taxonomites | [Location & Visual: Somewhere in the City]

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[Location & Visual: Somewhere in the City]

Godric had long since lost count of how many sentinels he'd destroyed when his luck had run out. One of the bombs had gone off behind him. It was a few minutes premature and he never saw what triggered it, but it didn't matter. The way it ripped into him and threw him to the ground had been a more pressing concern. The inflicted wounds would have been instantly fatal on any mortal; flesh ripped up in long strands to reveal bone, extensive burns and shrapnel buried in his shoulder. One of his arms had been rendered near useless, though it had remained attached.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Godric had dug into the ground at a blurred speed. He had already begun healing, but by the time he was useful again, the bombs would have already gone off. He had prayed quickly and silently to nothing in particular that he'd done enough, that enough bombs could be disarmed, that Judith would find the psychopath who'd planted them before he could hit the trigger, that the Uroc and whatever other shelters there were could withstand the blasts. As the dirt had fallen in behind him and encased him in darkness, he had hoped that Taxon wouldn't be a city of one when he next woke.

When Godric drags himself out of the ground, fully healed but caked in dirt like a proper zombie, a wave of relief washes over him. Taxon is still more or less standing, despite sustaining quite a bit of damage, and he immediately wants to know what's gone on in his absence.

He doesn't know who to contact first, so the broadcast is public. To anyone who doesn't yet know him, he just looks like a teenager covered head-to-toe in dirt. It's hard to tell he's even undead with his white skin so camouflaged.

"I've been incapacitated for the past few hours, but it seems the worst of all this has been averted. What happened?"

A pause as he searches the skies for the Uroc. "Kinsman, is your boat still in one piece? Judith, are you well?" There are a number of other people he wants to ask after, but he'll take things one at a time.

[ooc: This is dated to maybe six hours or so after the Doctor got caught, before everything programs itself back to normal. Anyone and everyone is free to tag into this with their two cents, though it's not any kind of official aftermath post.]

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Godric! I've been worried sick, I could not find you for the life of me, and I had misplaced my tablet, and--

Edited 2010-03-05 22:14 (UTC)

"Levi." He's visibly relieved. "I'm sorry. I was destroying the machines guarding the bombs and I was caught in a blast. I had to bury myself. Are you and Shane alright?"

He assumes so, otherwise Levi wouldn't be nearly so coherent.

Bury yourself-- Yes-- yes. We're alright. I'm just a bit stretched thin.

And you? Are you alright?

"Yes, I'm alright now. There was nowhere else to take shelter, but thankfully, I don't need to breathe." A brief, lopsided smile. He's making light of it because Levi doesn't need to worry about extensive injuries that no longer exist. It's clear he's already worried enough.

"Do you need help? What's stretching you so thin?"

It's nothing, honestly, I... Shane tells me that I'm worrying too much. I hadn't heard from you, and Ethan still has not contacted me. And Glitch, he... he was caught in an explosion. He's fine, but I can't help but worry.

Shane is probably right, as usual. I'm not the best under stress of any amount.

"I'm sorry that I added to all your worries." His heart goes out to Levi. He'd been too busy destroying or recovering to worry much over everyone, but given half a chance, he would have wanted to account for everyone as well. He's utterly relieved to have woken to this, rather than a nightmare.

"It could have been much worse. From the look of things, most people are alive. I'm sure Ethan is only indisposed." He does his best to reassure while still reeling himself.

Don't apologize, honey, everything is much better than it was. As long as you promise to take care of yourself, things will be easier.

Ethan is most likely causing me unnecessary grief as a twisted version of revenge in this childish feud we have going on. I'm not as worried about him as I am Glitch.

"I will, I promise." There's little that can harm him now, anyway. "How is Glitch? Are his injuries bad?"

Good. He isn't doing terribly. He's resting now, but he was very confused when I first found him. He'll be fine soon.

"You look as if you could use some rest yourself. Why don't you and Shane find somewhere to get some sleep?"

I will soon. I'd like to make sure that everyone is alright, first. Sleep is a luxury, not a necessity.

"Nonetheless, you'll be no use to anyone if you're over-stressed and exhausted. Don't put it off too long." Godric should take his own advice now and then.

I know, mother. I promise that I will, soon.

Yeah Levi, like you can say anything.

"Says the pot to the kettle. Now we've both scolded one another about our sleeping habits."

Perhaps we should actually follow through with our own advice, hm?

"Do you need blood?" Judith's face isn't entirely visible; she hasn't showered yet, it's clear, so speaking of blood there's plenty of faint smears of it around her mouth, which is all that she's letting show as she sits somewhere dim. "I'm fine. Good enough to be a travelling snack bar--we got the guy, Godric, and stopped the bombs. So that's why I'm being such a fucking smart mouth, I guess."

"No, I'm fine, but thank you." To be honest, he could use a pint or two after the injuries he sustained, but he can go without for awhile, and he has more pressing things on his mind. When the time comes, he's sure he can find a working hatch. He still has issues drinking directly from people anymore.

