[ Location: Taxon Forest ] / [Accidental video ] - Timed before Buffy's arrival

[slayersidekick]

Willow has not had a good couple of weeks. Buffy's gone. Andrew's gone (still a problem even if she didn't know him that well). Cordelia's gone. Angel doesn't remember Cordelia anymore. So much has been messed up and Willow is sick of it. She's pissed off at Spike for not caring enough, in her eyes, to want Buffy back. She's pissed off at Faith for going all leadershipy and yelling at everyone about trying to bring back what was rightfully Angel's to know. Doubly pissed off at both of them for yelling at her specifically about her magic.

Okay, sure, she's had a lot of it for a long time, but her motives are purely to help her friends! And if Lorne's really right about what happens after people disappear, heads will roll.

Mostly, though, Willow's hurting at the loss of so many people close to her. She's tired suddenly of everything to do with Taxon. And she figures if she can figure out how to bring people back here, she can send the rest of them home. Right now, that's all that matters.

So, she's taken time off the magic shop, told Tara she was going to walk around for a little bit, and headed out to the waterfalls with a few spellbooks and a lot of ingredients. The important part here is that she's going to open a portal to snatch Buffy out of whatever abyss of time and space she's gotten tugged into this time.

Sitting down on the ground, Willow begins preparations, spreading out her ingredients, making the circle, and preparing. It's about when she starts muttering words in Latin that she shifts and the tablet falls out of her pocket. Another shift and a rock nudges it on. Maybe a little help from the friendly aliens. She won't know until it's too late.

"-a... er...? I really suck at Latin, but that's not the issue here!"

She glances around, kicking the tablet further away. Those who are actually paying attention might notice that her eyes? Yeah, they've gone entirely black. This usually means Bad. Things. are happening.

The result doesn't happen until a few minutes later, after the power's surged through her. And then it explodes. Ingredients go flying. Willow's knocked backwards into a tree nearby. And the tablet's blasted back with her.

"Ow! ...ow... that hurt!"

Damnit. Maybe it didn't work...

So, Willow can be found crawling around, bleeding a bit, and generally looking pretty banged up as she tries to figure out WHAT THE HELL happened just now. Every so often, her head will appear in the tablet's view. Her eyes are back to being normal-colored.



[ooc: still tagging around Willow's other post, but with our new Buffy's arrival, this needs to get up now to progress things! For right now, all she's done is attempt to bring Buffy back. Angel's memory attempt will be later on, but feel free to assume she did that, too (LOOKIN AT YOU FAITH) Open to anyone, seriously. Have at :3]

one [ holo ✝ location: sanctuary ]

[herotypical]

This was supposed to have been a victory. Buffy blinked against the brightness of the room; she already missed the comforting sunlight of Sunnydale, California. Or what used to be Sunnydale. She continuously had to compensate with the knowledge that the town she had spent years protecting was gone. Crater'd. Ka-freakin'-blooey. And yet it seemed to be the least of her problems, as she spun on the spot and observed this strange new frontier. It was weird and new and not at all comfortable. But since when did Buffy Summers ever do comfortable outside of a Thursday night pajama date with MTV? So she took that bold first step onto the staircase with poise and confidence. And why not? She had won. Correction: she was supposed to have won. But if winning meant no longer being on that road with her few, her happy few, her band of victors? Then perhaps this wasn't winning at all.

"Hello?" She called, neck craning to see more of the room without getting too footloose and fancy free with the steps. "Anybody there? Don't make me threaten to huff and puff." She licked her lips. How ineffectual she sounded to herself, undermining the glorious high of success she had been enjoying. "'Cause you won't like my huff and my puff is totally a metaphor for my right hook. Which you also won't like."

