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

Merlin. [ —which is something he's fallen out of the habit of saying around muggles, to avoid the funny looks, but it's reflex. He doesn't step back but his shoulders do straighten, a startled recoil contained to as small a movement as possible. He does think it's a wolf, at first. Maybe not so much on second glance, or third, but when your existence revolves around something like that, it's hard not to see it in every possible place.

After that third glance he relaxes again, though, and finishes fastening his jumpsuit up to the neck while he's limping closer for a better look. ]

Maybe you've a secret admirer.

[ He's sounded more convincingly lighthearted. ]

Oh my god. [ spoken like 'are you freaking serious right now', and it slips out before she can quite remind herself to keep her mouth shut. either way, she shakes her head and sets it on the changing bench - with the head tucked under so it's not looking at them. ]

[ That's about the reaction he was going for, so he only smiles wider and plants himself on the bench next to the skin, promptly undoing her tuck job (I'm sorry) to look it in the face—but he doesn't point the eyes in her direction, at least. He isn't trying to frighten anyone. He sticks his hands under the head instead, two fists, shifting his fingers to try to feel out how a skull might have fit inside it. ]

I got a jar of teeth last jump.

[ That's meant to be reassuring. Honest. ]

Are you all right? After— [ Everything. ]

[ fortunately, he doesn't give her time to comment on how actually un-reassuring that was. unfortunately, this is kind of worse.

her gaze drops, and she lifts a shoulder noncommittally. ] I mean, I wasn't the one risking my life. [ she's definitely sore about how that went down. mostly sore at herself, to be honest. ]

[ That was only half of what he meant—he knows she's been ill, too—but probably the more important half, so he doesn't object. He looks up from the misshapen face of her new blanket to smile. ]

He does that. [ Remus really should not be talking, here, but it's been years since he ran around the school grounds with a pack of unregistered Animagi, and he has no idea that in another ten he'll ruin literally everything with a mistake much dumber than any Sally's made, so—sorry, Sally. He's talking anyway. ] Like clockwork. He won't be careful, if it's between that and his friends, so you sort of have to do it for him.

[ He doesn't stop smiling, but he does raise his eyebrows for a second, a silent please, before his focus returns to the blanket. It doesn't look so canine anymore. ]

Yeah, I kind of. Figured that out. [ it's dry, but genuine. then she lifts her eyes to his, and she tacks on for good measure: ] It's not going to happen again.

[ It could happen again. Not the blind risk part, but the therapy dog part. If they know it's safe now. If Sirius doesn't turn into a wolf anytime this jump cycle. That's what Padfoot is for, Remus nearly says—that was the point, keeping friends from having to be alone, and it can be done safely.

But he's still a little sore over everything, however pleasant he looks. ]

Thank you. [ He tucks the face back out of sight, like she'd had it before. ] I'm glad you're all right.

thirty-fifth jump;

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wow slow 4eva

this is me you're talking to

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