starked: (Default)
tσnч ( wєll thαt єscαlαtєd quícklч ) stαrk ([personal profile] starked) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2013-03-07 11:00 pm

sixteenth 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: 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: Because you're marine grade... You rascal. (you need 400 proof or marine proof)

hallways (mind if i hit you up with prose instead of action?)

[personal profile] circumitus 2013-03-09 09:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Rey doesn't waste much time getting ready. There's no need. The initial sickness subsides relatively fast, and already she's got her balance.

Time has begun to take its course on her current attire, though, with the tattered state of her standard jumpsuit and the missing sleeve on the right arm... Fortunately, there are no longer any remains of the bite marks from the rats that had recently gnawed into her. Got to love the miracles of new medicine, although where she's come from fixing her would have been too much of a bother. Easier to just take apart and replace into something else. Not so much the case this time.

Unlike usual, she doesn't have much in the ways of routine in which she's abiding by right now. She doesn't go to her room (simply because her room no longer exists; only charred remains of an incident that left much of her remaining possessions in ruin).

Instead, she goes on a walk. Not a patrol, not a run or any mindset with a direct destination. Just a cathartic few hours spent to oneself in the winding corridors of the ship.

Because fuck the buddy system.

It's some time before Rey finds someone in the hallway. At least now she has a right mind not to bump into them, rather she moves right by them -- him.

Normally, she is not one to typically initiate conversation. If not for current influences, Rey would have walked right on by, minding her own business.

Right now she has the time to stop and stare out the corner of her eye at the unfamiliar network-eavesdropper. Hello.
nubilate: (➤ crumbs and dust.)

not at all, prose is great!

[personal profile] nubilate 2013-03-09 11:06 pm (UTC)(link)
It seems as though it won't take long for the core of things to settle, despite the initial physical stress brought on by the jump; everything he's heard suggests that it isn't worth concern in the long-term. Still, it doesn't hurt to have a means of distraction, just until all those unexpected blips have gone away — or he's adapted to them. And it seems like, at least for the moment, this is working just fine.

By the time she comes down the corridor in his direction, Hollow's relaxed enough to have shifted into a low-energy state, doing nothing but transcribing aural information to some condensed form, dropping junk data along the way, and letting his insides cool from their minimal use. It makes him quite still, and all he does is run through the usual reflexes beyond that: breathing in, his eyes occasionally flicking as evidence of wakefulness, and such. Very small, simple things to do, and it lets him close himself off from the things that feel strange and unpleasant, and it lets him turn away from the unanswerable questions this experience has brought on.

He looks, for all intents and purposes, like he's just picked a strange place to doze and reflect.

It's the motion of someone in his peripheral vision that triggers him back to waking, and like anyone coming out of a daydream, he sits up from his awkward slouch, breathes in deep and gives a sort of lazy half-stretch before he looks at her, properly looks at her, and catches the slight look she gives him in return. When she stops, he maintains his gaze, expression flitting from idle curiosity, to surprise, to confusion. After a moment, he fumblingly feels his way out to the communicator to silence it.

It's not just for the sake of politeness. Already her attention, her motion, her silence has his interest.

"Hey. Hi." He sits forward and forms a smile that's nervously polite, but affects nothing beyond his mouth. "It's... okay to loiter, right? I didn't see a sign discouraging it. Sitting in the corridor, I mean. So I figured I'd be all right."
circumitus: (503): forewarning i'll probably have done those drugs with you (i wanna bring you to show and tell)

sweeeet, prose is my baby

[personal profile] circumitus 2013-03-10 12:34 am (UTC)(link)
People have ways of reacting differently to new scenarios. Rey has seen them panic and scream and yell and attack those around them. She's also seen them take their new paths in stride, simply shrug it off and continue.

Much like this guy here. Rey remembers faces -- every last one of them. She may get them mixed up from time to time, mistake them for someone else. After a short study, however, she can usually place a name or memory to the face she's seen, be it from a passing glance or a voice or image behind a screen. Nothing springs to mind with this one though, and he seems to be of the variety who takes things in stride. They're typically the easier crowd to deal with.

When he speaks, Rey is already at attention, standing stiff and ridged. It takes her a moment to pull back to the present and remember that most statements, much like that, tend to warrant an answer in return.

"Yes. Security doesn't tend to enforce strict guidelines when it comes to dawdling. Almost everyone does it." Rey would know, being security herself even though she isn't exactly the best textbook example of an officer. She used to be more of the shoot-first-ask-later type than a breed to turn to for protection.

She tells herself to shut down that side of her brain; she has no use for it anymore. So she relaxes, her shoulders slacking somewhat in an attempt to carry a more relaxed posture.

Hey, she tries.
nubilate: (➤ skimming.)

[personal profile] nubilate 2013-03-10 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)
She sure seems tense. Tense enough that when she does finally ease, the shift in her shoulders and posture looks pretty remarkable; on top of that frank, straight-forward way of talking, Hollow can feel his sleepy brain warming into proper thoughtfulness, pondering. Well... maybe she's one of those military types. That consultant did say that they came from all over the place, and certainly, there's plenty of military around, these days.

(... That could mean all manner of things, though. And while he feels better seeing her relax, something about the situation keeps him from relaxing quite so much. Hahah, something about authority figures, maybe.)

In any case, it gives him a better idea for how to present himself; he's already sitting upright, but now he moves to take his communicator in hand and tuck it away, placing his hands on his knees rather than between them. He lifts his chin up, politely. Maybe it's a bit too earnest, but hey, they're both trying!

"'Security'?... Then you have your own force. We do, I mean." Things really have been well organised. "It's run by the inherited crew, isn't it?"
circumitus: ...and then i realized im still drunk. (thinking 'wow glad i'm not hungover')

so sorry that this is late! i hope that's okay

[personal profile] circumitus 2013-03-30 12:17 am (UTC)(link)
In spite of her roots, her origins, Rey is a soldier before she is a factory creation. The latter had never even been a thought in her mind until these recent years in which she learned the truth of her previous false lives in which she thought she had once lived.

But that is neither here nor there at the moment, and not even something that Rey is concerned with anymore. Because it makes sense. It makes sense why taking things into account such as common courtesy and dialogue with strangers had always sat on the shelves of mystery to her.

So she stares at him, like an equal mystery. Or a study, it's hard to tell sometimes -- and then she suspects.

Otherwise, he would have already known the answer to that question by now...

"Yes. Early on there were only a handful of us, with only two members of the original crew remaining." Not nearly enough to take over regular patrols of the ship, obviously.
nubilate: (➤ honeythief.)

ppssh you are perfectly fine! c: i'm a bit late myself, no worries!

[personal profile] nubilate 2013-04-03 10:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Hahah, being stared at like that is actually making him feel a little suspicious, though a little once-over suggests he's not doing anything too deserving of scrutiny. Maybe it's just because he's new. She certainly doesn't seem all that surprised by his ignorance.

"I see. You're one of the old-timers, huh?

"So... you're on duty now? How come you're by yourself?" He glances down the corridor significantly, like he's still waiting for the second half of patrol to arrive. Perhaps early on they wouldn't have had the means for two-people patrols, as she'd explained... but surely things have moved on a fair bit, by now. There's a lot of people on the ship; at least a fair few would care to volunteer...

"Ah — is it because everyone else is still waking up? I guess it'd be hard to find people willing to take shifts on a day like this; it must feel pretty lousy to get right up and back to work. You have my admiration, already."