Buffy descended the stairs, tucking hair behind her ears in an unconscious gesture of insecurity. That was when she noticed the bracelet. "Fabulous," Buffy intoned flatly. She pressed her thumb against the metal -- tempted to dig at the skin and remove it once she realized it was fused to her. "The latest and greatest in hostage fashion, I presume?" She shook her wrist, limply. Better not risk tearing it from the flesh. Not now. She completed her thought aloud: "Hate to get blood all over your squeaky clean lab-o-horrors."

Best to set the bracelet conundrum aside for now. She focused on the pedestal instead. Perhaps it held answers? So she walked carefully up to it -- sure to check her flanks and keep all senses on high, high alert. Her footsteps eerily echoed and enforced her sudden solitaryness. Deep in in the pit of her, she longed to be back amongst the other victors. Leading them to safety. They have each other and...and what does she get for her great reward? "A techno...something. Oh, skippy." She quipped sarcastically to herself. Buffy gingerly lifted the tablet, unsure as to what it could really be. She never was one for the gadgetry. At least not gadgetry that dated past the middle ages. Which seemed to be just about the most appropriate time for her eyes to catch on a flash of red--on the floor--across the room. The scythe.

"Well, at least I have one piece of home. Better weapon-up and go slice myself some more."

028 ± [ location: central (locked to Cain) ] the buttons are pushing themselves

[aintnoconvict]

Somehow Glitch got it in his half-full head that what Cain really, really needed after a month and a scoosh of getting kidnapped, brainwashed into some bizarre alternate self, and then finding out that his two best friends had become romantically involved (...and no, that description still didn't sound perfectly right) was a housewarming gift. Not a music box, but a music player nonetheless, with an assortment of small discs he'd pulled from the palace archives. Traditional ditties, a few popular collections from well before the war, and some of the jazz that got imported from the Otherside and melded with Ozian styles.

Odds were against the gift going over too well, but Glitch was a bit desperate to get (back?) into Cain's good graces. So he struck out for Central - of course the tin man would settle in Central - and the dot on the map that showed Cain's home. There was a parcel under his arm, a scarf wound loosely around his neck, and snow flurries catching in his curls.

...maybe he should have gotten Cain a scarf instead, or some gloves, or something else warmth-generating. A very insistent half-memory told him Cain would not like the cold.


ooc - post shall contain mistletoe-induced shenanigans of a kissy and snuggly nature. BYO-popcorn :3

[ holo ] i caught wind and hit the road running and lord i been a long time gone

[lajolieblonde.livejournal.com]

Sookie's sitting on her couch, staring down at her hands. Bill's ring's still on her fourth finger, all bright and shiny and beautiful and just... worthless now, reminding her of what she's never going to get. He lied to her, manipulated her. He made her love him, and none of it was real. Not a damn thing.

With a choked sob she tugs the ring off her fingers and throws it across the room; then she rushes to pick it up again, her knees thudding to the hardwood floor.

That's when it happens.

The hardwood floor vanishes, goes cold and metal and grey. She looks up, brushing hastily at the few tears on her face, sniffing loudly and straightening her spine. "Hello? Am I--" she bites her lip, standing with her fist closed around that damn ring, scowl set on normally delicate features. "Bill, I told you we're through. You don't talk to me, you don't even come near me. And you sure as hell don't take me anywhere against my will. I am done with y'all vampires thinkin' you can just pick me up and move me around however you like, like I'm a damn chess piece." When Bill doesn't materialize-- metaphorical hat in hand and guilty look on his face to explain why it's necessary he do this, Sookie, it's for your own good-- she swallows and tries again. "Eric, just because I'm not with Bill anymore doesn't mean you got any better chance than you did before. You chained me up in that damn basement and fed me to Russell, don't think I forgot about that just because I'm mad as hell at Bill too."

But Eric's not there to be smug either, and Sookie's expressed moves from peeved to worried. "Hello? Is anybody listenin' to me?"

