010: [Location: Sanctuary For All] Breakfast at Tiffanys...

[thecheerleader.livejournal.com]

Claire was a little surprised when Helen had agreed to her idea of having a 'girls' night in' together. She knew that Helen was only going along with it because she had already noticed how hard she was trying to provide her with distractions. It wasn't that she didn't want her to think of Ashley, because she did. She just didn't want her to feel like she didn't have anyone left who cared about her. The dinner had been nice, but Claire knew that one of the hardest parts of losing someone was learning to go on without them.

No one had to tell her that she was a terrible substitute for Ashley. She had no interest in replacing one of her closest friends while she tried to take care of her mom. Ashley didn't really do movies, but Claire did. She did movies with ice cream, while wearing pajamas and painting her nails. She grabbed her manicure kit and a sweatshirt, and then started down toward the living room.

Helen was supposed to meet her in there with the ice cream, and maybe an old movie or two. She wasn't expecting her to go the pajama route, but she was hopeful. They had a pile of Audrey Hepburn films to get through, it only made sense that they'd dress comfortably. Besides, it'd be kind of nice to think that Helen Magnus still knew how to have a fake sleepover at her age. She didn't do anything else halfway, why would she cheat herself out of something fun like that?

002. [location: the sept of the united shields]/[visual] say say my playmate

[lanterncast.livejournal.com]

Judith had been exploring the city on foot, for the most part, spending her nights in empty houses and apartments, and wondering why she was taking this place so well. Maybe it was the knowledge that nothing was waiting for her where she came from; no matter what happened here, things couldn't really get worse.

Her reaction when she stumbled across and recognized her sept will have to remain forever left to the imagination, but it can be safely assumed to have included all the swearing in the world and a healthy dose of panic before, after two hours of observation from the roof of a nearby building, she concluded it was empty. The door was unlocked, and she walked right in.

Some time and a lot of whiskey later, she switches on the tablet she'd shrunk down and installed in her bracelet as soon as she realized that was an option: "You know what's a bitch?"

"A bitch," she continues, informatively, sitting on a kitchen counter and fairly obviously inebriated, "Is what happens when you go all the way to some--underground alien space prison to get away from a place, and it follows you--look at this, Gaia." She turns her wrist to show a brief glimpse of a large, clean kitchen, furnished in wood and brass fixtures. "Anybody want to drink to--drink to life being too fucking funny, I'm Judith, on the map, let yourself in, all this isn't gonna drink itself."

[Holo] Things are not always what they seem…

[wreckedbytrain.livejournal.com]

Susan was walking through the gates of the cemetery and then she wasn’t. She still took a step forward because that had been the direction she’d been traveling and momentum hadn’t ceased to exist even if the lines of granite markers had vanished from view. The feel of something not frozen earth and uneven pavers beneath her loafers caused her to draw up short and just avoid taking a tumble down the platform’s stairs.

“Well, this is different.” Different, not alarming as she had some experience with suddenly finding herself elsewhere than she ought to be. Of course, that hadn’t happened in some years and supposedly (if He were to be believed) never would again. Evidence to the contrary, Susan mentally cursed the giant furball and should He be the one responsible for this, she might take up hunting after all. “Rare chasm, my right foot.”

But this did not feel like Narnia. There had been no prickling of magic along her spine nor had there been that odd fluttering in her belly. Looking about, she realized this place looked nothing of the Narnia she knew either—not that meant overly much to the young woman. Things could change swiftly and drastically in that other world. Time was something of a puzzle between places. “At least this is a bit more convenient than being stranded on a beach or lost in a the woods.” Her last two experiences with this sort of travel. “And not at all as rude as falling into an ocean.”

She had listened to her brother and sister, after all. There hadn’t been as much denial or avoidance as they had thought, not that Susan could ever tell them this. Perhaps that was one small saving grace, never having to admit her great deception to those who would never understand its necessity. Shaking her head to clear it of pointless thoughts, she made her way down the steps and to the main floor. Best to have a look around and see if she could find a clue as to why she was here this time and for how long.

The podium drew her attention, as did the strange object resting on it. Susan didn’t recognize it or have any idea of the intended purpose but there were a lot of buttons on the thing. She poked at it tentatively and gave a slight start as it seemed to come alive. The burst of animated light reminded her ever so slightly of the radio at home, the way the backlight of the dial would come on as the transistor warmed up. “How peculiar. I wonder what I’m to do with this?”

eight; [location: ethan's place/accidental voice]

[fordification.livejournal.com]

Things had descended into a horribly routine existence for Ethan. Despite all the bizarre wiles of Taxon, despite whatever he did to beat the monotony, it all came down to the same sort of routine. And this wasn't Taxon's fault in the least, no; it was Ethan's fault, physically stuck in Taxon, mentally stuck back at the Facility, and emotionally -- well, emotionally quite lost. His sister's doll, the thing that came with him, it always found its way back into his consciousness, nagging at him and dragging him back to remembering how he felt the week he'd returned to the way he was before he'd died: Ethan Alastair Ford of the New Jersey Fords. It reminded him of what he had to go back to, too. More torture, more tests, and a continued life alone -- if Remington even let him live that long, let alone live, period. Stuck in this rut, Ethan was pacing himself into a trench.

Part of this routine, of course, during the daylight hours, was sleep. But that changed today. Today was something new.

Ethan dreamt. But it wasn't a dream, because it was real. Vivid. Like a flood of memories, life played in fast-forward, but he could feel every blow, every emotion. The Facility, that kid, getting out, finding -- finding Clara, being on the run, hiding in empty buildings, trying to stay alive, going home, the MacKenzies, finding Levi, meeting Shane, the detox, turning back, the plan going wrong -- fuck, it was all there, too real to question. Everything. He'd gotten his life - so to speak - back, he'd gotten his revenge. But those things paled in comparison to one thing... his sister. She was alive. He hadn't killed her all those years ago, like he'd thought. And now - somewhere, outside of Taxon, wherever these memories were coming from - they were together again, not the same, but close enough. She was alive.

And right now, from where Ethan's sleeping, he jerks awake, knocking his tablet onto the floor in the process. It bounces, then skitters a few feet away, turning on. It broadcasts only the sounds of the room; the squeak of a mattress, the sudden shift of cloth. Ethan sighs deeply, sitting up, then rests his face in his hands. "... Fuck."

It's only a few moments before another noise follows: quiet laughter.