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ataraxionlogs2014-09-08 12:00 am
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-09-08 12:00 am
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- aaron doral,
- alex summers | au,
- alison hendrix,
- arya stark,
- benny lafitte,
- caprica six,
- captain hook (killian jones),
- caroline forbes,
- castiel,
- charles xavier,
- cora hale,
- death (discworld),
- derek hale,
- elizabeth of york,
- erik lehnsherr,
- fenris,
- firo prochainezo,
- gwen stacy,
- harry osborn,
- helena,
- ichabod crane,
- ilde knox,
- ivan,
- james 'bucky' barnes,
- james vega,
- jean grey,
- jennifer keller,
- josias st. john,
- katniss everdeen,
- kieren walker,
- lily potter,
- milagros gallo,
- peeta mellark,
- raven reyes,
- remus lupin,
- robin hood,
- sally malik,
- simon monroe,
- simon tam,
- taylor "tyke" kee,
- the warden (samara amell),
- zoe washburne
thirty-fifth 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: You wake feeling cold and alone. There is a strange sense of emptiness, and the jump holds no surprises for you. There is nothing buffering the jump sickness and disorientation for you this month, and those still suffering the lingering effects of August's plot may find it more difficult than usual to get through the post-jump routine.
New arrivals will find messages spraypainted across their lockers telling them not to follow their tattoo numbers, and instead to find a room on Floors 001-010.
----------------
You wake up in darkness.
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.
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. 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.
This is your welcome party.
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: You wake feeling cold and alone. There is a strange sense of emptiness, and the jump holds no surprises for you. There is nothing buffering the jump sickness and disorientation for you this month, and those still suffering the lingering effects of August's plot may find it more difficult than usual to get through the post-jump routine.
New arrivals will find messages spraypainted 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.
Lockers, OTA
But eventually, he makes it from the pods to the showers. And from there to his locker. He pulls on a new shirt, as obnoxious as his last, with a mere shrug. It certainly looked to be his.
But then there's the pictures. Most have Zoe. Some have other members of the crew. And every last one of them shows a baby girl.
He just stands there, going through the pictures. With a very confused look on his face.]
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A baby. And he could see traces of the baby's mother and father in her right away...]
... She's a gorgeous child.
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[Could she be his? Zoe had always said they would make a beautiful baby. And he'd never really been able to argue with that one.]
Never seen her before though.
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{He continues going through the photos, studying the child.]
Just... no clear on how that reason came to being.
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May I? I want to have a closer look.
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Go ahead.
[Any insight would be appreciated here.]
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None of these scenes are familiar to me, so... so this must have happened after I was pulled here. But she has to belong to you and Zoe...
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[The colouring was all Zoe. Didn't surprise him. But something about the face.
One cute baby.]
We've been talking about it.
[Arguing]
Hadn't decided on anything yet.
[He was still being stubborn.]
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[Simon is quiet for a moment at that, but tries to sound casual as he replies:]
I'd had no idea you were even considering one... but it seems like you were able to come to an agreement.
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Never was any good at saying no to her. Not for long, anyway.
[Evidence that hadn't changed.]
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She can be quite persuasive, can't she? Of course, she is your wife, too- and your baby had plenty of willing hands to help. It takes a village, after all.
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[Presumably he'll find out, someday. Kaylee would certainly be excited about the whole thing.]
Persuasive isn't the half of it. I used to have a mustache.
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... A mustache? You? What made you decide to get rid of it?
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[His child's lucky to have her as an auntie. Any child would be lucky to have her as a mother
The mustache was very simple.]
The words "No way in hell am I kissin' that thing.".
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[So he could raise his child- or children- and give them things he felt like, in retrospect, he had lacked growing up. But again, that was a thought for another time, and he laughed.]
I should have figured. I hope Zoe does appear here some day... it must be hard to be separated from her.
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[Looking at that baby, he's already having a hard time remembering why he objected. He didn't expect to feel like this. A goofy smile comes over his face.]
I miss her constantly. She's... amazing. I wish I could talk to her about this.
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And in the meantime? Enjoy a glimpse of what might be.
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[Well. His mind is pretty made up now.]
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It's a rare opportunity, isn't it? I hope I get the chance to meet her some day, too.
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[ANy more than he can imagine not meeting her himself]
Zoe wouldn't want another doctor, if she had a choice.
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I hope I do get to do the honors, then. I have had some experience delivering babies, after all.
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[He'd trust Simon to deliver their child. Without a second thought.]
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Instead, he offered the photo he was holding back.]
Listen, I do not mean to be rude, but I need to get back to the medbay... see if everyone is recovering well.
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[He'll go... look at these pictures some more. And wonder why they showed up like that.]
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