"You found him?" There doesn't seem to be any physical, noticeable change in his expression or body language, but his entire demeanor somehow becomes instantly predatory. It's clear from something subtle in his voice that he wants to know whether or not the Doctor is dead.

Judith is uncomfortably still, at first, turning her head away from the tablet entirely. There's the sound of water running, and then silence, the screen showing only the blank wall of some anonymous building.

"We found him," she confirms, moving back into view, this time at a distance. Her eyes seem darker than they usually are, and even more exhausted. "And he's not dead. I'm not happy about it either, but we can't--the reason we're in this fucking position is because he just decided for us what was going to happen. So it's not can't, it's--we shouldn't, right?"

Godric is silent for a few moments as he pushes back his anger with considerably more effort than is usually necessary. He considers Judith's words and mulls over the truth of them, like a mantra to remind him of what he believes in, to fend off the part of him that demands blood. When he feels he can comfortably form words without snarling, he speaks.

"Tell me what happened. Who has him now?" Not dead, but they'd never let him go free after all this.

Steadying herself, Judith closes her eyes to recall the events, and opens them to recite what she knows, with trained lack of affect: "We found him in the Sanctuary for All, sitting on top of an irradiated site. He faked the broadcast from there. He was wrestling with a girl who got there before he did, Morgana, but the radiation and bruising knocked her out. Two men evacuated her and another girl, while I stayed with a scientist. They got the radiation cordoned off - I think it was magic, it felt like it. Then Holmes and two people I didn't recognize showed up, and I left him in their custody. I don't know where they took him after that. I should have kept tabs on him."

It's a failing, and it's clear that she realizes it, rubbing her temples and lowering her head. "I--fuck. I don't know, we have to have a fucking trial, don't we?"

"...It was a bluff." Godric puts two and two together, but it doesn't cool his rage. The man had no right, no matter how far he'd actually intended it to go. That man, in his ignorance, his arrogance...

Godric's fist clenches and he briefly looks as terrifyingly vengeful as he feels. He has to turn the tablet away and gather himself. It's almost a full minute before Godric can turn the screen back to himself and respond.

"Yes, we have to have a trial. Or something close to it. We have no justice system here, but we have to set a precedence..." He thinks of the Brucolac; he had been right. Godric had always known he had been right, but Godric had preferred his small bliss to reality, no matter how short-lived. They should have begun instituting order months ago.

"Rubber bullets can kill people," Judith says, distantly, almost like it's an aside not relevant to the conversation at hand, "They hit you in the throat, or the head, if it's right--it kills you. Debris, in the explosions. Overdose of tranquilizers, or someone being allergic or something...he said he didn't want anybody to get hurt, that the robots were to protect us."

She understands Godric's rage perfectly: she can't unsee what she's seen today, the wreckage and violence inflicted on this place that now seems so fragile and achingly in need of protection. She didn't know she was falling in love with it until someone tore it open, but now it's breaking her heart.

"Like checkers. Like we were pieces that would do what he wanted--I've been puking up blood since I got out of there, you know? And so many people--it doesn't matter if it was a bluff, it fucking doesn't, it's almost fucking worse but I can't tell you how, it just is." She draws herself up resolutely, under the weight of the past hours, and takes a breath. "We'll make this work, and when we nail him people are going to--they'll see where the monsters are."

"No, it makes it no better." He knows there are people who have been injured, people who have probably died, because one fool wanted to make the aliens say hello. It doesn't matter if his intentions had been philanthropic, his execution had been naive and disrespectful in the extreme, and the results were worse than anything their captors had put them through.

"Have you heard from the Brucolac?" They have much to speak of, and someone has a criminal in custody who Godric wants to find and keep tabs on.

"He's aboard his ship, I think he's still putting out fires and collecting people. It's better if no one goes home yet, not until things fix themselves, or we fix them." She needs to keep her focus, to stay on her feet, but every minute passing she just wants more to curl up and go to sleep. "Building collapses. Um. Okay, right, I think that's it--that's what I know so far, anyway. The important things."

"A good plan." It's hard to tell what he's doing from the angle he's holding his tablet, but when he stops, it's clear he's leaped to a higher vantage point. He has a good view of the city now, and he's scanning it visually, listening in.

"Where have they taken the injured?" He'll be most useful searching out people who have had buildings collapse on them, but soon he'll want to take stock of the wounded.

"Oh--" Judith laughs, humorlessly, like someone who barely knows how. "Right, that. This place called Wayne Manor, it's on the tablets, they've got doctors there. I dropped in earlier."

She syncs her tablet into her bracelet and leaves the home she's in, back onto the streets of her territory: "They've got Dean Winchester running the fucking ambulance service, can you believe it?"

"The idiot?" It comes out of Godric's mouth before he can censor himself. He's usually not so free with his judgments, but he's been under a lot of stress lately.

"Well," he says after a somewhat awkward pause, "at least he's making himself useful." Rather than baiting vampires and being as cocky as possible.

