taxonomites | 4. [Location: Tamper and Trick] [For Tara or other employees of the shop]

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4. [Location: Tamper and Trick] [For Tara or other employees of the shop]

Lorne's in a twitchy mood. Every time he turns around, he feels like someone, or something, is watching him from behind. The shadows behind the bar look alive, somehow. When he woke up this morning, he could have sworn he saw a bloodless face hovering inches from his own - but maybe it had just been a dream. The verdict is in: something's the matter with Taxon.

As he walks into the magic shop, his eyes keep darting to the corners of his vision, to dispel the shadows that constantly gather there. He leans against the counter and rings the bell.

"Anybody home?"

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Lorne deflates a little. He asks plaintively, "How do we know where they get 'taken away'? Does anyone ever come back?"

"I've only heard of it a time or two. And then they don't... they don't remember being here." Then there's the Doctor's theory. That the ones who were here are dead. The replacements might come from different universes, or from earlier in their timelines, but..

She can't imagine the Doctor getting out of his own volition and not taking more people. Or, at the very least, gloating a little in proving so many people wrong - he was her friend, but she had a sense of his ego.

"So I guess the only way to find out where they go is to take it up with the hamsters upstairs." Lorne sighs and rests his chin in his hand. "But I get the feeling they don't care what we think."

"No." She pauses, resting her hands on the counter for a moment, and says, "My friend Rose and I - before she disappeared - we put up a suggestion box. Sort of as a joke. I... I enchanted it, so all the slips come here to the shop, and it looks like someone's reading them. Maybe that was cruel, but we thought... thought maybe it would keep people a little hopeful, you know? Just while people were looking for answers."

"Sorry about your friend. I hope wherever she went is better than here." He traces random patterns on the countertop with his fingernail.

"I trust you didn't actually read what people wrote? That wouldn't be right."

"No! No, of course not. I... I do a little offering with them," she confesses, shyly. "Maybe someone better than the aliens is listening. I thought it couldn't hurt."

"Sounds like a good idea to me. Which goddess do you dedicate to?" Yes, Lorne assumes a goddess, because Tara's a witch and he gravitates toward goddesses himself.

"Aradia, usually." Tara has given this some thought, and there were several strong possibilities, but Aradia was usually the one to invoke for things and people who were lost. It felt like a good fit.

"Rose... she left before I could tell her about that part. But I hope she wouldn't mind. I just think if people take the time to make suggestions, someone should listen, even if the aliens don't."

Aradia. Makes sense to Lorne, after seeing Tara glitched. She'd certainly been lost then. Had she glitched to some past version of herself, as Spike did? He knows better than to ask. "I tend toward the Muses myself, when I'm in a dedicating kind of mood."

"I'm sure she wouldn't," Lorne reassures her. "I wish I could have gotten to know her better before she left. What I do know about her is from what I read when she sang to me." Sheepish pause. "I should probably mention that I can read people's auras and destinies when they sing. The glitch made Rose sing, so I read her. I felt kind of bad about it; usually I try to let people know what they're getting into when they sing for me."

"Oh - wow, last month must have been h-hard, then." She hesitates, but he's been open with her, so she says, "I see auras too. Not destinies, and nothing so specific that it's prophecy. More like... the state of their spirit. It can get distracting on its own. I'm sure with yours it's even more acute."

"So I guess you understand why I couldn't even look at Extras for the first week I was here. A couple of 'em sang over at Caritas." He shudders. "Even now, I wish there were more real people running things. I have to get my suits tailored by an Extra, and let me tell you, getting measured by one of those zombies with a measuring tape is like getting a patdown by Mickey Rourke after a morphine drip."

"They're not right." Tara shakes her head. "I mean, you have to deal with them here, but they're completely wrong. Not all the captives are human, but they're all people, you know?"

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