taxonomites | 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. ♥ )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well, there's one groundskeeper (though it would object to being called such a thing, it sounds so inelegant) currently squatting in the garden, munching spinach.

It'll take a minute for the six-foot tall hamster to notice its no longer alone. The spinach is just so good.

When Rorschach again becomes aware of his surroundings, or at least more actively aware, the last thing he expects to see is an improbably large rodent contentedly sitting not far from him. It's improbable, if not outright impossible, and he again finds himself considering drugs pumped into his system without his knowledge. Unclean chemicals, twisting his perception into something he can no longer trust. Because rodents should not be that large, they cannot be merely sitting there as if it is how things should be.

Unless.

He recalls someone (though he cannot remember who) mentioning hamsters in connection to their captors. It sounds unlikely, and yet. He regains his feet, folding the papers once, twice, three times to ensure they will fit then sliding both them and the pencil, now worn down to a barely usable nub, into a pocket and moves closer. The hamster seems enormous with the closer proximity, made larger and more physically intimidating through his own lack of protective layers which makes him seem small and fragile in comparison, but instead of cowing him it only fuels his irritation because this thing is the very cause of his current discomfort. It doesn't matter that the hamster doesn't notice him right away, in this instance Rorschach doesn't mind making himself known.

"Was told captors didn't mingle with test subjects."

The Hamster squeaks in surprise.

"Wuh don ushally. Ish -- Um."

It gulps down the mouthful of spinach and nervously tries again.

"These are h-highly coincidental circumstances, you understand."

A pause, a twitch, a squeak.

"How are you today?"

The giant hamster - or Hamster, if it would prefer - gains a blank look in response. Rorschach doesn't have a particularly acute sense of humor even on the best of days, and today is far from that standard. The glare the thing receives is a patented Full Body Glare, the full focus of every inch of his anger and frustration all concentrated into one look and one word.

"Imprisoned."

The Hamster squeaks. It knows that face, doesn't it? Oh dear...

This is the one that whispers 'no.'

"W-well," it fidgets, "that's really all up to how you look at it, isn't it?" Slowly it inches away from the spinach and toward the wall.

"And just look!" That cheer? Fake. Terrified and fake. "Strawberries!"

It tosses one at Rorschach as the wall opens up and the Hamster jumps through it. Once it's through, the door closes and the wall goes back to being a regular wall.

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

[ location: AROUND ]

[ location: AROUND ]

[ location: AROUND ]

[ location: AROUND ]

[ location: AROUND ]