The laughter that outburst startles out of Judith is quieter but more real than what came before, and she tucks her hair back, biting her lip in an incongruously girlish gesture.

"He's not that bad," she says, which is high praise indeed considering everything that transpired between them, "I mean--he'll learn, I used to be stupid about vampires too. I'll fix him."

"But--fuck, why I am talking about Dean?" She shakes it off, a little surprised at herself. "The important thing is the hospital - maybe not a great idea to visit it, for you, I don't know. It's pretty chaotic. Oh--you should check where you sleep, make sure it's not fried." He probably knows that, Judith.

It amuses Godric to think of Judith fixing Dean, as if adjusting some wiring in a panel in his back while he looks sour and tries to swat her away.

"I'll need to visit the hospital eventually, if only to account for the people I know. It won't be a problem. As for my nest..." He peers over in the direction of Osten for a few moments. "I can't tell from here if it's still in one piece, but if it's not, I can make other arrangements."

This is not far off from how Judith is actually going to approach it, at least on the 'stop being a dick to my vampire friends, what's even wrong with you' front. Swatting is likely. This absolutely doesn't mean she likes him at all, it's just a civic duty.

"My territory is open to you, I have plenty of intact buildings left." It's an offer she doubts he'll take her up on, if only because he probably has other, better options, but she makes it regardless. "Someone should do a headcount, when this is over."

Civic duty. Of course.

"Thank you, Judith. I may take you up on that." He doesn't actually have many options, or at least no open invitations. He's sure the Brucolac would allow him a place on his ship, but it's already quite crowded. His other options mostly involve sleeping in the dirt, which will not help him look any less like a zombie than he does now. Judith, on the other hand, is sure to have a nice, empty basement somewhere in her territory.

She takes her social responsibilities very seriously. With her mouth. Moving on.

"It's no problem." Judith smiles and nods, both faintly, and turns her attention to something out of view. "We both have a lot to get done, so...unless you need to know anything else I should let you go. I've got to figure out when we'll have our curse meeting, after all of this is settled."

"As soon as comfortably possible would be preferable. I don't mean to rush everyone, but..." But he has to. Because as deserving as his death threats may have been, snapping at a psychotic terrorist and then spending the next hour destroying all his toys was probably not the wisest course of action. Therapeutic, yes. Possibly even helpful. But a leveler head would have been more useful.

"But for now, yes, I believe we both have other things to attend to. I'll see you later, Judith."

"I am here. We've been putting out fires. They have the fucker, I hear." He very much wants to know who 'they' are, but first things first.

"What is the view like, down there?"

"Yes, so I hear. I have no plans to go see for myself, lest I kill him." The last thing he needs right now is an excuse.

"It's not as bad as I feared. Some buildings have collapsed, but it looks as if you've doused most of the fires. The city is still a city."

"Ah, but we need the future leaders of Taxon to be able to dispense fair justice to him, however they choose to define it.

"Speaking of, it might be best to wait and see who the dust is settling on before having our cousins over. Making long-term plans in this kind of unusual political climate would be like planning a picnic during a blizzard."

"And that is why I am trying my best to put the man from my mind and take no action, despite the effects of this damn knife." He may not have mentioned the knife or its effects to the Brucolac yet. Oops.

"In regard to long-term plans, I agree. But I would still like to get a feel for all our kin here. Whether or not they'll be willing to submit to the laws of mortals may be very important, very soon." It's almost inevitable that vampires end up being a political body of their own, for no other reason than that they can only be controlled by others of their kind.

"...This is the strange item that was placed in your room? The same sort of thing as Judith's key?"

He asks the question, and then goes on to discuss the practical concern, an obvious feint meant to make his question gentler. Weaknesses are things to be discussed carefully, even among friends.

"True, true. Very well, let us meet, and organize ourselves. I have personal reservations against the appearance of a different set of rules amongst our kind than amongst the quick, though we are a large body, and a difficult one for outsiders to influence. It will be good to know what others are used to, to what rules they are used to submitting."

"Yes." He pauses. This is almost embarrassing to admit, in a way, and he's had to do so fairly often lately. "One of its effects seems to be robbing me of my ability to control my temper. I'm not usually quick to anger, and not quick to act on it when I am, but it's becoming more and more difficult to keep my head."

Another pause, and he once again addresses the issue at hand. "In some ways, we may require slightly different rules, depending on our natures. Or it may be more accurate to say we need additional rules. But yes, let's see how our kindred feel about all this. Once things have settled some, I'll begin gathering them."

"Well fuck," the Brucolac says with matter-of-fact eloquence. "Should you need it, call. I can at least take you above the petty annoyances of the city. Irritants or not, I am damned glad to see you. I'll speak to you again when I have fewer children under foot, yes?"

"Thank you. Quiet places are always welcome." There's a reason he's been spending so much of his time in the forest. He smiles, some good humor coming back into his expression. "And I'm glad to see you as well. Go tend to your children, and we'll speak later."

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