ataraxionlogs | EVENT; LIFTS & CORRIDORS

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EVENT; LIFTS & CORRIDORS

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: The Corridors.
WARNINGS: Space crazy, violence, etc.
SUMMARY: You may have simply been taking the lift with passerbys, but now you're hopelessly lost.
NOTES: Notes on the corridors.

Those on their way to meet a friend at dinner, or heading to their department, may never reach their intended destination. Instead, characters will find themselves in an unfamiliar part of the ship, abruptly stranded. All attempts to access the elevator will prove fruitless, as the doors cannot be pried open and the lift will not respond when called. It looks like you have no where to go but forward. Hallways will connect only to other hallways, giving you the impression that you're always on your way somewhere- but can't quite manage to arrive.

Time spent in the hallways will seem endless, but with luck you may find a break in the monotony. It is possible for characters to find one another, which would be preferable, as it's probably safer traveling in groups. Those that spend an excessive amount of time in their own company will find themselves feeling increasingly hostile and paranoid, until even the walls seem to be watching. That may not be such an exaggeration, with those murals that continually appear...

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The moment that wrench was produced, Han pulled out the blaster and pointed it at the other man. Of course, as the conversation progressed he put the gun down. Still eying Wheatley with some suspicion, Han relaxes:

"Can't help it on a ship like this."

[ Slightly weird kid, but whatever, he's met worse. Even so, there's a half second's hesitation before he accepts the handshake, and he looks a bit wary. ]

September. Hipster parents?

[ Important observations under the current circumstances, really. ]

[ Evasive answers are getting them nowhere fast. He's reluctant to be direct about this for whatever reason, but if it will prevent a catastrophe- ]

I am a vampire. I - [ Am going insane? Want to kill something? Need to find a cage? Too extreme. ] - have not fed recently.

[ Not exactly true, not exactly a lie; but hopefully it's meaningful enough as far as explanations go. ]

Was that [ His handshake dies out. ] an insult?

[ He doesn't actually look insulted but was that one, what are you saying? What is a hipster? ]

[ Though Angel still wasn't keen on visiting the medbay for synthetic blood, he was slowly coming around to the idea. Like an animal growing used to a new visitor, one day he had to poke at it and the next he had to sniff it, and maybe one day he'd eventually work up to actually drinking a cup full, but at least he was on the road to looking a little less pale just because he'd finally had a sip or two the last time he'd gone. Or maybe three, but he was hungry and knocking at death's door when he was already dead wasn't something he exactly enjoyed. Not to mention, though he was thankful it didn't taste like human blood, it wasn't really something the undead would gulp down just for kicks. He was still worryingly pale, however, and as he boarded the lift back down to the bay, he squished himself into the corner, making sure the other girl in the compartment had enough room to avoid him if she so chose.

But there was never enough room in a tiny box when it decided that, instead of going where it was supposed to, it was simply going to screech to a sudden halt, frozen on the spot, making the air go stale almost immediately.

A few seconds pass, and then a few more, and then Angel glances over at the other passenger before glowering back at the doors that refuses to open, as if he can maybe guilt it into compliance. There's a reason he isn't altogether fond of electronics and machinery and all kinds of things that can break when you need them most, and he finally takes a step forward, poking determinedly at the buttons - all of them, any of them - just to see if he can make something happen. Vampires and new-fangled technology: they'll just never get along. ]

Whatever happened to staircases? Ship needs a damn emergency exit. [ Mumbling under his breath, Angel finally caves and carefully looks over towards the younger girl who's now trapped here with him, trying to not make this any worse than it already is. ] You okay?

[ what interrupts harry's steady self-directed monologue is the sound of footsteps from down the hallway. nothing loud or imposing or intimidating, just the soft tap-tap-tap of someone quite light and nimble walking at a brisk trot. it comes from down a branch in the corridors and draws steadily closer, tap tap tap, until there's someone stepping into the corridor just ahead of where harry's heading.

soysauce -- has been walking for hours. probably hours. he hasn't been keeping track of time too well. he's thirsty and a little hungry, and these endless stretch of these corridors is starting to be a little sickening. so when he reaches a fork in the corridors, looks left, then right, and spots someone walking in his direction, he can't help but give a soft sigh of relief. ]

Um -- hello, sir! [ he calls out softly, jogging forward towards where harry is, giving a small wave. ]

[He was going to die here.

Maybe not now, maybe insanity would take him first- and maybe he'd even survive this, but eventually Dave was going to end up a (highly probable) mutilated corpse and leave behind his rotting cadaver where the stench of his body would linger for months in the crevices of this fucking spaceship.

What is that smell and where is it coming from? It smells like death. This is probably how he'd be found as some unlucky abductee muttered those words.

Hallways. Too many of them. There were corners leading into more elongated paths, the end never seemed to come even as he walked and walked. The one elevator that he did come across wasn't working when he tried, and he ended up waiting at least fifteen minutes for it. He even counted passing that one stain on the wall at least five times.

