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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
I didn't think you were such a boring girl as that. Stand back, would you--
[And probably before she's actually gotten completley clear, he's already giving his wand a complicated little wiggle, a motion like he's drawing a few quick circles above his head--one, two, three, four--and the edges of the towel draw up like someone's picked them all up at once and pressed them together at their ends. And there they twist together quite quickly, until the towel has formed a bundle with the clubs all inside, ends sticking out in a few places, bulges telling their shape in others.]
There. A preview of magical gifts.
no subject
[ it's a balancing act, holding the clubs across her body. they're heavier than she expected as her protesting muscles inform her. arya stubbornly holds onto them. she takes the time to look sirius in the eye. ]
Thank you. [ her eyes shift to the side at nymeria. ] Come on, girl.
no subject
But the latter does make it a bit more bearable, sometimes. So: privately, maybe, he adds Arya's name to a list, and then he puts that list away again. Do not open until Space Xmas.]
Oh, you're so welcome. But you still owe me. [And even though she's going to leave, and he's made her point, he's got to put in:] You'll double owe me at Space Christmas. Just you wait.
no subject
Did you forget already I stayed up all night monitoring your stupid lift? You still owe me. [ before he can bring up the magical bundling, she blurts out: ] This doesn't count!
no subject
Sorry, and why doesn't this count? This was helpful, wasn't it? Even you can't say that it wasn't, you're holding 'em all bound together, you'll be able to carry 'em away--that's helpful.
If anything, we're even.
no subject
no subject
You're so bloody high-maintenance. What a girl. [But okay fine--] Put 'em down again, I'll do a hover charm. Unless you want to hover as well, and then by all means, keep hold. I don't mind either way.
no subject
If I kept hold, would you drop me?
no subject
[A beat; he upgrades:]
Eighty-twenty. Fifteen percent guaranteed to drop you in a fun way. I'm starting to like you, despite myself. D'you want to take those odds?
no subject
Yes.
no subject
Wingardium Leviosa--
[--The golf clubs that Arya clutches at suddenly start to drift upwards. Not quite all at once--a few of them are quicker to respond than others, which results in what must be a bit of a disjointed feeling, one of the larger clubs remaining stubbornly groundward while the others pull away, rising--but eventually they all get into the act, and with enough force and power that Arya has risen with them as well--so long as she keeps her hold.
The hovering isn't drastically high, but as Sirius jabs his wand, the clubs start to float off down the hallway, like feathers borne along in an invisible breeze.]
no subject
Come on, Nymeria! [ she calls over her shoulder. ] You'll stay behind!
[ her wolf remains visibly confused. she runs nervously after arya. not realizing sirius as the cause, she looks from arya to the clubs and back. ]
no subject
In any case. He gives a rueful little smile, like all right, yes, this is kind of cute, and waves his wand again, giving the clubs an extra push of speed.]
Hold on!
[Also, she's rushing toward a wall, and because he's feeling charitable, Sirius deigns to warn her:]
And kick off of the wall so you turn down the next corridor, don't break your stupid nose!
no subject
[ except her kicking off a bit too hard could bring with it consequences of its own. she doesn't think of that, though. arya is focused on holding on — and delighting in being off the floor. ]
no subject
[This is more like it, casual insults. Not that he actually cares, because he would, actually, let her break her nose--but Sirius gives his wand a lazy wave. There's a sudden gust of wind from some invisible (magical) source, and it pushes into Arya like a great hand, giving her an extra nudge down the corridor, moving her along a little faster, on a collision course bound for the wall--]
Watch it!