taxonomites | [Voice & Location: Wandering around / IN UR BAR]

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[Voice & Location: Wandering around / IN UR BAR]

[Methos is still getting his bearings, but all in all, things aren't so bad. For all the inconvenience of being suddenly snatched away from his life into an ant farm run by giant hamsters (and he's quite eager to confirm that for himself, because really?), Methos is actually enjoying his time in Taxon so far. Much of the reason for this has to do with the distinct lack of other Immortals. He's been all over Taxon twice now, walking its streets and riding its trains, and not once has that familiar buzz dodged his steps. After becoming so used to the sort of trouble Duncan MacLeod attracts like a magnet, he's positively giddy at the change of pace.

This doesn't mean everything is flowers and rainbows, though. If Methos is anything, he's paranoid, and it's let him keep his head this long, thank you very much. The woman who'd spoken to him when he'd first shown up had been decidedly unhelpful, but he'd been able to glean a thing or two about his situation by paying an almost obsessive attention to the conversations going on over the tablets.

So while he's not even close to being properly settled in, he has warmed somewhat to the idea of actually talking to people via tablet, since they all seem to be real people and not the empty-headed automatons running around everywhere. Thus, he makes his first broadcast to Taxon at large, asking a Very Important Question:]

So. Where can I find a nice place to sit down and have a beer?

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do}
>>Go to
=====hatch_open}
request = (comfy_couch)}
request = (beer)}
>>Go to
=====comfy_couch}
action = sit
}until (fully_satisfied)}
/end

While I am a friend of comfy couches everywhere, in this case I was looking for a little more ambiance.

do}
>>Go to
=====hatch_open}
request = (disco_ball)}
/end

Clever. When the 70s calls wanting it back, I'll be sure to tell them it was your idea...whoever you are, oh reticent computer geek.

Oi. Disco balls are classy, I'll have you know. Full of ambiance.

Ahhhh, it speaks!

Not the kind of ambiance I'm looking for, sadly. I'm not wearing enough polyester.

Well, not much of a drinker, myself, so I'm not sure what sort of ambiance you're in the mood for.

Polyester or not, I've always found a good disco ball and the right sort of lighting makes everything better.

Disco is dead, my friend. Me, I've always been fond of dim lighting, sticky floors, and the happy hour crowd. Nothing too upscale. I'm more of a pool table guy than a dance floor guy.

Well, I'm sure there's something around here. I know one place around here has karaoke.

Personally, I'm holding out until I can go to a proper pub back in London.

"I'm picnicking out at the last crossroad before the forest and while I don't have beer, I can offer wine?"

Let it never be said I'll pass up free alcohol. Who am I talking to?

Hermes, son of Maia. I can't promise the wine is as good as my brother's but that's probably for the best, don't you think, Stranger?

...You actually expect me to believe you're Hermes. The Greek god, Hermes.

"It'd be nice, I'd say. And, at the very least, you can't say I don't deliver." Hermes holds up and waggles a bottle of wine while holding two ceramic goblets in the other.

Methos whirls, hand going instinctively for his sword, concealed beneath his coat. He stops just short of pulling it out as he takes in the man who'd just appeared behind him, holding a bottle of wine.

The man who'd just appeared. Behind him. Who claims to be Hermes, and was not there a second before. He takes a few moments to process this, and then lowers his hand from his coat.

"Alright, well. At least this is one step up from believing in the tooth fairy," he mutters, but loudly enough to be heard. Then, louder:

"Hermes it is, then. Adam. Adam Pierson." He isn't sure if a god even shakes hands, or if Hermes expects him to bow or something.

"A pleasure to meet you, Adam." He doesn't do bowing or handshaking, and they haven't known each other long enough for a hug. Alas. "Now, are you still in the mood for a drink? Because I could do with a nosh and a drink would go along well with it."

"It'll take more than a little teleportation to put me off my game. What have you got, a nice Cabernet?" He'll take a nice Pinot Noir too, or a Chianti, or a Shiraz.

"It's red." Which is to say a Shiraz. "And I've got cheese, crackers, various nibbly things on sticks or in little jars, and, perhaps the best of all, good conversation."

Red is good.

"That sounds like just what the doctor ordered," ~~Methos~~ Adam replies mildly. "Do you have a blanket for this picnic?"

"No, but I'm sure we could find one or rough it on the grass like manly men of yore." ...of course, Hermes. Of course. "Mmm, so, what do you do when you do that thing you do?"

