axmods. (
ataraxites) wrote in
ataraxionlogs2015-06-08 12:00 am
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Entry tags:
- !jump,
- ai enma,
- ailanne rei,
- allison argent,
- bail organa,
- brigid tenenbaum,
- captain hook (killian jones),
- cora hale,
- daryl dixon,
- death (discworld),
- death (sandman),
- derek hale,
- eleanor lamb,
- elizabeth,
- enfys llewelyn,
- fenris,
- firo prochainezo,
- garrett hawke,
- grant ward,
- hermione granger,
- ivan,
- jackson "jax" teller,
- karone,
- laura roslin,
- lee "apollo" adama,
- leo fitz,
- leonard "bones" mccoy (xi),
- maes hughes,
- max rockatansky,
- minho,
- nami,
- robin,
- scott mccall,
- skye,
- tadashi hamada,
- takeshi,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- thomas
forty-fourth 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: Awareness comes to you slowly in the smothering quiet of the blue fluid. In the light piercing through from the medical bay you realise there's a shadow, a figure stood at the glass of your gravcouch, a hand pressed to the surface just above your face. Fear spikes through your gut as waves of alien sensation crash into your mind, a rage that feels endless, all-consuming, furious, molten hatred that you know is for you.
When the fluid drains, door sliding open to deposit you on the medbay floor, you remember it. Remember it coming again and again, like a nightmare that plagued your sleep over and over, leaving you with no respite, no rest. Days. Perhaps even longer.
You remember that the light coming through from behind the shadow was red.
New arrivals will find messages spray-painted in red 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: Awareness comes to you slowly in the smothering quiet of the blue fluid. In the light piercing through from the medical bay you realise there's a shadow, a figure stood at the glass of your gravcouch, a hand pressed to the surface just above your face. Fear spikes through your gut as waves of alien sensation crash into your mind, a rage that feels endless, all-consuming, furious, molten hatred that you know is for you.
When the fluid drains, door sliding open to deposit you on the medbay floor, you remember it. Remember it coming again and again, like a nightmare that plagued your sleep over and over, leaving you with no respite, no rest. Days. Perhaps even longer.
You remember that the light coming through from behind the shadow was red.
New arrivals will find messages spray-painted in red 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.
Bail Organa OTA
Bail and Leia had an unspoken agreement. They always dressed before meeting up after a jump. Only if something seemed wrong, like her not waking or widespread illness would they do otherwise. So he showers and dresses with well established routine.
It's only when she doesn't meet him afterwards, ready to discuss the strange thing they must have both seen does he start to realize something must be wrong. He doubles back to the gravcouches. He's not heard of anyone failing to wake two jumps in a row, but what did they really know of the rules here. "No."
And then he returns again to the lockers, retrieving his communicator and performs one simple test. Not found. He knows all too well what that means.
He holds tight to the holocube he always keeps nearby as he repeats himself. Quietly, never one for true dramatic, but also not hiding the emotion. "No."
He's not used to this after all.
no subject
Robe still tight around her, she looks at Bail and places a hand on his bicep. "Bail," she says softly. "I'm so sorry."
She can't imagine what pain he's in. But, she can imagine it's something like losing her mother, her father, her sisters.
no subject
Perhaps he was getting used to people vanishing, in a general sense. But this was Leia. How could anyone compare to her? The child he'd longed for, who had come to him under such terrible circumstances. Who'd lit up his world for three years. Who grew to be far more than he could have even imagined.
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"I'm so sorry," she repeated softly, her head bowed just slightly. "If there's anything I can do, Bail... Take some time off of work, if you need." She didn't have the authority, necessarily, but he worked so hard in Comms. If he ever deserved a break, now was that time.
no subject
He glances down at the holocube of little Leia. It's strange, to miss both versions of her at once. "At least I got to tell her how proud I am of her."
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"You did. And she loves you, Bail. She'd want you to be happy for her, I'm sure." Back in her world. Where they weren't being killed by manticores. Back in her world without Alderaan. But most anywhere was safer than here.
no subject
"I have another fifteen years with her." Before he'll die. Before their entire world will die. "It's not like I would wish this place on anyone."
Not even Palpatine.
Well, maybe Palpatine.
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"And every second of those years is going to be the best one of your life." Until the planet explodes.
Outer-space sucks.
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"They will be. Even in my wildest dreams I never imagined a child as wonderful as her." He was certainly not biased. She was a treasure. An utter treasure.
no subject
She smiles. "She is wonderful. Beautiful, smart, wild. I'd be lucky if I ever had a daughter like her." She won't have any, of course. She's too old. Though, she supposes, Dee is her step-daughter-in-law. Odd.
"But I'll settle for having known her for the last year or so. You're lucky you'll have her for fifteen more."
no subject
You know. Like freeing the galaxy from the Emperor's tyranny.
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"I told Master Yoda she would know love with us. At least... I can tell she did. As long as she was." As for how it ended... he would do anything to spare her that, but it didn't seem to be within his power.
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Which is the story of how she became president.
"She did. Believe me, she did."
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She stops when she sees him though because she's not sure how to do this. They had just been talking about how losing people was getting easier and she had even said she'd never really lost anyone before.
She really wishes she hadn't said that now.
"....I'm sorry."
It's all she can offer because she doesn't know what else to do.
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He's not used to this at all.
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"She was a good friend. I'm glad I got to meet her."
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"I hope...." She trails off because she hopes what, she hopes Leia shows up again, no she's not that cruel. She hopes Bail goes home. ....She'd miss him if he did. But at least he'd be safe then as well.
"I hope you get to see her again soon."
no subject
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After all she'll never see Leia again if she doesn't come back but at the same time she doesn't want that. And even if she does come back she might not remember her.
"This place makes things complicated...."
no subject
Which was really what he'd been doing for a long time now. Well before Tranquility.