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ataraxionlogs2015-04-08 12:00 am
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2015-04-08 12:00 am
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- bail organa,
- bethmora fortescue,
- booker dewitt,
- carl grimes,
- carlisle longinmouth,
- daryl dixon,
- elsa,
- evangeline de brassard,
- feuilly,
- firo prochainezo,
- hoban "wash" washburne,
- jemma simmons,
- john blake | au,
- kyle crane,
- leia organa,
- leo fitz,
- lúthien,
- muscovy,
- raven reyes,
- rebecca "newt" jorden,
- rick grimes,
- robin,
- sebastian vael,
- skye,
- the warden (mira tabris),
- valya,
- zoe washburne
forty-second 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: There's a strange sense of contentment that greets you as you wake from the jump. Deep and certain, it doesn't warm you or cloak the unpleasantness of the stasis fluid on your skin and the disorientation spinning in your head. It feels disconcertingly distant, instead, a sense as though an answer has been decided on - and that you won't much like to experience it coming to fruition...
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: There's a strange sense of contentment that greets you as you wake from the jump. Deep and certain, it doesn't warm you or cloak the unpleasantness of the stasis fluid on your skin and the disorientation spinning in your head. It feels disconcertingly distant, instead, a sense as though an answer has been decided on - and that you won't much like to experience it coming to fruition...
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.
Lockers ETC / OTA
Not everything is happy. He has lost Rhys. No, not lost. He knows where Rhys is, which is not here. He's sad, of course, he misses his friend, but he knows Rhys is safe now, and he knows Rhys does not hate him. All things considered, Cole is actually coping very well.
He's still just a bit anxious, though. So he goes to search for his friends, just to be sure... as well as anyone else who might need his help.]
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Those shoes.
Levi's hardly one to talk about 'out of place' (considering he's sporting the suit himself and it's a pretty far cry from the sorts of things he prefers) but wow is that how Cole looks to him now.
He spots him just as he's tugging his own boots on, eyes initially drawn by the tangle of laces, and addresses him with a frown and a hand pointed in their direction. His own problems are, for the moment, pushed aside in favour of dispensing some helpful advice:]
You can't leave them like that. You'll trip.
[He can picture it now and it's not pretty, so... Heads up, brat. Can't go around fixing people with a broken face!!]
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Probably. [He is taking carefully large steps to make sure that any trailing edges don't get caught underfoot. But look, okay, look, it's vaguely bow shaped. It's tied. He did it by himself. You don't understand the level of improvement going on here.]
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...So fix it.
[Unfortunately Levi's hardwired to tell people what to do and so he can't help 'offering a suggestion'- he doesn't have a kiddie to train or a superior to bother anymore here, and so spirit boy will have to do. Lucky Cole!!
:( ]
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Not. Something he'd expected.
Then again... Cole looks human, but he isn't, and so Levi supposes it's not much of a stretch for there to be things he's clueless about and not just limited to social interaction.
He raises his eyebrows a bit at 'helping me reason with them', though. Are you fucking with him Cole...]
Obviously they need a firmer hand.
[...This is true of most things, in Levi's humble opinion.]
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I can't with him
He has to learn eventually.
PITY PARTY OF ONE, RIGHT HERE.]Whatever. Suit yourself.
[Knock your teeth out all over the tile- it's no skin off his ass.]
aw shit levi brace yourself
[The words seem like a non sequitur, even with the sincerity to them. What could he be sorry for?]
I lost someone too. Well, he's not lost. I know where he is. It isn't here anymore.
[Oh. That.]
CRIES
That day is not today, and Levi frowns for a moment before Cole clarifies.
Yeah. That.]
Back home, then?
[It's half-hopeful; their home isn't a great place for Eren- who'd be returning to more suffering than Levi'd been able to express to him in such a short time, or for Erwin, who will be greeted with a titan's jaws and a hangman's noose and more... But somehow even that's preferable to the nothingness that's the only other option his mind is capable of supplying for him.]
Your friend, and mine.
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Because Levi knows what he's saying to be true- lived through it himself in the brief time he'd been back to his own world before being whisked to this death trap- but still... The external reminder is something he'd needed to hear.
It doesn't fix his problem, though, the problem of finding himself so alone for the first time in almost a year. He knows he doesn't really have the time to feel sorry for himself, but it's happening anyway.
And he's not particularly proud of it.]
This friend of yours. [He finishes doing up his own boots- blessedly free of laces to tangle in the first place- then looks up at Cole with a slight frown.] Are things better for him where he is now?
[Given the perpetually fucked state of the Tranquility it might sound like a stupid question... But you never know. Are titans worse than what happens here...? It's not so black and white for everyone on board.]
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I miss Rhys, but I know he doesn't hate me now, and I know he's safe too. It's alright to wish someone was here instead of away, though. Even if they're safer not here.
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It's not.
[Not that that's gonna stop him from doing it, though. Wishing Erwin and Eren hadn't vanished. It's selfish... But then again he's no saint and so it shouldn't surprise him that he's unable to shove that wish aside entirely.]
But your friends- that timeline shit is pretty annoying, but good news is good news. [Of course, the news Erwin had given him about their world was, predictably, skewed in a negative direction, and that other man on the network had been told he'd been killed...
But at least some places aren't totally fucked, he supposes.
Shoving up from his bench, he moves along the now-familiar path to his locker. It isn't that he expects to find anything there, but...
You never know. Fortescue had found her cat, and the thought of something alive being stuck in there to rot because he was lazy doesn't sit well with him at all.]
u brought this on yourself brosef
You think that if you want it that it'll make it happen somehow. That it'll be another bad thing you're responsible for, like them dying... but it isn't. It's out of your hands. You aren't responsible, and you can't do anything to change it. Your wanting won't make it happen, your feelings aren't wrong. You aren't alone here.
;__; also wow sorry for the screeching halt in tags jfc
And unfortunately, as the one who seems intent on poking at precisely that, Cole's earned himself a scowl... Though somewhere under the too-familiar grief of losing more people Levi knows his intentions are good... And that he's right.]
...I need a drink. [He slams his locker door shut with more force than is necessary, wincing at such an obvious display, at how clear it must be that Cole's struck a nerve.] Don't follow me.
[He turns, then, begins to head toward the lift, but while he doesn't stop he does call out over his shoulder:]
And fix your damn shoes.
[You wrangle those laces, Cole!! Levi has faith in you.]
your tags are worth waiting foooor
He's back in the shadows between real and not real before Levi is out the door. He's got other things that need taking care of. He can find Levi later. When he is less angry.]
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He'd dressed, and was on his way out of the locker room, as usual, not finding anything there (not a bad thing), when he found Cole, looking a little lost. While he wasn't sure what to make of the spirit, in all good conscience, he couldn't walk past him.]
Are you alright, Cole?
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But that would be a lie. He doesn't understand lies that help like truths let. He can hear the echos along the webs of pain that connect Sebastian's heart to Elthina's, even to Anders'.
It is already too late. It always has been.]
Ripples in a pond. Far enough away you never knew the stone was dropped until the waves are upon you. The words say to endure, did the hand that write them endure or were they words written to bring comfort when nothing else would?
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Only the Maker and Andraste know what suffering they went through, that led to those words.
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