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ataraxionlogs2014-11-08 12:00 am
ataraxites) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-11-08 12:00 am
Entry tags:
- !jump,
- benny lafitte,
- bethmora fortescue,
- bucky barnes,
- caroline forbes,
- cassel sharpe,
- charles xavier,
- claire bennet,
- cody griffin,
- dean winchester,
- draco malfoy,
- emma swan,
- erica reyes,
- gabriel,
- hannah,
- hayley,
- hermione granger,
- jemma simmons,
- jennifer keller,
- john blake | au,
- leia organa,
- leo fitz,
- lily potter,
- luke skywalker,
- malia tate,
- mr. gold (rumplestiltskin),
- peter quill,
- remus lupin,
- richard rider,
- ruby,
- sam alexander,
- simon monroe,
- simon tam
thirty-seventh 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: Waking this jump is slow, awareness swimming murky up through the blue of the stasis fluid. There's no figures waiting outside the glass this time, no alarm in the state of medbay, but everything remains feeling distant and blurred. The fog of stasis sleep clings heavily to your mind and senses as you tumble free from the gravcouch, leaves you groggy as you turn to your post-jump routine. A good hot shower should clear it and wake you up, or maybe you'll be leaning on the coffee for the rest of the day.
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.
----------------
ＹＯＵ͘ ̨ＷＡＫＥ̢ ̧ＵＰ ́ＩＮ ＤＡ̛ＲＫＮ̢Ｅ̕ＳＳ̶
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.
ＹＯ́Ｕ̴ ̧Ａ̨ＲＥ ＮＯＴ҉ ̷ＡＬＯ̨ＮＥ҉
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.
ＴＨ̀ＩＳ͜ ̶Ｉ͠Ｓ͡ ͘Ｙ̵Ｏ͝ＵＲ ̕Ｗ͝Ｅ̛Ｌ̨Ｃ͡Ｏ͝Ｍ͏Ｅ Ｐ̛ＡＲ̴ＴＹ͜
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: Waking this jump is slow, awareness swimming murky up through the blue of the stasis fluid. There's no figures waiting outside the glass this time, no alarm in the state of medbay, but everything remains feeling distant and blurred. The fog of stasis sleep clings heavily to your mind and senses as you tumble free from the gravcouch, leaves you groggy as you turn to your post-jump routine. A good hot shower should clear it and wake you up, or maybe you'll be leaning on the coffee for the rest of the day.
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.