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ataraxionlogs2015-11-08 06:10 pm
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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 |
no subject
Biochem. Though my scientific interests are varied. You're obviously into technology. My- [She falters] That was the specialty of someone very dear to me.
[Somehow the pain is less when she puts it that way, and it's still true.]
Oh, not in the way that we did when we first crashed. But apparently I had been on board the ship once before, for some months. Only...I don't remember it. But I've heard that wasn't uncommon.
no subject
Instead, he focuses on her latter comment.]
Really? Huh. There's still a lot about the ship I still don't know. It's all a little outside of my expertise.... [And for clarity's sake, going off of the earlier part of their conversation:] Biomedical engineering and robotics is the end goal, but I'm still going to college.
no subject
[Jemma hazards a guess, smiling warmly at him. There are so many things he could do between the two, limitless things. He could become a skilled surgeon, or invent machines that could extend or even save lives.]
I wish you'd met Fitz. Or even been at the academy with us. Which college were you attending?
no subject
San Fransokyo Institute of Technology. We have a really talented faculty. I'm lucky I got to attend. Which academy did you go to?
no subject
[She sees the signs of modesty. And she doubts it's luck on his part, more like natural talent and hard work that got him in.]
Sci-Tech. It was Shield's Academy of Science and Technology. I started going there when I was seventeen.