[HOLO] [Sanctuary] What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

[just-axe-me.livejournal.com]

Of course Sam Axe had woken up before with no idea where he was or how the hell he got there. He’d gotten married once in Vegas. And there’d been this one Staatssicherheit guy who’d pistol-whipped him to every rendezvous no matter how much Sam said he’d love a blindfold -- but that’d been ‘89, and nowadays he tended to wake up wherever he’d put his head the night before. And nowadays he’d hit the hay by eleven o’clock and there’d be no head next to him on the pillow in the morning. Say it ain’t so, Sam.

But waking up standing, and ‘waking up’ when you’d been mid-sentence with a lady (who had three condos in Boca and was also really cute) was a new thing. He’d ‘woken up’ in a stainless-steel can of a room, wobbling on a raised dais in the middle and completely alone. His hand was still cupped around a beer that wasn’t even there any more, and he was left blinking foolishly at nothing at all.

Downside: when you woke up in an unfamiliar place you could keep your eyes shut and feign unconsciousness. Worst came to worst, when you had to stop feigning you could do the amnesia trick instead, though he’d never found who are you? Wait! My God! Who am I! to be effective yet. Horse had already left the barn on this one.

“Hi,” he said. Nothing. “Hello? ¿Hola?” Nothing. The room was so sterile and empty he could’ve been inside a microwave. Just him and his pedestal and thinking that if this was Heaven, God, You could have made it look less like a space alien lounge, and if this is Hell you got me beat. Everything was matte gunmetal colours and circular, which made it difficult to estimate how round about the room was: big enough, decided Sam.

Some drugs made you feel as though no time had passed, or took a chainsaw to your memory bank. Get disoriented enough and it’d have the same effect. Stress test. Psychological conditioning or torture could do hell to you too, but nobody was that good. Nobody could be that good. He was still wearing the lime-green shirt Fi winced at whenever she saw it, which was a kick in the pants if you looked at what Mike wore most of the time, and it still smelled like his aftershave. No time could have passed. Nobody could be that good, not the Management, no spook who hated any of them.

Big burning hole in his pocket where his cellphone had been, though. No surprise.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Sam, and made the first real test, which was moving.

Walking around on the raised dais raised no alarm bell, but it let him know that the rest of the room looked like the rest of the room -- and that out of the corner of his eye, right above him was some kind of device fixed to the ceiling. Sam tried to compare it to other devices in his brain and gave up. He wasn’t the device guy. No laser beams, no gunshots; no telltale fatigue or dizziness when he moved. Whoever had put him here didn’t really care about him moving around. It was power, to not care.

“This is a nice place you have here,” he said amiably, for the benefit of any unseen cameras or rows of Martians watching him on Martian Pay-Per-View. When his foot tested the first step and worked at the metal it was solid. This place hadn’t been mocked up out of beer cans. “Real cute. Is this before or after the probe, fellas? I’m the type of guy who needs romancing, you know?”

The room was deadly silent, and when Sam went to the wall and put his ear to it there were no sounds from outside. Nothing to indicate that this was some cheap, crappy construction made in some warehouse in order to give him one hell of a scare. No door. Nobody.

Fear? He was fifteen years past spooking at bumps in the night. But disquiet -- well, you could have buckets of that, and all for free.

XVI [Location Wilde: Heading towards Wesley's Flat] From Bad to Worse

[demonologist]

Wesley pulls his coat closer around him. Looks like there's going to be snow again soon, although thankfully it doesn't seem to stay for long. All around him there are colourful decorations festooning the buildings along the streets but it doesn't cheer him at all.

He's finally moving back into his apartment. There doesn't seem much point in staying there now that the Master (and more importantly, Cordelia) has left Taxon. That danger has passed, and every time he turns around he can't help but think he'll see Cordy coming down the stairs, or emerging from the office area complaining about their lack of jobs. Fred will understand, and it means he can avoid Angel and thus avoid the subject of Cordelia altogether until he can decide what course of action to take.

