theblogger | Appointments

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Appointments

This post is for IC threads that don't fit in logs or network posts (aka this is an excellent choice for a private thread).

Games: Ataraxion and Luceti

Please indicate the date and the game you're from in the subject line!

Threaded | Flat

[Sherlock Holmes felt like he'd been through Hell. Everything hurt. His arm and back were throbbing, and the bits of dreaming he could remember baffled him.

Moriarty and wings and John...

It didn't surprise him when he opened his eyes and saw white walls. Something must have gone wrong with either an attempt to keep working or an attempt to sleep. He'd never been sedated throughout all of his allotted detox before being sent to a clinic, but he supposed it was possible. Especially if he'd gotten into a fight-- felt like he had-- and needed pain killers.

He shifted, pressing his arms against the matress. His back hurt badly, which explained lying face down. Yet, even as he tried to sit up, he made a sound of pain, and his head throbbed. For a moment... he sank back to the bed.

Getting up wasn't worth it right now.]

[It doesn't take long for Sherlock to return.

He goes straight over to John's chair without a word to the man in it. And then... sets the pack of cigarettes he just acquired down on the table between the chairs.

There is no smell of smoke on him, so he hasn't already had one, and only one cigarette is between the fore and middle fingers of his left hand.

It's a silent offer of compromise: Let me have one, and you're in charge of the rest.]

((after this post))

[Medbay is BORING. Medbay is the worst. Sure, it was maybe Wheatley's fault a little bit for nearly getting himself killed, but that doesn't to stop him from spending every waking bedridden moment voicing his complaints about the situation.

If he had his cube, he thinks, it would be better. Less mind-numbingly dull, for one--without it, there's nothing to do but sit around and WALLOW IN HIS OWN MISERY.

But enough of that. What he does, instead, is turn all his attentions (and frustrations) to his communicator, leaving a certain test subject a series of increasingly unstable voicemails.

There is clearly nothing wrong with that.]

[Crazy. This whole place was completely crazy.

Bones wasn't mad at him anymore, at least, which had helped somewhat...only then it was like the whole village was turned on its head. People turning into other people...forgetting who they were...running around with masks on...being ages they shouldn't be.

It had to be a hallucination, except he wasn't sure if that was better or worse than it being real.

The drink in his hand felt real enough, though, and it burned his throat believably when he swallowed. Not the smoothest he'd ever had, but he figured it would do the job well enough.

Absolutely crazy]

I'm certain you're well aware there's an epidemic.
Are you affected?

SH

Edited 2012-06-13 15:47 (UTC)

John.

Heading out of the flat for a bit.

SH

[Ring, ring.]

The soldier only withdraws when he believes the battle to be lost. Is it?
SH

Edited 2012-08-20 05:12 (UTC)

_{[ They haven't spoken since their most recent differences, and Sherlock had been told point blank to make sure he keeps an eye on Alpha John - which he has been, in his own little way. Subtly following him when he doesn't have much else to do, keeping his distance and using the skills that allow him to stay hidden within plain sight. He doesn't want a repeat of their conversation, and he wasn't entirely certain how long he should leave it before he tried again. It's been a few days by now, and Sherlock has been reminded quite forcefully just how bad he is at acting like a normal human being.

He's been trying to think of an appropriate way to get back into his good books, and for the most part, he'd come up with nothing (or at least nothing appropriate).

But then he discovered that there's a cow in the oxygen garden. Surprisingly enough, it's actually quite difficult to milk a cow when your hands are predominately cold, but somehow he managed. And after making a cup of tea with John's metaphorical name on it (not to mention with real, genuine milk), he makes his way through the ship and towards medbay to catch the doctor in a better mood than the last time they spoke. ]}

Edited 2012-08-24 12:33 (UTC)

[ This is an automated message relayed on an encrypted comms filter. It's about as vamped up as a filter can get. Nathan's voice is crisp and monotonous, like he's reading from a flight manual. ]

Comms has picked up a transmission underneath the earlier reported static. Be advised, shortly we will be making an announcement of a portion of our findings to the ship. The following audio will not be attached, however motivated individuals will no doubt discover it shortly after. Circulation is inevitable, but efforts should be made to delay such a release. All sections are advised to respond to the concerns of non-personel in a soothing and efficient manner until the message's source and purpose has been identified.

Please stand by for further details.

[ Attached: intercepted-transmission.wav; static that quite suddenly breaks into terrible screaming. ]

Communications out.

Threaded | Flat

(Luceti) [action, clinic : March 19th, morning]

(Luceti) [action, 2-21 : April 22nd, afternoon]

[ATARAXION -- ACTION -- SOMETIME CLOSE TO JUNE'S JUMP]

(Luceti) June 6 | Evening | Seventh Heaven