11 | location: jenna sommers' residence | without a smile
that look [ a point of it ]
longaevus
[ Helen had checked the tablet before leaving, making certain that Jenna was in and available before leaving. Her offer had been a kind one, one that Helen had been a little tempted to take her up on at that moment. And she would have done had her mind not been a little confused.

Confused wasn't quite the word for it, however. Mixed, maybe. The events of both Taxon and the Sanctuary were real, that she knew, but it was the case of differentiating between them, and then knowing where things lay. Did things even chance because of it? Helen hoped that they wouldn't have to - her friendships were good and she certainly didn't want that to change.

She'd gotten a bottle of wine from the cellar before leaving - a good bottle. Jenna may have had her own but it was a small offer, and a thank you for all that Jenna had done and what Helen was certain that she would do now; Jenna was a good friend, a good woman. Someone that was becoming dear to her.

She gave a light knock at the door, moving the bag that had the bottle in it away from her a little. Her ribs still stung (more than stung) but they were better. And she would be glad for whatever distraction Jenna gave, as well as her company ]

17| Visual | Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose
bass
goodluck_kobra
Kobra was hiding behind his sunglasses again, but it was obvious that he looked at least marginally less sick than before the new year. The tree he'd gotten from Briar was standing safely beside him where he was sitting by the beach, still not willing to stay anywhere inside.

"Um. Hi." He waves awkwardly at the tablet. "I just...just wanted to say thank you again." He hadn't gotten presents like this in ages, out in the zones you got maybe a new gun or a shirt or something, when it was available. "I'm working on getting your gifts ready." the corners of his lips quirked into a tiny smile. He'd managed to set recording equipment up, now he only needed to actually find the music he wanted. It didn't seem too popular in Taxon. Or to exist, really.

[Locked to Party Poison]

"Party? Where are you?" Kobra was still sulking, all right, but he had promised to share the gifts with Party. "We...we got presents. C'mere so we can open them."
Tags:

02 | VISUAL | CENTRAL | STRAIGHT TO VIDEO
Haggard
colacherri
He's seen it. People. He's smelling colours again which should probably be a warning sign but Cherri doesn't have News a GoGo to keep him centered. He can't rely on others this time, either, and he's left staring serenely into the face of the girl who shared a cell with him.

She's smiling, and Cherri smiles back, big and wide and huge. He has to. He's trying to match her own grin, but it's hard when you have teeth and the girl in front of you has spent days yanking them out. One by one... Each tooth with nothing but her bear hands.

It explains why she's got blood on them, anyway, and Cherri stares at her for a while, grinning to match her gum-filled smile. He doesn't want to look away. He's.. He's scared to. For the first time in a very, very long time, Cherri's terrified of something.

You know you could have saved me, right?

Cherri's eyes narrow slightly, because no, he couldn't, and he'd long since forgotten to question reality-based things like how she's talking so well if her mouth is a gaping hole.

"Sorry, couldn't, really. I was having problems of my own."

You watched me kill myself.

Cherri's blinks are long, languid, saying nothing. After the third blink, the precious few moments of silence, she's gone. Pulling out the communications device, he presses it and levels it with his face. His stare is sullen, hollow, and he isn't aware he's breathing rather heavily.

It clicks off.

A few seconds later, though, Cherri starts the visual again, and a familiar, spaced-out look is on his eyes. Gone is the odd intent from earlier.

"This playground is neat," He announces.

10 | visual / location: old city sanctuary | called out for
and around [ made for this ]
longaevus
Will?

[ She pushed herself up, or at least tried to; she was moving quicker than her body wanted to allow. She hissed as the pain pushed up through her, trying to think as she pushed herself up slower this time.

Will. SCUI.

Cave in. Except where she was certainly didn't feel like a cave floor. She hadn't been unconscious so there was no chance that she could have been brought back to the Sanctuary without knowing. That only left one option ]


Taxon? Bloody hell. [ Whatever had happened to her, the pain that she was holding back was evident in her voice.

She flicked her bedside light on, hand pressed to her right ribs as she slowly stood up to look outside, to make certain. Martha had mentioned that she'd gone home once but no time had passed here. The last thing she remembered from Taxon was the New Year's Eve Celebrations. She'd check the date later but... it had been over a century. Reaching the window Helen used her free hand to push the curtain aside. It was Taxon, and it hadn't changed ]


Oh... damn.

[ ooc; canon bump a goooo | until she turns the light on you can't see a thing ]

044 [location: a warehouse in shelley] we go to parties, listen to the DJs
not nearly as think as you drunk i am, lol no
justaddmarbles
These days in Taxon were short, the sun rising a little before ten in the morning and setting shortly after one in the afternoon. It was also cold and snowy, and combining all of that together it could be difficult to find anything worth celebrating. Fortunately, there were some individuals intent on making making sure there was still warmth, that a few lights still glowed.

