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ARRIVAL ▒ 003
CHARACTERS: Any and all.
LOCATION: Basecamp, Medical and beyond.
WARNINGS: Implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: The Tranquility jumps again.
NOTES: Can be found at the bottom of the post.
LOCATION: Basecamp, Medical and beyond.
WARNINGS: Implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: The Tranquility jumps again.
NOTES: Can be found at the bottom of the post.
T H E C A M P ( C U R R E N T C H A R A C T E R S ) Dawn is just shy of breaking when the alarms start. The wailing is distant enough that many manage to sleep through it, but inevitably wake up to the long, piercing siren coming from the crashed, early morning shape of the Tranquility. The coming jump puts a feeling of nervous energy about the camp, but it's becoming a routine, and they know there are long hours until the jump sounds. People clear the surrounding area of effect, and otherwise go about their day. It's ten hours later when it happens. A tremble in the earth, shaking up through the trees, sending the jungle's wildlife into distressed flocks of movement and alarmed cries. Under the shrouded sun the wreck of the Tranquility begins to cord with lines of white light, threading across the hull like veins, some patches remaining dark, standing out against the vision like splotches burnt to the back of the eyelids. There's no great sound. In an instant, the ship is gone, a soft whomp, a feeling of air rushing past, the trees bending towards the site as if blown by a fierce wind. It's only a second. With a crack, the wreck returns, a rumble rolling through the air like thunder. The earth shakes. The trees tremble. The ship groans, the sound echoing out like the cry of a wounded beast. Everything turns white. M E D I C A L ( N E W A R R I V A L S ) You wake up, alone in the dark. There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Through the fog you can see shadows of movement, the muted sound of alarms crying. 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 suddenly dropped several feet onto the opposite wall. The impact is painful, winds you, and it takes several seconds to overcome and persuade uncooperative limbs to move. All around you is chaos: the sirens of alarms are shrieking in your ears, close and claustrophic in the wreckage of the medical bay you've awoken in, lit dim and red. Around you, others are waking up, falling from other gravcouches, stumbling to their feet. Light catches your eye, and you look up to see a huge rend in the outer wall high above you, overhung by broken structural beams and damaged cabling. Climbing up takes all the strength you have. You emerge in bleak, grey sunlight, surrounded by an immense, vast jungle. As your vision clears, you realize you stand on the hull of a colossal spaceship, crashed on an unknown world, two moons hanging heavy in the sky above. In the distance, far out on a great swathe of torn up earth through the jungle is the site of a camp. But there is no welcome party coming to greet you. Perhaps you are alone, or you encounter someone in the same situation, but regardless, you must make it down and away from the ship without the aid of anyone who knows what's going on. Should you choose to head for the camp, it's dead quiet. The men and women who have made this place their home are scattered around, in the midst of having gone about their day, but all of them are in a state of frozen catatonia. Entirely unresponsive to any kind of stimulus, they are as still and as unseeing as statues. Within two hours since you woke in the wreck of the ship, they suddenly and simultaneously begin to stir, regaining consciousness to a prompt nose bleed and the unsettling affect of lost time. N O T E S |
Tadashi Hamada | OTA
[Tadashi tries to shrug off the unease that comes whenever the alarms sound, signally the next jump. Even now that they're on the planet, he still has the gut instinct to race for the gravity couch. He imagines the urge is worse for those who were on board for longer than he was, but he hasn't asked.
He's on his way back from topping off the charge on his communicator when it happens--
--and then stumbles forward a step, dazed. His hand jumps to his mid-back, checking that his makeshift bag is still there -- still filled with his communicator and other personal items. Something drips, and he glances down to see the spot of blood on the ground.
Another drip as the pain of a headache breaks through the confusion. Tadashi lifts a hands to apply pressure to his nose, then stares at his hand and the blood on it as he takes it away again.]
What...?
[Nonplussed, he looks around, trying to spot someone else for an explanation.]
[Later, wherever you want to encounter him.]