Hallways of Always. Isn't that what someone said in a book? Well, now he's thinking it. And within enough time, soon Dave's thinking is going to be less than average with the lowest of American IQs.]

Edited 2013-02-19 05:18 (UTC)

[ Hal isn't paying a great deal of attention, so it's a near thing that they don't run into each other. Either way, it's a close enough call to startle him out of whatever thoughts he'd gotten lost in. The hasty effort to retreat is also slightly hard to ignore, and for a second Hal's not entirely sure what the fuss is about.

He certainly agrees that running is the correct reaction, but - he hasn't manifested, has he? A hand comes up to check his teeth, and that's when he realizes he's covered in blood. Not the best first impression, but it's useful here, isn't it? People need to stay away from him.

Which is why he's genuinely shocked by his instinctive reaction, reaching out a placating hand as he attempts to defend his sordid appearance. ]

It's not - it isn't live blood. [ Does that even make sense to anyone who doesn't make a habit out of drinking it? ]

[ Harry looks over, his attention drawn quite abruptly. Luckily, being in the presence of others settles his mind down quite efficiently, and he manages a smile and a slight wave back. ]

Hi there. Harry, actually. [ 'Sir' always feels weird to him. ] I don't suppose you know where there's a working elevator, do you?

[ Harry's hands fidget restlessly again, fingers curling into -- digging into -- his palms. ]

What are we supposed to do, then? Die down here? It's unbelievable!

[ Merlin thinks he was scared half to death? Try being high and wandering repetitive hallways with freaky murals for what feels like hours (but isn't, really); drugs don't tend to help in the paranoia department, and this certainly isn't an exception.

So when he turns a corner and runs into Merlin, he lets out a loud scream that sounds several shades of awful. You're honestly lucky he didn't just shit himself. ]

Jesus - I scared you half to death? I nearly shat myself. [ see!! Then there's a pause where he settles one hand on Merlin's shoulder, and it's definitely to steady himself rather than to offer comfort. Another second to regain some semblance of balance; the walls are a bit shifty at the moment. ] I think this cunting ship gave me bad drugs, man.

[And Edgeworth relaxes as he looks over at the fellow. He knows this voice and knows this face; this is a sane individual, someone who is reasonable. Who will not go mad and try to do harm to anyone.

And it's good to be with someone else; that cannot be denied. It is safer to roam the ship in pairs.]

Hello.

[It's not the impressive introduction he likes to give; it's not a booming and intimidating Good day. Just hello, no better.]

It's...Osborn, correct?

[ No jokes. Yet. But he does give you a slight side-eye. ]

Right. [ It's not great, but it's better than platitudes. So are the guns, those are definitely better. He's fiddling with his comms device again after a brief pause, but it's pretty half-hearted. The signal's impossible out here. ]

I think there are others. Lost out here - the network's gone creepy again.

[ Speaking of creepy, there's a vague sound down the hallway just as soon as he finishes speaking, the skitter of what might be claws on metal. Which means the comms device is pocketed and the gun's out a second later, but he stays put otherwise. ]

Did you hear that?

Yeah -- I guess we just keep walking until we find them.

[ Harry rubbed his forehead a little, trying to keep his hands from shaking. The more time passed the more anxious he got to return to his room, though he told himself it wasn't because of the pills. Who wouldn't be anxious to get out of these hallways?

He shook his head. ]

I must have missed them, but -- I've heard a little bit about the captain. Just that they're uncommunicative, is all.

[And Edgeworth's brow furrows. Perhaps it's unfortunate - he's donated blood for Jenna, donated blood even for Eric and Godric (though for them, more as a political gesture than out of any true goodwill), and so the next question is simply logical to him. He doesn't consider that things might work differently for different sorts of vampires; he doesn't consider the possibility that certain vampires might lack self-control; he just makes the natural offer.]

Do you need to? I can, as a matter of course, volunteer. It won't do to have you starve to death down here.

[ Oh, awkward. ] What? No.

Hipsters are great people. [ He feels slightly dirty even as he says it, but he doesn't want to start off on the wrong foot with a stranger in creepy hallways, here. Quick, change the subject. ]

So you just got off the elevator, right? I've been out here for about half an hour, still no luck finding another one.

Wheatley responds about as well as you would expect--he jumps back, hands (and portal gun) raised in defense, looking like he's on the verge of a panic attack before he realizes that this is another crew member and backs down accordingly.

That does not, however, mean he's necessarily pleased with the turn of events.

"Should watch where you're going," he quips, giving York a clear once-over and seemingly more perturbed with the hallway than anything else. "Turned around, are you?"

[brian has no idea how long it's been by the time he comes across the person he knows only as k. he's approaching the intersection of two perpendicular hallways when he hears the quiet sound of footfalls and immediately doubles around the corner from whence he came, only venturing out to peer around the bend in the wall once he's certain his company should have their back to him. like most of the gross things he does on the ship, it's a move he'll be able to explain away should the need arise. what he does once he recognizes the retreating figure, however, is most definitely not one of those moves.

