taxonomites | [ Holo | Location: Sanctuary ]

He was sure something with the ritual had gone wrong. Not that there was much that could go right, he corrected himself, the sick, heavy feeling that had settled in his stomach so many hours beforehand still refusing to let up. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting and scenery; he had gone from a dark warehouse with the windows boarded up and rusted meathooks hanging from the ceiling to… this. He couldn’t think of how to describe it. It was so different from anything he’d seen before, even since coming to Los Angeles – bright, metallic and utterly foreign.

“Cordy? Can you hear me?” He cringed as the sound of his voice echoed back. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Connor looked up, attempting to process his surroundings. What was that up there? He shook his head, causing his already mussed hair to fall in front of his eyes as he moved forward, almost tripping down the first step before taking the rest down to the floor without incident. He had to find some way out; things were happening back at that warehouse and Angel was due to arrive any minute, he would have to fight him to keep him from interfering – or keep him from getting hurt, he wasn’t sure which now. Maybe he was here because of the ritual, maybe Cordelia had sent him away... except that didn’t make sense. Not after everything she had done to make sure he stayed close.

It must have backfired somehow. … hmph. That was the price of relying so heavily on magic.

“I guess weirder things than this happened,” he muttered to himself, his eyes finally accustomed to the brightness. Another look around revealed there was no exit that he could see. There was, however, a pedestal a few steps ahead of him with some device on it. He frowned as he examined it as best he could from where he was standing.

Usually, it didn’t pay to touch something if you didn’t know what it was. Especially not if magic was involved. It wasn’t quite as foreign as the rest of the room, however, and he took a few steps closer to get a better look at it.

“… kind of looks like a video game,” he thought aloud. The more he talked aloud, the more that heavy feeling in his stomach abated. Maybe it was best not to think about what had happened at the – no. No way. He couldn’t just cut and run like that. “… nevermind. Can’t waste time here. I have to get back.”

It was a great plan, except for the part where there was no door. He scowled and cupped his hands against either side of his mouth to help his voice project, turning his face upwards as he shouted. “Can anyone hear me? Get me out of here!”

If nobody answered, that meant it was just time to start punching walls. He’d punched his way through the barrier of a hell dimension. He could definitely punch his way through a regular wall. … eventually.

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"Drusilla," Connor echoed thoughtfully, wondering if she had been the woman who had contacted him and not given her name. She had called him "little brother." He knew Drusilla from stories, from the history lessons Holtz had given him in an attempt to shape him into tool for revenge, from the simpler explanations Angel had given him of events long since past.

"She talked to me, I think. She's strange."

"I made her that way," Angel admitted, finding no sense in lying to his son about something he still felt the need to atone for, even after his redemption when Los Angeles got out of hell. "Drusilla's mine. I turned her, some two hundred or so years ago. Drove her mad before I did it, and did it so that I could preserve that madness as an eternal work of art. I had a pretty sick perception of the world, back then. Drusilla's one of the worst things I ever did."

He was her damner and now, her greatest protector. One of the reasons Angel had so many enemies in Taxon beyond people not understanding that he wasn't a threat while in possession of his soul and was not in control of losing it when the hamsters glitched him to be without it was because of Drusilla. He stood up for her when others came down on her, ensured her safety. He felt it was the only thing he could do, since he couldn't undo the damage inflicted upon her. She'd been her as long and consistently as he had, and during that time, he'd grown increasingly fond of her in a way he never had.

"She's not a threat to you. As far as Drusilla's concerned, you're family - even more treasured, since you're a tangible piece of Darla she can actually touch and talk to. And, she's got a chip in her head that prevents her from attacking anyone. Even soulless, she can't hurt anyone. Don't worry about her."

Connor listened as patiently as he was able, processing the information as it came. Another vampire that broke the supposed rules. 'Safe.' As if there really were such a thing. Not even humans were entirely safe, he'd come to learn. He'd never understood that until recently. In Quor'toth it had been just him and Holtz against everything else, against all the demons, with vampires just fairy tale monsters that he had been promised he would meet someday.

And now, as time went on, everything he had come to learn about vampires, everything he had come to understand, he was forced to make exceptions for. Mostly in Angel's case, and though he had been reluctant to do so at first and still harbored his fair share of hesitation, he was coming to terms with the fact that Angel really was different. But this Drusilla? She didn't even have a soul.

"So even without a soul," he went on to confirm, "She can't hurt anyone. What if the chip stops working? What then?" And what was a chip, anyway. Like a potato chip? That seriously made no sense.

Whatever.

"It won't," he reassured his son, even though he wasn't absolutely certain that it would continue working. Angel wasn't the best when it came to technology, and he harbored a lot of distrust and loathing for the Initiative that had less to do with Riley Finn than most would assume. Those who knew about what the Initiative forced him to do during World War II weren't in Taxon, and none of them would speak of it to those who didn't; not even Spike.

Angel went silent again as they drove through the streets of Taxon, past buildings that looked ancient and modern and futuristic, all stuck on the same street like some sort of conglomerate lane that was part of theme park. Taxon might as well be one, it fit most of the requirements for a theme park or at least some sort of interdimensional zoo.

The hotel reached, Angel pulled around the back and parked, climbing out of the car. In truth, he hadn't been spending much time here as of late, having made something of a habit of hanging around Sookie's place and getting closer to the fae than he was to anyone from home these days. Whatever his relationship with Sookie is has been put on the backburner, however. Connor comes first. Angel's through being the awful sort of father he hated his own for being. He was determined to do things right this time.

"Home sweet home."

Connor, too, remained silent for the remaining duration of the car ride, staring out the window with his fingertips resting against the glass as they went. The architecture here had no real theme, and though he was still rather new to the world, he knew enough to realize that what he was seeing was to be considered abnormal. It was strange and had a jarring effect; everything seemed just a little out of place. He supposed that was how most of the citizens felt, too. It would be hard, he thought, not to feel out of place here.

He let himself out once the car had been put into park outside the hotel, shutting it behind him before turning to examine the front walk. It was just as he remembered it. So coming to this place hadn't changed the hotel at all, except for its inhabitants.

"Looks just the same," he voiced aloud, glancing to Angel before he started to make his way up the front walk. "Inside, too? Nothing's changed from LA?"

[ Holo | Location: Sanctuary ]

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