ataraxionlogs | ELEVENTH WAVE

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ELEVENTH WAVE

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: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"If you say so." She shrugs, not about to try to drag a man against his wishes. Or at least not one who hadn't pissed her off yet.

She frowns when Murphy repositions himself, really not knowing what else she could do here -- she didn't have much experience in dealing with sick people, especially when nanomachines were pretty good at keeping most people relatively healthy.

"I don't really want to leave you here, so are you sure there's nothing you want me to do?"

Even if LB did go that route, Murphy wasn't in any position to argue and fight back.

He couldn't say that he blamed her, though. If it were the other way around, he wouldn't want to leave some poor idiot puking and possibly passing out in a bathroom stall, either. At least it was just LB and not somebody who would've given him shit for it.

Time to change his mind: "Guess you could walk with me to my room. Make sure I don't collapse in the middle of the hallway or somethin'..."

Of course, there wasn't going to be much walking on Murphy's part. Stupid, stupid man.

She actually wasn't expecting him to change his mind so easily; it seemed like he wanted her to leave her alone. Not that she minded, of course, but she was in a bit of an awkward situation to do what he asked.

"Oh, sure, it's just that - uh... can you wait a couple of minutes?" She smiles oddly, glancing outside of the stall. "I kind of need to relieve myself and maybe get some clothes on."

A funny thought passes through her head, which brings a more genuine smile to her expression. "Not that I really care if I travel around like this, but it might look weird for you."

"Clothes? What're you-- Christ!"

Finally, Murphy looked up, long enough to realize that LB was currently having a lack-of-clothing situation that seemed to become all too frequent in his life these days.

Whatever. Murphy was quick to bring his hand back over his face. He had more reason to now.

"Okay, just... do what you gotta do and... I'll be here." Right here. Not going anywhere anytime soon. Like this.

...Women.

"What? It's not like I'm completely naked!" Not that she probably would have really minded that either, but that didn't really matter. "It seemed like a better idea than putting on my entire suit, just to have to take it off again!"

Nevertheless, she still seemed a little amused by Murphy's reaction. Why was it that the men seemed so weird about that kind of thing anyway? Or at least the ones she had run into so far seemed to react oddly to it.

"But I'll be back, promise! Just... try not to vomit on anyone else, okay?" Because that was their thing, obviously.

It takes around seven minutes for her to do her business (in the furthest stall away from Murphy that she could managed to find -- she was at least attempting to make this a little less awkward) and for her to go back to her lockers to change into her plug suit, but when she returns, she at least has something on.

"All right, ready to go?"

No, she wasn't. And she did sort of have a point, so he wasn't about to argue with her, either. He didn't have the energy to argue, in any case.

By the time LB came back (and thank God she was actually clothed this time), Murphy had enough time to haul himself up off the damn floor. He still didn't go anywhere, though, at the risk of having to turn and start heaving into the toilet again. Thankfully, it wasn't necessary.

He was shaking. He couldn't tell if his fever had gotten worse or if there was any change at all, but hell if he was getting better.

This wasn't better...

"Yeah." He nodded, pale-faced. He had also at least taken the liberty to clean up the mess of blue goop he'd made with some spare papers from the stall. At least he was thinking more courteously than simply leaving it for someone else to take care of.

LB frowns, looking at his face. "Wow, you really don't look good. At all."

Perhaps it was a little on the blunt side, but even with someone like LB who wasn't always the best at reading people, Murphy really looked like shit. She does notice that the blue vomit is gone and shakes her head at the fact that even in his state, Murphy was probably the one to clean it up. Honestly, she would have just had someone else clean it up.

"Are you able to walk?" she asks, nervously giggling. "Or do you - uh - need help with that?"

Wow, LB. Three points ~~to Slytherin~~ for subtly.

Murphy was in no position to disagree. He knew he probably looked just about as awesome as he felt.

"Yeah, sure. I think I can--" He started to finish that sentence in answer to LB's question. Of course, he should have known better. Known his own strengths and weaknesses, as he was just then about to pitch forward and knock right into her as soon as he attempting to stand on his own feet.

Well done, Pendleton.

LB could only watch in doubt as Murphy attempted to step forward. If this was a soldier, on the battlefield, he'd be dead in seconds -- the kind of challenge that would be pathetically easy, compared to what she was used to. However, this was a situation she was far less used to; she was actually trying to help this guy. So when he stumbles forward into her, she goes back as well, just barely bracing herself on a wall to keep herself from falling onto the ground. This was a woman who went flying if a barrel hit her; without her Octopus suit, she could be knocked down pathetically easy.

She sighs once she feels like she has her position secured, before doing her best to try to get Murphy straightened on his feet.

"You must be a really good rugby player," she comments, wrapping an arm around his back. "Next threat we run into, they should just have you ram into them. Instant knock outs for everybody."

