oo1 ˪holo || @sanctuary˥

[nobodylshome.livejournal.com]

Caroline set the flat iron down on her sink, shaping one of her blonde curls with her finger. She was frazzled from the night before and the fact that Matt still hadn't answered her messages (it was official - he -was- avoiding her), but that didn't mean she was going to go out looking like a wreck. When she was satisfied with her hair, she turned off her flat iron and unplugged it from the wall. What she had expected was to walk through the door leading into her hallway and to be, well, in her hallway.

That was not how things actually went. Instead, she found herself in an unfamiliar room (if it could be called that at all) on some sort of platform... thingy. Were she less out of her comfort zone, she would have tried to describe it with something less general, but right now 'thingy' would have to do. It described most of what she saw -- especially the weird device above her.

There was something unfamiliar on her arm and looking down revealed it to be a silver bracelet. "Ew, what's this? It's incredibly tacky." Removing it was apparently a no-go, because the bracelet didn't budge. "Is this -stuck- on me? Okay, I don't know what's going on here, but," she fiddled with the bracelet, disgusted that apparently seemed -fused- onto her, "this is definitely not cool." Caroline was aware that she had inevitably bigger problems, but this one seemed manageable and like a good place to start. "How do I get this thing off?"

[Holo] First Performance [001]

[painsinger.livejournal.com]

"This shouldn't be happening! It can't be happening!" Stefen hadn't intended to speak out loud, but the frustration and the fear obvious in his voice had, it seemed, other plans aside from stunned silence. Maybe not stunned, if the look of resigned terror on his face said anything--like someone watching their worst nightmare come to life, only they had been expecting it. Nothing was ever simple, and the half of him that was still a child wanted to complain about how unfair this all was, while the half that was more what he should have been--the half that was Master Bard Stefen, performer to the King-- knew that it wouldn't have changed anything if he did.

"Well-guarded, indeed. One moment in Haven, the next here..." Not that he hadn't heard of stranger things happening from the Heralds and with his particularly strong ties to both King Randale and Herald-Mage Vanyel, he was a particularly prime target.

Vanyel.

Oh gods. He had been right. If they knew who he was, it was only a matter of time before the worst happened and if they didn't know how important he was to either, it was only a matter of time before they found out and...

"V-Van...?" But he wasn't really expecting an answer. This place looked too alien, even for the kind of "company" that Van tended to keep. And if the Herald wasn't here, then there was only one real option left--Stefen was being used as leverage. Abducted by some invisible force with some phantom goal in mind. Vanyel had enough enemies that there was no telling what any of them wanted.

It wasn't until he reached up to run a hand through his fiery red hair that he realized that he was still clutching an instrument against his slight body. That added a whole other level of confusing to the situation. This looked enough like a strange prison, so...why was he permitted an instrument? And his favorite, no less.

"R-Rosewood? What are you doing here?" He held her a little more gently against his chest, but she was a small comfort in the face of abduction.

Calm down, Stef. You've had training. Nothing is wrong with Vanyel or you'd know. He closed his green eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He was supposed to be attached to the palace, not dealing with magic or prisons or any of...well, this.

Someone has to be looking for me. Let's face it, at this point I'm too important for someone not to have noticed that I've vanished. But that would only make them--whoever "them" were--try even harder to hide him. After a few moments of silent internal struggle, an oath that would not have been very welcome at Court all but exploded from him and the look on his face turned into a mixture of frustration and rage. There wasn't anything that he was capable of doing to get himself out of this--all he could do was wait to be found.

And that was precisely what he set out to do, dropping to sit on the floor and sulk (even if he would never have called it that) very much like the child that he had barely outgrown.

"Havens..."