[Tadashi is doing the usual - fiddling with some bit of tech and trying to get it back into working order. More and more, he's been doing this out in the open on evenings without rain. It seems like his seclusion is slowly ending.
The tool slips and he sighs, adjusting marginally for the light to hit his work better.
...yeah. He's still overworking and not sleeping enough. But that's getting all of you tech faster. So... you're welcome?]
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[Jemma's voice is gentle, tired after she got the nosebleed to stop and the headache to subside. She's been watching him for just a short time, drawn to the sight of someone working diligently with some technology. It brings back memories.]
Are you feeling alright?
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[The answer comes out automatically before Tadashi even fully registers who is talking or what they're saying. He's heard the same thing repeated by so many different people that answering is more a reflex now than anything else.
That should probably say a lot, but he's still trying to ignore how much he's overworking.
He glances up as soon as it sinks in that he was spoken to, and he offers a sheepish smile.]
Me? Sorry, yeah. How about you? [he asks, concerned now.] Did it happen to you, too?
[It seems to have been a camp-wide phenomenon, from what he's been hearing.]
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2 hours after the jump
She spots Tadashi, but is busy speaking with a newer arrival and isn't able to say hello. But as soon as she's free, she trots after him, blonde ponytail bobbing in time with her stride as she waves her arm over her head--
--and then her arm drop heavily to her side, numb.
What the hell?
There's something wet on her nose, and after she tries and fails to wipe it away with her numb arm, she uses the good one to rub at her face. Her fingers come away red, and her eyes widen. After just a moment's pause, she breaks into a sprint towards him.]
Tadashi!
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Just what is going on?]
Rikku! Are you hurt? What's wrong?
[And ignoring for a moment that he has a hand pressed to his nose as he jogs forward to meet her. Something has happened. The question remaining is going to be what.]
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Later
[Eleanor's question was a bit abrupt, especially considering the teen hadn't ever actually spoken to Tadashi, just seen him around. But with having recently finished a tinkering project of her own, well...she was curious.]
[She probably should've warned him before walking up behind and asking though, huh? Whoops.]
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He freezes with everything precariously balanced.
Slowly -- ever so slowly -- he returns to his seat and chances a surprisingly not embarrassed glance toward Eleanor (this scenario happens a lot). Her name doesn't come to mind immediately, even though he knows he's seen her around camp often enough.]
Oh, this? It's nothing, really. Just a busted sensor. If I can get it working, I might be able to find a way to get readings sent back to the main communications hub.
[Big if, but it's something to keep his hands and mind busy.]
I don't think we've ever officially met. [The boy offers his hand.] I'm Tadashi Hamada.
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Mike Munroe | OTA's All around!
Mike woke up in an instant wave of terror, but that's to be expected when you go from getting thrown by an explosion to — this. His eyes snap open and he's choking before he finally gets thrown again, only this time it's down and not forward. He hits the ground running, so to speak. Literally, almost. He gets his arms under him and scrambles, flight kicking fight's ass as he goes. By the time he hits the remnants of the medical bay, he's mortified to find himself — naked? What the fuck? What the fucking fuck? What're these blinking lights? This metallic room? This can't be happening.
Has he lost his mind?
Possible. Maybe he's in the middle of dying or some shit. He sure the hell hurts all over. He forgoes everything and grabs an abandoned jumpsuit, keeping to the shadows and holding his breath. Nobody's coming in here. It's all stripped of anything useful. By whoever. He thinks there's not many people in here with him; he can here a little clamoring, but not much, and he's not sure how much he trusts it.
He forces his aching muscles to move, shaking when he looks at his hands. Whatever the hell that blue shit is, it's still clinging to him, drying on his bruised flesh. The scrapes are all healed, sealed up, but he only just realized — remembered what happened to his fingers. Two of them are missing, sheared off and left with trembling stumps that aren't bleeding anymore, temporarily spared by the blue gunk's adhesive. He touches his hands to his face, his neck, his chest, finding injuries that are clean but throbbing violently. The ones on his chest... on his neck — shaped like claw marks.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
The climb out, once it's gone entirely quiet, is eerie to say the least. He isn't prepared for what he finds. Trees, okay — he was expecting forest, but not a fucking jungle. Not Tarzan, okay? Holy backflipping Christ.
