01 | holo | location: sanctuary | ARRIVAL

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Death felt hot, and dark, and loud and silent all at the same time.  And it kind of tickled. 

It wasn’t over like all the storybooks said it would be. There was no warm wash of air, or pretty clouds or glowing white light and the smiling face of her dead grandfather.  It wasn’t even close to falling asleep.  It was too bright for that.  It was too much pain, too much pain to go gently into that good night.  Electricity snaked through the sky, jagged scars ripped through the air and lit her up like a goddamn Christmas tree.  So many metaphors, so little time.  It was all of these things and more, and Gwen Raiden didn’t have the time to reflect. She didn’t even have time to be dead, apparently. 

All of that—betraying Angel and Connor and Nina and Spike (well...okay, she didn't really care about Spike) and the rest, fighting the dragon Cordelia (which just might have been more forthcoming than the real Cordelia), her decision to die the way she always imagined it—all that was snuffed out with her life and now it rushed back.  Here she was, in all her glory, surrounded by metal walls and a strange ceiling.  She surveyed the close space, breathing hard from that whole noble sacrifice thing which tended to take a lot out of a girl.  "Okay,” she said, and the word escaped her wrapped in a big, exhaled breath.  “Not gonna lie.  I thought heaven would be a little more…Feng Shui.” 

And as death faded away like a dream, her body felt real and solid again.  There was the hard steel floor underneath her boots, the silken feel of her gloves on her fingers, and finally, the dull pain in every muscle of her body that had been electrified just moments ago.  Gritting her teeth and shoving it down and away, where she did not have to dwell on it, she noticed the pedestal in front of her holding a fancy little gadget on it.  It looked like something once upon a time she would have been paid billions to steal.  She looked at it now with uninterest and unease.  “Or…not heaven.  Mars, huh? Interesting choice.”

There was no door, no way out and no cool breeze she’d felt just moments ago on the rooftop...

Connor, she thought, struck suddenly with a pang of sadness and guilt that gutted her.

“Okay, I get it!”  Her call echoed out to empty walls.  This was Wolfram and Hart's doing.  And if she had to claw her way out of here, literally striking down every cheap suit in this place to do it, she would.  “And not to be dramatic, but I had a thing I was doing with...the dying.  Don’t you people have better things to do than stick me in a box?  Filing briefs, or something?  Not a big, brooding vampire here.  Just a normal, law-abiding citizen."

A fib, and not even a subtle one, but she was getting testy.  She scratched at her gloved wrist, absentmindedly, and felt something like a bracelet under the fabric.  “Sorry I killed your dragons?”

Comments

[visual]

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

A new arrival.

Party takes his mask off, because a new arrival means a potential ally he can swing to his side. The bubbly little resistance he's been desperately trying to cobble together since arriving here only a few days ago.

"Hey, Tumbleweed." It's a name that just spills out, half because it's what you called a stranger when you're out in the zones and half because her hair is kind of frizzy and reminds him of the weird bits of shit that just moved on by Route Guano.

"There's no dragons here. Least, I've not seen them, but welcome to hell."

[visual]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Gwen turns at the sound of a voice, but no visitor stands on a welcome mat to greet her. Just those ugly metal walls. But, you know, she doesn't want to look stupid, so she just rolls with it.

"Excuse me?" She asks in response to the baffling nickname, and then notices the fancy gadget on the pedestal. There's a face of a stranger on it. She walks closer now, eying it warily and not sure if she should take the gloves out and fry it, just to make sure.

"Funny thing, I just came from hell, and it was a lot more fire and brimstone. And not to be rude, but who the hell are you?"

[visual]

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

Party's eyebrows shoot up, but otherwise he keeps a pretty good poker face. He learns a lot from his brother, even if said brother is younger--like how to keep it together and act like nothing's ever going on.

Hell, huh? Party doesn't believe in hell--because surely he's lived in it long enough--but there's a hint of amusement in hazel eyes. He's in the back of his beat up, spray painted trans-am, having literally just woke up from a solid power nap.

"Relax, I'm on your side," He assured. "Name's Party Poison. Grab the little thing and you can get outside just fine."

[visual]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Outside. Outside the metal box sounded just fine to Gwen. Comparatively, it had to measure up better than a rooftop in a Helled up version of Los Angeles, where dragons roamed the sky like birds and she'd volunteered herself for the cleanup.

"Party Poison, huh? Sounds more like frat boy drink to me, sugar. And what makes you think you know what side I'm on?"

Still, she picks up the Tablet, not knowing exactly what it was but keeping her gloves on. If this was her way out, who was she to ruin her own fun? And sure enough, when she held the toy surprise in her hands, the sound of doors whooshing open echoed in the chamber and startled her. "Huh. Even Hell's all high-tech," she remarks with a little bitter smile, surveying the gadget in her hand and the face looking at her behind its screen. "Guess some things never change."

