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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
[He'll find out. For now Bucky has to take the guess that going into detail about how close the likeness is isn't going to make him seem any less crazy, considering the rest of what he has to say.
This place could really use a welcome wagon. A few pretty girls with pamphlets, that kind of thing.
He winces at the question, a little tic twitching under one eye, and tries not to let his stomach lurch the way it wants to.]
Could be both. The way I was told it this used to be a prison ship, and they had about the same respect for prisoners as Fritz ever did. [A shrug, his eyes dark.] Jailers are gone now, the experiments are still running.
[He pushes a hand back through his hair, catching the towel by its knot with the other, right before it slips.]
No one knows the deal for sure. You got a name to go with the face?
no subject
For what it's worth, they'd be on the same page about that welcome wagon idea. Hook would be all over that.]
Every prison has someone holding the keys. Someone's gotta know something, unless you're telling me that we're just floating adrift through space. [He stops abruptly. No, no, don't say it. He doesn't wanna hear it. His jaw clenches, and Nick plans on being plenty uncooperative, but this doesn't seem like the guy he needs to be that way with.]
Nick. Try not to call me that other guy's name. That's always a little awkward for me.
[An attempt at a joke? Maybe.]
no subject
Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. And it's Bucky. Bucky Barnes.
[try not to call me by that other guy's name isn't going to fly, and neither is check my eye color before you talk to me so he leaves that under the rug for now. its a situation he hasn't tried too hard to untangle, himself, the little of the other version of himself's history he does know leaves him as off-kilter as the sickness in his veins is right now.]
There's a woman who they say used to be crew, now she's floating like the rest of us. If anyone's holding the keys, it could be the ship itself.
[He pauses, frowns.]
See, I say things like that, I feel like it oughtta come with sound effects. [Something more dramatic.]
no subject
Yeah? Personally, I think it should come with a lot of beeps. [Nick can see right away that that's not making much sense for some reason.] You know, like on tv? When they censor out all the things that we all say anyway.
[Okay, priorities here.]
Yeah, okay. I'm gonna assume the probing's either over or not happening. Where the hell can I find some clothes?