The frozen people are something else together.
He wanders between them, stunned, waving his good albeit shivering hand in front of their faces. None of them respond — there's a lot of them, too. More than who was on the mountain. Kids, women, men. He must be hallucinating this. Gotta be something. Or has he been catapulted into some supernatural hell?
The other two who woke up with him may find him wandering here, but he's on edge, armed with his handgun and machete from home and swaying on his feet. So fucking tired... He has to get out of here. He doesn't know any of these people — they could be dangerous. Could be something fucked up.
Still shell-shocked, he goes into the jungle.
(OTA | the next day)
Mike isn't sure what he's doing right now. He's dressed up in his old clothes for the night, but he's sure to put on the jumpsuit too so he's warmer — but he's feeling exhausted, sick and torn the hell up. It suddenly occurs to him that he's got multiple injuries all over him that has been through some unsanitary shit. Maybe it's the goo that kept it from getting infected, but he's still out in the wilderness with nothing to bandage any of it with. No medicine or whatever. The ones on his neck needs stitches.
Where was he gonna find stitches? Something better to wrap his hand in, instead of a strip of jumpsuit? With that in mind, he... hesitantly wanders toward the camp, wondering if those creepy living statues had snapped themselves out of it. He's a hot mess when he reaches the outskirts, spying on everyone with a concerned eye.
"Jesus christ, where are you, Mike?" he asks himself.
This whole thing got a lot weirder.
Eventually he'll run into Octavia and get himself some treatment proper, and when he does, he can be found around camp officially. He's uncharacteristically quiet, sitting at a campfire with a scratchy old blanket around his shoulders and his arms crossed over his knees. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he's not sure where and when a decent time is to sleep.
It's hard. He's on edge. And he's thinking about what happened back home.
It's like that old song people made fun of, back home. One is the loneliest number.
And he supposes he's that one guy.
... Fucking sucks.
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Hopping up off her "seat" that is really just a large rock, Octavia straps her weapon to her back and heads towards the trees. She doesn't initially make it obvious that she's making a beeline for the new face, but eventually she does a quick turn and makes straight for him, holding her hands up in a sign of peace before she gets anywhere near him.
"Hey, hey." she shouts ahead of herself, squinting slightly at the guy as she approaches and tilting her head at him, "jeez, you look rough. You just arrive?"
Nice and friendly, then.
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well heeeeey!
He scrounges for clothes and manages to find his suit; the protective, unstable molecular structure of it ensuring that he's at least clothed when he decides to flame on again. Which is naturally what he does after he finishes exploring the weirdness that is the wreckage. Johnny has to get out of here, he has to know where he is beyond tinny, impersonal instructions looping over and over in his ear.
And if there are people here, he needs to know where the hell he is.
It's a stroke of luck that he spots someone heading towards the jungle, and it's small comfort when he flames on and speeds off towards him, landing only a few feet away. ] Hey! Hey, buddy!
FIFTY YEARS LATER I'm back from con 9_6
Next day
But this was a face he didn't recognize. "I'm afraid there are more questions than answers here." And yet he's calm. That's what happened when you simply accepted that nothing would ever make sense again.
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... I just noticed the drunk typo
bail parties too hard
If you had his life you would too
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Jungle (Two Hours Post-Jump) | OTA
Rather than prepping for any new arrivals, she has taken her leave in the wilderness, scouting for supplies or life of any sort that she could bring back to her tree-dome. She hikes with a bag slung over her shoulder and a combat knife in her hand good hand.
The white that follows the jump shakes Rey more than most. That isn't to say that others aren't shaken as much as her, but the blank void enveloping her vision sears a momentary panic through her. It isn't enough to spare her from the stillness. Her heart skips...
