http://eventextras.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] eventextras.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] taxonomites2011-06-05 03:34 pm

now i rock a house party at the drop of a hat.

It's around five o'clock in the morning when the citizens of Taxon find themselves inexplicably transported into rooms within the Sanctuary. Doors are left open and beds unmade, food abandoned and lights left on, still shining brightly for those who were awake and are no longer present. The Extras don't seem to notice the captive population's sudden disappearance, continuing on with their business as usual.

For those relocated, though, it's an entirely different story.

They find themselves in rooms with white, alabaster walls that gives them an almost too-clean feeling, as if the entire place was sanitized prior to their arrival. The room assignments are seemingly random, people placed on floors with those they don't know and don't like, people they would rather not be within twenty feet of. It matters not, for what's done is done and cannot be undone. For those who happen to have pets, they'll find them waiting for their owners in the rooms as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

The only thing the captives have managed to bring with them is the clothes on their back and the tablets. On them, they find the following message:
SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY WHILE WE ADDRESS CERTAIN TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES
Unfortunately for those who try to find a means of escape, they'll discover there is none. Leaving the Sanctuary will prove to be as difficult as leaving Taxon itself. However, if one heads down the right corridor and the right floor, they'll find something else entirely lurking in their midst...

( ooc | sorry for the delay in posting! your mods were otherwise occupied with things of the irl variety this morning. THIS BE A PARTY POST, Y'ALL. room assignments are here, and refer back to the sott post proper for any additional information. please contact us with any questions/concerns you may have in regards to this plot. ♥ )

[location: third floor kitchen]

[identity profile] lajolieblonde.livejournal.com 2011-06-08 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
[ and here's sookie to position herself in front of the sink protectively. ] You cut that out right this second.

[location: third floor kitchen]

[identity profile] smecker.livejournal.com 2011-06-08 11:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Enter the pajama'd FBI agent, longish hair a tousled mess, socked feet sliding on the kitchen floor. He comes to a stop against an island counter and tosses his tablet down onto it, jabbing angrily at a button to turn it off.

There's a woman. He registers he could hear a voice as he was sprinting down the hall-- Southern accent-- oh. The woman who'd spoken to him on the tablet when he'd gotten bit.

Proooobably not a vampire. Attention back to Draper.

"You're depriving them of their food source," he says quickly, tersely. "We are stuck in the building with them, Don. I'm not saying I don't understand the damn impulse, but as someone who got bit once already and doesn't want to repeat the experience I am asking you to stop."
selfmadman: (Default)

[location: third floor kitchen]

[personal profile] selfmadman 2011-06-09 01:54 am (UTC)(link)
[Don stands in front of the fridge, bags of blood clutched to his chest. He's at the point of saying something--something along the lines of "out of my way"--to Sookie when Smecker bursts in.

His gaze snaps to the other man. He's frantic--moves and speaks with desperate energy. Don listens, paying as much attention to Smecker's ragged breathing as the words themselves.

He nods, slowly, releases a long breath. The bags spill to the counter. A moment passes; when Don speaks he doesn't bother struggling against the exhaustion he feels.]


Got any cigarettes?

[location: third floor kitchen]

[identity profile] lajolieblonde.livejournal.com 2011-06-09 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
[ sookie glances back and forth between the pair of them before throwing her hands up and shaking her head. ] Honestly, men.

[ she'll be grabbing those blood bags now, thank you. ]
faderbroderson: (everything is black and white)

[location: third floor kitchen]

[personal profile] faderbroderson 2011-06-09 03:48 am (UTC)(link)
[And this is the strange scene Godric walks in on; Sookie gathering up bags of blood (and how convenient, he was looking for some of those), Paul Smecker looking rather bedraggled and possibly a bit pissed off, and a man Godric only knows in very brief passing, his gaze locked with Paul's.]

I've missed something.

[location: third floor kitchen] oh my GOD dien's tl;dr

[identity profile] smecker.livejournal.com 2011-06-09 10:23 am (UTC)(link)
Paul lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Don sets the bags down, and nods a little at the other man, barely hearing Sookie's dismissal of his gender right now.

"....they're in my other clothes, the ones I actually wear when intending to be around people," he tries to joke, it falling very flat--

--and there's suddenly another guy in the room and Paul nearly curses before recognizing it's Godric. And then he nearly curses anyway, because Jesus Christ it's Godric, and he hasn't talked to the vampire since that tablet conversation. Sure as hell not face to face.

Godric can no doubt hear his pulse beating faster, faster.

But Paul takes a breath, and tries not to show it on the surface. If there's any vampire in Taxon that he-- well, trusts is definitely not the right word, but any vampire that Paul judges unlikely to go for his throat if he says something wrong, then-- probably Godric. Who'd answered his questions.

"Little misunderstanding," he says a bit raspily, because somewhere his throat went dry. "Look--"

Aaaand what does he say next? He looks between Godric, and then Sookie, and then Don again, feeling much like he did once upon a time in the middle of a firefight about to erupt and trying to find a safe place on the floor the hell out of it. Except Don's... whatever their issues, Don's just a guy, like him, stuck in this hell, and Paul has to do some goddamn thing.

"Godric," Paul says, a little more calmly, "I don't know if you know I got bit a little while ago. Someone glitched. And a young lady too, other day. And a girl Mr. Draper here is looking out for.

"From our previous chat I'm willing to concede the theoretical possibility you, uh, don't want to murder us all in our sleep. Theoretically. Can you maybe reinforce me in that belief, because lately I'm feeling shaky on that, and Mr. Draper here has a lot less reason to buy it than me, if you catch my drift."

Paul's backwards-processing as he talks, trying to reconstruct in his head what he heard Sookie saying-- seemed to be trying to get Don to stop. She's a vampire? No? He doesn't know, but he addresses his words at her too.

"I realize... that we've got a lot of, um, differences here, different worlds, all that. Maybe in your world vampires aren't... unadulterated horrifying news. But for me, and I think for Don.... they are. Because all we know about them is movie-monster stuff.

"Maybe you could work with us and explain why after the last three attacks we shouldn't be regarding this as an inter-species war. Please."

Paul's never been more thankful for all those goddamn seminars on negotiation.