mathematically: (pic#5013725)
lчdíα ( вєttєr thαn αnч σthєr αlphα ) mαrtín ([personal profile] mathematically) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2013-05-07 11:13 pm

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.
circumitus: - XOXO dad (time to smoke my breakfast)


[personal profile] circumitus 2013-05-08 08:49 am (UTC)(link)
It's jump time and Rey doesn't linger. Fuck that shit. It isn't so much that she's busy or she has someone waiting for her. Nothing like that.

Some might call it feeling restless. Rey doesn't have a word for it.

She's already got a cigarette lit when she's passing through the gardens. Rey settles to make camp any old place for a post-jump nap. Doesn't matter where -- she tends to move around here a lot. Place is big enough to justify it.

Smoking, on the other hand... Well, smoking in a place full of plants which is their sole supply for oxygen seems like the exact opposite of what you should be doing. But here are two assholes in the same vicinity doing just that, and one had just been passing the other by when she stops in mid-step, only to retreat a step.

"Looking for something?" Rey blurts just out of habit, like her way of saying hello.

Hey, it's better than stalking the Dutchman until he notices her, at least. She's been doing that a lot to the people who come here.
handelaar: (heard the word profit)

[personal profile] handelaar 2013-05-08 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)
He figures that if he's going to smoke anywhere on the ship, the best place for it is the Gardens. If the plants can't clean the air then the scrubbers will. Not that it keeps him from smoking plenty of other places around the ship - obviously - but he doesn't feel any guilt whatsoever for smoking as much as he likes at work.

The chickens have been dumped into their coop and locked up, and he's on his way back down to the first level but paying more attention to the trees as he walks. With Lodewijk around, he has to keep an eye out for dragons, hawks, or direwolves - and that's just what he knows is lurking - so when Rey speaks it takes him by surprise.


"You're real damn quiet."

Hello to you too. With that he makes an about-face and starts walking her way.
circumitus: - XOXO dad (time to smoke my breakfast)

[personal profile] circumitus 2013-05-09 09:00 am (UTC)(link)
His stance and approach is familiar, though not unwelcome. Rey doesn't regard that anyway, and instead blinks at his statement.

Because... well, duh. Shouldn't it have been obvious?

"Wouldn't be effective at what I did if I was loud and bumbling." Despite her weight, that is.
handelaar: (gimme a light)

[personal profile] handelaar 2013-05-09 07:09 pm (UTC)(link)
"Never actually said what ya did," he grumbles, but it's not unkind. Just the usual grump that one can expect. And as far as he can recall that's true - she's told him what she is, where she's been, but there's no job that immediately springs to mind.

Whether she pauses or not, he continues on his path toward the first level.
circumitus: 10 stitches. scar on forehead. totally going tell ppl my parents died fighting Voldemort. (fell off bed. face first.)

[personal profile] circumitus 2013-05-13 07:44 am (UTC)(link)
"You never asked." Or did he?

No, Rey's certain that she would've remembered it if he had. Her memory's better than most, she would say. (All things considered.)

Either way, she follows, having nowhere in particular to go to. That's the beauty of not assigning yourself to simply one location.
handelaar: (...this is an important matter)

[personal profile] handelaar 2013-05-14 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
They're headed to the first level - specifically, to the area he's designated as growing space for his rabbit's hay and greens - but if she's following and not asking he won't bother. She probably wouldn't give much of a shit anyway, he assumes.

"Okay. What's..." Wrong thing. She'd probably say security. "What was your job, then"
circumitus: - XOXO dad (time to smoke my breakfast)

[personal profile] circumitus 2013-05-15 07:44 am (UTC)(link)
Congratulations, Netherlands. You have ascended to such a status during your acquaintance with Rey that you can foresee such things as literal statements. It's a feat that so few can ever hope to achieve.

"I was a soldier -- jarhead. Most of the time. Towards the end I was mostly assigned on solo operations. Suicide missions."
handelaar: (hold up a sec)

[personal profile] handelaar 2013-05-16 06:21 am (UTC)(link)
The beautiful things that can happen when two overly pedantic wouldabeen-misanthropes-in-a-high-school-AU get together and like spending time together, or something, they guess. Or at least they talk enough and can see eye to eye often enough for him to know when he's asking a stupid question.

Which means he hears her answer, nods like he should've known, and then simply asks the relevant, probably not stupid questions rapid-fire. If she can't answer them she won't.

He even ticks them off with the arm that's not full of rabbit as he does it.

"Soldier for who. Or what. The hell does most of the time mean. Did you - " wait what " - die?"
circumitus: (i'll feed your fingertips to wolverines)

[personal profile] circumitus 2013-05-16 08:29 am (UTC)(link)
It's strange when Rey laughs. She actually laughs, even if it's short and concise. It isn't something she's used to and there's a small relief in her chest when she finally lets out those muffled, barely audible sounds.

A moment later she's collected herself enough to answer: "Apologies. It's just that I thought that was obvious when I said 'suicide mission' -- that I have died, that is." Perhaps the real answer is that she simply has a horrible taste in humor. "Of course I have died. Plenty of times, in fact."

To her, it's such a duh moment that she doesn't even stop to consider just how off putting her blasé nature might actually be.