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ataraxionlogs2015-01-08 12:01 am
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2015-01-08 12:01 am
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- bellamy blake,
- benny lafitte,
- bethmora fortescue,
- bucky barnes,
- captain hook (killian jones),
- caroline forbes,
- charles xavier,
- cole,
- commander shepard,
- cora hale,
- cullen rutherford,
- derek hale,
- dick "robin" grayson,
- ellen ripley,
- eponine thenardier,
- firo prochainezo,
- harry potter,
- heather mason,
- ivan,
- jackson "jax" teller,
- jennifer keller,
- johanna mason,
- john blake | au,
- john mitchell,
- kieren walker,
- l "ryuuzaki" lawliet,
- leo fitz,
- levi,
- liara t'soni,
- marian hawke,
- marty mikalski,
- minho,
- mordin solus,
- netherlands,
- octavia blake,
- padme amidala,
- raven reyes,
- richard rider,
- rick grimes,
- river tam | au,
- sally malik,
- sam alexander,
- simon tam,
- sirius black,
- takeshi,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- thomas
thirty-ninth 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: A feeling of deep dread greets you as you stumble out of the gravcouch, strong enough to hold you still for a long moment, searching your surroundings for the source of your wariness. Nothing becomes apparent, only your fellow passengers waking up. Eventually you gather the resolve to pick yourself up and start moving, the feeling fading slowly as you progress through 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.
----------------
ＹＯＵ͘ ̨ＷＡＫＥ̢ ̧ＵＰ ́ＩＮ ＤＡ̛ＲＫＮ̢Ｅ̕ＳＳ̶
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.
ＹＯ́Ｕ̴ ̧Ａ̨ＲＥ ＮＯＴ҉ ̷ＡＬＯ̨ＮＥ҉
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.
ＴＨ̀ＩＳ͜ ̶Ｉ͠Ｓ͡ ͘Ｙ̵Ｏ͝ＵＲ ̕Ｗ͝Ｅ̛Ｌ̨Ｃ͡Ｏ͝Ｍ͏Ｅ Ｐ̛ＡＲ̴ＴＹ͜
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: A feeling of deep dread greets you as you stumble out of the gravcouch, strong enough to hold you still for a long moment, searching your surroundings for the source of your wariness. Nothing becomes apparent, only your fellow passengers waking up. Eventually you gather the resolve to pick yourself up and start moving, the feeling fading slowly as you progress through 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
He got a little bigger. Hat's snug on him. Or it was, last time I saw him.
[ but time stops. that's what everyone says. so maybe he's not missing much of anything, will go right back to the same old problems. it said something about the tranquility that all the old problems seemed a relief next to this. ]
Still in diapers and drooling everywhere, if that's what you're asking.
no subject
...Sounds like a ton a' fun. The kid who lives with me back home is a pain, but at least he takes care a' himself.
[He does a better job of it than Firo would, that's for sure. And given that they don't always get along, Ennis takes care of the rest.]
no subject
[ which is interesting. firo wouldn't be the first person jax had known to have kept his family life quiet. there's plenty of reasons for it up here. even jax wasn't so forthcoming, or he wasn't now, with tara gone. ]
What's his name?
no subject
Oh, he's not, like, mine. He's more like a little brother. Some friends brought him to live with us.
[Which is a weird story for another day. It's a little difficult to explain how Isaac and Miria translated Ennis's declaration of sibling love to them into "bring me a child".]
His name's Czeslaw, but we just call him Czes. What's yours called?
no subject
[ says the guy who hangs out with people who have a pretty questionable assortment of names themselves. but that's passed over, jax shrugging a shoulder. talking about his son is difficult. it makes him homesick in a way that's much harder to ignore. ]
Abel.
no subject
[Poland, to be exact, but he wound through a lot of places on the way to his current home.
Firo's not sure what the appropriate comment for a baby name is, so he doesn't bother trying. He notices, however, that Jax doesn't really seem that chatty about this.]
Am I pryin' too much?
no subject
[ strangely enough, it wasn't too much. it was strange, explaining parts of his life that he'd never had to before, but it wasn't unwelcome. ]
I don't talk about my kid that much. I probably should, you know?
[ he doesn't want to admit that sometimes it's too easy to forget about him. jax was guilty of running away from his parental responsibilities, and being up here, it wasn't really helping. ]
You ever worry you're forgetting about everything when you're up here?
no subject
[If given the chance, Firo would never shut up about them. He firmly believes he couldn't have found better people in any world.
Memory hasn't been working very well at all for him lately. He sighs and looks off to the side.]
Yeah. It's always either forgettin' too much or rememberin' too much. And it seems like everything I forget is the stuff I actually wanna remember.
[He laughs, though it's hardly amusing to him. But what else can you do?]
...I haven't spent this much time away from my family since I met 'em.