His confrontation with Faith over what to do has left a bitter taste in his mouth. Not that that's a new feeling for him. Somehow he can never manage to see eye to eye with her, or say the right thing. He doesn't have Angel's knack for getting through to her. As much as he regrets the harsh words exchanged between them both, he doesn't regret standing up to her. She needs to learn that issuing non-negotiable orders and violent threats is not the answer.

At any rate, he's decided to mull things over for a bit. It would not do to act rashly. He did promise Faith that he wouldn't force the issue yet, even if his word is absolutely worthless to her.

His apartment is up ahead. He ponders if he should check in with Fred. It might be nice to see a friendly face. Perhaps later once he's had a chance to unpack some boxes.


[OOC: Locked to Godric for now, but may open up later, depending on how things go. ;)]

1 | [ holo / location: sanctuary ]

[whoneedsrules.livejournal.com]

Three days in this dank, godforsaken tomb. It was three days too long without blood, as far as Katherine was concerned. There wasn’t even a single rat in sight; she was so hungry she’d probably lower herself to eating vermin by now. With a quiet exhalation, the vampire slouched against the clammy rock of the tomb’s wall, losing her balance as the solid rock behind her back disappeared abruptly and the darkness was replaced with artificial light.

"What the—!" Katherine hissed and braced one hand against the floor, bowing her head to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness. Slowly, Katherine raised her chin and blinked at the chamber amidst her hair, bewildered. This was a far cry from the musty tomb she’d occupied just a moment ago. How? A moment of sheer, wide-eyed panic gripped at her as she immediately considered the Originals, but a few deep breaths returned her ability to think straight. It couldn’t be. Damon had imprisoned her in that damn tomb, sealed by the Bennett witches’ spell; no vampire could get out once they stepped inside. It had to be someone else, and Katherine was willing to bet they couldn’t be worse than Klaus.

Despite her blood-starved body protesting at every move, Katherine straightened from her slouch and cast a critical eye down at herself. She was a mess; still wearing the wrinkled, knee-length black dress, dirt smudging her skin that had taken on a slightly sickly, ashen pallor – she could only imagine the dark circles bound to sit under her eyes. Her straightened hair hung down her shoulders, a curtain of limp frizz instead of the mass of curls she normally sported. She scoffed at the state of her and cursed Damon all over again. Caroline and that backstabber Lucy, too, while she was at it.

But she had a more immediate objective now, such as getting out and feeding. Oh, and a shower.

"Very well. I’ll bite," Katherine finally drawled wryly, smirking at her pun as she glanced about. "Hello? Anybody home?"

Preferably someone filled with nice, juicy veins full of thick, warm blood. Humming a soft sound of amusement at the thought, Katherine wet her dry lips and addressed the empty room again, her attitude remarkably lackadaisical for such an evidently unwell person in an uncertain situation.

"Nobody obviously taught you people manners. It’s rude to keep a lady waiting."

[holo] When the Sun Goes Down

[garg-elisa.livejournal.com]

It actually started sometime during the day, when a statue had appeared in the room, accompanied by a very perplexed but ultimately bored cat.  The cat paced the room for a bit before eventually curling up into a ball near the statue.  It was probably very boring for anyone who had decided to watch.

It would be sunset before anything interesting happened.  Cracks began to appear in the statue as it seemed to be breaking apart from the inside out.  Finally, with a roar and eyes glowing red, Elisa burst forth from the statue, shattering bits of stone across the room.

( Read more... )

 

015 [ accidental voice | location: caritas ]

[bigbad]

[Spike had thought having Buffy back would make everything good again. But no, that would be too nice. He should have known better. Now Spike's pretty sure both Summers women are mad at him, though he should check back with Dawn, maybe she's feeling more charitable now that Buffy's back.

But that can happen later. Now he's at Caritas, drowning his sorrows. Again.]

Hate this bloody place. [His voice comes out a little slurred.] And the bloody, bloody hamsters and their bloody meddling.

[He takes another long swig from the bottle. Oh, vampire healing, you are the only reason Spike's liver hasn't curled up and died from all this abuse.]

Can I get another one?