theguidinghand: (Trust)
Guide ([personal profile] theguidinghand) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2012-05-07 10:49 pm
Entry tags:


LOCATION: Gravity Couch Room
WARNINGS: Possible swearing, possible violence, implied (and possibly explicit) nudity.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Yep, we're continuing the tradition of re-hashing the game premise.


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.
circumitus: I have big plans. I'm learning spanish this month. (i need an office)

WARNING for descriptions of gore/triggers(?)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-08 04:09 am (UTC)(link)
There was purity found in the atom-heart. That was what she truly believed, once.


It felt so past tense, because it was.

Past tense. Past. All in the past.

An event which occurred previously, lost and gone in the now.


She was here. Present tense. That much was true.

Not a war zone. A spaceship. A ship in space. Lost in the stars and the black void.

Lost. Hopelessly such. That was also true. True as the chaotic sphere of thoughts and nothingness strung together in a haze. Obscured and meaningless, just like everything else. Just like this life.

Words were also lost in the atom-- void-- something that lived in that dark, cold place. The words were gone. She had nothing. Caught on her tongue. Her tongue in her mouth. Strangled in her throat.

Strangled. His hand around her neck. The knife is in his hand. Since when? The blade swings down repeatedly. Cut marks on her face. Shh, shh... it's okay, he'll make it better again. Sew you together. Make you new. Once he's done ripping you to ribbons. She holds together her mutilated body. She dies, but not for the first time.

Are you surrounded by blood and mire?

Oh, paradise. Ah!

It's in a cold place.

Her stomach wrenches. The memories, scorched and divine, collected in the tears and the song. The song. Strung together in opera. A beautiful aria plays as the woman lays in blood and dying...

Fingers clutching hair. Hair ripping scalp. Fingernails make the scalp bleed. She hummed to its tune. A pretty little war-song that plays while she burns them alive. Smell. The smell of cooked flesh. Human skin. Blood and bone and the cries of children.

The sky falls and the city burns.

Burn it down. Burn this city to the ground.

Was she dreaming? Was she awake? She couldn't tell. Eyes were open, but nothing made sense. She tried to scream, but her throat was sore from all the dream-screams. Except it wasn't a dream. The flames and fallen civilizations told her such. Cold, solid, liquid floor. That was true.

True was fire.

Sinking down, down, down into the city in her eye...

Rock back and forth. It'll be okay. Humming, shh, shh...
functioningperfectly: (could someone tell me where i'm at)

[personal profile] functioningperfectly 2012-05-08 07:27 am (UTC)(link)
HAL approaches, using caution. It really seems to be the only thing to do, right now, because the person on the floor looks...

He doesn't kneel or try to touch her or anything, but he does sound concerned when he says, "Ah. Excuse me. Are you all right?"
circumitus: What if cement was really a rainbow color they just secretly paint it grey so as not to distract drivers? (what if...)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-08 07:47 am (UTC)(link)

Sounds make words.

Words made into hollow.

Scalp-blood beneath her fingernails, she lets go. Stops. Body refuses to budge, but the eyes do move. Shifting up... slowly.

All right? All right...? All right...

Are you all right?

"Ahh... uhhh..." A response tries to come out, but all that makes itself heard are the strangled vibrations, which rattles from the back of her throat.
functioningperfectly: (just don't forget me and walk away)

[personal profile] functioningperfectly 2012-05-08 08:25 am (UTC)(link)
Now, HAL kneels down, carefully. Still no touching, because he doesn't even think to do anything reassuring like that. "It's all right. Please take your time; there is no reason to rush." He meets her gaze when he can, and smiles slightly, trying to reassure.
circumitus: I have big plans. I'm learning spanish this month. (i need an office)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-08 08:35 am (UTC)(link)
There's a flood. The levee breaks. And the drowned come pouring in.

She can shake her head. Communication, somewhat. A response. Between that and the throttled sounds, it's all she can manage. No movement. Not yet. That'd be brash. Rather, she curls her arms over her chest, furling her bloodied fingers. She looks at him, or through him, or something. He's there. A solid madder.

No rush, no rush. Only hum. Shh...

Tutto intorno è sangue e fango?
functioningperfectly: (tried so hard)

[personal profile] functioningperfectly 2012-05-08 08:43 am (UTC)(link)
He frowns slightly, nodding his head at her motion - it's a small gesture, but he understands it. Enough to know that he has to keep talking, because this is a traumatic reaction. He'd been given information on shock and stress and panic, all part of his files on how to care for people coming out of stasis in all possible ways. The hands are another concern, but he knows he should get her to respond more coherently first.

"My name is HAL. I have been aboard the Tranquility for six jumps, now, and you don't need to worry. Would you like me to find a doctor for you?"

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-08 09:06 am (UTC)(link)
Familiar... Like a dream.

