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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.
no subject
[And wait, thinking of Mitchell, he probably wouldn't like this, would he?]
Erm.
Mitchell.
no subject
[Ivan's demeanor doesn't much change, except he looks as if she's just told him a terrific joke.]
I'm a friend of his. Well... depending on his mood, I suppose he might dispute it, but. We go back.
no subject
[She squints at him.]
You know-
[Sorry, she laughs, a little awkwardly, and says oh, and then hm, and starts about three sentences]
Yes, well. I mean.
Yes.
no subject
[It's mild, but something occurs to him.]
Please tell me Herrick isn't bloody aboard.
[As far as Ivan knows, Herrick is dead. But then, as far as he knows, he should be dead.]
no subject
If he was I would have already pushed him out the bloody airlock-
no subject
[Briefly, he wonders what exposure to space would do to vampires. Presumably the radiation would do for them eventually, if the cold didn't, but it would be a slow and unpleasant thing. He puts that thought promptly away.]
Your werewolf - is he here as well?
no subject
[She stops, then. It's all well and good to say that Mitchell is there, clearly Mitchell is important but George?
Well, vampires don't like werewolves.]
Do you know him, too?
no subject
[That's diplomatic. He resists the urge to characterize the werewolf as "a friend of his wife's," because making jokes solely for your own benefit eventually gets old.]
I don't intend him any ill, but he's not my greatest admirer, so I thought it might be handy to have some advanced warning.
[He sounds almost apologetic.]
no subject
Um, well, you should talk to Mitchell, I think.
[Meaning she should talk to Mitchell.]
no subject
[He smiles, a bit crooked.]
Told you not to talk to strange vampires, or have you had to work that one out for yourself?
[His tone is light enough; it is nothing remotely resembling a threat, but her inclination to be friendly to him and her hesitation to follow through are clear enough. He's also curious, from her reaction to Herrick, just how far away Mitchell has failed to keep her from his political snarl.]
no subject
I can speak to whoever I like, I'm a grown woman.
[Ghost. Whatever.]
But you have to admit that there's no sense in just blurting things out. What if you hate Mitchell, or something? I don't know that, do I?
[Christ Annie. Dig faster.]
no subject
[He gestures, 'you know.']
He can decide he knows what's best, without any ill intent.
[A moment, then:]
I don't hate Mitchell, for the record, but point taken. Not an outlandish precaution. I suppose I'm just more inclined to speak to the strangers with whom I at least have someone in common, as opposed to the rest of the ship.
no subject
Yes, he's rather good at making decisions for others, isn't he?
[They're not always good ones but man is he ever good at it.]
no subject
Hazard of old age, I suspect, combined with his upbringing.
[Not in life; Ivan hasn't the faintest idea, there, but he knows well enough what being Herrick's recruit must have been like.]
He always intends them for the best, of course, but still.
no subject
[Because it's probably longer than Annie has, let's be real.]
no subject
A bit more than 80 years or so, on and off, when our paths happen to cross. We've moved in different circles, but it's a surprisingly small world for our sort, sometimes.
no subject
[She just looks at Ivan for a long, long minute.]
Are you on blood?
[Because if he is, visits with Mitchell will be chaperoned. Or at least she'll make noises about it.]
no subject
[True, though a bit of an equivocation. He hasn't decided how he's going to play his cards yet in a closed system like a ship, but he lacks Mitchell's scruples for the most part.]
no subject
Well.
Mitchell isn't.
[She says that almost like a warning.]
no subject
no subject
[She won't police Ivan, anyway.]
no subject
I know he was trying to stay clean, in Bristol.
no subject
[Well, in theory. She knows that if he didn't want to clean up, he wouldn't be trying now, and she can spy on him.
She also knows having another vampire who isn't clean will present a very real challenge.]
no subject
[It isn't snide. It isn't even particularly unkind. But Mitchell's been doing this on and off for decades and Ivan can't say he's surprised.]
no subject
[This isn't fair. She shouldn't ask because Ivan knows too much, maybe, and Mitchell can't defend himself. But she needs to know, if she's going to be the one in charge of keeping him clean.]
Does he do this often?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)