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

[ at least this much is the same. watching tyke with her dogs, it's reassuring. he thinks that more than anything eases the tight knot of worry in his chest, though it reappears the moment she starts trying to get up. he can hear it, everything behind her answer, the frustration and anger there. she's weakened. derek knows what it costs for her to display it like this, unable to pretend otherwise. ]

Okay.

[ he's careful, trying to keep his voice even as he crouches next to her. he puts the towel into her hands, at least giving her that much control over the situation. ]

I can carry you.

[ it's no hardship. but he won't do anything without her say so, even if he's sure this is the best way, would rather carry her than see her try to haul herself upright again and register the way her scent had gone sour with pain. ]

[The suggestion makes Taylor grimace, bare her too-sharp teeth in a frustrated twist of her mouth. It's brief, though, and only directed at the idea of it, of needing to be carried - not at Derek. A large part of her wishes he wasn't seeing her like this, having to deal with it, but she knows she wouldn't have got through it without him there. He's been the strength she's lost, in more ways than one, and she's so grateful, even if in this moment she just wants to be able to walk without him.

But she can't. She tips back to sitting, slowly, lifts the towel to tie it around her chest. The struggle to stand had been enough to have her forget about the fluid on her skin, how cold she was, but it swamps back in now, and she shivers visibly.]

Alright.

[It's still tense, but she nods once, lifts her hands slightly like she'd try to reach for him if she was more confident of where he was.]

Just back to medical?

[She doesn't know what to do about the showers. Maybe wait until everyone's gone, can't be in there watching her try to function like this.]

[ she reaches and he takes her hands without prompting. tyke can't see, and derek isn't interested in watching her grope blindly for him. ]

Back to medical. We'll figure out the rest after.

[ they can dry her off, he figures. between the two of them they can clean her up without getting to the showers. he's trying his best to let her make the calls, decide for herself. she's sick, weak, but she's not helpless. derek wants to remind her of that as often as he can. ]

[He takes her hands and she feels it keenly that it's their first contact this side of the jump. Feels the contact keenly, that his hands still feel the same, broader than hers, warm. She twines her fingers together with his, holds on silently for a moment.]

Thank you.

[For this, for all of it. She shifts towards him slightly, letting go only to reach for his shoulders, hoping to do something to make lifting her easier.]

[ he's a werewolf. lifting her isn't difficult, even if she weren't looping her arms around her neck, holding on as he hoists her up. he huffs, quiet, shakes his head at her thanks. ]

It's fine. I've got you.

[ it's the same easy offer he'd make to any of his pack, to scott or stiles or lydia, to erica and boyd and isaac when they'd been his. he cares about her. this is instinctive, nothing complicated in it. ]

How do you feel?

[He lifts her and she tucks into him, presses her face against his shoulder for a moment while she waits for the vertigo to pass. Being moved with no way to sense her surroundings should be terrifying, and on some level it is, but it's Derek's arms around her, and the fear can't catch against that.]

Cold.

[Completely honest. She's had to be, the past few weeks, couldn't pass off symptoms with I'm fine when things were so bad. When understanding her sickness could help others.]

Think I fucked my knees. The pain isn't as bad.

[ he can smell it, the flare of fear, but it's something low, something that ebbs away. derek breathes out, tightens his grip momentarily. it'll be better once he gets her into medical, onto a bed. even better when he can take her back to their room and curl around her, warm her up under blankets, away from everyone's sight. derek offers that up as they move, lifts it like he's holding the mental imagine on display for her. ]

We'll get it looked at. I'll find you some towels too.

[ get dry, get warm. that's derek's priority right now. everything else can be set aside. ]

[The mental image he offers to her has her shiver slightly, the ghost of that warmth and intimacy spreading over her skin. It almost feels too close for a moment, more than just hearing his thoughts - being wrapped up in them, the emotion underneath. She clutches onto him a little tighter, silent for a moment until it passes.]

You could just stay. You're warm.

[No real substitute for more towels, though.]

thirty-fifth jump;

pulls snood over your head

snoozes

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