What have I woken to now? [visual || The Sanctuary]

[keepshopealive.livejournal.com]

Materializing into an alien environment out of nowhere should have been more of an immediate shock. Especially for someone who always had their wits about them. But in all fairness, it had been one hell of a day for Rick Grimes. The C.D.C. was not only a failure, but a near death experience for the entire camp. And that was saying something considering they were fearing for their lives 24/7. Even so the caravan of cars got out of the city as quickly as possible and drove until they found a place that was presumably safe to camp. Rick had volunteered to take the first shift merely because he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He needed to mull over things in his own mind before he could even begin to think about forgiving himself for not thinking things through before allowing everyone inside that building.

But as his location abruptly changed from a tattered lawn chair in front of the fire to a very big and bright chamber, it only stirred the man who'd already been half asleep. What awoke him were the lights, and, the fact that he was now standing. Maybe he'd gotten up already himself and forgot. Who knew?

Rubbing the side of his face roughly Rick yawned, "Shift up already, Shane?" He spoke out loud, thinking that was why he'd suddenly stood up. But when he received no answer, Rick opened his eyes fully. And that was when things finally sunk in.

Rick wasn't at the campfire. He wasn't in the woods. But where was this place? It was inside of a building, obviously. Upon further observation he noted that he was on the top of a platform. Having nowhere else to go, he descended down the stairs, his eyes alert and very much awake now at this sudden change. He froze upon seeing the strange monitors and schematics all around him. It almost reminded him of being inside the C.D.C. again only...he was unfamiliar with any of this technology. But what did he know? He was a police officer.

It occurred to him that maybe the group had found a building and moved. He didn't know how, or why he wouldn't have woken up, much less be around anyone else, but that didn't stop him from calling out to see if they were around. "Shane! Shane, where are we?" Nothing.

( Courtesy cut for possibly ridiculous length... )

[Accidental Visual | The Hyperion Hotel] oh shit it's a dragon, get in the car.

[imperial-long.livejournal.com]

It had been a full and busy day, passing out red money envelopes to nigh everyone he had met in Taxon so far. But Long thought it a day well spent, a day full of interesting conversations in which he had gotten to digress a few times on the customs of the Chinese new year, to wax wistful for things like the dragon dance that would wend its colorful way through the streets of whatever city he was in. Even in San Francisco the dragon dance had always been splendid. He was skeptical as to whether there would be such a custom here in Taxon, but he supposed only the morrow and the first official day of the spring festival would tell.

Shortly before midnight, Long retired to his bedroom, turned off the lights, and crawled into his sinfully comfortable bed with a yawn. Creature comforts-- he was altogether too fond of them, he supposed. Several of those he had visited today in Taxon managed with much, much less. Perhaps this was another thing about being human with which he might have to come to terms.

He dreamt of China, of Hunan. Of the freedom of the air, the craggy mountains, sheep and oxen on pastureland and the voice of the boy, or girl (for it had varied) reading to him in the early days, the very long ago days. They were good dreams. He slept well.

He was still asleep the next morning when his tablet, thrown by concussive force out of his hotel room to land on the pavement several hundred feet away and six stories down, accidentally blurped! into broadcasting life.

He was still asleep when Taxon received the ( Visual. )

001 [ holo | sanctuary ] welcome back my friends to the show that never ends

[rereremembered.livejournal.com]

He'd helped save scores of worlds and dozens of universes, he'd beaten Elvis in a death match (sort of), he'd wooed more than one alien princess, and now Fitz was going to die in a garage. In Lancashire. The ghost-monster thing screamed again and bore down upon him, its many eyes gleaming, its jaws wide in preparation for biting. Fitz closed his eyes and pressed himself harder against the swing door in a futile attempt to escape--

--or perhaps not so futile, as in the next instant he found himself flat on his back in a strange metal room, staring up at some alien contraption. He blinked and frowned before carefully sitting up.

"Ta for the rescue, there," he muttered and got his bearings. Metal walls, metal floor, stairs going down, pedestal with a fancy mobile, all of it suddenly familiar.

The word "Taxon" cheerfully sprang to mind and he groaned. How the hell had he forgotten this place?

"Oh, flipping heck!" Fitz struggled to his feet - which were tied together with nylon rope (long story) - and awkwardly hopped over to pick up the tablet. "Is there a Doctor in the house? I'm not picky, any one will do. And if whoever comes to get me would be kind enough to bring something sharp, I'll get you drinks for a night."