anyone who pets her, huh?

[Edgeworth answers a touch awkwardly:]

Yes, she's quite...loving. There are relatively few people whom she does not like.

[But, with renewed firmness:]

Though she seems to be reacting to you particularly strongly.

[Ellie makes a low little noise, laughs and flops Pess's ears around with her hands. After a few seconds, she straightens - pets the dog on the shoulder.]

I probably just smell or something. [Like stasis fluid. Sure.] Anyway she's really cute. How old is she? Does she have a lot of dog friends on the ship? There's wolves and horses and stuff, but-- [She shrugs.]

[Edgeworth gives a small nod.]

She quite likes Tyke's dogs. She's very good friends with them.

[He clears his throat. By Pess' demeanor, you'd think she never gets any attention - as soon as Ellie stops scratching, the dog hops up on her hind legs again, shamelessly begging for more.]

And she's three, I think.

[Ugh, right in her weak spot. Ellie gives without much fuss: reaching to keep scratching Pess behind the ears.] --Okay, okay, Jeez.

[She wipes her other hand on the pant leg of her jumpsuit.] Does she know any tricks?

[Any tricks...Edgeworth tends to spoil Pess terribly. He's disciplined in just about every area of his life except for when it comes to her; indeed, when it comes to her, all he wants to do is coddle and indulge her. So it's with a bit of embarrassment that he says:]

She can sit...

[Though she's not very good at that. Mostly, what she's good at is looking up at you with a blissful expression when you scratch behind her ears.]

[It's met with a moment of blinking silence and then Ellie abruptly snorts, laughs. She scrubs Pess behind the ears, wrinkling her nose playfully at the dog.]

Wow, what a brat.

[He hesitates. There's something very shy in his manner when he agrees:]

Yes, she is.

[Then he reaches up, and fiddles with his cravat, and clears his throat, and tries to get a hold of himself. Stop looking pathetic, Miles. And he holds out the leash to her.]

Would you like to take her for a little while?

[Ellie's head snaps around so quickly there might be some sustained whiplash.]

What? Seriously?

[She very pointedly doesn't touch the lease, though she does give it a long look.]

I don't know.

[And Edgeworth shakes his head at once. It's an oddly negative reaction for someone so enthusiastic about petting the dog just a moment before, but he's not about to press it. Instead, he says, even more awkwardly:]

Forgive me, please. I ought not have presumed. I just thought you might like walking her around a bit.

[It's her turn to be monumentally awkward - partly from feeding off his own uncertainty, partly not. She picks harshly at her fingernails, her cuticles, and takes a shuffling step backward.]

It's okay. I've never had a dog or anything and wouldn't know how. [A beat. She shoots a glance toward the lift.] Thanks anyway.

[And it's Edgeworth's instinct to just let that go; he does not care for causing discomfort, for all that he causes discomfort with no small amount of regularity, and when he knows he's upsetting someone for no reason he backs off. (If it is for a reason, he presses forward ruthlessly, but - that's a separate issue.) But this time he does speak up, because she seems to be laboring under some misapprehension and that seems to cause her distress.]

But you don't have to know how. You only take the leash and lead her around. That's all.

[She studies the leash for a long moment, mouth thin and brow slightly furrowed, fingers uncertainly catching behind Pess's ear for a light, grounding pat. What's the worst that could happen? So she has to come find him again or something to return his dog. No big deal. He's security but that doesn't mean jack shit here really.

After a moment of her mouth working at an uneven, thin line, Ellie leans forward and snags the leash from him - abrupt and slightly rude but an acceptance nonetheless.]

Okay. When do you want her back?

[Edgeworth is taken by surprise by the abruptness of it, and jerks back slightly. He's taken by surprise by the question, as well. It's...Has he not communicated his intentions? Does the young woman think he's giving her Pess long-term, or...?]

Well. I was thinking - a lap around the bay. And then back here.

[He clears his throat.]

If you want her longer-term, I'm always looking for dogsitters. For when I'm at work.

[She absently winds the leash around her hand. It's not so short that Pess doesn't have slack - she's familiar enough with horses to know that animals tend to like some space - but firmly anchoring. It's be kind of mortifying to lose someone's dog.]

Just a lap's cool. [Long term commitment is for suckers, Edgeworth.] I'll meet you back here in like an hour or something?

[She shoots him a sidelong glance, briefly uncertain.]

An -

[Oh, god, how badly had she misunderstood? Edgeworth had meant - there and back, a half minute and no more. Enough time that he could gather himself and still beat everyone to the elevator, so that he needn't ride with anyone or speak with anyone. An hour - being trapped down here for a full hour, having to talk to people, having to hear inquiries, having to deal with the crowd - he's already claustrophobic, already tense, just wants to go to his room and hide - ]

Yes. That would be ideal.

[But he just can't bring himself to discourage her. Not when Pess had clearly made her so happy.]

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thirty-first jump;

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