And skips.
Time itself has skipped, and she doesn't even know it yet.
When she blinks, the knife has fallen out of her hand, landed over the earth. Not that she's focused on the knife, or her bloody nose, or the fact that her head is pounding like someone's taken a rock to her skull. Her pulse races in her ears; the sudden wave of fear unlike anything Rey had experienced in a long while.
Without realizing it, her yells echo through the jungle. Recoils. Throwing her hands over her face until the white flash is gone, and all she sees is the back of her eyelids.
Part of her is thankful not to be at the camp, or around anyone, when vivid memories of a white light came flooding back to haunt her.
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William comes out from a screen of brush. There are a few leaves sticking to his shirt. He looks wild-eyed, human, something hilariously like stubble clinging to the long line of his jaw as he stabs a look about her. It takes him a moment to realize that she is alone and unharmed, and the reason why he might have thought otherwise becomes apparent when he says, "Jesus fucking Christ, Rey. You was screaming your bloody loaf off. You all right then?" His voice sounds hoarse. Perhaps from running, perhaps from disuse. He hasn't been at camp for months by now, and he dropped Takeshi off just recently.
His dark eyes search her face, and he makes no move to touch her even as he closes the distance across leaf litter. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
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req'd to mods about william being out-of-body, may be slow til hearing back
s'all good!
got it
eggselent!
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shall we wrap this one soon and do january things? :)
Wanda Maximoff | open
The second Wanda opens her eyes and feels the breathing tube, the fluid she's in, she's freaking out, which only increases the split-second after when she's tossed out of whatever she was in and hits a wall. Being without clothes on at the moment is the least unsettling part about this, and that's still pretty damn unsettling because she didn't do that. Or any of this. She learned her lesson from the first time why volunteering for weird shit is a bad idea, so this? All done without her agreeing to it. Not to mention how close and tight this place is, which is also doing wonders for her claustrophobia. She won't be making it out of this without having a panic attack, that's for sure.
The piercing sound of the alarms has her plugging her ears as much as she can as soon as she's able to move from the impact. She stands up, looks around and spots a jumpsuit, and pulls it on. Then she starts to climb out of whatever the hell she's in. It takes her several minutes longer than she'd have liked.
Once she's out, she looks around at what she can see of the environment. Aaaand this just got even weirder.
She makes it to the base camp, thankfully now in a much more comfortable and familiar outfit. She'd found her clothes all scattered around the areas beyond the ship. People are frozen, and not responsive. That leads to yet another uneasy feeling in her -- why isn't she frozen too?
[later]
A few hours later, after people are unfrozen, Wanda cautiously approaches someone. Anyone. Though if she does see a face that looks familiar, she will definitely approach them. Where she finds the person doesn't matter, really. She's all over.
"What... is this place?" She asks of them. That question alone makes it painfully obvious she's new, though the confused and concerned expression that is still on her face also does it. She has around a million more questions, but that one is a start. She's not sure where this is, what it is, what she's supposed to be doing, or how she got here.
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She softens though. The question is clearly one from a new arrival, and anyway the camp is small enough now that it's easy to pick out newcomers. Her expressions slips slightly, into something less angry and more sympathetic, and Octavia doesn't smile exactly, but she does offer a half hearted twitch of one side of her mouth. Real friendly there, O.
"I'm not exactly sure. I don't think anyone really knows," she admits, and that's not exactly the greatest thing to hear when you've just woken up on a wrecked spaceship on a two-mooned murder planet, but there you go. "Some of the people here, they crashed the ship. Accidentally, obviously. The jump drive is still fritzing, that's why you're here."
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And besides, this is his new team. They don't always understand it, but they are.
They're in this together!
So when he walks over, he's determined.
...
And also really short, so probably not noticeable right off the bat. He's the size of a four year old despite having a few mental years ahead of it, and a puny four year old at that. It's complicated. Don't worry about it.
"Are you doing okay! Do you need water? I can get you water."
