learnedtosmile: (021)
John Blake ([personal profile] learnedtosmile) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2012-12-07 09:01 pm
Entry tags:

thirteenth 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.


[Note: The December event, including the stasis comas and network malfunction, is underway! Please see the mod post for details if you haven't already!]
handelaar: (hair down: wet dog)

Netherlands | second half OTA | prose or action it's all cool

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-08 05:24 am (UTC)(link)
{closed to rey}

He was anticipating this jump sucking harder than usual, and had taken both medications way early to maybe fight off some of it.

Didn't work as well as he'd hoped.

First thing he does is fall straight out of the grav couch - ow - doesn't even have time to curse before he does the second thing - spit up bile (blue) across the floor. Also, ow. His fucking ribs. Third thing he does is close his eyes, lay his head against the cool of the floor, and breathe.

Apparently his rabbit is better at this than he is, because within the minute he's getting nudged by a wet bunny face. He blindly gropes around for the towel he set aside, cracks his eyes open enough to see what he's doing, and wraps Lodewijk up as tight as he can because he's not moving for a good few minutes.

{OPEN anywhere anytime}

[Once his rabbit is dry and he can walk in a straight line he heads toward the lockers - only to finally catch sight of figures still in stasis. Slow going, but he makes his way past every one, takes note of who's still trapped with an increasingly furrowed brow. Goddamnit, half the department is still - then he catches sight of Irene and pitches a fit, right there in the middle of Medbay, complete with a nonsensical string of hissed curses about masks and thieves which culminates in an attempt to break the fucking tank open.

That also doesn't work as well as he'd hoped.

He ends up nursing his bleeding knuckles as he sits in the shadow of Takeshi's tank, Lodewijk asleep in his toweled lap, occasionally throwing an ugly look Irene's way but mostly flipping between keeping a protective watch over the kid's still form and zoning out. Obviously breaking the tanks isn't gonna happen, but maybe if he waits long enough… Eventually he'll have to leave, but until then his ass is staying right here.]
circumitus: 10 stitches. scar on forehead. totally going tell ppl my parents died fighting Voldemort. (fell off bed. face first.)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-12-08 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
Let them burn, Schuyler.

This is going to sting a little.


Those words still echo in her skull. Feels like she's falling, because she actually is. Or face-planting, right there on the floor in the most ungraceful way imaginable. Not that grace was much of a concern here.

Her concern was that her father was gone; his voice faded in a hollowed-out memory.

Rey? Are you here?

She nurses his forehead as she climbs to her feet, her head still throbbing with the voices that taunt her.

What is it?
she asks as his hand freezes over the crown of her head.

I don't understand it. Your hair, it's--


The visible gray strands are obscured by the blue fluid she's covered in. She stumbles some, part of her looking for her father, and another part simply knowing better and beckoning the truth.

The truth is that even among this sea of people, she is alone.

She freezes when she finds a man tending to a rabbit. That niggling sense of familiarity haunts her again, because she knows and yet she doesn't. His face is like a dream to her, and it very well may be a dream. One of those where you venture outside to go about your daily business, only to realize that you've been carrying it out entirely in your underwear. Yeah.

Her father had taught her manners. Taught her better than to just stare, though it's a habit that never eludes her. Rather than bombarding this person who seems to be worse off than herself with a multitude of questions, she simply tilts her head at him, and speaks.

"Hello."
handelaar: (moving along now)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-08 06:22 am (UTC)(link)
If it's possible for him to lose even more color in his complexion, he does, as soon as he hears her voice - for quite a few reasons. The thought that she might be feeling like a homicidal nut might just be his very last thought, for one. When it isn't he worries about his rabbit, then there's the nagging sense of guilt that keeps him from cracking his eyes open, because, shit, in all of the chaos he forgot to check up on her today. Make sure she didn't go splat like Hotspur.

Apparently not.

