lчdíα ( вєttєr thαn αnч σthєr αlphα ) mαrtín (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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ataraxionlogs2013-01-07 10:48 pm
mathematically) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-01-07 10:48 pm
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- alaric saltzman,
- alex shepherd,
- alex summers | au,
- alisha bailey,
- angel,
- anne marie cunningham,
- ariadne,
- arthur pendragon,
- auggie anderson,
- beleth "bells",
- brian moser,
- buffy summers,
- chad warwick,
- chuck bartowski,
- cibo,
- cillian quinn,
- cordelia chase,
- david wong,
- dean winchester,
- debra morgan,
- derek hale,
- dr claire saunders (whiskey),
- effie trinket,
- eileen galvin,
- frodo baggins,
- gabriel "sylar" gray,
- garrett,
- hana morenos,
- harvey specter,
- hayley stark,
- henry townshend,
- hikaru sulu (xi),
- irene adler,
- irene adler (2009),
- isaac lahey,
- jackson whittemore,
- james bond,
- james t. kirk (xi),
- jessica hamby,
- joan watson,
- john blake,
- john casey,
- john watson | au,
- josias st. john,
- katniss everdeen,
- kaylee frye,
- ladon ceto,
- laughing beauty,
- legolas,
- leoben conoy,
- leonard church (alpha),
- liliana vess,
- loriel "lor",
- lucrezia borgia,
- lydia martin,
- marius pontmercy,
- mary,
- mason lockwood,
- melissa mccall,
- michelino "mikelo" constance,
- mike ross,
- morgana pendragon,
- murphy pendleton,
- netherlands,
- october bantum,
- peter hale,
- peter petrelli,
- peter petrelli | au,
- primrose everdeen,
- q,
- rachel zane,
- rey,
- richard b. riddick,
- robb stark,
- rory williams,
- ryan newman,
- sara harrington,
- sarah walker,
- simon tam,
- spock (xi),
- stefan salvatore,
- stiles stilinski,
- takeshi,
- the master (shalka),
- the warden (daylen amell),
- thranduil,
- tobias,
- tony stark (1610),
- tony stark (555326),
- tyler lockwood,
- wanda lehnsherr (1610),
- wheatley,
- zelda
fourteenth 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: 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.
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
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.
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.
no subject
- Boston. Right. Okay. She shakes her head a bit before speaking.
"Yeah? I went there a bunch as a kid, visiting my mom's relatives. Just another big Irish family."
no subject
"Yeah? I used to live in one of the Irish communities there at one point myself, after movin' outta the orphanage." As a boy he used to envy kids like Eileen with large families, then got by once he started his own.
No complaints. Right?