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ataraxionlogs2015-06-08 12:00 am
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2015-06-08 12:00 am
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- ai enma,
- ailanne rei,
- allison argent,
- bail organa,
- brigid tenenbaum,
- captain hook (killian jones),
- cora hale,
- daryl dixon,
- death (discworld),
- death (sandman),
- derek hale,
- eleanor lamb,
- elizabeth,
- enfys llewelyn,
- fenris,
- firo prochainezo,
- garrett hawke,
- grant ward,
- hermione granger,
- ivan,
- jackson "jax" teller,
- karone,
- laura roslin,
- lee "apollo" adama,
- leo fitz,
- leonard "bones" mccoy (xi),
- maes hughes,
- max rockatansky,
- minho,
- nami,
- robin,
- scott mccall,
- skye,
- tadashi hamada,
- takeshi,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- thomas
forty-fourth 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: Awareness comes to you slowly in the smothering quiet of the blue fluid. In the light piercing through from the medical bay you realise there's a shadow, a figure stood at the glass of your gravcouch, a hand pressed to the surface just above your face. Fear spikes through your gut as waves of alien sensation crash into your mind, a rage that feels endless, all-consuming, furious, molten hatred that you know is for you.
When the fluid drains, door sliding open to deposit you on the medbay floor, you remember it. Remember it coming again and again, like a nightmare that plagued your sleep over and over, leaving you with no respite, no rest. Days. Perhaps even longer.
You remember that the light coming through from behind the shadow was red.
New arrivals will find messages spray-painted in red 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: Awareness comes to you slowly in the smothering quiet of the blue fluid. In the light piercing through from the medical bay you realise there's a shadow, a figure stood at the glass of your gravcouch, a hand pressed to the surface just above your face. Fear spikes through your gut as waves of alien sensation crash into your mind, a rage that feels endless, all-consuming, furious, molten hatred that you know is for you.
When the fluid drains, door sliding open to deposit you on the medbay floor, you remember it. Remember it coming again and again, like a nightmare that plagued your sleep over and over, leaving you with no respite, no rest. Days. Perhaps even longer.
You remember that the light coming through from behind the shadow was red.
New arrivals will find messages spray-painted in red 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
She hesitated. "Honestly, you don't look nearly as old as when I last saw you, Doctor."
no subject
"I am sorry everything is so confusing right now. Would you tell me your name please?"
no subject
"...I'm Eleanor Lamb." She said quietly, shifting to set her helmet down on the bench. Even if Tenenbaum didn't remember helping her, everyone in Rapture had known Eleanor's mother.
no subject
"You are...alive." She shakes her head. "You are alive and older.... I do not understand. I have been sending up little ones to the surface ever since Jack...... but you were not in any of the groups. I thought you dead."
no subject
"I...mother found me." She started. "Before the war grew as bad as it was, before...'Jack' arrived. She fixed me..." A quick breath. "Somewhat. I..."
The teen shook her head. "Doctor, that was eight years ago."
no subject
"I will try to understand that later but firstly you are saying your mother fixed you ...somewhat? You are not a little one anymore but you did not receive the plasmid I created. Do you know how your mother did this? I do not have the plasmid with me but if you are being affected in some way by the little sister processes still, I will do everything in my power to help you."
no subject
"Mother...she convinced Doctor Alexander to help," as Eleanor spoke, her hand shifted, pressing instinctively into her side where the slug resided. She knew it was there, even if she could never feel it when she tried to.
"They fixed my mind but..." She gave a little shrug. "I just had to grow up with the...rest of it."
no subject
"I am not sure how a thing is possible but ...Lamb was a resourceful woman." Lamb wasn't really someone Tenenbaum ever had to think much about, she probably knew more about her daughter as a little sister, as Tenenbaum herself never really got involved in politics till the end.
"I am sorry I was not able to find you to give you the full plasmid."
"But you were saying you knew me....why was I in Rapture eight years after....why is anyone still in Rapture?"
no subject
"It's not that complicated, Doctor. Most of the people left after Ryan and Fontaine were dead were splicers. There were only a handful of people with their wits still about them, and almost all of them were beholden to my mother."
She gestured in the air, her tone a bit anger. "We're you expecting some kind of orderly evacuation in a city with no government and no resources, run by a madwoman and populated by super powered drug addicts?"
Sorry Doctor, the more she talked, the more upset she sounded.
no subject
"I was expecting everyone to be dead."
She's also very blunt.
"Rapture was falling apart while we were trying to get out. I do not understand how it lasted another eight years."
no subject
"I don't know how it happened, I was...unconscious for a very long time. Mother usurped control of the Big Daddy's, they kept the rest of the city going, I guess. They were always out repairing this and that."
Another little pause and she shook her head before looking up again. "It doesn't matter. Rapture isn't-" She started to say 'your fault' but caught herself, because...honestly. A lot of it was.
"You came back to help us. Later on. Helped me."
no subject
"I know it is far too late, but I am sorry. ....for everything. I am hoping I have said this already but I will say it again just in case."
She won't harp on the subject because she doesn't want to make it about her guilt and her feelings because it isn't, she will never be able to undo her actions but she does want to let it known that she knows what she did was terribly, terribly wrong.
"I am glad ....I was able to help you in some way. Would you be able to tell me what I was helping you with?"
no subject
"It's a long story, Doctor. A long, unpleasant story that probably ended terribly since I'm here when I need to be there." The teen turned the helmet around in her arms, looking into the faceplate for a moment.
"So I suppose that doesn't matter either."
no subject
"Someone was telling me time ...freezes back home.. It sounds impossible I know but if it is true. There may be some hope.
After all if it does not, how am I able to be helping you when I am here now, years before it happens?"
no subject
"Anyway. Whatever is causing this, we both have to find our way back now."
no subject
"This is true. It will take more then one day I am sure. Perhaps it is best to look around and get what little answers the others have here."
no subject
The teen hesitated. Was she to trust this Tenenbaum? Ten years younger, fresh off of fleeing Rapture. She was a different woman. But maybe she would still do the right thing...
And she would need allies, here.
"...I will let you know what I find."