constructum: (hooked up)
ᎪᏒᎥᎪᎠᏁᎬ ([personal profile] constructum) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2012-08-07 11:28 pm
Entry tags:

NINTH WAVE

CHARACTERS: ANY AND ALL
LOCATION: Gravity Couch Room
WARNINGS: Possible swearing, possible violence, implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted from the last one


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.

 
circumitus: Legit 2 miles, and purchased 7 half gallons. One for each of us. Intense. (we walked 2 miles)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-08-08 06:27 pm (UTC)(link)
It's a big locker room. For as easy as it can be to lose sight of familiar faces in the wave of new ones, Rey doesn't suffer this problem as often as others might. It's like she hones in on one speck of something that she knows, and grasps onto that.

She doesn't spend that much time on the network, but Rey isn't completely ignorant to her surroundings. She knows when things happen. Knows when deaths get announced, and knows who are most afflicted by them. Unlike some who can't go about like nothing happened immediately afterward, she just feels numbed to it. Death is a natural, everyday occurrence. No big deal.

These things she remembers.

"Ariadne." Rey addresses her with a firm, surely expression, always too serious for her own good. She's dressed and ready to leave, but doesn't make to do so -- or even sit down beside Ariadne, either.
circumitus: (yeah. i hotboxed a windbreaker)

asdf

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-08-09 04:21 pm (UTC)(link)
For several seconds, Rey stood there. Didn't say anything, didn't go anywhere. It was hard, even breaking out of her own head for the time she felt virtually catatonic -- which felt like months. She had to get back into the swing of using her words again.

"Uncertain." She tilted her head, and felt a muscle in her head go pop. "Would say that I've been better, but I would only be lying." Rey didn't lie very well. She wasn't even that great of an actor. Playing pretend hadn't been part of her formal training, had it?

Because she didn't really have any. Training, that was.