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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
His immediate thought is to lie about Szilard's memories, of course. That's just an unpleasant thing to get into and he doesn't exactly like to go around boasting about that time he killed an old man even if said old man was a terrible person.
But then how is he supposed to say what's wrong with him? If her issue is similar, then he should be honest so they can put their heads together and figure this out.
He looks off to the side and folds his arms over his chest. "...It's a long story, but I've got memories that are mine and memories I took--er, I mean, memories that aren't mine. Lately it's been harder to tell which is which."
And given those memories that aren't his are incredibly disturbing, it's not fun.
no subject
"Have had that problem since before the recon. Can't help make it stop, but perhaps there's a way to help you better live with it."
Without her father's guidance, Rey has only her memories to go on. Fortunately, her memories are all she really needs, as she can allow herself to go back to that old moment of another time.
Of course, Firo's situation could be different from hers. But she's willing to help.
no subject
"You think?" He'd really take anything. Beating his head against the wall isn't helping at all. "I mean, if I stop and think about it, little things like the people who're there or the time can clue me in that it's not mine, but sometimes there's not enough to tell right away."
And it's really disturbing to think of his girlfriend-ish person or his surrogate brother and have memories of torturing them.
no subject
And no, beating your head against the wall helps the least. Rey's had to learn this the hard way.
"Could try a few things sometime, if you're open to the idea."
When she's not disoriented. Or under-dressed.
no subject
Well, not anything, but pretty damn close.
"And, uh, I can try and help you out with your stuff, too." Not that he has any ideas himself, but he's here for you, buddy.
no subject
But for now, just this once, she'd like to see if there's something that she can do for someone else.
"So you know, it's psychology. Picked up a few tricks from someone."
That way Firo at least knows that what she's trying is kind of normal. She's seen people in this place with abilities to jump into a person's head, and had even been subjected to such instances before herself. Getting that bit out of the way just seemed... important.
no subject
On guard, he takes a step back. "Wait, wait, wait. Like that weird stuff where people ask you about your feelings and all that?"
He doesn't know what he thought she was going to do, but it suddenly sounds a little scary when she puts it like that.
no subject
That's the abridged definition, anyway. Rey isn't quite lucid enough yet to go in depth with the whole thing, and something tells her that Firo isn't, either. If he ever would be.
no subject
"All right, then." He still sounds wary, but he'll trust her. It doesn't sound too threatening when she puts it like that.
Though he doubts whatever next steps she has in mind will be easy, he feels somewhat relieved just knowing that she'll help. Now the hard part will be trying to think of things he can do to help her.
But first, there's something he should probably say. He clears his throat and glances around. "...Thank you."
no subject
Even now, after all this time, she's still not used to hearing those words. She falters before she can think of those two simple words.
"You're welcome."
Another moment. Her eyes shift.
"Should probably get dressed now."
Hint, Firo. Since you've been talking to a lady wearing nothing but a towel this entire time.
I'm sorry he's such a drama queen
He turns bright red and jumps like she swatted him. In the time since they started talking, he's managed to ignore the state of her clothing. "R-right. I, uh--" Oh, damn it, he's a horrible person, isn't he? Imposing on a woman like that and all.
He whirls around, but before he goes... "I-I-I'm sorry."
it's okay we love him just the way he is