ataraxionlogs | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
LOCATION: MED BAY
WARNINGS: ... Partial nudity? It should be pretty tame, but let me know if I need to add anything.
SUMMARY: Side-effects of a jump may include disorientation and temporary memory loss. Fortunately, there are a handful of others who have been through this before.
NOTES: Yes, it's a rehashing of the game premise. Don't worry, you can personalize your own (re-)introduction!

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. 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.

Don't worry, you are not alone. There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. They will help you through your disorientation, even though they might suffer from it too.

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.

This is your welcome party.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He has that bleary, heavy feeling, like he nearly drowned to death and is just now waking up again - he can’t remember how that had happened, but it’s a familiar enough sensation that it’s comforting in an absurd kind of way. It takes him a few moments to realize that, hey, he’s still underwater. Well, that’s real damn annoying, but whatever.

Two seconds later he falls right out of the grav couch and hits the floor with low grunt, eyes flying open to see - nothing.

Immediately he sucks in a breath and scrambles back against the nearest surface, pulse racing, ignoring how sick the motions make him feel because goddamnit he has no idea what is going on and he wants his back against something. Anything. Even if it feels like metal and is fucking freezing.

He coughs - his throat burns - twists to glance around, straining to see and coming up with nothing. He can hear voices, though, and isn’t sure if that’s bad or good. But either way, he doesn’t wanna just sit here doing nothing, so he rakes his dripping hair out of his face and croaks out a “Hey” that even he can barely hear.

...well that sucked.

Japan had still been recovering from the feeling himself when that raspy hey brings back a certain memory. Yes, somehow the sense of having needed to recall that came up, but he brushes the oddness of that away to turn towards the voice. Maybe if the situation were any less serious he'd be more concerned with embarrassment, but for now there's just a worried and surprised sort of expression.

"Holland-san?" He's shocked to find it coming out rather airy, himself.

Oh. He knows that voice, foggy as his mind is right now - a few memories flit through mind with no effort, but mostly he's worried about finding Japan. He whips his head toward the voice, clearing his throat and rubbing at his eyes, like that'll get his vision to clear any faster.

"Yeah," and because he's paranoid, he has to double-check: "This is Japan, right."

"Yes..."

He's so out of shape. Really out of shape, to the point where he's still not quite out of the just-crashed-into-the-floor pose. But Holland is familiar, and anything familiar right now is welcoming, so he'll make an effort to at least turn towards him.

And he finds him, thankfully, and flops against the wall next to him with a rather heavy sigh. He's too old for this...

"...Are you alright?" Perhaps he'd be more formal than using 'you' later, but he's still trying to get his mind straight.

He sighs and leans his head back against the wall, relieved even though he can barely see. If Japan's around it must not be that bad, even though he can't remember a damn thing that would explain why they're here.

He only jumps a little when he feels the thud Japan's body makes against the wall.

Something about the question seems off to him, but whatever. "I feel like shit." With that he turns his head, still keeping it against the wall. "Howbout you."

Japan's already looking at Holland, tired but obviously confused as he tries to piece everything together. He'll take a moment to pause after that return of the question. It's long enough that the usual formality returns as a priority of sorts, and he sighs as if... relaxing more. As relaxed as he can be in this scenario, at least.

"Ah... I cannot say I am much better." He'll leave it at that, eyes tracing from Holland down to his own arm. Eyeing the tattoo. "...I am not sure what this all means."

He's used to waiting for a response from Japan, and since they don't seem to be in immediate danger he uses the time to glance at the area around them as his vision becomes clearer. While he really wants to look over and scrutinize his friend instead, he's pretty sure it'd just make the guy nervous. So he doesn't, and idly wishes for a cigarette.

Damn - he slumps a little - he was hoping at least one of them had a clue. "Y'don't either, huh." He can finally see well enough to follow Japan's gaze, and as soon as he spots the tattoo he's checking his own arm. It's there. He holds his arm out, wrist-up, grimacing and nodding to it - an unvoiced hey, look, I've got one too.

A few blinks, and then general recognition as he glances between Holland's arm and his own. Similar, but different. Some sort of labeling...? He gives his arm a few determined scrubs to try and remove the offending mark before giving up and frowning fixedly at it.

"I don't recall..." Whatever he had meant to finish that sentence with (if anything in particular) is cut off as he trails off and peels his gaze away from his arm, looking around the room. He's realizing there are a lot more people than he had originally been able to notice. All reacting in a relatively similar manner.

"It seems we are not alone." A pause, and he takes another moment to soak it all in. The strange liquid, the soreness in his throat, the fact that some things still seemed a bit foggy but they were all there, somewhere... and the lack of clothing.

