http://habitformed.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] habitformed.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2011-12-08 12:22 am

( you wake up, alone in the dark. )

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE.
LOCATION: The Medbay, the Locker Room, the Passenger Quarters. Pick your poison.
WARNINGS: I didn't write this. The wonderful wonderment that are the mods did. I'm only borrowing so we can get this party started.
SUMMARY: You wake up. Now choose your own adventure. (Start a new thread, tag someone else's. Whatever, people. Have at it.)

You wake up, alone in the dark. 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, empty medical bay.

Don't worry. The disorientation usually wears off in less than thirty-six hours.

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. The rest is up to you.

circumitus: (Default)

[personal profile] circumitus 2011-12-08 05:39 am (UTC)(link)
Here is the toil of that house and the inextricable wandering.

Everything else -- was blank.

Not that there was much before that. In fact, there was nothing. Waking up to that, there was only confusion. Befuddled was always such a strange-sounding word, both in her head and spoken aloud, but suppose something strange was an apt description at this point.

Whatever it was she had to go by, any clue or inkling of any sort, was missing as well. Nothing. Zilch. Blank.

Do-over.

She stared at the state of herself. Lack of clothes. Still breathing heavily after being ripped from life support. Head was still spinning. But the lack of a wardrobe of any kind was not what bothered her.

"I'm naked..." She muttered to herself, realizing her situation, and vulnerability of this situation should this be a setup to catch her unawares.

This didn't bode too well...
ext_988045: (Default)

[identity profile] zouichi.livejournal.com 2011-12-08 05:49 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, great. So apparently everyone looked just as disoriented. Where had he experienced this particular scenario before?

Zouichi approached a woman that looked like she'd seen better mornings and that maybe those mornings had not involved waking up in a giant tube of mouthwash. Er, if it was, in fact, morning. "You all right?"
circumitus: What if cement was really a rainbow color they just secretly paint it grey so as not to distract drivers? (what if...)

[personal profile] circumitus 2011-12-08 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
All of this -- remained familiar and unfamiliar. Had just about anything been clear to her, and not just the past few days of her life, then maybe she wouldn't have handled this as calm as she was now.

But she was not alone. This much was certain as she was approached by an individual who, fortunately for him, was equally in the same boat. Her actions might have been more rash, had she suspected this guy to know anything.

"Yeah..." She turned her head, her hand on her face for a moment. She groaned, and the truth came out: "Not really..."
ext_988045: (Zouichi: grim)

[identity profile] zouichi.livejournal.com 2011-12-08 06:28 am (UTC)(link)
"Well, if it's any consolation, I doubt you're alone in that." He frowned, looking around at the other people who were in various states of release.

"Don't suppose you've seen anything to wear lying around?" Because thus far, Zouichi had not.
circumitus: Otherwise you'd be a dad by now. (thank god you're gay)

[personal profile] circumitus 2011-12-08 06:37 am (UTC)(link)
Alone...

Trapped in that abyss, the dreams and the memories -- whether they were even her own or now -- she had been alone. His words should be comforting, but she only feels cold.

She needed a coat.

Her eyes narrowed. "...if I did, I wouldn't be dressed like this." It wasn't a modesty thing, really, but it was really annoying, walking around in her underwear.
ext_988045: (Default)

[identity profile] zouichi.livejournal.com 2011-12-08 12:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Some people became frightened and withdrawn when confronted by the unknown. Apparently, this was not one of those people. For once, Zouichi chose to ignore what she'd said; sarcasm had its uses, but 'finding me something to wear' was not one of them.

"I'm off to the next room. It appears the clues here have been exhausted." He didn't ask her if she wanted to come along; she seemed like the sort who'd do it anyway if she were so inclined.

[identity profile] stillcapable.livejournal.com 2011-12-10 06:07 pm (UTC)(link)
"How observant," having been trained to eavesdrop from a distance, Malik certainly had no problems picking up the softest mutters. Even in a room full of other noises and other people talking. Plus, he was in no mood to coddle anyone right then.

His stump ached. His left arm ached, a left arm he no longer had, but felt like it was still there. Again. He hated, thoroughly hated those moments and could only hover his right hand around, unwilling to touch it to not bring even more pain. The bandages were gone, like the rest of his robes, and Malik wasn't sure he wanted to look at it just then. Not until he had something to cover it with first.

Annoyed (or perhaps grumpy, though you wouldn't hear him calling it that) as he were, though, he still made distinct effort not to look at the woman who spoke. Or anyone else, for that matter. He did listen carefully though, hoping for some information. Anything that could explain where he were, how he got there and how he could get back.
circumitus: I ONLY KNOW HOLA. (EVERYONE IS SPEAKING SPANISH)

[personal profile] circumitus 2011-12-12 11:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Good thing she wasn't particularly one looking for coddling. Some damn answers would have been nice, though. Maybe someone around here who had an idea as to what was going on, where they were.

Maybe a semblance or clue behind it all.

Instead, what she found was sarcasm.

Her vision faded in and out from time to time, so it took her a moment to take notice to the man in the corner. When did he get there? Better yet, what the hell did he just say?

"Excuse me?" How observant, indeed.