Fortunately, Murphy was not anything like a soldier. He was solid, but hardly built like one. At least he didn't fall flat on his face, but just accidentally pushed LB into the wall instead.

Like that was any better. Any other guy might've found some humor in the situation. Not every day one just about bowls a woman over who can thereafter follow up with a rugby reference. If this were anybody else...

No, Murphy would still be pale-faced and full of regrets and then some. After a long string of nearly incoherent I'm sorrys, he stumbled to straighten his own damn self. He moved his arm over her shoulder, so he didn't wind up falling flat on his face all over again. He'd had enough of that today, thank you.

"Never played rugby before." Yes. Oddly, this is what his mind tuned in on at the moment, in order to keep himself distracted from profusely apologizing to the point of insanity.

She was really tempted to tell Murphy to quiet down, once he started muttering apologies, with some halfhearted joke about how she was the only one who was allowed to do that kind of thing. Once he brought up another subject, however, she let that thought go.

"Right, you sound American," It was merely an observation, judging by his accent... even if she herself had an American accent and was originally from Norway. ~~It was probably nanomachines.~~ The weird thing about his voice though was that it sounded so familiar somehow, but she couldn't quite put a finger on why that was. "American football, then?"

She begins to walk him down the hallway slowly, before suddenly stopping realizing the way that she was holding him could be really bad for him, because she still didn't really understand how her power worked where she could literally could kill people with a touch if held long enough.

"Oh, uh. If for any reason you start to feel more tired, let me know, okay?" Not that it should be a problem, but she was trying to cover all of her bases.

He clarified: "Baseball."

Nothing competitive, though, beyond the usual father-son bonding times that the sport entailed. Just one other thing that Charlie never got to live long enough for, that Murphy would never get to stand on the sidelines and cheer on and--

Dammit.

Not this shit again.

He rubbed his face, blotting out the thoughts that left him with a bad taste in his mouth and a sting in his chest. Or maybe that was just the scars. "More tired than I already feel, you mean?" It was a weird request, but Murphy heard weirder. "Uh, sure."

...No, he was pretty sure he heard weirder.

He couldn't tell if he was already feeling lightheaded, or if that was something new.

Dammit... He just wanted to sleep. At least the mere prospect of it gave him something else to think about, among other things.

"Really? I don't know much about sports, but I don't think you tackle anybody in that." Oddly, she smiles when the picture of a very violent baseball game comes to her mind. LB snerks a little at the thought, but otherwise manages to keep her laughing to a fairly normal level. Or at least normal for her. "Guess I missed out on all the fun games."

"Yeah... it's a long and weird story that not even I really understand." LB clarified, but otherwise made no attempt to explain the powers that she herself didn't fully understand.

With Murphy feeling more and more lightheaded, his slouching on her became a bit heavier. Even if she wasn't too bad, in strength, she was by no means going to be able to carry him around.

"Don't fall asleep on me, okay? Not until we get you to your room." Pausing again, a dumb expression suddenly forms on her face. "Uh. Where is your room?"

"Sorry."

Murphy hoped he didn't sound insincere or anything, but he could sympathize with feeling like he missed out on a lot of things that most kids had. Like family, and camping, and outings -- simple stuff that children who had parents usually got to do. The kind of life that he wanted to give...

He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask for clarification on what LB meant by that, though one would have been nice. Especially when his tongue began to feel too heavy to be able to form a proper response.

The most he could manage at the moment was how he tiredly held out his arm for LB to see. Sixth deck. Room 073.

"Ng..."

Beyond that, Murphy was completely unresponsive and just went limp altogether.

"Huh? For what?" LB curiously tries to tilt her head back to look at him, but suddenly he felt a whole lot heavier. She manages to at least get a good look at the tattoo, on his arm, but otherwise LB slouches forward, trying to support his weight.

"Hey... hey! Wake up, I don't know if--" Suddenly her face goes pale and a horrified expression form when she realizes that she might have accidentally killed him. Carefully, she lowers him onto the ground and paces around worriedly, wondering what she should do.

After a while, she crouches down, lightly batting at his face, to see if that would suddenly wake him up. "Murphy! Murphy! Wake up! Hey!"

Shit! What was she supposed to do now? After a few seconds, she grabs his shoulders and begins to shake him a little more vigorously. There was a chance that he just fell asleep, right?

...right?

If Murphy didn't feel like he had been clocked over the head with a nine iron and a climbing fever, he might have managed a cohesive response to that first question. It wasn't like he needed to add to his roster of apologies for LB.

Now he felt more like he was tethering between the edges of lucidity and black. The back of his eyelids burned like acid when he tried shutting them. A tiny voice on the back of his mind was screaming for him to wake up.

Actually, he found out moments later that that was actually just LB.

It was amusing how he never knew how comfortable the floor was until now, despite being hit in the face and shaken to stay awake.

His eyes shut tight, but his brows furrowed as he tried clinging to consciousness a little more, despite severely not wanting to.

"Christ, keep it down, won't you?"

