taxonomites | o1o ♠ if you wanna play dirty darling [ visual ] [ filtered against the doctor ]

Entry tags:

o1o ♠ if you wanna play dirty darling [ visual ] [ filtered against the doctor ]

"Good morning, Taxon." Crisp British diction and smooth French enunciation and it must be the Countess of Gatas, sober in dark, deep blue and holding a china teacup in both hands as she sits down at her husband's desk, dwarfed by the masculine surroundings designed for a man much, much larger than she is but soothed by the authority of it.

Some few days have passed since the bomb threat, and as the city returns to an equilibrium it seems to her eye that there's no time to waste. She sips her tea as she briefly scans the notes she's had transcribed, and then begins. "My name is Lady Petrana, and I am the Countess of Gatas. The Doctor is presently incarcerated in the Alcione dungeons of my home. We have been poorly organized here in the city, and to my eye we're now paying for it. First of all I propose that those of you most closely involved with the capture of the Doctor meet with me here at Gatas; I am his jailer and I'd appreciate being kept aware of how we will continue to handle this matter. Some of you may have seen the gates of Gatas open in the past- they are now closed. They will remain so. Visitors who are not expected will not be permitted within the grounds without a very good reason until such time as I am no longer acting as prison mistress."

A beat passes; Petra takes another sip of tea.

"A committee of some sort seems to be our best - if not our only - option, but to begin with it may be easiest to meet with those involved in smaller groups. I greatly, greatly admire how well we've all pulled together for this, but with so many involved we'll be better served having some sense of organization before we attempt to wargame the situation."

In closing, Petra looks directly at the tablet and smiles radiantly. "I am so proud of you all. The feats of bravery, kindness and keen intellect on that day are well worthy of the knights that I have given my loyalty and love; I can pay no higher compliment. Thank you."

Threaded | Flat

Bruce has been keeping an eye on transmissions about the Doctor, and he'd taken a look at who Lady Petrana seemed to be after she volunteered the use of her estate; this is someone, Bruce has decided, that he needs to be on good terms with. While he's more or less abysmal at traditional networking, he does know how to speak to what amounts to aristocracy. Hopefully the cultural differences won't end up screwing him over.

At the last second, he switches from responding on the main frequency to directly to Petra. It's an afterthought, and maybe a rude one in the name of transparency, but he doesn't really care.

"Good morning, Lady Petrana," he greets, soft-spoken but clear. He's wearing a black turtleneck, as Bruce Waynes of all universes are wont to do, and sitting in his study. "My name's Bruce Wayne, I'm one of the people you're asking after, though I wasn't involved in arranging for his incarceration. Thank you for your assistance; my own home has been converted into something of a hospital, and I'm sure the added chaos of such a high priority prisoner would have been overwhelming."

Considering he's hardly more than down the hall from the Countess at present, he could simply come and speak with her in person, but this is a conversation he'd rather be broadcast, and if his rather more tidy than usual appearance is any indication, he's far from unaware of who might be watching. (He considered actually wearing his dress uniform, but that seemed a little much--collared shirt and jacket will have to do.)

"I have to agree, Countess, that the city has performed admirably under extreme circumstances." He sounds a bit grim for the circumstances themselves, but he moves on promptly.

"I realize we're only in the early stages of the process, and I haven't been a resident of this city as long as some, but if a committee is to be gathered I'd like to offer my services. I have significant experience as a civil servant, in judiciary matters as well as elsewhere."

Moments such as these are those in which Holmes usually urges Watson to step in in his place, but his present lack of status as a detective paired with the subject matter at hand is enough to summon Holmes himself to the tablet, looking rather less inebriated than usual. He assures that the feed is set to visual for once, as if to further illustrate this point.

"Countess," he begins, with a colloquial nod of his head, a casual acknowledgment of status (irrelevant as it may be) and greeting all in one. "As a relatively new resident of Taxon, you have my apologies for contributing to the sudden acquisition of your title as jailer." Lay it on a little thick, there, Holmes. As ridiculous as it may be, his demeanor does little to suggest it's anything but his usual level of politeness.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. I am a detective - was one, in my home, at least - and I am at least partially responsible for the delivery of your unexpected guest. I should like to question him, should the time ever prove convenient," he'll plant the seeds for that idea early on in case anyone has complaints, "but until then, I remain curious. What manner of organisation are you intent on setting into place?"

Tosh looked at the message that this Lady Petrana sent out. She felt the Doctor's incarceration more keenly than most would think - she'd met the Doctor in the real world, worked closely with one of the Doctor's companions, and after their discussion, could see that he really thought he had no choice.

Most people in the city seemed to hate him - she couldn't bring herself to do that, for Jack's sake as much as anything - that, and the fact she felt incarceration keenly after her experience with UNIT. After a moment's thought she sent a message. "Hello. My name is Toshiko Sato. I was wondering, is it permitted to visit the Doctor?"

The Brucolac responds from the deck of his ship - some pale wood and starlight are visible behind him.

"Good evening, Countess. Thank you for the update, and for your kind words. The people of Taxon have shown themselves very well, in a dark hour. But now that the dark hour is past, we must continue, as you have pointed out."

"I must ask, as the future government of this city is something of interest to me, if it will be only those who brought this Doctor to you, who have a say in his future? If so, then so be it - my purpose here is not to influence this decision or give unasked-for advice. I have come to respect one of their number highly, and I trust Judith's judgment in this matter. I simply want to know."

After his shift of Doctor-watching is over, Doul can be found somewhere near the kitchens having a meal. Even if the food is hatched, it's comforting to eat where food is supposed to be prepared.

"Hello, Lady Petrana," Judith says, and anyone who knows her would be shocked to see her now; she's put her hair up in a twist and adopted a simple button-down blouse instead of her usual succession of casual tops, and she's making the conscious effort not to curse, which usually is as reflexive as breathing. The various things people have said have really gotten to her, and if there's one thing she knows it's that props are often half the battle when it comes to playing a part.

"I'm Fostern Judith of the sept of the United Shields and associated holdings, and acting sept leader," she continues (she's sitting on Mary Whalen's couch, like it's no big thing), "I'm also organizing the effort to figure out and end the Sunshine Motel curse, if that's what we're calling it, and we are unless somebody has something better--" She glances at the motel key on the table in front of her, which solves part of the mystery of how she was able to get to so many places so fast.

"--I'm speaking now to agree with the idea of a committee, and since you're the first one to make the idea public, I'm going to offer you my services in getting it put together and making sure it's protected. I'm one of the people who captured the Doctor, if that means I'm one of the people you want at your meeting. I want to know first, with all due respect, how we're going to decide who gets on this council and who doesn't? I say we should have an election." Judith has been thinking about this, with more care than she thinks about...anything, and the conclusion she came to is that if they choose the council here like it'd be chosen at home in the field the people on would only be those capable of fighting for their seat, and she knows what that kind of government looks like.

Edited 2010-03-08 17:24 (UTC)

It takes a moment before Fred turns on her tablet. She had to pull together that business-like mask she'd managed to create during her days at Wolfram and Hart.

"Hello, Lady Petrana, my name is Fred Burkle. You sound like you're being pretty reasonable about this situation, but I did have some questions." She chews on her lip a little, which doesn't help with how she's trying to act, but at least she's not a mess. "Do you know if this committee's going to be deciding only on this particular situation, or something more like a whole set of laws? And...um, if the committee's going to be made up of people who were involved, if I'm hearing you right- is the Doctor going to at least have some kind of representation? Will it be like a trial where there's a prosecution and a defense? I just-"

Yeah, the business attitude is not working. She rubs her face and sighs before continuing. "I know everyone comes here from different worlds and different times, so everyone's gonna have a different idea of how this should be taken care of. I don't know how that's going to be resolved."

And if she mentions any sort of defense of the Doctor will they just stop listening to her entirely? She doesn't know these people, and...well, a lot of them were hurt, from the sound of it. It's not like she's happy about people being hurt, but she imagines that wasn't what the Doctor had in mind either, it's...just a mess. All of it.

"Lady Petrana." Godric nods his head in a practiced formal greeting that has been out of style for a century. "We haven't yet met. My name is Godric."

"Some of us have spoken of forming a council before, but this incident makes it all the more pertinent. I was Sheriff of my area back home, and I'm willing to help as I can." Godric isn't sure how much responsibility he wants to take on, but he's likewise aware that someone as powerful as he is can hardly shirk responsibility entirely. If he doesn't take it willingly, it will find him sooner or later.

Hi, Countess- I'm coming by again to keep working on the cell. I'd be interested in helping with this committee, but I think it might also be beneficial to look for new arrivals, if we get any soon; they could have a less biased viewpoint, since they weren't here for recent events.

"Oh, dungeons," Angelus says with an air of fond recollection. "I remember them well. All dark and dank and full of things that go bump in the night. Gotta love 'em. Don't think he will, though. Pity you're keeping him all holed up. He was making such the ruckus."

There is little to do while recovering, and Morgana has discovered listening to the chatter on the tablets a little comforting. Taxon is moving on. Morgana's having a bit more difficulty doing so.

Morgana is still in bed, in yet another strange nightdress (it's really a hospital gown, one of the rare dignified ones, but it's far too revealing for Morgana's tastes, so she's quite covered with her blankets), and takes a while to consider her reaction to the Countess's message.

"Countess, I am in no position to participate in any," she avoids the word political, "organizational matters, but could I trouble you for a small favour?"

As he is like, elsewhere in the castle, presumably Stefan could just come up there, but this is faster. "Good morning, Contessa." His customary little nod. "What would you have of me?"

This is like ...anything, by the way. Want him to grow you a field of unicorns? He'll get right on that, point him at the unicorn seeds.

Edited 2010-03-09 02:39 (UTC)

Threaded | Flat

[ visual ] [ locked ]

[ visual ]

[ visual ]

[visual]

no subject

[chillin' in the kitchen]

[visual]

[visual]

[Visual]

[ voice ]

[ visual ]

[Visual: Locked to Petrana]

[visual] [placeholder]