5 | [ location: the taxon mall / accidental visual ]

[whoneedsrules.livejournal.com]

Katherine strolls along the aisles of the mall, disjointedly humming Happy birthday to you. She's not interested in browsing for clothes or shoes today, but neither does she want to sit in her hotel room and be restless. On a whim she finds herself in the home decor section, admiring ornately framed mirrors and silver candle holders until she comes across a display of tiny figurines made out of sparkling crystal. Carefully she picks up one resembling some kind of bird, turning it in her fingers pensively. It reminds her of something her mother used to have back in Bulgaria, and the thought brings a frown to her face. 536 years later and she still remembers the tiniest details of the woman who'd given birth to her, especially on this day.

That's when it hits her. Like flipping off a light switch, Katherine's awareness of her surroundings reduces dramatically, so violently that a wave of nausea washes through her and her muscles spasm, leaving her lightheaded and breathless. She doesn't notice her bag slipping off her shoulder and her tablet skittering across the floor, turning on and broadcasting the incident to the whole of Taxon.

Mental and physical equilibrium disturbed, Katherine crumples on the floor with an agonized cry. Dull pain radiates up her knees as they hit the ground hard, but the sudden and inexplicable loss of the sharp sensate consciousness that has been a constant for over 500 years is worse. Shakily, she sits up, belatedly registering the stinging of her right hand and realizes she's broken the crystal figurine to pieces during the fit. Hissing softly, she uncurls her fingers and shakes off the bits of crystal, staring at the few clear shards that have embedded into her palm. The crimson blood staining her palm feels warm and sticky against her skin and irritated, she picks off the shards, cringing at the burn. She doesn't answer the Extra that materialized from somewhere, calling her ma'am and asking if everything is alright. Katherine is staring at the cuts too intently, waiting, ice cold dread settling over her as the realization hits.

They're not healing.

She's not healing, she can't hear anything except her own breathing, she can't smell anything - her entire body feels foreign all of the sudden, weak and stripped of everything that has defined her for the past five centuries. How was this even possible? The annoying Extra is repeating more inquiries about her health, and Katherine finally looks up at the man.

"Go away," she demands, attempting to compel the Extra.

Nothing happens.

Suddenly, every instinct in her is clamoring for a flight. Run. Get out of here. Now. Clambering up less than gracefully and grabbing her bag, she mutters curse under her breath as she realizes the tablet is recording before turning it off and tossing it back into her bag. Pushing past the confused Extra, Katherine struggles not to break into run as she clutches her still bleeding hand into a tight fist despite the sting and tries to calm her ragged breathing.


[ ooc | so begins katherine's human glitch as detailed here! she'll be trying to get from the mall in central back to her hotel room in speares asap, so she'll be all intercept-able on the way for those who might possibly want to do so. tablet trolling is of course perfectly fine, too. ]

10 [Location: Castle Summers / visual] Everything will be okay

[slayersidekick]

It's taken Willow a really, really long time to work up the courage to make this broadcast, and even when she convinces herself she can't wait any longer, she still has to have some measure of comfort. Colette, her calico kitten, is tucked in her lap, purring contentedly as Willow leans back against the back of the chair she's sitting in. She's in her bedroom, the one she shares with Tara, and she looks nervous as she flicks on the feed.

"Uh, hi, Taxon!" She's using a falsely bright tone at the moment, because it's easier than acknowledging the fear and worry she's trying to keep at bay. Come on, Willow. You can do this.

"I-I know most of you probably know me by now, but, uh, if you don't, my name's Willow and I've been here for a couple of months now."

Pause. Breathe. Stroke the cat for comfort.

"What I really wanted to talk about is... my glitch a couple of months ago. Back in February. I know it's been a really long time and words aren't gonna make up for everything, but... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Well, yes, actually she had, but that was her glitched self, so that doesn't count at all.

"I'm a witch and I have some really powerful magic. I just... I'm learning how to control it so that doesn't happen again. My magic's just a part of me and I-I'm... sorry any of that happened."

Before she can beat herself up any more, she switches the feed off and waits to see how the rest of Taxon responds to her apology. Castle Summers residents can find her in her room. She'll be happy for visitors.

10: [location] bare your faces of the veil

[hasaheart]

The change of weather and the coming of April brought a few things to the forefront of Cain's mind. One day, while losing himself in the mundane murmur of household chores, he realized it had been close to six months since he first found himself trapped in this hole in the ground.

Six months in this monstrous metro-city, and he'd succumbed to the same apathy that he at first had accused his two dearest friends of.

Six months, and what had he done to find a way out?

What had he done to set things right?

Nothing. One big, fat, glaring nothing at all. He's given in to the grind of depression, to the oppressive lack of wanting anything to do with life, and the resignation that he doesn't have what it takes to end it once and for all (whatever it is, be it strength or weakness, guts or the lack of them).

What's more, if he's been here six months, it's ten months since Adora set out for the cottage beyond the white elm with their son, hoping against hope for a fresh start.

He realized he had no idea what she had done in the years before, when he was gone. He didn't know how she'd coped, what she'd had to sacrifice in order to feed her family.

Ten months, and sometime during the following four, she'd been murdered.

He realized, with chilling clarity, that he had no idea when his wife had died. He could live without knowing what had happened, because he knew it couldn't be as bad as his mind insisted in vivid, broad strokes of imaginary paint. He could live, not knowing how. He just wasn't so sure he could cope, not knowing when.

So, against better judgment, knowing full well he shared this prison with creatures who supposedly went around feeding on the blood of mortals, Cain once more took to walking the streets in the dead of night. The claustrophobia reared its ugly face one night too many, forcing him out into the deceptively open air - and if he had to choose between potentially infected, homicidal Extras and the walls of his rooms caving in, he'd take the Extras any day.