felinely: (Default)
ѕєℓιηα куℓє ([personal profile] felinely) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2012-09-07 11:05 pm
Entry tags:

TENTH WAVE

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: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one


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.

 
circumitus: Insert Warmer song lyrics here. (i have fireworks and redbull)

Rey | OTA

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-09-08 10:24 am (UTC)(link)
Ten times. She was counting. Not that she really had to. Everything was all in place, just as it had been before. Same sounds, same room, same damn cycle.

Rinse and repeat, literally and figuratively.

Something felt different. It was like tiny itch that she couldn't scratch, or a pain that clung to the roof of her mouth. She tried to place her finger on it as she got cleaned and dressed, and stared into her locker.

Nothing came. No music of clarity, no song of resounding angels with their trumpet leading to some divine truth.

Now where did that all come from?

No, at the end of the tunnel vision, she saw someone's face, flicker and fade away into apathy...

Rey slammed her locker door shut. She felt a shift in the world around her, as if heated gas rose up from the ground. She retreated from the locker, staggering a few steps when doing so.

Strange. Perhaps she needed to walk. Or smoke. Or consume a drop of Euphoria. Still plenty of it left that she could use. Make herself feel better. Make herself care when she couldn't care at all. It was more than what the other drugs or substances she'd had ever offered to her.

Giving the locker room a final glance, Rey turned and started to head towards the halls. Stretch her legs. Get out of sight and out of mind. Anything. No one was looking for her, at least. Most people she wound up getting to know were gone, anyway. Why should this be any different?