Right.

He exhales lightly, still catching up with his breathing as he turns his head back to Holland. His expression reads clear what do we do about this? but he also seems aware that Holland can't know that for sure. Still, he's stuck on what to say now.

He only holds his arm out long enough to be sure that Japan got the idea, and as soon as the scrubbing begins he's yanking it back to get a closer look, himself. It makes him flash cold to look at it, but he shoves that down, giving the numbers an experimental prod or two, instead.

Before he's reached a conclusion that is something more complicated than this sucks, Japan speaks, and his gaze and attention snap back to the rest of the room. He gives a little grunt of a agreement, but he's still fuzzy and doesn't have a comment on the rest of the crowd, yet.

Or much of a comment at all, really, once he catches that gaze. Words are overrated anyway. He looks around the room one more time, shrugs, and unfolds himself.

"Gonna try standin'," is all he supplies before he hauls himself up the wall - once he's leaning against it and sure the world has stopped moving, he holds out a hand. Y'know. Just in case.

Japan is somehow stuck on the idle worry that he won't be allowed in public bath houses anymore when Holland speaks again and draws his attention. He looks over with a bit of concern until it seems that Holland is stable enough, and then eyes the hand sheepishly before taking it and working himself up to stand as well.

Already he's looking around to room to sort of steady his vision, though he makes note of the direction most are heading.

"We may need to head that way." A look back to Holland. "Ah... whenever Holland-san is ready to, that is." He says that as if he's ready himself, but he's the one staring nervously down at himself, and then around the room in surveillance.

He's a little surprised the offer is taken, but tries his best not to show it, overcompensating and looking rather severe because of it.

Luckily his glare is directed toward the nearest doorway as he follows the movements of both Japan's gaze and those of the passengers. A nod of agreement, but the second statement gives him pause. He sees enough out of the corner of his eye to be unsure as to whether Japan is ready or not... but at the same time he's a bit ruffled.

He chews on his lip, and again wishes for a damn smoke.

"We'll go slow," he finally huffs, and turns toward the door, takes a step alongside the wall, another step - so far, so good.

By now, Japan's gotten used to that rough exterior of Holland's. Even so, he has a bit of trouble realizing when others are surprised or even effected at his own gestures if they aren't extremely obvious. A simple acceptance of an overly kind gesture from Holland seemed nothing worth noting in Japan's eyes-- why would he take notice? And similarly, that comment made with less consideration than what it could have used...

Well, he tries his best to be polite, and the times he aren't are usually slip ups in favor of his own pride. For now, he nods and notices nothing particularly wrong except the most obvious Strange Situation, and moves along with his friend towards the door.

"Surely those numbers have meaning..."

He breaks the silence of their movement with that. An brief thought that's settled into his mind and turned into a worry of sorts. Japan isn't exactly a quiet nation, but he's one who doesn't speak unless it's necessary. ...Usually. It's different in some cases, and one of those 'cases' happens to be Holland. He doesn't mind speaking his worries or thoughts.

But really... Those numbers. He was 008. Holland seemed to be a number a bit higher than that... 26? What did that mean for each of them? He'll just frown as his imagination takes that further.

He pauses mid-stride, because it's an ingrained habit for him to look at people when they're talking, and walking and talking aren't really compatible right now. A blink back, a grumpy gaze at his own forearm, and a grunt just to say that he heard and acknowledged that - he muses over it for a moment.

"Maybe."

He slows down and looks at it again, nearly runs into the doorway, because he really is thinking those words over. Huffs at himself and peers in - lockers, and plenty of people pulling things out from them. But most importantly...

"...they're numbered."

Lockers... numbered lockers. Was that the only purpose for the number? Or were plenty of things run in this way. And why?

He peers around, and then not getting a good enough view from behind Holland, manages to step around and inside, staring around for either of their numbers. "Ah... so it seems..."

It's rather easy to run into his own number, actually, but he spends a considerable amount of time just staring at it and wondering what could be inside rather than anything useful. He realizes this soon enough and gives Holland a glance before opening it.

The uniform is the most startling thing, but as he looks around again he notices a few people wearing them. Then there's a wooden sword, an issue of JUMP, a folding fan, his glasses...

He takes out the suit and holds it up questioningly to Holland.

"...How strange."

He's not surprised when he's stepped around, nor is he surprised with the contents of Japan's locker. It's a bit reassuring - until he realizes that Japan probably has no idea why the hell that stuff is here, either.

The uniform is the least strange thing, to him. Everyone seems to have one. That Japan comments on it first, though, doesn't surprise him much.

He gives it a once over, then crosses his arms and peers around him, at the rest of the locker.

