lчdíα ( вєttєr thαn αnч σthєr αlphα ) mαrtín (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mathematically) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2013-05-07 11:13 pm
mathematically) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-05-07 11:13 pm
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- agent texas,
- agent washington,
- agent york,
- alex shepherd,
- alex summers | au,
- am,
- ariadne,
- arya stark,
- beleth "bells",
- bennett halverson,
- delta,
- elena gilbert,
- epsilon,
- eric northman,
- franz d'epinay,
- galadriel,
- hal yorke,
- harry potter,
- jack harkness,
- james potter,
- john "reaper" grimm,
- john a. zoidberg,
- josh levison,
- legolas,
- leliana,
- leonard "bones" mccoy (xi),
- lestat de lioncourt,
- lily evans,
- loki,
- lydia martin,
- mairon [sauron],
- marty mikalski,
- mathilda lando,
- mike banning,
- mordecai,
- nathan young,
- nepeta leijon,
- netherlands,
- nill,
- peter bishop,
- peter burke,
- river song,
- rose tyler,
- scott mccall,
- stiles stilinski,
- takeshi,
- the batter,
- the doctor (eleventh),
- the master (shalka),
- the warden (daylen amell),
- thranduil,
- tom mcnair,
- zeke tyler
eighteenth 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.
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.
no subject
A warrior speaks the words. Blades are strapped to her hips, her arms, her legs; her stance is poised and ready. Talia folds her arms over her chest, her mouth twitching up into a small smile. She can't help it; she's always liked people who were aggressive rather than passive. "I should think you'd have more things to worry about."
no subject
Mathilda stays in her sprawled position on the ground as she finally goes meet the woman's eyes. Party to keep her hands from possibly shaking under that gaze. But despite being pretty sure the woman was a killing machine or nuts- or, uh, both- her mouth remains in a stubborn line. She wasn't some kid to get shoved around, after all.
"Like what? I love that plant. What's more important than that?"
no subject
no subject
She bit her lip for a moment, glancing down at herself again and giving into that point. Even if she didn't want to, because where was Leon.
"Everything else...whoever brought us here, it's their responsibility. Starting with giving me back my stuff."
no subject
no subject
She nodded at the blades at the woman's hips. If they were holding her things hostage but giving out weapons? They were even bigger morons than she thought, and like hell she'd miss taking advantage of it. Determination finally drove her to push herself up, knees shaking slightly as she tried to force them to support her.
no subject
"What's your name?"
no subject
She doesn't try to jerk away from the arm up. Really, she needs it right now. More than she needs to really tick off a lady with really big knives, anyway. She does look around, trying to find the lockers, however. That she needed more than anything.
"Who're you?"
no subject
no subject
Ugh, this blew. She shifted around a little so was maybe was giving less of a free show, but seriously. What the fuck.
"Who the hell just takes your clothes. Sick bastards."
no subject
"We have lockers-- they don't give our regular clothes back. Just these jumpsuits," she nodded down to her own body, "but it's better than nothing."
no subject
"Still total sickos."
no subject
"How old are you?" she adds after a moment.
no subject
The response comes out without a moment of hesitation- she's clearly made this claim before. But any confidence in the lie is undermined by Mathilda shooting a glance at the other women along with it, gauging the reaction. And daring her to contradict it.