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
Look, see, I've got yours, and George's, and Nina's, I suppose, since none of these are mine.
[Well, she doesn't really drink tea, so.]
What do you need my arm for?
[She hadn't noticed the tattoo, so she presents him with the wrong arm.]
no subject
[He shifts the tea into the crook of his elbow, and trades the kettle to his other hand so he tug up his shirtsleeve, and his other shirtsleeve, and shove down his glove a little--and there's his tattoo, stamped out plainly: 017 » 042.]
This unlocks your room door. Everyone's got one. [But do ghosts get tattoos, that's the unspoken question, and, after a beat, he nods significantly to her arm.] And--?
no subject
She doesn't screech. Not exactly. It's a moment of pure what the fuck and she fumbles a mug, but luckily doesn't drop it.]
How did this happen! I didn't think I could-
When did this-
[And there's another Annie moment of what what what.]
no subject
I don't know.
[Right, but, Annie--and he shakes his head and looks up at her, trying to be bracing and calm and sensible about this, even if he's clueless. Just another weirdness of the ship, right?]
I don't know, maybe they've got some-- supernatural ink or something. It happens some time between bein' at home and bringing us here--everyone's got one. It seems like it happens just like that, in an instant, but it... can't. [The very real can't of ghost tattoos is still a sticking point, but Mitchell shakes his head again, trying to clear it.] It doesn't really matter. Ghost tattoos, that's about the least of the weirdnesses in this place.
no subject
Well. We'll go up to my room and set these things down and then you'll show me where you're staying, right? Right.
[A plan. That's what they need. A plan.]
no subject
[He'd grip her arm again or something equally comforting, except now he's got his hands full of her stuff. So instead, he leans over to bump his shoulder against hers, like he's going to knock any worry out of her.]
And have I got a surprise for you, this ship gave me three mugs for tea as well-- must've known you were coming. C'mon, I'll show you.