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ataraxionlogs2015-02-07 10:13 pm
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2015-02-07 10:13 pm
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- ai enma,
- allison argent,
- bellamy blake,
- bethmora fortescue,
- carl grimes,
- charles xavier,
- charlotte,
- chell,
- clarke griffin,
- cole,
- cora hale,
- cullen rutherford,
- darcy lewis,
- dean winchester,
- ellen ripley,
- ellie,
- england (arthur kirkland),
- evangeline de brassard,
- firo prochainezo,
- galadriel,
- harry potter,
- jennifer keller,
- john blake | au,
- l "ryuuzaki" lawliet,
- malia tate,
- minho,
- natasha romanoff,
- nill,
- nowi,
- nuala,
- odessa knutson,
- raven reyes,
- rebecca "newt" jorden,
- rick grimes,
- rikku | au,
- sam winchester,
- selina kyle,
- skye,
- sophie groeneveldt,
- taylor "tyke" kee
fortieth 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: Nothing unusual greets you as you wake from the grav couch this month. Disorientation and discomfort, but those are familiar in the process. As you shower and dress, you find yourself waiting for something to change, but nothing happens - it leaves a curious feeling of lack, as if someone important has turned their attention away from you. But it would be silly to feel bad about an easy jump, wouldn't it?
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: Nothing unusual greets you as you wake from the grav couch this month. Disorientation and discomfort, but those are familiar in the process. As you shower and dress, you find yourself waiting for something to change, but nothing happens - it leaves a curious feeling of lack, as if someone important has turned their attention away from you. But it would be silly to feel bad about an easy jump, wouldn't it?
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
Because really, technically, he found this room first so everything was his until he was done with it. So he thinks her logic is pretty dumb. But he's still feeling a cautious willingness to let her work around him so--]
Well, you don't have to. But if you want any, then you're gonna... [He starts, pausing briefly to look just slightly over to where he's already picked stuff from before pointing to the one area.
It's a safe distance away so they can work around each other and even though he'd taken some stuff from there already it was his just favorites so there's still good things left for the taking. He wouldn't feel guilty knowing that later.]
Have to wait or take whatever's over there. It's up to you.
no subject
Which isn't new, she's the baby of the Sky Box, people were always really bossy on Earth, or else left her alone like they thought she'd wet the bed if they slept anywhere near her (night terrors are a bitch, it makes it really hard to make friends) but this kid —
She looks him up and down, and purses her lips because he can't even be that much older than she is.
Dryly: ]
Do you own this kitchen?
no subject
Now childishly tense in reaction to her manner, he speaks assertively back,]
Doesn't matter. I was here first.
no subject
And sure, she'd stabbed one of the most idealistic people she'd ever met in the throat. But Wells Jaha was as close as she could get to killing Thelonious and her demons; Clarke and Bellamy... Well, if she ever could be like them, she'd like to be. ]
You're not the only person on this ship, it doesn't work like that.