031 ━ [ visual ] / [ location: uss enterprise ].

[tiberiuskirk.livejournal.com]

Kirk, completely unaware of the fact that the captive victims of the zombie attacks would be returned some time after the fact, hovered over a metalic crate of sorts, full of the few objects that belonged to Spock during his time here in Taxon. His time before he fell victim to the fatal bite of a zombie, something Kirk was currently beating himself up over, for he had himself convinced that if he'd been fast enough-- What use was there, dwelling over the past? His experiences with Nero and Ambassador Spock taught him that changing the past was detrimental to the future. Maybe this was just meant to be. Time wasn't meant to be tampered with, after all. If the afore mentioned experiences hadn't drilled that into his skull, debriefings by Temporal Investigations after the fact definitely did.

Reaching into the box, Kirk pulled out the Vulcan lute that Spock had brought with him from home. He took the object still being here and not vanished, as it would have if Spock had simply been returned home, as a sign that the man was really dead and not coming back. God, he felt bad for Sarek. What was he going to tell the elder Vulcan, if they ever found a way out of this place? 'Sorry, your last living relative was bit by a zombie' sounded ridiculous, even to his ears.

His fist tightened around the lute's edge. The sound of this thing drove him up a wall when Spock would practice with it, and he turned, raising it up as if to throw it across the room--

"No," he told himself, unaware of the tablet catching all this. He dropped it back into the crate. "Stupid harp."

( ooc | lute used with permission from beth! backdated to just before the return of the zombie victims. )

001: [holo] Please stand away from the platform edge

[littlestcastle.livejournal.com]

Alexis glanced at her phone as she hurried down the stairs to the subway station. “I'm going to be so late,” she fretted, dodging around an older man with an oversized briefcase as she dialed a number on the phone. She swiped her subway pass and scooted through the turnstile as the phone rang, and rang, until it clicked to voicemail. “Oh hey, Justin! I just wanted to call to let you know that I'm running a little late for our violin lesson toda--”

The rest of her message died in her throat as, between one step and the next, the familiar confines of the New York subway system became something completely different, a seamless expanse of sterile, featureless steel.

Alexis gaped, mouth still slightly open. “Hello?” she finally asked. “My name is Alexis Castle. Can anybody tell me where I am? Or how I got here?”

Her own words echoed back at her, and Alexis chewed her bottom lip as she fumbled with her phone, hitting her dad's number on speed dial without any conscious thought. She didn't wait for him to pick up; if she had, she would have realized the phone wasn't ringing, but finding herself in a strange room when she had two seconds before been in the crowded subway station made Alexis less than rational. “Dad? Are you there? I need you to come get me, I think I'm in trouble,” she said, trying her best to sound calm, though it was hard to hide the edge of hysteria, the rising panic in her voice. “I was on my way home, in the subway station, but now I'm not, I'm in a little round room and there isn't anything here--” A pause, as she notices for the first time a podium with a device resting on it. Her voice quavers as she continues, “Except a podium, and I'm getting scared, Dad. Can you come get me?”