Over the past few days Glitch and Cain (with a little help from Fitz) had transformed a small warehouse in Shelley into a little haven of whimsy. Upon entering one was presented with a coat rack which sprouts a fresh hook for their belongings, and then beyond the curtain was a little piece of the Outer Zone. Overhead was a holographic projection of the Ozian night sky (an array of unfamiliar stars and three moons), a dance floor illuminated with shafts of colored light that seem to sparkle, a large table with assorted snacks and a self-serve bar with both alcoholic and booze-free drinks. There were folding chairs and small tables scattered about and party favors, noise makers, and festive hats were available for all who wanted them. Music for the evening would be techno-flavored jazz and the occasional intrusion of Otherside Earth dance music. Whatever's playing, it'll have fabulous rhythm.

For anyone who wanted to escape the noise, the warehouse's office had been converted into something of a lounge, decked out with a few pieces of furniture borrowed from the Northern Island.

It's Annual's End, time to celebrate the past and leap into the future.


[ OOC: Party post! Tag in, tag each other, meet new folks and mingle around. There's a planning post here which you're still welcome to hit up :D ]

04 | Visual | A Ghost Speaks
the_bluethunder
She has engaged in conversations with herself.

No...not herself.  The Shell.  Fred.

But the girl--a weakling, victim to her own existential limitation--is no longer.  Illyria is, and thus, Winifred Burkle cannot be.  And yet she, too, walks and talks here in this place, in dream and in waking life.  Her world is gone, and yet she lingers, unwanted, burdensome, where she does not belong. An irony Illyria is not amused by.

Perhaps the onslaught of illusions--of fallacies seeking to poison and distract her from her reality--has caused this...fracture in her mind. Of what is, what is not, what cannot be and yet remains...it is all jumbled and distorted. Illyria feels the need to explore it, to seek answers in hope that it will cause it to cease. To do so, she morphs into the form of she who haunts her.

The girl who addresses Taxon through her tablet is not blue and cold, her gaze is not unfeeling but warm and concerned and frightened (and yet...there is something there, barely perceptible, underneath that gaze). Her hair is chestnut brown, falling in warm waves around her face and across her shoulders. Her voice is soft and sweet, with a faint twang of a Texan accent. Her smile is nervous and awkward, and she shyly waves at the camera after placing it on something high enough.  

She steps back, ducks a little to make sure she's in frame and says, cheerily: "Hi there! Um, I don't mean to...beat a dead horse or anything...'cause...well, that would be entirely cruel and I don't even think there are horses here, at least none that I've seen, and..."

She stops, takes a breath, focuses.  "...I've been in a whole lot of crazy places and I can prattle on about the complexities of inter-dimensional physics and all, but this ghost thing got me stumped. I'm can try to work out some patterns, maybe pinpoint where sightings occur or, you know, what kinda ghosts we're seein' or maybe what to expect?  I...it's...it's just an idea, anyways. I don't know much about ghosts. But if anyone has any ideas?"

She shrugs, that shy, nervous smile wavering on her face.

[OOC: Just to make things clear, Illyria's morphed her form into Fred to better figure out what's going on and because all this past vs. present stuff is making her kinda crazy. Feel free to question her change of form (which she may choose to ignore or change back, depending), or just roll with it, or whatever!]

010: It Won't Be Long Before I Disturb You in the Dark [Accidental Visual]
the end of the world
allthatlife
It was impossible to travel on the TARDIS without encountering death and, like the rest of the prisoners in Taxon, Martha Jones had her fair share of ghosts. The majority of her ghosts, however, came from a year that most of her world had forgotten had happened.

She still dreamed of the year that she had spent travelling the planet, sowing the seeds for the Master’s defeat. Although she and the Doctor had saved the world in the end, it was impossible to forget how close they’d come to defeat and how much the human race had suffered during the fight. Cities had fallen and countries had burned. Hope had been all but lost. But she’d walked on and she’d told her story and, in the end, that had been enough. She’d saved the world using nothing but words.

While she slept, the city conjured up the worst ghosts of all. She woke up with a start, knocking her tablet off her bedside table, to find them waiting for her.

The Doctor – her Doctor, with his pinstriped suit and tousled hair and warm eyes – was on his knees, bound and gagged. The Master stood tall, the laser screwdriver on one hand and an arrogant smile on his face.

Wakey wakey, Doctor Jones.

“You’re not here. I know you’re not here. You’re just a dream.”

Am I? What would your fiancé say if he knew you were dreaming out me?

She decided not to dignify that with a response, but there was something else that she needed to say.

“I’m not scared of you, Saxon. I’ve stopped you once. I can do it again.”

Is that what you think? That you stopped me? The ghost of the Time Lord laughed. What makes you think that I didn’t plan for my death? What makes you think that I’m not waiting to come back?

“You’re not the sort of person to plan for defeat. You were so convinced that you’d broken the human race and we still rose up to stop you.”

