[Location - The Birdhouse - Open to ALL] [brief visual]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

Paul eyes the table full of food and the cheap plastic chairs he's got set up. There should be plenty-- if he runs out, he'll take it as a very good goddamn sign, because it means people showed up.

The food isn't anything too complex-- there's a big tossed salad, some lasagna, garlic bread (and room on the table for people to place their own additions, if they want). The point of this isn't to be gourmet: it's to get people here, to try and make everyone get onto the same page.

Paul pinches at the bridge of his nose. That may be too much to hope for. Same book, though. Same book would be nice. Reading out of the same encyclopedia which has some common rules about not screwing each other over in the face of dealing with a common enemy.

He reminds himself to be polite, to bite back on his natural bitchiness, or at least cloak it in socially-acceptable levels of sarcasm and humor. Then he picks up his tablet to broadcast a reminder to the city.

"Hey, Taxon: food's on. Come with your brains engaged."

It's a few minutes yet until noon. Paul has a seat in one of the chairs and leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, waiting for people to arrive.


[OOC STUFF! The Birdhouse layout is visible here. Since Paul lives in the building now, it does count as a private residence: if your character requires an invite to get in, they will find the way blocked unless someone invites them inside. If characters want to do that, either knowingly or unknowingly, that is cool OOCly, but I'd like a private PM first about it since it may all factor into things Paul does with the Birdhouse over time. I'm also totally down with playing out a vampire not being able to get in, and trying to have to cover that up if they want to.

EVERY CHARACTER IN TAXON is welcome in this thread, regardless of whether or not you have established CR, positive or negative, with Paul. Just post them arriving!

I'm going to put up a thread of placeholder for 'eating' versus 'Paul trying to get everyone to give introductions', in which people can go around the circle saying who they are, that sort of thing. All the threads I post will be taking place on the ground floor of the birdhouse-- if you want your character to explore, go for it! Just put in your subject line where they are poking around.

If anyone has any questions about layout or what characters would find, please feel free to ask me!]

Comments

[Food]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

The table is filled with several dishes of food-- two big bowls of salad (and a couple of bottles of dressing), a tray of garlic bread with a towel over it, two dishes of lasagna (one has 'Vegan' scrawled on the foil with a Sharpie), a dish containing cooked green beans, and a jug of water with ice cubes.

There are paper plates, napkins, and forks and spoons.

Someone finds cooking cathartic, and if the aliens insist on paying him? He'll take advantage of that, at least to get basic supplies.

[Food]

[hasaheart]

Lo and behold, someone comes bearing gifts. Gifts in the form of a baking tray covered with a plain white cloth (smells like apples and oatmeal and sugar and butter). Someone is also duly impressed with what's already on display.

Cain may not be the most accomplished cook of them all, but he does know his way around rustic and comforting. He sets the tray down in a good spot and scribbles down "apple pie crumble" on a napkin.

It'll be good to meet people in a setting like this. More than good: necessary. Vital.

[Food]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

"That smells edible, cowboy," snarks a Paul, having slipped up behind Wyatt.

"Host gets first bite, right?"

[Food]

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Drusilla glanced at the food with ill concealed disgust before sweeping away in a flurry of red silk and black velvet. He hadn't catered for the likes of her. Was there anyone left in the city who shared her appetites? She wasn't sure. She hadn't looked.

For a long time - or what had felt like a long time, at least - everything had been eclipsed by Angel's disappearance. This was the first time that she'd emerged from the shadows in weeks. The city was brighter than she remembered. It hurt her eyes. It hurt to be alone. Unlike most vampires, Drusilla cared about family. The other links in the chain were missing.

[Food]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

Paul eyes the pale and slightly creepifying woman who has just surveyed the buffet and moved on with obvious distaste.

"....not a fan of Italian?" he asks a bit warily.

[Introductions]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

Once everyone is seated with a plate, Paul gets to his feet, and gives a nod around at the room, pastes on the smile he vaguely remembers as his 'public relations' one from what feels like a lifetime ago. It hasn't even been a year.

"I'm not really the best guy in the world for this Let's Get in a Circle and sing Kumbayah shit," he starts off with. "I'm FBI, or I was, and while a certain amount of being able to kiss ass does come with the job, it's never been my favorite part of it either.

"So let's assume I've already thanked you all for coming, mmkay?

"New people--" and Paul shoots a glance at those who he has only recently begun to talk to, "--some of you have gotten here and been, somewhat justifiably, pissed that we seem pretty complacent.

"Believe me when I say that's not the case. None of us are happy here, none of us like it, it's just that we feel we've run the hell out of options. And you can only beat your way upstream for so long by yourself before you start to feel it's pointless.

"So.... we work together. We keep working together. We make plans for when things go wrong, and we stop just reacting to the aliens' shit.

"That is why I outfitted this building in the first place: so we have somewhere safe, the next time there's a dangerous glitch. I maybe can't plan for every eventuality, but I'm going to do what I can. And I'm going to do my goddamned best to work with the rest of you.

"My name's Paul Smecker, I've spent twenty or so years in law enforcement with a specialty in forensics and pissing off my superiors, and I enjoy long walks, on the beach, looking for waterfowl that have been killed by oil spills," he deadpans. "Earth. Circa 1999.

"And ..... you?" This with an exaggerated flourish of a gesture at the nearest person in a chair, indicating they should speak.

