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ataraxionlogs2015-03-07 10:18 pm
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2015-03-07 10:18 pm
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- ai enma,
- allison argent,
- benny lafitte,
- bethmora fortescue,
- booker dewitt,
- charles xavier,
- chell,
- cole,
- darcy lewis,
- elizabeth,
- eponine thenardier,
- erica reyes,
- erik lehnsherr,
- erwin smith,
- evangeline de brassard,
- fenris,
- firo prochainezo,
- isaac lahey,
- kaylee frye,
- kotarou fuuma,
- kyle crane,
- l "ryuuzaki" lawliet,
- laura roslin,
- liam dunbar,
- malia tate,
- nowi,
- octavia blake,
- remus lupin,
- sophie groeneveldt,
- takeshi,
- yasaburou shimogamo
forty-first 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: There's a feeling of a just-forgotten nightmare as you fall free from the gravcouch. The cool of the medbay and the stasis fluid on your skin leaves you chilled, but you feel clammy, heart beating too fast, adrenaline pumping. The memory of what's scared you feels so close, like a word on the tip of your tongue, one you can't quite grasp - or something standing, waiting, just on the edge of your vision. As your heartbeat calms to something steadier, you wonder if it's even something you want to remember, or if some things are best left in the dark...
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.
----------------
ＹＯＵ͘ ̨ＷＡＫＥ̢ ̧ＵＰ ́ＩＮ ＤＡ̛ＲＫＮ̢Ｅ̕ＳＳ̶
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.
ＹＯ́Ｕ̴ ̧Ａ̨ＲＥ ＮＯＴ҉ ̷ＡＬＯ̨ＮＥ҉
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.
ＴＨ̀ＩＳ͜ ̶Ｉ͠Ｓ͡ ͘Ｙ̵Ｏ͝ＵＲ ̕Ｗ͝Ｅ̛Ｌ̨Ｃ͡Ｏ͝Ｍ͏Ｅ Ｐ̛ＡＲ̴ＴＹ͜
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: There's a feeling of a just-forgotten nightmare as you fall free from the gravcouch. The cool of the medbay and the stasis fluid on your skin leaves you chilled, but you feel clammy, heart beating too fast, adrenaline pumping. The memory of what's scared you feels so close, like a word on the tip of your tongue, one you can't quite grasp - or something standing, waiting, just on the edge of your vision. As your heartbeat calms to something steadier, you wonder if it's even something you want to remember, or if some things are best left in the dark...
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.
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.
yeah i went with bloody knuckles ok i'm a sucker for that shit
turns out, space metal is a lot stronger than skin and flesh, go figure.
she's rinsing off her hands when minho comes into her line of sight, and though the lack of modesty doesn't take her too much off guard, she doesn't exactly like being caught literally red handed. it was stupid, after all, far too rash and ultimately pointless. hitting inanimate objects never solved anything, and it certainly wasn't about to bring her brother back. ]
Hey, it's tall dark and handsome. [ she tries to grin a little as she turns, trying to take the focus off the hands that she quickly clasps behind her back, and even if it is largely false cheer she's still somewhat pleased for the familiar face. better someone she actually likes talking to than some stranger. ] Careful, you wander round like that you'll have everyone swooning. We'll never get anything done. Are you really willing to take responsibility for the whole ship falling apart?
[ it's actually...a lot easier to go with the casual, flirty, funny vibe than the miserable cloud that's hung over her since finding out about bellamy. this is almost fun. ]
me too don't even trip
You mean they aren't swooning already? I gotta up my game. [Smiling, he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the nearest wall. The picture of nonchalance. ] Looks like you could help me inspire some chaos. Are you getting into random fights, or serving up justice? [Yeah, she's totally not getting away with bloody knuckles while he's around. A girl who can fight is his favorite kind of girl. Probably. He's still figuring that out.]