ataraxionlogs | AFTER THE CRASH

CHARACTERS: Any and all.
LOCATION: The wreck site and the jungle beyond.
WARNINGS: Will update as needed.
SUMMARY: Characters recover after the crash and begin to establish means of survival in the new environment.
NOTES: Open log for general play for the rest of the month. Prompts are included for inspiration, but do not need to be strictly adhered to!

T H E J U N G L E
The dense vegetation of the jungle surrounds you in every direction, the green of thousands of trees and plants vibrant and lush under the bright sun. Life buzzes and calls through the branches, leaves stirring in a long, fluid shift as brief cuts of wind flow up over the cliff. Stood alone facing it, it almost seems as though it breathes, one giant force of life looming over you, overwhelming and awesome.

Tangles of trees and roots stand in your way as you venture in, every step needing careful navigation to avoid standing on some strange plant or another. A blade may be necessary to cut a path through the areas where sunlight breaks through the canopy high over your head, allowing thick growth on the soil below; other areas are clear, a natural pathway developed but for low growth and fungi. Either way, it's only a matter of meters before you can't see back which way you came, the jungle setting behind you, covering the signs of your passing as if you'd never been.

Something lets out a cry, high in a tree above you, a warning shriek before it and another tumble and climb through interlocking branches, fleeing your presence. Whether you came out here to hunt, forage or simply explore, proceeding quietly and carefully may offer more success - and some way to mark your path back, least the jungle manage to swallow you whole.

T H E W R E C K S I T E
The long tail left in the ship's crash path has destroyed a huge swath of jungle, trees, upturned soil. A ready-made clearing, some shelters already built out of the remains of the fallen trees, the small amount of supplies salvaged from inside the ship, more being worked on. Without the thick canopy of the jungle, the sun beats down relentlessly, shelter and shade the only respite. Dehydration threatens and food is scarce, making work slow but all the more necessary.

You may have remembered enough to know your skills are best used towards the building efforts, or picking through the debris for salvage, or putting together improvized power systems; no matter which, you'd better pace yourself properly to prevent the heat catching up with you.

M E D I C A L
The hole up on the crest of the crashed ship still yawns open, leading down directly into the medical area you woke up in - the only readily accessible point you can see. Inside, the alarms and looping audio have stopped, leaving the space eerily quiet but for the drip of water and fluid, the creak and groan of strained, damaged metal. You may be here to assist in the medical efforts outside, to find usable equipment or supplies, or maybe you're looking for more personal answers. The elevator shafts the voice recording had previously directed you towards still stand empty, dark tunnels leading deeper into the unknown, evoking some flicker of memory of miles of corridors and rooms. Did you live here before? What happened?

Whether you're here with a purpose or following curiosity, watch your step - bodies still litter the space, half buried under debris or floating in pools of collected rainwater from the storm, likely to cause a smell if left any longer.

N I G H T F A L L
The days are long and night, when it comes, falls quickly. The temperature drops, perhaps offering relief from the heat of the day or bringing a new threat of cold. The jungle quiets, then seems to stir to life again, the sounds of insects changing, the cries of any animals falling silent. With the only light offered by the two moons high in the sky and any small generators scattered around the makeshift camp, it may be best to stay close to shelter or find your way up off the ground. The darkness can hide any manner of new threats, and they are not so new and unsure of this terrain as you...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That was the question, wasn't it? They were all slowly getting answers, but sometimes it was more confusing. He was still trying to figure out why he remembered there being others he knew before here and now he couldn't find any.

Still, he remembers enough to know that tone and question have been directed at him far too many times before. "My mother mostly called me gosse, but I'd rather you call me Gavroche."

He blinks at the boy, the whispers still tickling his ears. 'What? No, I -'

Rubbing his face, he carefully wanders toward Gavroche, looking completely baffled by the boy's appearance. "No, there was... a girl." His head throbs viciously, feels like it's puttering for all the use it is right now. He looks past the child, uneasiness an aura around him as he peers out into the darker expanse of jungle; there's no one or nothing out there that can be seen, nothing out of the ordinary - or, at least, out of the ordinary for this planet.

"The only girl here is M'sieur Wash's daughter." He remembered playing with both of them, though he hadn't realized they were family then. But she calls him dad, and that means family. Proper family too, not like what he remembers. "She's not nearby though."

Mmm. He looks back out over the jungle area, lips thinned.

"You're sure she's not nearby?"

Perhaps in danger, or too close to the wild for comfort? He doesn't like this.

"Pretty sure. What did the girl you saw look like?" Maybe someone new had shown up. He didn't think that could happen without the ship moving around any more, but there was still a lot they didn't understand about... well, everything.

"She..." He bites his lip. What the hell, is she a new arrival, or something? Wouldn't he have seen her wandering about camp? He sighs. "She has dark hair. Curls. Was wearing a beige sort of outfit... Sounded like she had, mm — some kind of accent."

Surely, someone must know who she is.

Gavroche shakes his head. "There's no one like that here. There aren't very many kids at all." So he'd know. Because he watches for other kids. They have to look out for each other.

... Well, the kid sounds pretty sure of himself.

And that is troubling, because he knows he saw a fucking kid out there.

Rubbing his temple, he replies with some uncertainty — "I... guess. Maybe working too hard."

A pause.

"Seeing things, really. I'm sure it's nothing."

"That happened on the ship sometimes. Memories and things that scare us. Sometimes things that we wanted." They weren't on the ship now. But it was still there, nearby. Maybe it was still doing it. They'd never really understood how, after all.

Wait, wait, hold up.

"You remember the ship?"

... That makes one of us, kid.

"Some of it. Not how we wound up here though." No one seemed to remember that. And it must have been something dramatic. The ship had always been the best chance of getting home, for the people who actually wanted to.

Ah... Well. It's a good distraction, he thinks. Good to keep his mind off...

Seeing a specter? Getting heatstroke when it's hardly hot outside?

He rubs a hand over his mouth, thoughtful.

"What do you remember?"

AFTER THE CRASH

A

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject