[TEXT] - Locked to the Doctor

[therealcaptjack.livejournal.com]

Alrighty. Running around with exploding phials, while the best way to spend the day is never actually conducive to talking.

I need to talk to you.

[HOLO] And where do all these highways go, now that we are free?

[inquitvigiliant.livejournal.com]

The holo shows a graying middle-aged man, dressed in a brown tweed suit and wearing wire-rimmed glasses. He looks puzzled and wary, and like he's doing his best to hide both emotions.

"Hello! Can anyone hear me?" His voice echoes a little as he moves slowly down the steps from the arrival chamber to take in his surroundings. With a sigh, he pulls off his glasses and rubs the back of his hand across his eyes, moving his arm away as he catches sight of the bracelet. He runs his fingers over the metal band, searching for a clasp or perhaps an engraving, muttering again under his breath about runes and enchantments.

"Most definitely not Sumerian-" he murmurs, cutting himself off when he spots the tablet on the pedestal. Tilting his head, he picks it up to examine it. "Some sort of mobile?" He pokes hesitantly at the device, straightening in surprise when a three-dimensional map appears, and permitting himself a small smile of satisfaction at having seemingly worked out at least part of the object's function.

"Well, why not? The worst that can happen is nothing, I just stand here feeling like a fool. Wouldn't be the first time." In a slightly louder voice, obviously addressing the tablet, he adds, "If anyone can hear me, I appear to be...well, a bit lost. Perhaps...more than a bit, to be honest, I seem to be in some sort of holding cell with no memory of how I arrived here. And I'd be rather indebted if um, well if anyone can hear this, if you'd take a message to a young woman named Buffy."

[ooc: I aaaam at work and thus subject to work distractions, so apologies in advance for slow tagging.]

x09 [visual] when you come back you’ll find everything has changed -

[beholdthedrums.livejournal.com]

((Glitch-start! Information here.))


That morning Yana had found himself awkwardly on the floor, wedged in a corner formed by a bed and wall, completely uncertain of his surroundings. He had little clue that the body he was in was not his, having enough cramping from his odd positioning that it felt the same, and the drumming was quietly ticking away as always.

It was only through muscle memory that Yana was able to figure out the tablet so quickly, even though he was giving it a perplexed look – he had never before seen the device. “Fascinating,” he murmurs, and then he remembers that he had turned it on and he gingerly places it back down.

“Hello there,” he greets, folding his hands before him, “I’m under the belief that this is a comm system, yes?” It felt familiar to him. “You see… I’m not quite sure how it is I arrived here. I’ve never seen any room like this in the Silo… it certainly isn’t my lab…” In fact, it was the room that the Master used within the Sanctuary.

He frowns, easing back. For those that knew the Master, they would be able to recognize that his voice was wrong, and even the way he carried himself was different. He takes another moment to really look around the small room, trying to get a feel or perhaps stir up any hidden memories, but nothing turns up. “I do wonder if the children made it to Utopia…” he thoughtfully says to himself, and then he takes notice to the wristet infused to his skin. “What in god’s name…?”

001. (holo) we're a bunch of real live wires

[delcorazon.livejournal.com]

Trixie has woken up in unfamiliar locations before, but that's usually prefaced by a heavy night of drinking, and generally it's not when thirty seconds ago she was leaning on the side of her car preparing to drive all the way up to snowy Illinois. She seems to be alone, but that's no sign of safety; there are plenty of things out there that can hide themselves, so after the moment of initial panic, she moves swiftly into motion, training kicking in: the arrival chamber's parameters are thoroughly examined, and she is silent the entire time, eyes narrowed, jaw set tightly. She pats herself down to make sure all of her possessions are still there -- the car seems to be gone, fuck, but she's got her keys and the lip balm she shoved into her jacket pocket -- and she has some kind of bracelet on her wrist.

That stops her in her tracks and makes her stomach twist unpleasantly as she yanks determinedly at the metal, which persists long enough to leave a few angry red-pink gashes on her arm, not quite breaking the skin but nevertheless suggestive of a relatively determined attempt to get the damn thing off. The idea of someone being able to interfere with her bodily autonomy while she was unconscious or otherwise prone is more than distressing, and she clamps a hand over her mouth for a few seconds, taking a couple of deep breaths, starting out shaky but evening out soon enough.

There's no protocol for being dropped into a situation like this, as far as she knows, but Trixie's always prided herself on being resourceful. When she finds the tablet, she fumbles through buttons and commands until she lands on the 'voice' mode, but she doesn't transmit--instead she sits, quietly, for a long time, cross-legged in blue jeans with the tablet in her lap. She listens to others' accidental and intentional transmissions, doing nothing to inform anyone as to her presence until she's decided she's good and ready, which ends up taking roughly forty-five minutes. Less than she thought, though; she was prepared to wait there for hours, if it took that long for her to pick up any public communication.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and begins.

"All right," she says, casting her gaze up toward the ceiling, "which of you out there feels like playing welcome wagon? I'm a little broke at the moment, what with the whole losing my fucking car issue, but I'm willing to resort to culinary bribery. Promise I'm real nice when I'm not freaking out about being kidnapped."