Jonathan 'Eyebags' Sims (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beholding_archivist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2020-03-14 03:24 pm
beholding_archivist) wrote in revivalproject2020-03-14 03:24 pm
[accidental video] - open to [action] for anyone on the Vanquish
It's been a week. Or at least- I believe it has been?
[ The feed springs to life with a picture that makes it vastly clear that this isn't an intended transmission. The phone obviously is placed on a flat surface - Likely a table. And its owner can be spotted at the edge of the screen, focused on something else but clearly sounding tired.
Jon gives a heavy sigh and raises a hand to press the tips of his fingers against his forehead. Then he resumes talking, still not appearing to talk to anyone in particular. ]
I don't know how long I've been in that storm. I played back the recordings I made only to find them useless. Mostly static, which is... Unusual? And the most I remember now? Is that headache. That ruthless, skull-splitting headache when I tried--
[ And he cuts himself off right there, dropping his hand and leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. ]
I'm on a space ship. At least that's- That's what I've been told this is. I don't know what I'm even supposed to do here. Unless this is just another dream. A dream that has yet to turn into a nightmare. But I-- I don't remember them to be this... Long? Disconnected from whatever gruesome image they are about to paint?
Needless to say, I didn't sleep. Not that I'm aware of, at least. But what does that even mean anymore...
[ He looks back down, on the table before him - Or much rather at the old tape recorder in his hand. The latter doesn't make much of an appearance visual-wise. ]
I should probably make a proper recording before I run out of tape. This phone I was given has proven remarkably useless for such a task.
[ As he says this, Jon reaches for his phone, still lying on the table. ]
The menu alone is a nightmare to-
[ And then he actually looks at the device, pauses and scowls. ]
Is this what it's going to be now? Christ...
[ That said, he simply turns the phone off without adding anything else. ]
[ The feed springs to life with a picture that makes it vastly clear that this isn't an intended transmission. The phone obviously is placed on a flat surface - Likely a table. And its owner can be spotted at the edge of the screen, focused on something else but clearly sounding tired.
Jon gives a heavy sigh and raises a hand to press the tips of his fingers against his forehead. Then he resumes talking, still not appearing to talk to anyone in particular. ]
I don't know how long I've been in that storm. I played back the recordings I made only to find them useless. Mostly static, which is... Unusual? And the most I remember now? Is that headache. That ruthless, skull-splitting headache when I tried--
[ And he cuts himself off right there, dropping his hand and leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. ]
I'm on a space ship. At least that's- That's what I've been told this is. I don't know what I'm even supposed to do here. Unless this is just another dream. A dream that has yet to turn into a nightmare. But I-- I don't remember them to be this... Long? Disconnected from whatever gruesome image they are about to paint?
Needless to say, I didn't sleep. Not that I'm aware of, at least. But what does that even mean anymore...
[ He looks back down, on the table before him - Or much rather at the old tape recorder in his hand. The latter doesn't make much of an appearance visual-wise. ]
I should probably make a proper recording before I run out of tape. This phone I was given has proven remarkably useless for such a task.
[ As he says this, Jon reaches for his phone, still lying on the table. ]
The menu alone is a nightmare to-
[ And then he actually looks at the device, pauses and scowls. ]
Is this what it's going to be now? Christ...
[ That said, he simply turns the phone off without adding anything else. ]
No worries!
Ah--
[ Impeccable first try. ]
Jon- Jonathan. Jonathan Sims.
Jon will do, I suppose. Nice to... Meet you?
[ Yeah, that's kind of at least something. And not quite as awkward as it could have been. Though Jon does continue by frowning, a bit of uncertainty crossing his face. ]
...Vanquish? I hope that doesn't mean this thing is intended to engage in some sort of battle.
<3
[But,] Nah. Not really. Honestly, maybe we should just rename 'em. They came this way.
[And,] Nice to meet you, Jon. If you've got questions, I can at least tell you whether any of us know more than you do by now.
no subject
[ Yeah, he's trying not to think that such names would be fitting for ships heading out under the banner of The War or The Slaughter. Maybe The Hunt... But... No.
Allow him a moment to set those thoughts aside. ]
But... Thanks. I'm still getting used to the entire idea of being stuck on a planet that allegedly isn't Earth. It would be nice to just wake up and find myself at my desk, to be honest.
[ But, Lord. He has tried to see where he is. Even tried to focus and locate his goddamn rib. To no avail... ]
no subject
[He blows out a breath, motions to the other seat in the cockpit if Jon wants to sit down.] What do you do? Normally, I mean.
no subject
[ He decides to follow the silent invitation and take the empty seat with a small shrug at his own words. ]
At least they kept complaining about the poor state of my skin. If I never have to see another bottle of skin lotion again, it won't be too soon.
[ It took some very long and very hot showers to make his skin feel like his own again.
He takes a moment to let his eyes wander over the controls of the ship, vowing to never touch any of these. ]
Normally [ Oh, he wants to laugh at that word. ] I work at an archive. You know, researching, sorting, filing... That sort of thing.
[ As long as he keeps out the supernatural part of it all. And he's not sure how much of that he wants to share just yet. Instead, he raises an eyebrow at Bucky. ]
Are aliens a common occurrence where you're from?
no subject
[But ah. He gets it, then - maybe not an outdoors kind of guy. Not that Buck really is, or was, but a couple years in the Army kind of cured him of the inability to rough it.
At the question, though, Bucky tilts his head.] Common might be an overstatement... but if the alternative is not at all, then I guess you could say that.
[Which explains nothing, probably, so he elaborates:] About two years ago, one alien tried to take over the planet with an army of different aliens. We didn't let him get very far, but it wasn't exactly a picnic.
Aside from that, though... I mean. I guess I kinda work with the brother of the guy who tried to take over. But he's not around much. So - mostly no aliens. At least, until I was kidnapped the first time.
So if you're an archivist... you probably like keeping records, huh? We could use somebody doing that around here.
no subject
Then not all aliens you encountered before were hostile, at least.
[ Okay, that's... Reassuring? Despite the entire alien invasion thing, of course. That part remains terrifying.
And then there's a short shrug. ]
I mean. I wouldn't go as far as to say I enjoy keeping records, but... It's something I can do, I suppose? Not that there seems to be much around that appears to be in dire need of being recorded, but... I haven't gotten around a lot yet. Has some semblance of organization been made already by those that have been here a while?
[ It's more an idle question, not really one meant to draw out information. Basic curiosity, not a need. ]