[visual]

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

Which side? "You're smart," Party answers automatically, ignoring the remark about his name. There was no way he was going to give anyone his real name. Only four people knew that, one of which was related to him.

"I'm going to sound like a Guano-gone BL\ind. Drac, Tumbleweed, but it's the truth. You haven't actually been ghosted, you're here with a bunch of other people. You've been taken."

He wrinkled his nose, trying to hide his distaste. It didn't go very well--the way he set his jaw, he was aggravated just thinking about it.

"And the creeps that did that? They're watching each and every one of us."

[ visual ]

[bonescientist.livejournal.com]

"Mars is very much uninhabitable, actually."

Brennan forgoes pleasantries and skips to the point, doggedly clinging to information she personally believes to be factual. She's been to Taxon for almost a year now and she's still having trouble accepting that there's always a possibility that wherever (or whenever) this newcomer is arriving from, Mars could be inhabitable. She really should leave welcoming new arrivals to those who are actually good at it.

The anthropologist frowns, trying to make sense of the other woman's rant. Dragons and vampires. Well, at least she'd find the latter ones here. "I feel I should point out it's a very strong possibility that whichever group you believe you're addressing is not here."

[ visual ]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

"At this point, I think I'd take my chances."

Gwen stares at the visual of someone else on the device in her hand. And while a welcoming wagon of strangers might ease someone's fears, it stokes hers. She'd spent the last few months leading the meet-and-greet with the poor little damsels of L.A and sheltering them. She did not like being at the other end of the rope.

And this is why Gwen also forgoes all pleasantries.

"Mind telling me where 'here' is, honey? I'm a little slow on the uptake, here."

[ visual ]

[bonescientist.livejournal.com]

Brennan's blue eyes narrow just a fraction, the honey rubbing her the wrong way. But, she makes no comment upon it.

"I realize this will sound preposterous, but you have been abducted by aliens," Brennan explains bluntly. "This city is called Taxon. There's a small group of us here, other people similarly taken from their worlds and brought here. The prevailing hypothesis is that this is some sort of interdimensional social experiment. Some seem to liken it to a zoo where we are the attractions."

She pauses, lifting her chin a bit. "And my name is Dr. Temperance Brennan. Not honey."

...Okay, so she had to comment upon it.

[visual]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

There was a lot of polysyllabic blabbing going on that Gwen had half the attention span to follow, but she did hear the words Taxon (never heard of it), zoo, and aliens.

The idea of being put in a zoo where people could look at the pretty freak with the electricity shooting from her body did not make her a happy girl. No, it did not make her happy at all.

She smiled, just a little, at the woman's defiance. Her voice was softer. In certain situations (when her client wasn't a complete jackass who needed putting down), her thieving days taught her how important it is to adapt to her client's vibe, like slipping into a costume, making them feel at ease and willing to trust her with whatever they needed done. She was on edge, not to mentioned scared, but some habits were like riding a limousine.

"Sorry, Doc, it's been a long day. Really. You have no idea. Are you from L.A too?" she asked with that tangible note of interest.

[visual]

[bonescientist.livejournal.com]

At length, Brennan nodded her head a little in wordless acceptance of the apology. She called to mind her own arrival, remembering well the wariness and suspicion she'd felt herself towards the other people and the things they were telling her. The very same things she was telling this woman, now.

"No, I'm from D.C., but there are a few people here from Los Angeles," she responded to the question, making a concentrated effort to sound less brisk. People weren't her forte, at least not the live ones; that was always Booth's turf. But her partner wasn't in Taxon and Brennan had to manage on her own.

"Have you already managed to exit the arrival chamber? Do you require assistance?" she asked after a slightly awkward pause.

[tothelightshown.livejournal.com]

Every new arrival was different. Some were scared and some were simply furious, with the latter usually a lot louder than the former. She'd never heard any of them mention dragons before, though.

"You lost me when you mentioned dragons."

She knew they existed - they'd had one resident in the city for a little while, during Long's glitch - but they were still an alien concept for DG. Her home in Kansas had been almost painfully normal and her memories of the O.Z were patchy. Too patchy to help her remember the native wildlife.

"Real dragons?"

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Gwen nodded, eying this new stranger with suspicion. How else was she supposed to eye them? In Los Angeles, maybe, she could handle whatever they were and not even get dust on her leather pants. Targets, freaks, helpless, demons. Throw a vampire with a soul in now and then and home sweet home. She fit in and she didn't, at the same time. There were so many surprises that you couldn't be surprised. Speaking of.

"Real dragons. I think one of them might have been a dinosaur."

A pause.

"Who are you?"

[tothelightshown.livejournal.com]

The suspicious look was understandable, given the circumstances that the new arrival had found herself in, so DG wouldn't judge her for it. She hadn't take her own kidnapping particularly well either.

That seemed like a long time ago, now.

"Wow," she said, in response to the dragon, then: "Sorry, I should have started with that. I'm DG. Welcome to Taxon."

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

"Taxon..."

It was the first time she'd heard its name. It didn't sound like a place of fun and leisure. Didn't really sound like a prison, either. It sounded like...a country club where lawyers went to golf. And suddenly that Wolfram and Hart theory was looking a little less crazy.

"I'm Gwen. And...uh, you wanna tell me a little about this place, DG? Exit sign would be nice."

[tothelightshown.livejournal.com]

Although DG had been in the city for over a year, she was still unsure about what Taxon actually was. The fact that they couldn't leave made it seem like a prison, but her conversations with their hairy benefactors had left her convinced that they thought they were helping.

"There's a lot that we don't know," she admitted, "And we're still looking for the exit. Taxon is a city in an underground cavern on an planet that definitely isn't Earth. We're being held prisoner by a group of aliens, including a few giant hamsters. And believe me, I wish I was joking."

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Mars was a planet that Drusilla knew well, though she had never visited. She'd seen it glowing in the sky on more than one occasion. During the Boxer Rebellion. Above Europe at the beginning of the twenty first century. Even over Sunnydale.

It wasn't here.

Not today.

"We aren't red. Mars is red."

And dragons belonged to fairy tales were they were slayed by heroes with swords.

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Um.

"Right. Well, I can't think of a planet that's made of metal. You?"

Gwen eyed the woman warily, tugging on her gloves. "Gee, they brought the whole welcome wagon out for me, I guess. If it weren't for the kidnapping and post-death headache, I'd feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"I only watch from a distance," said Drusilla, as if that should have been obvious. Stars weren't like people. You had to be far away from them to make out the paths and the patterns.

"You died?" Suddenly, the woman on the tablet became a lot more interesting. Drusilla fixed her with bright eyes and something close to a smile on her crimson lips. "Did you hurt? Did your mother mourn you when you soul slipped away?"

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Gwen just nodded at the woman with the crazy eyes...Eyes that got a whole lot crazier when she asked about Gwen's death.

Or...non-death. Did she actually ever die? Was this death? The questions were too metaphysical for Gwen. Here she was.

"Supposed to. But here I am, so maybe I did it wrong." Okay. If Gwen was in a room with this woman, she'd be backing away slowly right about now. Her stare, her smile, even her British doll accent was seriously creeping her out. "And, uh, wouldn't know. I doubt it. No one mourns the freaks, right?"

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

"You can't do it wrong." It was impossible for Drusilla to think of something so bloody and beautiful as wrong. "It's always perfect. I cried and I cried. I thought my heart would break, but it stopped beating instead."

She considered the woman carefully. Pretty and dangerous. Wasn't that familiar?

"I'll mourn them."

[Audio] [So belated!]

[imperial-long.livejournal.com]

"Dragons?" It's a man's voice that answers, a British accent that could come straight out of Masterpiece Theater.

"I should hope you don't make a habit of doing that..."

[Audio]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Gwen was taken aback by the voice that did not accompany a face, like someone on speakerphone. It was an odd feeling. She'd talked to countless clients, most of them pretty sketchy, on the phone without meeting them. It wasn't ever her favorite mode of communication then, and it wasn't especially now.

"Not so much a habit as a 'They started it.'"

[Audio]

[imperial-long.livejournal.com]

"Ah, well, if it was self-defense I suppose all things are permissible. How do you do? My name is Mayland Long."

Half a year in Taxon and he still hasn't managed to cure himself of inveterate old-fashioned courtesy, however much it may not be particularly welcome in a situation.

[Audio]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Gwen...stares.

For a second. Two seconds. Give her like, five here, before she realizes she's being rude.

"Hi there," she finally says, uncertain. She's looking at you strange, Maylong Long, because she seriously considering reinstating her robot theory. But he's new, and she doesn't know where he stands, so she treats him like she would treat any new client at the typical meet-and-greet. With a soft and approachable smile, she says, "I'm Gwen Raiden. You--uh, you work here, Mayland Long?"

[Audio] --> [Visual]

[imperial-long.livejournal.com]

The disbelieving look his question is greeted with seems to require a slightly more personable approach, so Long switches the tablet over to Visual mode-- now his face appears, that of a dark-skinned man who looks to be Chinese at first glance.

He smiles back, politely, and then arches a brow, interested by something she's said it seems. "Raiden, you say? And yet, your skin is not red, and you bear no resemblance to a demon, nor are you carrying a drum with which to call up the thunder... I shall assume it is merely a coincidence."

His smile has shifted from simply polite to privately amused, corners of his eyes crinkling a bit. "...forgive me, I have a tendency to tangent in ways that interest only myself. As for your very legitimate question... I work in the city's library, but I am not employed by our captors, if that is what you mean. I hope someone has explained to you already that you are in a city?"