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ataraxionlogs2013-10-07 09:58 pm
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-10-07 09:58 pm
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- abby,
- agent washington,
- agent york,
- alayne stone,
- alex summers | au,
- armin arlert,
- arthur pendragon,
- arya stark,
- bail organa,
- bethany hawke,
- catelyn stark,
- chell,
- claire bennet,
- commander shepard,
- death (discworld),
- death (sandman),
- derek hale,
- ellie,
- fili,
- galadriel,
- grantaire,
- heather mason,
- heine rammsteiner,
- igraine pendragon,
- irene adler,
- jaina solo,
- javik,
- jaye rinnark,
- juliana,
- leia organa,
- leonard "bones" mccoy (xi),
- lisbeth salander,
- loki laufeyson,
- lord asriel,
- lydia martin,
- mordecai,
- morgana pendragon,
- ned | au,
- netherlands,
- nill,
- peter burke,
- robb stark,
- spike,
- takeshi,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- thor odinson,
- thranduil,
- tom mcnair,
- tony stark
twenty fourth 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: The insomnia is gone. The bleeding has stopped. For the first time in a month, you wake feeling truly rested. One thing hasn't left: the feeling that you're being watched follows you out of the pods, but it's slightly different; it feels like being watched over, safe. As you go about your routine or try to settle into it for the first time, you may find your thoughts interrupted by gentle impulses and fleeting ideas that are easily ignored, all completely harmless.
Can you hear me?
DON'T WORRY.
IT'S TIME TO LET GO.
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: The insomnia is gone. The bleeding has stopped. For the first time in a month, you wake feeling truly rested. One thing hasn't left: the feeling that you're being watched follows you out of the pods, but it's slightly different; it feels like being watched over, safe. As you go about your routine or try to settle into it for the first time, you may find your thoughts interrupted by gentle impulses and fleeting ideas that are easily ignored, all completely harmless.
DON'T WORRY.
IT'S TIME TO LET GO.
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.