ataraxites: (Default)
axmods. ([personal profile] ataraxites) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2015-01-08 12:01 am

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
invisibilitea: (Annie - hand over mouth)

[personal profile] invisibilitea 2015-01-13 05:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, it's a new thing, so probably it's a bit of a fad anyway. Although when Mitchell suggests that-

"Oh, no, I hope I didn't hurt it," she says holding it up again. Now she's handling it again, but very carefully, like maybe it is alive.
humanistic: (hm! - a nice herpe to ruin the party)

[personal profile] humanistic 2015-01-13 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"It looks all right." Mitchell squints at the heart in question, already reassuring even when he doesn't have any actual idea of what he's talking about. How would they know if it wasn't all right? How would they know if it was?

"Come on, let's get back to the room," he suggests, for-- lack of a better suggestion. "D'you want to wrap it up, so you're not seen carrying a glowing organ around the ship, or are you secure in that image of yourself."
invisibilitea: (Annie - smiling)

[personal profile] invisibilitea 2015-01-13 10:05 pm (UTC)(link)
"It does, doesn't it?" she says, and then remembers why he's saying it, and - "oh, well, yes, I think it's fine. It's still glowing, right?" she amends, because maybe that sounds a little less like she's admiring the lovely glow of her heart.

Which she totally isn't.

So she takes the end of her jumper and wraps it up. "There. Safe and sound."
humanistic: (small smile - if anything hurted you)

[personal profile] humanistic 2015-01-13 10:53 pm (UTC)(link)
This is, Mitchell thinks, with a bemused little smile, going to be like Tim all over again. Except instead of a ghost baby, it's a heart.

But there's worse things out there. And this happens to be making Annie very happy right now, which she's not been in a long time. Far be it from him to kill that at all prematurely, with good sense and questions and okay-but-Annie-the-heart-does-probably-belong-to-someone-somewhere-also-it's-a-bloody-organ. The glow of the heart shows through the thin material of her jumper, like she's got a low-level lamp wrapped up in there--and, despite himself, Mitchell smiles, and holds his hand out to her.

"Come on, then. We'll go slowly so we don't wake it."
invisibilitea: (Annie - pleased)

[personal profile] invisibilitea 2015-01-14 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
She reaches and takes his hand, and squeezes tight. This is like Tim all over again, or it will be, if she ever has to give it back (ha ha). She smiles at him, then, pleased with herself, and starts heading towards the elevator.