He's a good retriever.
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[later]
Honestly, he's still not over that they've literally outgrown him. Having a few years on him is one thing, but he's rather petulant about going from around the same height to several inches shorter in the space of what feels like a night.
That aside, he's busy twirling his wand, sauntering through camp to find something useful to get himself mixed up in when he sees Wanda. He stops long enough to hear her question, head tilted slightly to one side before he grins.
"Here? I think it's gotten dubbed with a few names so far, but between you and me they're all rubbish. Some dodgy planet is about all I know -- you're new?" He offers a cocky bow, then glances up to judge her reaction. "James Potter, at your service."
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He's off to the side hours after the jump, blood wiped fro his nose and headache pounding at his skull. She might not spot him first, but he certainly sees her. For a moment, his heart aches. Deep breaths, Barton. Deep breaths.
"Hey," he starts, calling out to her. "Wanda?"
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charles xavier. ota.
Around him, psychic confusion seems to lift from the camp like a sudden stir of flies.
His hand reaches to where his dog was lying a moment ago. Gone, now, with only some vague paw-like marks in the dirt to show for it. He lifts a hand to wipe knuckles across his mouth where he feels damp has gathered -- and pulls a crimson streak of blood across his face as a result -- during the slow process of collecting himself as his heart begins to hammer a little faster, unraveling his efforts.
This isn't his day, particularly, feeling particularly underslept, and moving -- up onto his feet, careful and clumsy -- as if his own bones are uncomfortable in his body. Torn between seeking his friends and checking they're alright, and getting the hell away from psychic noise, he makes for the perimeter even as he scans about.
Realising there's blood on his face, and fussily using a sleeve to clean himself. ]
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Charles? [ Relief colored her voice as she came across him, and she almost didn't believe it until she was beside him and it wasn't just recognition of the messy brown hair, but also the coolness of his eyes. His air of calm was shattered, worn down by exhaustion and weeks of strained survival. ] What happened to you? [ Without a second thought, she reached for his face, unable to restrain her concern that it was his own blood he wore. ]
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As such, he doesn't have any immediate tells to let him know time has passed. One minute, he's in his hammock, lazily listening to the sound of the ship popping back into existence, and then... nothing.
He blinks rapidly, hoisting himself higher in the hammock as the feeling that something's wrong washes over him. The wind seems different. The lighting is all wrong.
Ai winces as the movement irritates the sudden pounding in his head, but he keeps going, tilting the hammock until he drops to the ground, slowing his fall so that he lands solidly, but not painfully.]
Seven hells... Now what?
[Camp probably has the answer. Reluctant as he is to go find it, he moves toward the center of things, away from the tree line and closer to the perimeter. He stops when he spots a familiar face.]
Oi. You. Damsel in distress. What's happening?
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base camp, a few hours later.
He keeps an eye out for the rest of the Fantastic Four, wondering where they are and if they've missed him yet. Surely, he would've heard something from them by now, unless he's the only one whisked away?
He wanders through the camp, more curious and fascinated than afraid, taking in every detail just in case. He'd skipped the whole grubby flightsuit nonsense, sticking to his uniform even if he stands out like a pretty sore thumb (might as well let someone who needs it more wear it, right? Johnny's just going to burn through the ugly thing anyway); but he isn't paying much attention to where he's going with a shiny contraption catches his eye, and he accidentally bumps into someone.
He instinctively reaches out to steady them. ]
Whoa, sorry. Didn't see where I was going.
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He must just have one of those faces.
She tosses her hair out of her eyes (she really needs to cut it), and takes a step back with a small, slightly sheepish, smile. ] Me either. I guess that's why they say you shouldn't text and drive.
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She's not quite sure what just happened, but he's probably one of the cutest guys she's ever seen? It doesn't make her headache go away, but it makes him literally running into a little bit better. ] Um. No, it's fine, I was just kind of standing there in the way. I'm sorry.
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I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE BEE
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It's okay. Sometimes I forget I'm more solid here.
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