ataraxionlogs | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...Did you dye your whole wardrobe?

[ the smile becomes a little more genuine as he shakes his head -- wait, no no no. he scowls. sudden movements were always a mistake, why did he forget that? he stumbled back against the lockers and stared at the ceiling until the nausea passed. ]

I've always had a nervous stomach. [ and in this place... ] A-acid reflux.

[She was about to explain when Ned stumbles and she instead reaches out to help him stay up. Then he's covering up the pod sickness and she can't help thinking how ridiculous that is.]

You were in engineering.

[It's an assumption, not a question.]

It helps to sit down and wait it out.

[Or curl up in bed and sleep through the first day.]

[ he allows and even welcomes the touch. pepper has become familiar, someone he doesn't shy away from. it's partially her connection to tony but it's also just her. she's a steadying presence for a man so unwieldy as himself. ]

Maybe I should-- yes. [ he slides to the floor along the smooth surface of the lockers and squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for everything to stop spinning. ]

[She reaches up and pulls the wet towel out of her locker. It's not ideal, but it's all she has at the moment. Using it like a wet washcloth she pats over his forehead.]

You probably got up too soon. It passes quicker if you just stay still.

[It hadn't taken her long to realize that the pod sickness was a bit like the worst hangover you could ever have in your entire life; treating it like one ... helped.]

[ as someone who seldom drank, it's not the easiest comparison to make but he understands its relevance all the same and nods - gently, slowly, so as not to trigger his dizziness again. ] I have a business to run.

[ a 'business' that had no revenue and no overhead, but something that kept him sane all the same. it was important to him to be able to handle everything himself; to keep everything together. ned curled in on himself a little, hand pressed to his temple. ]

I don't have time to be sick.

No, none of us do.

[She continues to press the towel to his forehead, trying to help stave off the sickness with the coolness of the water.]

But you need to take care of yourself first.

I'm... I'm trying. [ he curls up a little more. ] You shouldn't be worried about me.

You have your own things to take care of.

[She offers him a soft smile as she keeps taking care of him.]

You are part of my thing to take care of Ned.

[ he was? he looked up at her like he didn't know what the words meant though in truth they were so so meaningful to him. ]

I can... manage. [ it's soft, unconvincing. ]

[She offers him a soft, reassuring smile. It isn't that she doesn't think he can handle himself, it's that he shouldn't have to.]

I know you can, but I'm still going to take care of you anyway.

[ he looks up at her tentatively, and nods. like yes, i will accept your help but i can't say it out loud. ]

You remind me of someone... I used to know. [ it's a very high compliment, considering who he means - she had been his best friend in the city. ]

[She doesn't know, but it still gets a small laugh out of her.]

I hope it was someone you liked.

[ that brings a tiny smile to his face, and he nods. ] Very much.

[ he missed zee so much sometimes he thought he might not be able to take it. he knows how pepper feels. ]

[She smiles back, still pressing the wet towel to his forehead.]

Good; although I'm sorry they're not here.

[ that gets the smile to disappear pretty quickly, his hand pressing over the towel so she doesn't have to hold it for him. ]

I'm not. Zee hated space.

... Oh.

[She presses her lips together.]

I'm sorry to hear that.

[ he smiles up at her, shaking his head. ] I'm glad she's still there. I wouldn't trust the Pie Hole, City edition to anyone else.

Maybe one day you'll see her again.

thirty-first jump;

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