The fresh blood from the open scalp wounds mixes with her brown hair. She doesn't notice. She lifts her head slightly, posture is stiff. Her eyes widen at the mention of a doctor. Blood runs cold. She thinks of knives and shakes her head once again in silent reply. Though, it's not as though she's in any shape to move, either. This might be a problem.
functioningperfectly: (but i can't get back)

[personal profile] functioningperfectly 2012-05-08 09:13 am (UTC)(link)
"All right." His frown deepens now, as he considers the alternatives to finding Dr. Watson. "Would you like me to help you stand up? It may help if you move around."
circumitus: you started throwing frozen shot glasses at people and you kept saying "it's fine, they melt." (wave goodbye to your troubles)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-08 09:35 am (UTC)(link)
Her eyes move down. Pause. Then back up again, at him. She studies him, but she isn't a very good judge of character. And she just woke up like... this. And there are things boiling inside and it might not be smart to touch her right now. So she drops her hands down onto the floor, not caring about the liquid, blue and red, smearing -- and makes a feeble attempt to push her own self up without warning.
functioningperfectly: (give me time and i'll be o.k.)

[personal profile] functioningperfectly 2012-05-08 10:01 am (UTC)(link)
Her lack of response makes HAL pause, even as she begins to struggle to pull herself up on her own; does that mean she doesn't want his help? Or does she? He's not sure, not in the slightest, because the only person he's ever talked to who didn't speak... well, she had been on her own and doing all right.

He decides to be cautious, holding out a hand in case she wants it, but not touching her. He's not sure what the proper way to go about it is, but this feels right. "Please take your time."
circumitus: I have big plans. I'm learning spanish this month. (i need an office)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-08 05:55 pm (UTC)(link)
In her own moment of weakness, she fumbles. But in a more reactive motion, she manages to grab HAL's hand before awkwardly falling back down to the ground. Her legs are still wobbly and it seems like she's been dreaming for a very, very long time again.

At least it's better than the alternative. She feels warm, but not so much now. Her touch is cooled enough where she can reach out without watching the other person crumble into boils and flesh and decay. That's good, isn't it?

She feels... somewhat relieved.
functioningperfectly: (i'll be back on earth just like i was)

[personal profile] functioningperfectly 2012-05-08 09:28 pm (UTC)(link)
HAL wonders if she's running a fever, but he doesn't know enough about the physical symptoms of illness to be a decent judge. Now that she's taken his hand, however, he proceeds to put his other hand on her back, just below her shoulder blades. "Let me help you to your feet. The locker room is more comfortable."

He's definitely not going anywhere, that much is blindingly obvious.
circumitus: I have big plans. I'm learning spanish this month. (i need an office)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-09 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
If it were a normal fever, her temperature might not have dropped so fast. But she isn't burning up. Not now. Not as badly as she was before. Not like the flames.

Inevitably, everything spins and disappears into a mess of downward whirls. She finds herself relying more on his support than she would have liked, but resigns to her lack of options.

She drags her feet, her body limp and doll-like as they guide her to the locker room. She isn't heavy, but every movement is like hauling several tons of weight...
functioningperfectly: (could someone tell me where i'm at)

[personal profile] functioningperfectly 2012-05-09 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
HAL keeps his hands on her, doing all he can to support her. He also walks very slowly - slower than he's ever walked, which only serves to make him feel as though he's about to stumble at any moment. He needs to practice this sort of thing.

When they reach the locker room, HAL doesn't ask her what her number is; he simply decides to look at her arm, where her tattoo might be. The 001 makes him blink momentarily.

"Ah, you have been here from the first jump?" He hadn't expected that.
circumitus: She literally cut my boxers off with a 8" chef's knife and had her way with me. (tomorrow never knows)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-09 07:02 am (UTC)(link)
Strange. Almost funny, but not worthy to laugh. She doesn't laugh. He seems familiar, though. Everything seems familiar sometimes. Like a dream she tries to hold onto, but the more she tries to grasp it, the more the streams slip between her fingers. Maybe she's talked to him before, in some life? But he doesn't...

It can't make sense out of itself. It refuses. Much like the song that hums in her skull and goes shhh as she tries to think.

Familiar or not, he's her pillar until she can find someplace to rest. It's been screaming inside for so long and she just wants to it to stop.

Nothing matters now, anyway. His face begins to blur and his words become muddy. She thinks she can understand them, and she nods at that thing which sounds like a question in return.
functioningperfectly: (just don't forget me and walk away)

[personal profile] functioningperfectly 2012-05-09 09:44 am (UTC)(link)
Careful not to let her fall - her weight seems to be shifting, as though she may be about to lose balance, but he can't be certain - he helps her to one of the benches and sit down, guiding her with him so that she could be settled next to him. "I'm sorry to have assumed otherwise," he says, but he's fairly certain she's not capable of hearing him very well. "Are you sure you don't want the medical staff to look at you? I'm sure that they will be quite capable of helping you."
circumitus: What if cement was really a rainbow color they just secretly paint it grey so as not to distract drivers? (what if...)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-05-09 10:28 pm (UTC)(link)
It's clear that she doesn't take offense. Her hesitation, on the other hand, is palpable as she looks down at her hands. The blood is drying and leaving dark, red-brown stains underneath her fingernails. Not blinking once the entire time, she considers his words (cotton-tongue and bubbling) while addressing the present condition of things as they are now. She feels that she will die here if she doesn't move. But is that such a bad thing?

I am wicked.

Her shoulders slack. She shakes her head, not knowing what to even be sure of.

I deserve to die.

Perhaps seeing a doctor would be wise.