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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
[ which was true. well, as mini as any other jump felt. but she notes Annabeth's expression and it makes her stomach twist in knots, this overwhelming urge to fix it, make it right, make everything okay sitting heavy there. she's pretty sure it's a big sister reflex ( a term she came up with a long time ago to explain a few things to Little Rock ), but it's weird feeling that again. it's been a while. and maybe she's always sort of thought of Annabeth in that way, but it hadn't hit her this hard until now.
the doors to the lift slide open behind her and it manages to break her out of her train of thought, and she tilts her head - c'mon - before stepping back into it and pressing herself to the back wall. not that anybody else besides them seems to be getting onto the lift right now, but it's just a force of habit. so she leans back against the cold panel, boots crossing in front of her. she's quiet, at first, then- ]
Are you okay?
[ it's not "i'm sorry" but it sure sounds like an apology ]
no subject
[ or what annabeth's gleamed of it, at least. it shifts and pulls at reality, fixes it up in the way that will cause the most amount of harm. not that annabeth would be selfish enough to think that the most amount of harm would involve hurting her, leaving her here alone while everyone she cared about just fell away around her. she can tell, though, by that slight movement in wichita's jaw that she's not too happy about it either.
and then the door slides open, and then wichita's motioning for annabeth to follow, and she does. takes those steps in and scans the number on her arm to take her back up to her room. if only just to have somewhere to go. wichita's question makes annabeth pause, though, before she ends up giving a noncommittal shrug. ]
Fine, I guess. [ which is annabeth's way of saying 'I'm surviving, and it's still the ship' in response. ]