One breath, two breaths later and he opens his eyes, lolling his head up toward her face. Careful, so he doesn't puke on her feet. Or himself. Or his rabbit. Shit's still a little fuzzy, spinning, but he squints and thinks that she doesn't look particularly - uh - severe.

Instead of a hello back he groans and loosens his grip on Lodewijk, just in case.

"Don't hurt the rabbit."
circumitus: Seriously. Its 80 proof rum that was 8 bucks for a liter. I'm afraid. (you don't want any of i have)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-12-08 06:40 am (UTC)(link)
The last thing Rey remembers, her father was stitching her face up (it still hurt, her skin did, like the jagged edge of the broken glass still seared through the fleshy tissue. It hurts and it's red and bloody and inflamed but she is relieved and fine in spite of it all. Better than fine). She also remembers having dinner with him. They're talking, his words become garbled and the conversation slips away into the back of her mind.

When the man looks at her, she stares back. Her face falls into her hand, trying to gather the last remains of that conversation and her father's voice--

...There is something that we need to discuss.

"There is something that we need to discuss." Rey blinks, the reflection of her father's words startling her back into her proper place in reality.

She isn't at the dinner table. She isn't tending to the open gashes that's marred her face. She's standing in front of a man and his rabbit, and he's giving her a look that she recognizes too well. Something heavy sinks in her chest, something which she recognizes it as regret. Her father may have told her that once or twice.

"I'm not going to hurt your rabbit." Rey doesn't bother to ask him why he would think that. Some part of her, the dream-her, already knows. "You don't look well."
handelaar: (signed a what now)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-08 07:32 am (UTC)(link)
While he can hear her mutter something he can't make out what. It makes him tense up as much as he can - not much, the muscle there pulls on his ribs and he lets his head flop back to the floor with a grunt - still, she doesn't move. So far so good, huh.

Not that he relaxes much when she assures him that she won't hurt Lodewijk. He doesn't think she's a liar, but he does think she's capable of changing her mind in an instant and that's the thing he's wary of. In fact he almost doesn't hear the second part, too busy trying to scrape his hair back and the goo away from his eyes so he can see. Or try to see.

"No shit," he mumbles, but more than anything he sounds wary. Tired. "Got in a - " There he stops himself, bites his lip, unsure how she'll react to it or if she'll react at all. And it wasn't exactly a fight anyway. His hand's still in his hair, thumb pressing against his temple while he thinks. It's a lot harder to string words together with a blaring headache.

"Concussion... few days ago. I think. I uh, forgot to check on ya."

Probably not the smartest thing to admit to in his position, but there it is.
circumitus: Insert Warmer song lyrics here. (ask politely.)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-12-08 07:47 am (UTC)(link)
Rey blinks.

...A few days ago?

No, that isn't right. A few days ago, she was with her father, where she was telling him Let me die. He was applying stitches. Her fingers graze over the gashes in her face. She can still feel the pains there. Still hurts. She wasn't here, she hasn't been in this dream for a very long time.

You're lying are the accusatory words that almost come out of her mouth. Instead, Rey just approaches him, cautiously so because obviously he's on his guard and has a particular reason to be that way, she just doesn't know what it is yet. She wonders for a moment if perhaps this is one of the many things that she herself is responsible for, but that isn't right, either. She'd remember that. She remembers it all.

So then why doesn't she remember all of him?

"No need to, I'm better. I fixed it." That can mean a number of things. For now, she keeps it simple: "Do you have a place to go?"

It isn't right to leave him here in his condition, and the rabbit. Perhaps the rabbit needs help, too, like its owner.

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hetalia pets pls

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except sad and gross

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sweetmotherofgod: (you think you're a rebel?)

[personal profile] sweetmotherofgod 2012-12-08 08:29 am (UTC)(link)
[She's picking her way through the pods slowly, noting the faces she knows, hoping at each that she'll spot something, some sort of clue as to what's happening and what can be done, and finding nothing. Cid was the worst, his tiny form all blue-tinged and sad, and it hurt a little to leave him even under his mother's watchful gaze.

