ataraxionlogs | EVENT: CULTURAL STUDIES ▒ THE TRANQUILITY

CHARACTERS: Ensemble production!
LOCATION: The newly discovered corridor, Prisoners' Quarters and Guards' Bunkhouse.
WARNINGS: A vague sense of creeping unease.
SUMMARY: Discovery and exploration of the Prisoners' Quarters and Guards' Bunkhouse.
NOTES: Open to all! Network map discovery is HERE. Bunkhouse discovery post is HERE. Have fun forward and back-dating, but don't forget to check the timelines!

The corridor you're walking down seems to stretch on forever, but maybe that's just the gloom ever-present in the belly of the ship, only cut through by the skittering beams of the flashlights you're carrying and the dim signal on the map. The map led you here, and the map seemed to indicate there was something at the end of this journey; a new area, perhaps, more answers. Something worth the risk of stepping into the darkness. Best stay alert, strain your senses — though there will be little advantage found in the warning of claws clicking against metal in the distance, a flash of red on the wall to your right...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ she stops her flipping and lets the book fall closed to look at him, brows furrowed deep. a common misconception, but - ]

It's not empty. It's never empty. We have too much.

[ the book is half-fallen apart from a part of the ship that is caked in blood and sadness in the air. they were cut off from the rest and they weren't as alone as they'd thought. there's too much on this ship. ]

Like that thing that keeps trying to talk to us, yeah? [He paws at his face, uncomfortable, like something is scratching at the back of his mind. Of course, it's never empty. It's never empty, because there's too much here. Where are you?

It's not just a ship.]

[ she flinches, just a little. she's been doing good not to think about it but it's hard when it's the only thing she can see when she closes her eyes. they're not safe, never had been and never will; why they believed that could change here, that anything could change here.

two by two. ]

Here. [ she slides the journal over, head ducked away. ] Ask him.

[Des frowns at her reaction, but he's more interested in the journal at the moment. Still, he moves over so that he can sit beside her and offer a little bit of comfort while he leafs through it. It's tattered and barely readable.

He tenses at the mention of being stuck with the numbers. And then when his eyes fall over Marshall got sick, he sucks in a breath and that's as far as he gets before he slams the journal shut.]

There wasn't a computer down there. [He's muttering to himself, a bit frantically, reassuring himself that it's not the same thing, but it's not as comforting as it might be.] It's all the same, but it's all different, yeah?

[ she stays close because she like the proximity. it makes it easier for her to stay rooted in place rather than following the thoughts and fears the bubble up inside of her, and not all of them are hers. she watches him, feels metal beneath them and cold air around them and doesn't jump when the book falls shut. ]

Not as different as we hope.

[ not helping, river, but she keeps his eyes on him because she wants to understand the things that no one ever does. ]

They were guards. Guarding.

Guarding what, yeah? [It's not a question, even if the verbal tic makes it seem like one. Babysitting a pocket of electromagnetic energy or something else- it all blurs together in his mind. Like the dead man's switch on the Scylla or the red light and why he feels like there has to be a heart somewhere.]

How many men didn't come to replace him, I wonder. How long did he wait.

[Was he like Kelvin, waiting forever for replacements that would never come...

And they were sick...]

[ the heart of tranquility. it should be a sobering thought, but river gets lost in it. ]

Maybe he still is. Waiting.

[ they have a guard. a ward. he's not protecting them, he's just ... keeping them in. ]

It doesn't let go. Doesn't want to.

It wants to keep us. [Did the island want that? All this talk of sinking the bloody thing or preventing it from speaking. Whispers of candidates and people who are special and all Desmond ever got out of any of it was misery.

When it comes down to it, maybe pushing that button, crashing that plane, and never escaping the island really are the only great things he's going to do.]

All I wanna know is why. [It won't make it better, but if there's a reason, then he wants to know it.]

EVENT: CULTURAL STUDIES ▒ THE TRANQUILITY

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