ANYWAY at this point he's following him about thirty feet back, hood up, knife in hand. his other arm presses a nondescript black bag to his side, presumably muffling the contents. when there are shadows, he melts into them; when there aren't, he waits even longer to catch up, ducking periodically into intersecting corridors every time he gets too close or thinks kazama's likely to turn around. it's probably overcompensation, but this didn't go too well the last time he attempted it, and he's getting the sense k is no easier a target than angel batista.

a dim corner of his mind points out what the consequences could be like if he doesn't succeed, or, even worse, onlookers show up just as he does. on a certain level this resonates, and it's part of the reason why he hasn't just bumrushed kazama already; on a deeper one, it's totally irrelevant. it's almost more important that he keep following k than what he ultimately decides to do with him is, though he isn't thinking about it in those terms. so long as he's tailing him there's a focus to sharpen brian, make the time that passes seem more real and eventful. if he weren't still reasonably sure the feeling of release part and parcel with severing a major artery would do even more for him, he might give this up entirely. but he is what he is! and what he is, right now, is laser-focused on kazama. no matter how deft he is about it, there's no way to suppress someone else's eerie sense of being watched -- particularly not when he's got such a close eye on him.]

[ Does he need to feed. Volunteer. His mind grinds to a halt at the bizarre, unexpected offer, and suddenly instincts kick in. The ones that mark one as predator, another as prey; the ones that draw his focus to that damn ridiculous cravat and the neck beneath it.

But he doesn't move. It's a small miracle, really - another that he manages to speak at all, though when he does his voice is strained. ]

I'm sorry?

Bennett stops for a moment and stares at him, blinking a few times before sighing with relief. She's very lucky to have run into someone she actually knows.

"I, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I have absolutely no idea," she frowns, holding up her notebook for him, "I've been trying to, I've been tracking the hallways I've been in, though. Trying to map things out. It...hasn't exactly been working."

[He watches Harry's movements calmly and inwardly grins. This mortal is a nervous wreck...If he is anything like Norman then perhaps he can be useful. This kind of person is easy to break and, once broken, can provide quite a diversion...and decent entertainment. They are easy targets, maybe, but Loki is not in a picky mood about such things.

...There is a saying about that on Midgard, right? Something about beggars and choosers....]

Sooner or later, people will realize we are missing.

[He keeps his voice smooth, not wanting to make this poor human too frantic too soon.]

[Edgeworth frowns slightly. Jenna has never gotten to a point where she's been desperate for blood - had never, he corrects himself, his stomach twisting miserably, and desperately he hopes that perhaps what has happened to him just happened to her, that she didn't abandon all of them...

In any case. He's never seen desperation, from any of the vampires, but he can imagine that it's deeply unpleasant to suffer a lack. To go hungry. And if this man isn't aware that there are people who will volunteer - ]

If you need to feed, sir, then I can assist. I find the idea of you doing so by means of fangs quite distasteful, so if it's possible to find a needle by which we can draw blood that will be quite preferable, but I'll do what I must to ensure you do not suffer unduly before we find our way back.

[ He decides to swallow up the fact he has no idea what that even means, deciding it's much better to let things go.

Especially when they aren't relevant to surviving.

There's a brief glance down at his communicator, knocking on it slightly, as if it's acting wonky. There's a short message he was in the progress of typing:

( 'i ▒▒▒▒ know ▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒ to call, but i think i'm l▒▒▒▒.' ) ]

I'm not too sure how long I've been down here. [ His eyes shift towards the elevator then the other direction. That very dark and ominous direction. ]

They should be able to fix it, right? And we can wait right here?

Edited (poop) 2013-02-19 05:43 (UTC)

[Watch out behind you, Moran. She's chugging along, having involuntarily switched over almost an hour ago, all six hundred and some odd pounds of her padding past for a moment.]

Human:

[She's staring to feel frustrated, wandering for a few hours. She had just wanted to go to the Oxygen Garden and maybe nap for a while before she finds something to eat. Instead, the lift dumped her in this hallway and she's been wandering, following a smell - or not, she can't tell anymore - and trying to find another lift.

There has to be one, right? The one behind her refused to come, and now she needs to find another before she goes crazy. She should have known better than to just wander around without a map (not that there's a map, really) but now she wonders if she managed to find one of the parts of the ship that ends up with people getting gutted or smashed or something.]

Hello?

Is anyone out there?

[Right because space crazy answers to that.]

Tiger:

[The shift was involuntary - thanks, ancestors, for that dysfunction - and now she's a little stuck, at least until she calms down. The benefits of this form, at least, is the better senses, but even then she can't pinpoint anything specific. The halls are disorienting even as a tiger.

Her elders did not warn her about this.]

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EVENT; LIFTS & CORRIDORS

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David Wong | OTA

nooo wheatley come back

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o baby

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oh sweet jesus edgeworth

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HE IS TRYING 2 B NICE

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Daphne Morales-Kocchar | OTA | specify!