He was trying to sleep.

LB exhaled loudly, once Murphy responded to her, beyond relieved that she didn't inadvertently kill him.

"Ah, sorry..." she mutters out, even going to the extend of covering her mouth to try to stifle an incoming laugh. "Um..."

So now how was she supposed to drag him to his room. Hmm. Well, it wasn't like she could just leave him in the middle of the hallway. After walking around him, LB grabs onto Murphy's wrists and starts to drag him through the hallway slowly. It wasn't like she had anything better to do today anyway.

"You're really heavy, you know that?" LB mutters out as she really begins to consider finding her tentacle suit for this.

At this rate, Murphy was at the point where he was fighting the urge to throw up his arms and tell her Leave me here to die.

That was when LB took his arms and started dragging him. Everything that could have gone wrong with this encounter just seemed to be getting worse. His fever wasn't helping much, either.

Also, did you just call him fat? The nerve, LB.

"Remind me to lay off the Twinkies from now on, then."

Dammit, why did having to get to his room have to be so difficult?

Edited 2012-10-13 06:34 (UTC)

"Twinkies? They have those here?" Yes, she's taking him to be completely serious. "I didn't really mean you're fat, if that's what you're inferring to. If you could get back up to your feet, this probably wouldn't be as hard, is all."

Still, after pausing for a short while to catch her breath, she makes another heave at him and continues to slowly drag his body down the hall.

"Unless you want me to get my tentacle suit," she adds in with dry humor. "I could definitely carry you around that way."

"I... Fuck, just... I dunno." Last time he checked, they didn't. Or, rather, they weren't specifically called Twinkies, but--

That was besides the point, okay? If there was a point at all. He just shook his head, indicating that he wasn't about to take offense to any of this, anyway.

...LB, you have terrible taste in humor. It actually leaves Murphy with a moment of sleepy shock while he questioned his life choices.

Plus, tentacle suit.

"That's gotta be the weirdest thing anyone's ever offered to me."

"You don't even know what you're eating?" Her tone is incredulous. How could one even do that to themselves? LB shakes her head. "You know, maybe I should drag you to one of the kitchens, feed you some instant noodles."

She chuckles a little at his response, even if it's a bit strained because dragging Murphy around was hard.

"I don't know whether to feel insulted or honored. And I didn't think anything could beat me offering to puke on the rest of your clothes."

Shut up, LB. You don't know where he's been. His life is already complicated enough without having to worry about trivial things like space brands for cakes.

And even then, the mere thought of cakes at the moment made him feel like puking all over again. The same went for instant noodles. The same also went for any food, period. "Thanks, but, uh... no thanks."

He could tell that LB wasn't having the easiest time with hauling his dead weight (or he might as well be dead weight to her). Rather than think about that wonderful time in which Murphy found himself subjected to ink vomit all over his clothes, he grumbled.

"...Y'know, here's an idea. I'm sure it'd be a lot easier to get back on my feet while I'm not in the process of bein' dragged."

"Are you sure? I don't know what it is about them, but I always feel a little better when eating instant noodles." She shrugs though, sensing that he wasn't going for it. "Maybe I'll leave a pack around for you later."

After Murphy's suggestion, she gladly lets go of his arms, bending forward to stretch her arms out. "Maybe, but I didn't think you wanted to move."

Eventually, she offers a hand toward Murphy, in order to try to hoist him back up again. "All right, try not to knock me over this time, okay?"

Or vomit either, but she keeps that to herself.

"Think I'd feel better if I could keep 'em down." At the moment, Murphy didn't feel like eating much of anything. He still felt nauseated after all the blue goop came out.

If Murphy really wanted to be honest here, he didn't want to move. Especially not willingly. Considering his position, however, and the fact that he may have overestimated LB's ability to help him, he started to wish that she had left him by the toilet. Sure, he'd be a miserable, pukey mess. At least there he was stagnant.

He started to push himself up off the ground, before taking LB's hand to make things a little easier for him, and hoped that he didn't just wind up dragging her down instead.

"I'll try." He snapped his mouth shut before another useless apology could come out.

Honestly, more and more LB was thinking to herself that she really wasn't cut out to help people like this. The next time she found someone puking in the bathroom, she was either going to turn the other way and get out of there or get her Octopus suit on immediately. Even if she wound up maybe squishing someone a little, it would at least make things easier in the future.

It was a bit of an awkward process getting Murphy up to his feet, but LB managed to do it this time, slouching forward a little so she could try to stabilize his position a little better. She hesitates before putting her arm around his back, however, because of her previous fear that she accidentally killed him. After a few seconds, though, she gingerly reaches around, able to convince herself it wasn't her fault that he fell asleep before.

"Hey, uh. If I accidentally kill you this way, just know I didn't mean it, okay?"

ELEVENTH WAVE

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I feel like this is the most pathetically awkward thread ever

behold it's awkward hour on the turtle show!

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