ａｘｍｏｄｓ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ataraxites) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2013-08-07 08:58 pm
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-08-07 08:58 pm
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- alaric saltzman,
- alex summers | au,
- amy pond,
- anakin skywalker,
- aragorn,
- arya stark,
- bahorel,
- bail organa,
- catelyn stark,
- cesare borgia,
- char aznable,
- charles darnay,
- charlotte "chuck" charles,
- cillian quinn,
- combeferre,
- dean winchester,
- death (sandman),
- debra morgan,
- effie trinket,
- elrond,
- emma swan,
- francis barton,
- hal yorke,
- irene adler,
- jenny,
- jo harvelle,
- juliana,
- l "ryuuzaki" lawliet,
- lucrezia borgia,
- lydia martin,
- maglor,
- mairon [sauron],
- meriadoc brandybuck,
- merlin,
- mordecai,
- morgana pendragon,
- mr. gold (rumplestiltskin),
- ned | au,
- padme amidala,
- peter burke,
- river tam,
- roy walker,
- sam winchester,
- scott mccall,
- sherlock holmes (elementary),
- spike,
- stiles stilinski,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- the doctor (eleventh),
- the master (shalka),
- tom mcnair,
- tony stark,
- wheatley,
- will graham
twenty second 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: Something's different. Characters will wake with the vague feeling that they're being watched, but they will have no memories of anything strange occurring. The sensation will most likely fade throughout the day. It's nothing to worry about; just another side effect of the post-jump disorientation, right?
You feel like you're being watched.
DON'T WORRY.
GO BACK TO SLEEP.
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.
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: Something's different. Characters will wake with the vague feeling that they're being watched, but they will have no memories of anything strange occurring. The sensation will most likely fade throughout the day. It's nothing to worry about; just another side effect of the post-jump disorientation, right?
DON'T WORRY.
GO BACK TO SLEEP.
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.
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.
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My little girl.
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Safe at home, fortunately.
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She pulls out a notebook and writes something down before showing it to him.]
Her name?
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Leia. My little Lelila.
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[And the mans doting is cute as well. Families, normal families. This must be what it's like for most people.]
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[Yeah, he's a bit of a bragger]
Quite a handful. But adorable.
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