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.
foolproofed: <user name=bushyeyebrows> (Men can wear necklaces too.)

[personal profile] foolproofed 2013-06-18 08:04 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah. [He double-takes at Edgeworth, slightly offended in his bleariness.] You don't believe me? S'all true, man. Don't tell me you've been here for a bajillion days and still don't believe in evil redneck zombies.
jurisimpudent: (i tried)

[personal profile] jurisimpudent 2013-06-18 03:10 pm (UTC)(link)
A zombie is a...creature risen from the dead, correct?
foolproofed: (pic#6048655)

[personal profile] foolproofed 2013-06-19 11:02 am (UTC)(link)
S'right, man. Risen from the ground and everything.

[He seems strangely detached. Humored, even. He's not even sure how his mind works, when it comes to dredging up the facts about where he'd come from.]

They totally sprang up from the ground and killed all my friends.

[Actually, no, there's something not at all detached about the way that's spoken; but he smiles, tired, and pats Edgeworth's shoulder. The effort of talking about Jules and Curt and Holden and — and poor, poor Dana, fucking hell, she'd been through too much — it's too much today. Just like it was too much effort yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.

And tomorrow; it'll be too much effort to talk about tomorrow, too.]






Dude, you hit me really hard.

[They're at the med bay, though, and he sighs like the place sucks the air slowly out of him 'til he's dried out. And then he just - dramatically plops down face-first on one of the beds, still bloody red on the back of his head, still holding the handkerchief in one hand. And then sighs again like he's found a great place to sleep.]

Round up an MD, let's get this show on the road.

[so very muffled]