"Sold," he replies, plopping down onto the grass in a manner that manages to be both graceful and not. Manly men, indeed.

"Which thing would that be?" While we're on the subject of being vague.

"I don't know. I'm sure you've got something that's your thing that you think about." Hermes pauses, frowns and then mentally reviews what he's said. Yes, that makes sense. "Are you a tinker, tailor, soldier or spy?"

Shane hasn't felt well all day. But, as usual, he's wanted to avoid being a burden. Everything has been fine, the urge to hunt has been, for the most part, less prominent, and some people have jobs. So at some point, Shane decided to take a walk and clear his head.

It's dark, and Shane is keeping an eye out for anyone walking by, the uncomfortable feeling not going away.

Methos is happily walking back from his picnic with Hermes, hands stuffed in his pockets. He has a lot to think about, not the least of which is the fact that he just had a picnic with a Greek god, so he isn't paying much attention to his surroundings. This is not typical behavior, but then, he is a little drunk, and there's no buzz in the air to put him on alert.

No one's told him about the vampires yet.

This probably wasn't that good of an idea on Shane's part. Being out, alone, on a dark street reminds him of too many things, and none of them ever end well for anyone who gets in the way. At least by going out during the day, it keeps his mind on anything but hunting.

It probably doesn't help that Shane didn't eat as much as he should have at his last meal, didn't even think about it, and thinking about it now... well, you can guess where that goes. Deciding to cut the walk short, find a hatch and go home, Shane picks up the pace, quickly crosses the street.

That's when he senses somebody nearby.

Methos too senses someone nearby, and at first he thinks it's just another extra. But the movement is off; too purposeful, too hurried. He looks up to see Shane, bracelet glimmering faintly on his wrist. It wouldn't be unwelcome to run into a another captive, but something is off. Shane just looks like a kid in a hurry to get home, but looks can be deceiving, and his instincts haven't failed Methos yet. He can't immediately say what it is, but he stops, on guard.

Shane sees him, too. He remembers the arrival. It's only recent. He's new, he's alone, who would notice? Who would care?

No, Shane. Stop it.

When Methos sees him, Shane disappears from sight in an instant, hiding in a shadowy area nearby. This is too much like hunting, he thinks, too familiar. And that's why his hunger is scratching at him, fangs aching to be set free. Please, please, we've waited this long. It's just one person.

He doesn't move, yet, fearing that if he moves at all, it'll be to attack. But the growing temptation of the vampire in him is cutting away at just how much he cares.

What-- Where the hell did he go?! Shocked by how quickly Shane had disappeared, how quickly he must have moved, Methos immediately draws his sword, wary and alert. He scans the area and sees nothing, but he isn't naive enough to believe that he's alone. Not with the hairs on the back of his neck standing up like they are.

Slowly, he begins walking forward, sword held at the ready, scanning constantly. When he passes a dark corner or an alley, he turns, ready, but each time there's nothing.

In the time it takes for Methos to draw his sword - crap, he has a sword, but you're faster than that, Shane, don't doubt yourself - and to walk past him, away from him, putting his back to the vampire, Shane succumbs to the feeling. It's been five months. It's one person. No one has to know. Not even Levi.

Just the way Levi taught him, Shane inches closer in the dark, the same way meant to give just enough of a hint of a lurking presence to stir the anxiety. Blood tastes the best that way.

Then in a silent flash, Shane advances from behind, fangs bared and eyes shock white with bloodlust. He's going straight for the takedown, straight for the neck.

Welcome to Taxon, Methos. Land of fake stuff and, inevitably, vampires.

There's no warning before the attack. No sound, no movement of air. Just one second he's alone and the next there's a weight on him and a sting in his neck--

His neck. No, no, no, not his neck...

He's unaware if he cries out, but there's nowhere to swing his sword and it falls to the ground with a clatter. His arms come up to dislodge this person, this-- (that's impossible, there's no such thing as vampires) --but it's like trying to dislodge steel and the pain is excruciating now, burning like fire.

You could swing by my place in Osten. It's called Caritas. Violence-free or your money back.

Sounds exactly like the kind of place I'm looking for. It looks like I've been waylaid for a picnic, but I'll swing by tomorrow, if you're open daily?

Sure am. Look forward to seeing you.

Hey if you find one, let me know. Being in places full of Extras gets a little old.

They're a bit creepy, aren't they? A guy just contacted me and says he has a place called Caritas in Osten. "Violence-free or your money back."

I can't say that's entirely reassuring.

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[Voice & Location: Wandering around / IN UR BAR]

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