ａｘｍｏｄｓ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ataraxites) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
"Well, if I was really inclined I know I'd go for the throat." Her lip twitches into a tiny smirk. "Straight for the kill -- and the delicious sweetbreads, of course."
If it wasn't obvious that she's joking, she wouldn't blame one for questioning her integrity.
no subject
He pokes at his own throat just to check.
no subject
That looks way worse typed out doesn't it?"Probably not in your scrawny neck, but yes, there usually is. Suppose some people really like it." She pauses. "For animals, mind you. Mostly."
Emphasis on the mostly part.
no subject
You dirty person you.Firo scowls at the thought that he might be lacking sweetbreads, but leaves his alone.
"People like to give it to animals or people like to eat it from animals?"
He raises both eyebrows, looking innocently confused and not at all like he's just trying to be difficult.
no subject
Not even sorry at all."From animals," she clarifies. "Never tried it before, though."
It wasn't exactly part of the culinary menu at the restaurants she'd been to in Chicago, and the years before that she never enjoyed food enough to have cared.
no subject
On a less creepy note... "Speakin' a tryin' things--you get to try anything else good while you were back home? Before your brother, you know. Got got."
no subject
She blinks, a somewhat clueless expression on her face. "Like what? You mean food?"
Things were happening so fast for a while there that she didn't even really have the time to notice.
no subject
The memory he saw. He still feels a little dirty talking about such an invasion out loud.
no subject
Rey stops to think. She doesn't really give much thought on the fact that Firo's actually seen parts of her that she's never cared to share with anyone. It's not like she has anything to hide from him, and she still feels that way.
"Suppose there were a few new things..." She pauses when she remembers the continental breakfast at the lodge, among a few other things -- such as a certain redhead she was sharing it with.
She bites the inside of her cheek, feeling her skin warm a little and looks away to try and hide the slight, very rare flushing of her face.
"Nothing special," she insistently adds.
ffff
no subject
He nudges her, grinning slyly. "Nothin' at all? Are you sure?"
Of course, Firo's assuming that she's blushing for some other reason. Maybe she's realized how weird some people might find her excitement over food and is embarrassed. Probably that.
no subject
That nudge he sends her is nothing new, but quite a few of the things she came back with are. Things that she's still not sure how to process yet and just didn't have the time to. Time that she will likely have now and doesn't know what to do with...
"Ah, yes. Sure," she says absentmindedly, turning her head over her shoulder to look at the rows of lockers leading the other way. "I should, um. Go check on Sophie."
Exit stage left is more like it.
no subject
Come on, Rey, it's not fair to slip off like that! But at the same time... Well, whatever is, if it winds up making her uncomfortable, he doesn't want to make it worse.
He doesn't realize that his shoulders slump a little and the corners of his mouth turn down, plainly showing his disappointment. "...Yeah, all right. Tell her hi for me."
no subject
Giving Firo a little wave over her shoulder, her legs start moving to go try and look for Sophie. So she's not entirely lying or making excuses there.
"Will do. We can talk about this later, okay?"
Okay.
no subject
He musters a smile as he waves back. "See ya."