When she finally spots Takeshi it's ten times that and worse. He'd been been doing so well, going from the scared, lonely little boy she'd met to a bright and happy child who gnawed at his pencil and drew her robots instead of working on his lessons.]


No. No. Come on.

[She runs to the pod, sounding as if she genuinely expects someone or something to say yeah, okay, that was a dick move and release him. Upset enough that she doesn't notice Netherlands until she damn near walks right into him, and even then it takes her a moment to remember how fucked things are.]

Him too?
handelaar: (that's a tad embarrassing)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-08 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
[And lucky him, she catches him right in the middle of zoning out, so it's a slow blink up at her before he even hears what she says and suddenly everything snaps together.

This is awkward as hell and even though it's not something he's thinking, too preoccupied with nodding a yes and sighing up at the tank, the kid inside - his body language screams it. He crosses his arms like he's trying to hide, tight and covering as much rib as he can. Keeps his bangs in his eyes and his eyes on the tank, and then off on the far wall of the room.]


Can't break 'em.

[He'd tap the side of the tank for emphasis or display his hand, but. No.]
sweetmotherofgod: (he used blanks)

[personal profile] sweetmotherofgod 2012-12-08 09:05 am (UTC)(link)
[Awkward. So awkward, but slinking away now that she'd noticed him would be moreso and despite her holding forth earlier about the people stuck in the pods probably being safer than those out of them, she doesn't want to leave. Presses a hand to the glass for just a beat and in lieu of knowing what to say or dealing with the way he looks, starts running her fingertips over the tank in search of an edge or a join, screws, anything she can work with. Slips her knife free and sticks the edge of it into the tiny gap at what she thinks of as the door but only succeeds in bending the blade slightly before she decides it's a terrible idea anyway.]

Damn it.

[She strikes her hand against the tank in frustration, closes her eyes and leans her forehead against the glass.]

This isn't right.
handelaar: (pic#4233449)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-08 09:23 am (UTC)(link)
[It's hard not to watch what she's doing as she moves around the tank, and despite himself his gaze slips over enough to observe without outright staring. Dumb of her to try, but just as dumb of him to try to stop her from it - she never listened to him before about this kind of thing, so whatever. She curses and he's completely unsurprised.

He shifts his shoulder, sliding so that he's wedged where both the wall and chamber can support him as he sits. Lets his temple rest against the side and stares down at her shoes.]


Guess no one out there - [a pause to swallow, and for a split-second he acts like he might move but thinks better of it] - knows what's goin' on.
sweetmotherofgod: (God has cursed me I think)

[personal profile] sweetmotherofgod 2012-12-08 09:45 am (UTC)(link)
If they do, they're keeping it to themselves.

[Always a possibility here, but this time the prospect makes her angrier than usual. She sighs and tucks her knife away, one hand still lingering on the cool surface of the tank.

When her brief burst of determination leaves her, embarrassment rushes in to fill its place. She shifts awkwardly, moving her weight from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at him. And it's only then that it strikes her as strange that he's here, looking as upset as he does and able to tell her the pods can't be broken into like he's speaking from experience. It's difficult to imagine him having much patience with children.]


You know him?

