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
Once she's properly covered up again, he finally centers his gaze on her, still aware that he's quite naked.] Agent Mike Banning, ma'am.
[He'd rather get cleaned up before he goes putting anything of his on, especially since drying goop would get really old really fast.] Towel would be fucking great.
no subject
Nice to meet you, Agent Mike Banning. I'd shake your hand, but...
[It's been on your junk, and all.]
Uh, let's see. Showers are thataway, and I'm sorry to say they are both communal and co-ed. You found your locker, so you're ahead of the curve there. Most people take the room number that matches their nanites [illustrative pointing to her own number which is - oops, covered by his shirt] 'cause the doors recognize you automatically, but some people just go wherever. There's usually more to that but you don't seem like the kind of guy who needs to be told not to eat the pod goo.
no subject
He also doesn't mind not shaking her hand, considering yeah it's been on his junk and one of them is covered in blood right now. Listening, he glances in the direction of the shower when she gestures and nods again when she finishes.]
Think I can figure out not to eat anything I'm not supposed to. [He cracks a slight grin at her, now that they're both at some level of modesty.]
no subject
[Okay, everyone's stuff is covered, she's not crying, this shirt is gross but she can deal. And that's... actually quite bleedy, there, buddy.]
Are you sure you're good? I mean, I'm sure you know your shit, but that's a little more blood than generally comes out of anyone who's totally fine. Medbay's usually pretty okay about people just grabbing what they need if it's small stuff.
[She thinks. At least, nobody's yelled at her for doing it before.]
no subject
Nodding,] Yeah. I'll be fine, ma'am, but I'll run by the medbay.
[He's a little more worried about the bruising that might turn up around his throat in a day or so.]
no subject
[Not that being called ma'am by someone a foot taller and 20-odd years older than her isn't hilarious, but it's a level of formality that's probably unnecessary when you've seen each other's business and will probably continue to each month until one of you dies or leaves.
As long as he doesn't start calling her kiddo, she oughta be just fine. Except there's really no way to do this next bit that isn't also an echo, and a little of that sadness creeps back into her expression as she points to he forearm again.]
I'll let you get on that, then. But - can I get your number? So I know where to bring the shirt.
[At least she knows this one's not going to turn out to be living right across the hall.]
no subject
018-005.
[Not that he knows what that means yet. He'll figure it out eventually, but keeps in mind that she mentioned he'll be able to get into the room labeled with that number.]
no subject
[Ugh maybe try to sound a little less needy? Get the fuck out of there, Mason, before you make even more of a fool of yourself. Dorky wave incoming.]
I'll see you 'round, Banning.
no subject
Yeah, see ya, Heather.
[It's probably because he's naked, he figures. That's a good enough reason for him and it doesn't take much (read: any) thought.]