I’m going to make the Doctor watch when I kill you, he said, almost conversationally. Once I’ve finished with your family. You’re going to scream, Martha Jones. You’re going to scream and you’re going to die knowing that the Doctor – your precious, precious Doctor – failed you again.

And then he was gone. They were both gone. Martha, breathing heavily, stared around her room, trying to work out what had been a dream and what had been caused by the city itself.

029: The Ghosts of the Past Come Out to Play [Location: Sunnydale Playground]
sophisticated
a_pretty_fire
The city of Taxon was always full of ghosts. Not just the ghosts left behind by old glitches, but the ghosts of the people that should have lived in and could have lived in the city. The ghosts of the prisoners who had come and gone.

As the festive season crept along, bringing the snow with it and gifting all the naughty boys and girls with stockings full of coal, the ghosts grew louder and louder. Usually, Drusilla was the only one who paid attention to them. These days, everybody seemed to be listening.

She found her dear little sisters - their throats opened by Angelus when he snatched away their lifeblood - waiting for her in the park. She wondered if they blamed her for their deaths. It had been her fault, after all. They had died because he’d been hunting her.

Drusilla didn’t ask. Drusilla spread out the picnic blanket on the snow, pouring a cup of tea for each spectral figure and a cup of blood for herself.

“We’re having terrible weather,” she noted, conversationally. “I’ll need to make Miss Edith a new winter coat.”

Little Anne didn’t answer. She simply watched her sister with dead and unblinking eyes.

[location: Central, Transverto tram line or Speares - choose your own adventure!]
too thin
tin_hearts
The past three weeks, Wyatt hasn't slept much at all. It's a known fact, broadcast loud and clear by the dark circles under his eyes for all to see. It's only now, roughly a week after Glitch's return from the dead, that he's well and truly succumbed to his own limitations. He's okay. He's alive and well, and real, and somewhere between putting on another pot of coffee and sending DG or Glitch another message to double check they don't need anything, Cain crashes on the couch. It'll only be a nap, he tells himself, he'll just close his eyes for a moment and it is terribly cold. He sleeps, the deep sleep so similar to death but for the steady rise and fall of his shoulders. He sleeps through the night and well into the day, and finally, there are no more nightmares. He dreams of distant memories, of his life before Taxon, before things took a turn for the decidedly more bleak. Dreams of the once Great and Terrible, the Powerful, One and Only Mystic Man, illuminated by the warm flickering glow of his fireplace. He can smell the dark liquor swishing in the tumbler cupped in the older man's palm, can almost hear the knowing grin curling his white mustache and feel the glint in his eyes.

Cain. Will you relax, just this once? With you as my head of security, I'm as safe as a babe in a cot. Sit down, for pity's sake.

Read more...Collapse )

~*~

When Wyatt wakes up, the one thing ringing in his ears well into his second cup of coffee is 'You already do'. Trust him. It's not such a big stretch when you put it like that, and he hasn't had such a vivid dream in his entire life. He gets out his notebook and sits down by the kitchen table and starts writing with a calm that overshadows everything else.

By the time he steps off the Transverto tram in Speares, the calm starts evaporating. The fact he finds himself two stops further down the line than intended doesn't help matters. Nonetheless he starts walking, gloved hands crammed into his pockets, scarf wrapped over his nose and mouth and an envelope tucked safely next to his heart under the peacoat.

Now all he needs to figure out is how not to have a major freak out on Paul's doorstep.

10 | [ visual ] / [ location: a central coffee shop ]
∞ witnessing fault in every pawn
whoneedsrules
The tablet turns on spontaneously to reveal a slender young woman with riotous brown curls seated at a table in a certain coffee shop not far from Taxon hotel. Coincidentally, it's the very same coffee shop she'd disappeared from well over a month ago in the middle of a tablet broadcast; the very same table too, in fact.

Her spine straightens and a look of mild confusion crosses her face as she stares at the tabletop - didn't she have a cup of coffee in front of her?

"Okay, that's weird," Katherine mutters, frowning. However, she has witnessed stranger things in her long un-life, so a disappearing coffee cup is no cause for concern. Glancing outside, she's further confused to see snow. She's rather certain that wasn't there when she'd walked into the establishment. Granted, she can be blissfully ignorant of things and people not relating to herself and her plans sometimes, but not this much.

"Ugh. The magic hamsterland strikes back," she drawls, distinctly displeased. She hates snow. Realizing her tablet is recording (oh, but of course it is!) this, she grabs the device and gives the screen an unimpressed look.

"Alright, someone explain. When the hell did that holly jolly Winter Wonderland monstrosity outside pop up?"


( ooc | i can't for the life of me remember if the pause glitch was revamped and how it's supposed to work now, but i'm having katherine pick up from the same place she left off without any recollection of having gone "poof" from taxon for nearly two months. feel free to have your characters inform her of what happened if you want. )

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