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ataraxionlogs2014-02-07 09:55 pm
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-02-07 09:55 pm
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- abed nadir,
- abigail mills,
- agent washington,
- ai enma,
- alaric saltzman,
- alayne stone,
- alex summers | au,
- arthur pendragon,
- arya stark,
- bahorel,
- bucky barnes,
- captain hook (killian jones),
- carolyn fry,
- cassandra anderson,
- castiel,
- charles xavier,
- charlie bradbury,
- claire bennet,
- clint barton (1610),
- cora hale,
- courfeyrac,
- dana polk,
- dean winchester,
- elena gilbert,
- elizabeth of york,
- elizabeth woodville,
- emma swan,
- eric northman,
- faith lehane,
- fili,
- frodo baggins,
- gendry,
- harry lockhart,
- harry potter,
- ilde featherstonehaugh,
- isaac clarke,
- jack harkness,
- jaina solo,
- jean prouvaire,
- jenna sommers,
- juliana,
- leonard "bones" mccoy (xi),
- loki laufeyson,
- luke skywalker,
- lydia martin,
- lúthien,
- marty mikalski,
- master chief,
- melinda may,
- mr. gold (rumplestiltskin),
- nathan petrelli,
- ned | au,
- netherlands,
- nico di angelo,
- nill,
- nuala,
- peeta mellark,
- peter petrelli,
- pietro maximoff,
- rebecca crane,
- red scout,
- rick grimes,
- sam winchester,
- sapphire,
- seraphim dias,
- severus snape,
- sirius black,
- spike,
- stefan salvatore,
- stiles stilinski,
- takeshi,
- tara knowles,
- tauriel,
- veronica mars,
- wichita,
- will graham,
- yuri petrov
twenty-eighth 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: It could just be the standard sensation of air on wet skin, but if you bother to check, you might notice the steam rising from your body, barely there and gone within a minute. By the time you get to the showers, it will be clear that it's not just taking you time to adjust. The room is cold — colder than usual, but no worse than the last jump. While it's nothing dangerous, it's certainly motivation to hurry through the usual routine and get dressed quickly.
It's getting closer.
YOUR EYES ARE OPEN.
KEEP LOOKING.
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: It could just be the standard sensation of air on wet skin, but if you bother to check, you might notice the steam rising from your body, barely there and gone within a minute. By the time you get to the showers, it will be clear that it's not just taking you time to adjust. The room is cold — colder than usual, but no worse than the last jump. While it's nothing dangerous, it's certainly motivation to hurry through the usual routine and get dressed quickly.
YOUR EYES ARE OPEN.
KEEP LOOKING.
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
"I see." Isaac closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a slow breath. He remained quiet, thinking and reeling in his temper. He wanted to prod Nate for answers and snap at him at the same time. There weren't supposed to be other Ishimura survivors. How had that happened? How many were there? Where had he been for the past six years? Had he been in stasis here all that time? How could Isaac be sure he wasn't a lying asshole?
He rested his head against the lockers as well, before he opened his eyes again. All of the cold metal pressed against his skin made him feel uncomfortably chilled, but the cool sensation against his temple also helped ease the ache he felt there. That's all this guy was, so far- a headache.
Idly, he wondered if Nate was sick of being stared at yet.
no subject
"I'm sorry." He didn't really know what he was sorry for, but putting together the pieces seemed to suggest that maybe Isaac had known someone on the ship. Or maybe the colony? Either way, he didn't like seeing others in pain over losing a loved one. Lexine had been heartbreaking enough.
As for the staring, Nate chalked it up to ... whatever reason that caused Isaac to jerk away from him initially. Maybe he thought he'd turn into a necromorph? Seemed legit.
no subject
Or, rather, maybe he wasn't all that keen on sharing yet. It was funny, in an accidental and pathetic way- Nate suspected Isaac was a Unitologist, and Isaac suspected Nate was another EarthGov agent, like Kendra had been.
They were both dumb.
"Are you good to go now?"
no subject
"...I should be." Nate looked Isaac's way, then down at the floor. Time to try getting up again! This time, his legs didn't buckle, though he was still a bit shaky. Not too bad. He should have been able to get where he needed to go now. A shower sounded wonderful, though getting clothed was probably more prudent. "Thanks. You didn't have to come back to help me, so I appreciate that." Even if it was a bit suspicious...
no subject
Even though this was his locker...
Isaac pushed away from the lockers, righting himself as well, and acknowledged Nate's gratitude in the kindest way he could. "I know," he said with a sigh, voice sounding suddenly tired. The way he looked at Nate practically radiated a sense of don't make me regret it.
"Well, since you've got this under control, I'll leave you to it." Isaac had places to be, things to take care of. Like this crusty shit on his skin. That wasn't going to work. And he couldn't think of a tidy way to wrap things up with Nate, so he just... awkardly moved away and headed for the showers.