Doctor Julian Bashir (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asklepian) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-03-16 10:00 pm
asklepian) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-03-16 10:00 pm
(no subject)
WHO: Julian Bashir
WHERE: Fountain, Inn, also feel free to catch him wandering around looking lost
WHEN: 3/17
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open
Fountain;
The last few days had been darkness, silence, and stifling confinement. The Dominion didn't exactly believe in the comfort of their prisoners, especially ones that were causing trouble. There was nothing to do in solitary confinement but worry and try to sleep.
Between one heartbeat, one breath and the next, he was inhaling icy cold water, feeling the pressure of it pressing down around him.
His eyes flew open, and he flailed for a bit before striking out for the surface, swimming until his head broke water. He sputtered, spit water, and flung his long arms over the edge of the...fountain.
If he didn't know any better, he'd think he'd finally gone round the bend and was hallucinating. How else could he explain having gone from a prison asteroid to half-drowning in the (surprisingly deep) fountain of a quaint brick-paved park?
He hauls himself out of the water, rolling onto the pavers and taking a very brief moment to shiver and feel the stretch in his muscles before pushing himself upright and taking stock.
Park, late-winter to early-spring, the plants looking for all their nakedness like Earth trees, heavy fog hugging the ground, making visibility limited. The fountain itself could've been at home in any park in London, once he craned his head back to look at it. He almost felt homesick. He would, if he didn't know that what he was seeing was impossible. He was literally halfway across the galaxy from Earth.
And to top off the absurdity he had a bloody backpack and was wearing what seemed like soaking wet, dark green hospital scrubs instead of his uniform.
He shivers again. It's not freezing, thankfully, but it's still too cold to stay in wet clothes, hypothermia is not a laughing matter. But he's tired, weary in the bone-deep way of someone who's beyond physical exhaustion. What can a few more minutes hurt?
Inn;
He'd found the inn after nearly an hour of aimless wandering, only noticing the road straight to it from the park after he'd circled back around from the other side. He'd stopped to peel off his dripping wet clothing a while back, it now hung from the outside pocket of the knapsack, but his hair was still damp and curling wildly around his ears as it dried.
He feels the tension melt out of his shoulders as he steps inside. He's not used to being so defensive, but recent experience...well. He might have reason to be suspicious.
Instead of approaching anyone who might be there, he quietly excuses himself to sit by the fire, settling in and trying to dry himself out the rest of the way.
WHERE: Fountain, Inn, also feel free to catch him wandering around looking lost
WHEN: 3/17
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: Open
Fountain;
The last few days had been darkness, silence, and stifling confinement. The Dominion didn't exactly believe in the comfort of their prisoners, especially ones that were causing trouble. There was nothing to do in solitary confinement but worry and try to sleep.
Between one heartbeat, one breath and the next, he was inhaling icy cold water, feeling the pressure of it pressing down around him.
His eyes flew open, and he flailed for a bit before striking out for the surface, swimming until his head broke water. He sputtered, spit water, and flung his long arms over the edge of the...fountain.
If he didn't know any better, he'd think he'd finally gone round the bend and was hallucinating. How else could he explain having gone from a prison asteroid to half-drowning in the (surprisingly deep) fountain of a quaint brick-paved park?
He hauls himself out of the water, rolling onto the pavers and taking a very brief moment to shiver and feel the stretch in his muscles before pushing himself upright and taking stock.
Park, late-winter to early-spring, the plants looking for all their nakedness like Earth trees, heavy fog hugging the ground, making visibility limited. The fountain itself could've been at home in any park in London, once he craned his head back to look at it. He almost felt homesick. He would, if he didn't know that what he was seeing was impossible. He was literally halfway across the galaxy from Earth.
And to top off the absurdity he had a bloody backpack and was wearing what seemed like soaking wet, dark green hospital scrubs instead of his uniform.
He shivers again. It's not freezing, thankfully, but it's still too cold to stay in wet clothes, hypothermia is not a laughing matter. But he's tired, weary in the bone-deep way of someone who's beyond physical exhaustion. What can a few more minutes hurt?
Inn;
He'd found the inn after nearly an hour of aimless wandering, only noticing the road straight to it from the park after he'd circled back around from the other side. He'd stopped to peel off his dripping wet clothing a while back, it now hung from the outside pocket of the knapsack, but his hair was still damp and curling wildly around his ears as it dried.
He feels the tension melt out of his shoulders as he steps inside. He's not used to being so defensive, but recent experience...well. He might have reason to be suspicious.
Instead of approaching anyone who might be there, he quietly excuses himself to sit by the fire, settling in and trying to dry himself out the rest of the way.
no subject
"Jyn Erso," she mumbles, half-slurring as her glassy eyes roll in his direction. "My name," she clarifies.
no subject
She's correct in her assumption that he doesn't mind at all--he could, if needed, carry her. But somehow he thinks she might not like that very much.
"Jyn." It's an interesting name, not one he's heard the like of before. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Too bad it couldn't be under better circumstances."
At least one bonus of being absolutely sopping wet--he's an unwitting natural cold compress.
no subject
She glances down towards his feet, sees the tiny pond he's created, then seeks his face out again.
"You've just arrived," she states casually, as though talking about something as informal as the weather. "We should get you inside. You'll have a change of clothes in your pack." The half of her that's spent as much as time as she can muster trying to help the newcomers is clamoring at the edge of her consciousness, clawing its way onto the platform where the fevered version of her sits - monstrous, looming. The lucid parts of her gestures vaguely towards the Inn. "There, there's a fire in there."