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ironsights: (pic#3813603)

[personal profile] ironsights 2012-12-09 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ he's heard chatter of some of the gravity couches refusing to open, heard talk of some people not waking up. it's not entirely his business, but still -- once he's dressed and at least mostly lucid, kazama makes his way back towards the gravity couches. his movements are stilted, slower than usual, and kazama flinches when he reaches up to tie his bandanna around his throat, the movement stretching the bruised muscles of his side.

and it certainly doesn't help when he approaches the gravity couches and spots two things. one: takeshi still suspended amidst that blue fluid, as if asleep. and two: the rather formidable figure sitting before that couch, as if standing buard by it. it's definitely none of his business whether netherlands and takeshi are friends, but kazama can't help giving a small frown at the way ned's on guard like a vicious dog. brows furrowed, kazama sighs before moving to step around where ned's sitting to try and get a better look at takeshi's gravity couch. ]
handelaar: (pic#5311775)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-09 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
[His paranoia may have been knocked out with the wonders of modern space medication, but he wasn't chipper or personable before he ever put the mask on - and he still has all of the overprotectiveness the mask landed in his lap. Or dumped in his head. Whatever.

Point being that he sees Kazama approach and takes a keen interest in it. Partly because he wants to know what the kid is up to, and partly because he never knows what the kid is up to. They're two different things, in his mind. If he can figure out one he might be able to work out the other.]


What're you doing.

[Cautious? Yes. Curious? Yes. Ready to lash out? No. Though that might just be because he's convinced there's no way to harm the tanks.]
ironsights: (pic#3813597)

[personal profile] ironsights 2012-12-09 06:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ he's really in no condition to be looking for a fight, and kazama's movements are rather more stiff than usual, his shoulders sagging slightly without the usual tension strung in his limbs. so when ned reacts so warily, kazama only gives a slow sigh, shaking his head in a way that suggest, 'don't start this.' ]

Just looking.

[ he can't bother to say anything more than that, and kazama makes sure not to nudge ned even the slightest as he steps over close to takeshi's gravity couch. running hand down the gleaming glass and cold steel, as if searching for a seam. quietly studying the screen that shows takeshi's vital signs. and there's a tired groan before he rests his head against the glass with a soft thunk. there's something profoundly unsettling about seeing the kid like this, and kazama doesn't know how to react, to be honest. ]
handelaar: (hold up a sec)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-09 01:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[He huffs back. Hey kid, he wasn't trying to start a damn thing! Not that he could do much at the moment, anyway - standing up makes the world spin and a good section of his chest is a nasty shade of bruise.

For a long few moments he simply observes, frowning with how familiar that look on someone's face is becoming. It feels intrusive to keep looking but every time he tries to turn his head the need to keep watch rears its head. So he doesn't. After what feels like ages of keeping quiet he licks his lips and asks the question he's been wondering, low and soft.]


Why him?
ironsights: (pic#3813602)

[personal profile] ironsights 2012-12-10 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
[ he looks up when netherlands speaks, reflexively flinching back a tiny bit. given the last time they spoke, netherlands chose to interrogate him just for napping in the oxygen gardens, he's not really looking forward to where a conversation here, under these circumstances might lead.

still, he just studies ned for a few moments, expression blank, before slowly lowering himself to sit down on the floor -- keeping a safe distance between them, of course. a soft grunt as that movement strains at his side before he mutters quietly, ]


I don't know what you're asking if you're that vague.

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gothchicklit: (Default)

[personal profile] gothchicklit 2012-12-09 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
[ October, towel-clad and obviously fresh from the shower, nearly trips over Netherlands' feet when she makes her way to the lockers. Her head's still feeling fuzzy, so she's not paying too much attention at first. Luckily, she catches herself before she actually face plants on the floor. ]

Is there a reason you're sitting there?
handelaar: (pic#4233449)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-09 05:53 am (UTC)(link)
[Too bad for him he does not recognize that voice. A concussion and a jump in rapid succession will do that to a guy, and to say that he looks a little worse for wear is an understatement.

But the real reason he's leaning against the wall here is a bit more complicated than "I feel like shit" - ]


Reason you're askin'?

[Apparently not one he wants to talk about, either.]
gothchicklit: (☥ 025.)

