ataraxionlogs | thirty-fifth 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: You wake feeling cold and alone. There is a strange sense of emptiness, and the jump holds no surprises for you. There is nothing buffering the jump sickness and disorientation for you this month, and those still suffering the lingering effects of August's plot may find it more difficult than usual to get through the post-jump 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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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

( to be frank, she has not expected to ever have the pleasure of seeing anyone who has left this ship again. it is not simply a surprise, but a much-needed joy to see a friend again. she does not care for his scowl or the language he uses, as ellie employed much worse on a daily basis.

and she, too, is gone. elizabeth moves forward, hand poised upon one of the painted lockers. there is much to be sad about of late. but this is not such a thing. her smile is smaller, less vibrant than he might remember. but it's present, which is all that matters. )

Ah, Mister Crane. I greet you well upon your return. ( she hopes that he remembers. if not.. welp. ) Are you well?

Lady Elizabeth.

[He surely remembers, even if it surprises and pains him to find that she's still being held prisoner on this wretched ship. But a familiar and friendly face is always welcome, something he's sure she'd agree with.]

I have been better, my lady. More importantly, how have you fared?

( pleased and surprised that he recalls her still, she gives him a small smile. she attempts to be cheerful, but compared to last time, she is likely falling a little short. more so than she does with complete strangers. )

I am sorry to hear it. is there aught I can do to help? ( short of sending him home. )

To be honest, I have fared worse; but I have also been better. Many terribly things have happened since your departure.

But I was able to find happiness amongst it. For a time, at least. What of your period in time? Is the future yet unsettled?

[That would be the only thing. But he knows for certain that the Tranquility holds to its secrets of sending people home as tightly as it does to stealing them in the first place. He smiles at the kind offer, but it's worried at the edges, and doesn't go near his eyes.]

I fear that these are trying times, both on board the ship and off.

[Understatement. But this is a Purgatory all its own, he needn't add to it. Ichabod swallows hard. His body is here, but his thoughts have been left behind with Katrina, with Abbie.]

How long have I been gone?

( what is left of her smile fades out-right, and she nods in quiet acquiescence to his statement. )

They are indeed. We have only just recovered from a ship-wide plague. Before that, we became lost in the halls and became trapped in our dreams. This place is becoming increasingly hostile to us.

( counting back in her head, she can't figure the number exactly. it troubles her. )

Several months.

A pestilence?

[Sometimes he's surprised at how the demons of Sleepy Hollow can be found elsewhere. Perhaps it's just the nature of evil. And while it feels like far less time has pass for him, he knows how it goes.

He thinks about this all before managing a smile for her.]

Well, I can at least take comfort in old friends here, and hope to offer the same in return.

An illness, yes. Some of us from further back in time thought it might be the Plague revisiting us. Thankfully, by the grace of God and the intelligence of many people, we were cured.

( the demons of history itself, to be honest. it had her thinking of danse macabre art and poetry.

now it is gone. thank god. she forces herself to smile a little for his sake, and nods. )

Though I am sorry that once again you are trapped here, I am gladdened a good deal to see you again. Did you recall the ship while you were away at all?

thirty-fifth jump;

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