"I guess. I wanna know how they got your stuff."

It raises alarm bells.

...That's a point. A point that draws Japan's attention enough to lower the suit and stare back at the locker, expression changing to a more nervous one. Well, now he was worrying about that too... How did they find his bokken? Or that particular sensu...

...

His glasses in particular was an odd thing. But ignoring that odd realization, he turns to Holland, still holding the suit close. As a... cover for now.

"Ah..." Trying to wipe that nervousness. "What is in Holland-san's?"

He notices both the hesitance and the nervousness, and decides not to comment, flicking his gaze away to where he thinks his own locker must be. Not that he particularly cares about wandering around in his underwear, but goddamn, he's cold - and it's a valid concern.

His own locker isn't too far from Japan's. He hears the sharp click as it unlocks upon his approach, yanks it open, more curious about what the hell is in there than he is cautious about why it opened like that.

Wallet, scarf, his belt - he'll check that in a moment - the same jumpsuit, but much larger. He lays it over his forearm and pulls out his poetry book, thumbing through the pages before glancing over again.

He has absolutely no idea, either, and his paranoia is written all over his face.

In the time Holland is taking to investigate his locker, Japan will move over and hover a bit behind, putting on his suit with a variety of uncomfortable frowns. Why was this so tight fitting... At least it would do for now. With that finished, he looks over just in time to notice the book in particular, and takes a few steps closer to try and peer at it.

That paranoid expression is noted as well, and while Japan is just as worried now, he wants to do his best to help Holland. Somehow, at least. So he'll fold his arms awkwardly, still not entirely used to not having sleeves to slide his hands into, and look up to him. "Perhaps it will be clear in time... That seems to be the pattern so far."

The book is entirely in Dutch, but it's easy to tell it's poetry from the formatting. He'd offer it over, maybe, but he's somewhat distracted by the fact that Japan has somehow put on an entire suit while he was busy sticking his nose in his locker.

Not that it makes him look any less concerned.

He chews his lip as he looks back. He doesn't wanna wait. "I'd rather know now." And with that he's diving back into his locker, only to find something that looks like a cell phone, and definitely isn't his. He might have Philips, but he knows phones are Japan's thing.

So he thrusts it over, sure that Japan will figure it out faster than he will.

He's a ninja he can do this okay.

Ninja suit putting-on skills aside though. He was about to try and come up with something to make this better (and fail miserably again), but instead he accepts the device. Oh? What's this? A quick glance at his own locker and he realizes there's one in there, as well, but he'll work with what's in his hand for the time being.

"A phone?"

'Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters.'

"...It seems as if it won't work just yet. Ah, but there are instructions." He offers it back to show Holland before moving to gather his own things. Ignoring the throbbing in his head and a bit of dizziness, things were... clearer now. Somewhat.

He opens his mouth to say, well yeah, it looks like it - and suddenly he hears the automated instructions, snaps his mouth shut.

Cautiously, he takes it back, and glances back and forth between his locker and Japan, wondering if his friend got the same device.

"Do ya have one?"

He sounds casual, but he looks worried, and busies himself with pawing through the things in his own locker. Upon rifling through his belt pocket he finds tobacco, and nearly cracks a smile for it.

"It seems so." He holds it up as proof before glancing around to be sure he obtained everything from the locker. "I believe they may connect to each other, but it's impossible to test here."

It just keeps repeating that they should take the lift. And so he'll look to Holland. He wonders just where that lift takes them... Or rather, what it takes them to. Anything chaotic? With these items, it doesn't seem so, but the suits are rather... Hm.

In the meantime he's finally getting around to putting on his jumpsuit, leaving the crew-issue boots in the locker and yanking on his own. He looks over as he finishes it off by wrapping his scarf around his neck. It's only slightly better - he still feels awkward in the uniform.

He flicks his eyes toward the lift, busy thinking of ten thousand ways this could end badly, but there's not much of a choice. What're they gonna do, hang out in the locker room forever?

"Maybe we can talk t'someone up there." For most people that would've been something more like Why the hell are we still down here, c'mon, and even though the words are nicer, he still sounds gruff and impatient.

Turning his bokken over in his hands, he frowns thoughtfully before looking over at Holland's words. Right, it was about time to get moving. Towards good or bad, standing here was no good.

"Perhaps so..." He nods and moves over towards the lift.

It's probably good to have the bokken around, and he's of half a mind to ask how skilled Japan is with it...

Immediately, he follows, walking more slowly than usual as he paws through his belt pouch. He makes a small, surprised sound when he comes across a tiny tin of hair wax - hell yeah.

Open!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Fell asleep!

ehehe good morning! or afternoon!

Most certainly afternoon! o/