ａｘｍｏｄｓ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ataraxites) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2014-09-08 12:00 am
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-09-08 12:00 am
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- aaron doral,
- alex summers | au,
- alison hendrix,
- arya stark,
- benny lafitte,
- caprica six,
- captain hook (killian jones),
- caroline forbes,
- castiel,
- charles xavier,
- cora hale,
- death (discworld),
- derek hale,
- elizabeth of york,
- erik lehnsherr,
- fenris,
- firo prochainezo,
- gwen stacy,
- harry osborn,
- helena,
- ichabod crane,
- ilde knox,
- ivan,
- james 'bucky' barnes,
- james vega,
- jean grey,
- jennifer keller,
- josias st. john,
- katniss everdeen,
- kieren walker,
- lily potter,
- milagros gallo,
- peeta mellark,
- raven reyes,
- remus lupin,
- robin hood,
- sally malik,
- simon monroe,
- simon tam,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- the warden (samara amell),
- zoe washburne
thirty-fifth 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: You wake feeling cold and alone. There is a strange sense of emptiness, and the jump holds no surprises for you. There is nothing buffering the jump sickness and disorientation for you this month, and those still suffering the lingering effects of August's plot may find it more difficult than usual to get through the post-jump routine.
New arrivals will find messages spraypainted across their lockers telling them not to follow their tattoo numbers, and instead to find a room on Floors 001-010.
----------------
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: You wake feeling cold and alone. There is a strange sense of emptiness, and the jump holds no surprises for you. There is nothing buffering the jump sickness and disorientation for you this month, and those still suffering the lingering effects of August's plot may find it more difficult than usual to get through the post-jump routine.
New arrivals will find messages spraypainted across their lockers telling them not to follow their tattoo numbers, and instead to find a room on Floors 001-010.
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
[ she snaps it, because she thinks it's obvious. everyone had been sick at some level, and there were those who had been more ill than others, but katniss knows her complete disfigurement is an unusual case, can tell just by looking around. ]
[ she closes her locker with her hip, leaving the dress where it lies, to be walked on by wet bare feet, or maybe stolen by someone, worn or used for scrap. her arms are full of a jumble of everything else, bread and bottle and bow and boots, quiver strapped to her back. ]
[ she looks at peeta blankly. it's not even hurt or angry, not at this stage. she already hurts. it's just flat, resigned to the pain. ]
no subject
Whatever distress it's caused fades quickly as he observes the resignation on her face. Anger and fear, they take up too much energy; he's already tired, and without easy fuel, it's simpler to just let it go. Contradictory information is the standard, anyway. This is just another thing to add to the pile. ]
But it'll heal.
[ He doesn't meet her eyes while he asks, instead noting her hair, the sharp lines of her cheekbones. She looks younger and older all at once, same as she had at the end of the 74th Games, worn out and starved.
He doesn't sound concerned, but there's no obvious hostility in his voice, either; just curiosity. ]
no subject
[ it's left her so weak and damaged, but already, just upon waking up, she can feel her body fixing itself — or the nanites in her body fixing it, anyway. the extraction process had been horrific and painful, but at least it had been fast: she expects further healing may be slower, take longer, as frustrating as that bullet she took. ]
[ peeta isn't looking at her properly, but katniss is looking at him. he doesn't seem to have been as affected as her, but even as isolated as he was, he had to have had some experience with the illness. everyone who went through the jumps did. maybe it's that which is helping him understand this isn't some mutt mutation. ]
[ katniss shifts what's in her arms. ]
Why are you talking to me?
[ she's wary, but she thinks in this case she has a right to be. but she wants so, so badly to have him forgive her, to have the old peeta back, that the question isn't as sharp as it could be. ]