[personal profile] gothchicklit 2012-12-09 06:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Because I nearly tripped over you? [ His voice is familiar enough that October drops the attitude after a moment, brow furrowed slightly. ] Are you alright?
handelaar: (no this is my kitchen)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-12 06:52 pm (UTC)(link)
[At that he actually does roll his eyes, but tamps down the sarcasm - does he look like he's alright - because it seems like an innocent enough question. Well meaning, all that sort of thing.]

Enough.

[He pulls himself up to sit a little straighter, tears his goofy hair back with one hand to get a good look at her.]

Dunno about the kid, though.

[As he jerks a thumb toward Takeshi. Which is the real reason he's sitting here.]
gothchicklit: (☥ 076.)

[personal profile] gothchicklit 2012-12-13 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
[ Her attention shifts to the grav couch behind Netherlands, brow creasing into a frown this time. She simultaneously has a feeling there's something wrong and doesn't want to believe that because she desperately doesn't want to deal with another shitfest from this place. ]

Dumb question, I know, but have you tried opening it? Or found someone to help?

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parkours: (Default)

[personal profile] parkours 2012-12-12 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
( Peter doesn't have what you'd call proper relationships on board the ship; there's Gwen, and then there's the half dozen new people he's met and the brief attempts at getting to know them before his usual self took precedence. But that doesn't mean Peter's ignoring the presence of the handful in a tank, the few that didn't come out of statis, and he goes from tank to tank, reading their vitals, briefly considering taking notes on their current state, to a simple observational experiment because it didn't quite make sense.

He trips almost absentmindedly over him, catching himself at the last minute and he straightens up, hands in his pocket. )
-- Sorry. ( He mumbles the word, before glancing back, aware of the bunny in his lap. Last time Peter had encountered an animal, it didn't quite go as well as he wanted to, and he's wary of the same starting again. )

You okay?
handelaar: (why the hell is austria already here)

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-12 07:00 pm (UTC)(link)
[The problem with being so out of it is that he forgets just how stupidly long his legs are and he feels shitty enough not to keep watch, spacing out with his head back against the wall, eyes open, yeah, but unseeing. Getting tripped over jerks him out of it, which also jerks his rabbit out of its nap.]

Shit - uh.

[Lodewijk has no qualms about stretching himself awake and taking a hop or two over to the new person, to Netherlands' irritation.]

Yeah - hey. Lodewijk. [He clicks his tongue - come back, buddy - when that doesn't work he snaps his fingers but the fuzzball is just as stubborn as he is.] Asshole, c'mere -

[Still not working. With a sigh he drags his hand through his hair and looks up, shrugs, like rabbits man, what're you gonna do with 'em.]
parkours: (Default)

[personal profile] parkours 2012-12-23 08:30 am (UTC)(link)
Maybe you shouldn't call him an asshole, [ Peter suggests unhelpfully as he mimics the shrug. There's not really a lot he knows about animals in the first place, but that much seems like common sense, at least to his perspective. His theory falls more along the lines of being nicer to them, but then again that hasn't solved much except for the odd half attempt at communication with them.

He glances up towards Netherlands, shuffling his feet awkwardly after. ]
I mean, unless he likes it. You know – [ Maybe. Short of Gwen, no one here knows of Peter, but he finds it easier to fall back into the same routine of fumbling his words and actions, rather than sticking up for the more independent personality that he exudes. ]
handelaar: (bunny bunny bunny)

LATE holidays ate me

[personal profile] handelaar 2012-12-28 05:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[At that he tosses up a look that is mostly along the lines of "bitch please", probably too sassy to keep up with how shitty he feels. And that's what happens, too. One good look and then he collapses back against the wall with a sigh, lowering his gaze to look at Lodewijk and too tired to argue over the fact that he's thrown affectionate insults at the fuzzball for nearly 200 years now.

Even though the opportunity is right there, wide open. With his eyes lowered like this he definitely notices the shuffle of feet.]


Guess he's used to it. [Huff.] Spoiled rotten, anyway.
Edited (what is an adjective) 2012-12-28 17:49 (UTC)