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)
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.
no subject
Besides the helpful guidance about sleeping quarters, it seems to be every man for himself, a bit. Well, for the new ones, at least.
[He's confident in the assumption that some of those emerging are used to the routine of it. There's a general feeling of 'oh, this again' he suspects would be hard to fake among so many. If someone wants to be helpful, though, Ivan isn't going to discourage confirmation - or context, for that matter.]
no subject
Helpful, ain't it? Too bad they made it look so creepy.
[After all those freaky paintings in the hallways, though, he'll never be able to take paint the same way again.]
Well, if you want a welcomin' party, here it is. First thing's first, you're stuck here, so you'll hafta get used to the place.
[He feels cold springing it on the guy, but he's found it's best to just get that part out of the way.]
no subject
Do you mind if I ask how long you've been here, assuming you know?
no subject
[He pulls up his sleeve to show his tattoo; the first number is an "11," right after a chunk that reads "OPR".]
I was here since the 11th jump. Of course, there was one that supposedly lasted a whole year that none of us remember, so I'm not even sure how to tell you how many years I've been here.
[This is worse than prison in that way. At least time sort of made sense there, though it wasn't any fun doing it.]
no subject
no subject
[Though the lights in the Passengers' Quarters, supposedly, tell when it's "night" and "day".]
It's... I think it's about a month.
no subject
[Thoughtful:]
Do people seem to age?
no subject
[He'd look at himself for an example, but the elixir and his own cursed young looks don't help at all. He shrugs.]
I never thought I'd say I hadn't been here long enough... But in this case, I haven't been around long enough to tell. Does it matter?
[He's not as paranoid as some immortals, but he has to wonder why this guy cares.]
no subject
[He sounds mildly amused.]
You know Einstein? He theorized that the speed at which you move through space affects the speed at which you move through time. To simplify massively.
no subject
Uh... No. But it sounds pretty damn complicated.
[He looks around and shrugs.]
Doesn't seem like we're even movin' at all.
no subject
[Space travel isn't that advanced for him, and he's not a scientist, but he knows enough basics to know how far apart stars are from one another - at least enough to know it's "very far."]
no subject
Well... Sometimes we wind up in different places. Like, once we wound up goin' to another planet.
no subject
no subject
no subject
[Not that he's heard of Arima either.]
no subject
[The planet reminded him of his city: full of crime and people willing to stab you if you looked at them the wrong way.]
I also didn't see too many monsters or anything like that.
no subject
What sort of monsters were you expecting to see?
no subject
Somethin' like the freaky ones that are around here. I wouldn't even know how to start describin' 'em besides "dangerous" and "screwed up."
no subject
Certainly not promising. How would I recognize one?
no subject
[Then again... just last month many of the people on board began undergoing changes that made them look like something very not human. With that in mind, Firo adds:]
They'll be the things growlin' and goin' for your throat.
no subject
no subject
Do that. Don't go too deep into the halls, too, if you can help it. We've been down there and there's nothin' good.
no subject
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)