[Introductions]

[aintnoconvict]

When Glitch's turn came he got to his feet with a sort of calculated grace. His curls were tamed, and he was dressed in a black shirt and trousers and a red vest with gold herringbone embroidery. At his feet was a leather satchel holding a collection of assorted tools.

He glanced at his fellow citizens, remembering when there had been close to a hundred of them instead of the handful present now. All gone home to whatever fates awaited them, while he remained.

"I'm called Glitch," he began, because it wasn't his name so much as who he happened to be. "Nothing to do with the things of the same name that happen in the city, although I am experiencing a really lengthy one of those." He tapped his head. "Long story short: if I suddenly forget who you are...try not to take offense."

That out of the way: "I'm from a place called the Outer Zone, it's a parallel dimension to Earth. I've been in Taxon one year and eleven months, there's only one person - Max - who's been here longer than me. I remember most of it but...that could change at any time, so if you've got questions it might be good to get them in sooner rather than later."

He bobbed his head curtly and resumed his seat.

[Introductions]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

Paul nods at Glitch, and takes a brief moment to interject before the introductions move on--

"And Glitch is the guy responsible for the lighting in here, by the way. Generators he's built for this place, so we have emergency lighting."

He nods up at the lights in the room, then sticks his hands back into his pockets while eying Glitch thoughtfully. He knows, peripherally, that Glitch has been going through some changes lately. Meant to sit down with the guy, at least say a proper fucking hello. Life's been... what it is, getting this place ready.

He makes a mental note to do that soon, though, and returns his attention to the introductions.

[Introductions]

[ownlittleprison]

And here Mick thought he was far enough away that he wouldn't be singled out, but in the end it all depends on who steps up first. He doesn't look quite as chipper as the first two broadcasts he made, but his smile is brave enough against the slightly tired look on his face. Not to mention he feels like he's coming down with something.

It's nice and bright in here, but at least the windows are small enough that there's very little direct sunlight. Everyone stands out just right, and looks at the people here openly. Friendly, even.

"I'm Mick St. John. I'm from Los Angeles, Earth. 2007 - still wrapping my head around the different time and space thing," he shrugs, eyebrows following the cue. "I'm a P.I. People come to me with their problems, and I do my best to fix them. Doesn't always work out, but I'm not a quitter. I've already met some of you," said someones get a small display of fingers and palm in what might be a casual wave.

"What else? Oh, yeah, I'm gonna miss my TiVo."

[Introductions]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

"PI, hm?" Paul murmurs, but doesn't break up the introductions to do so. He's known some good ones in his time-- and also some pretty shit ones. Remains to be seen which type this guy is.

[Introductions]

[rereremembered.livejournal.com]

Fitz arrived, dropped off the newest box of goods from the Extras (dented cans without labels, just as he expected), and was tucking into some lasagna when his turn came. He got up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and offered a lazy smile.

"Name's Fitz. Let's say I'm originally from 1960s London, but I've seen enough of time and space to know that those Dallas Strongs* movies are lousy caricatures.

"I've been here...little over a year all together, I 'spose, though I was sent home for a bit." Casual shrug at that: yes, he considered himself living, breathing proof that folks who left the city really were sent back to their own worlds. "I'm a musician, and a run a pub up on Speares called the Dodgy Jammer. You're welcome to stop in for a pint any time."


* and now Austin Powers has a fake fandom (http://taxon.wikia.com/wiki/Fake_Fandoms)

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Drusilla had no interest in introducing herself. She liked to think of herself as a will o' the wisp. A ghost hovering in the shadows of the city. Those that knew her would never forget her and those that didn't ... well, they weren't important enough to bother with.

However, there were too many empty spaces in the city for her to miss a chance to play with the people that had been left behind. It was kind of the hamsters to leave her a pet.

"Will it be fresh?" she asked. A pint of blood would fill her tummy nicely.

[Introductions]

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

"Wait." Party corners Fitz the moment he can get, and it's not because he likes the guy--which he does, or as much as Party can like anyone--it's because of the words.

"We can get sent home? And then come back here? That doesn't make nay sense, junkpunk."

[Introductions] [yay fake fandom!]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

Paul furrowed a brow at Fitz's introduction. Was he implying time travel? Clearly, he needed to take some time to talk to the guy one on one... there seemed to be more here than just some decent guitar-playing and a helpful attitude.

[introductions]

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

The smell of all the food makes his stomach growl, and he side-eyes the majority of people eating, looking at them suspiciously. It's suspicious, after all. Everything is. No way he's going to eat. His plate is empty and he's wearing his mask again. He's impressed with the cranky old man's speech, though, but he keeps his finger on his gun. Just because the person that invited him here seems legitimate doesn't mean everyone else is.

He coughs, and coughs loudly, chest seizing in that wonderful way it tends to do when you're sick with radiation poisoning and god knows what else, and after the fit he looks up and sighs. Now that people are looking at him, he might as well just say his name.

"Party Poison. California, 2019." He's shrugging off his Dead Pegasus brand jacket, revealing a simple black tank top that reads 'keep smiling' in off-center yellow lettering. That, and flecks of spray paint from tagging the town.

[Introductions]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

That cough doesn't sound good. Paul makes a note, adds it to his running mental file on the kid-- art school dropout, Che Guevara, sick as a dog-- and pans his gaze to the next guy.

He doubts it'd really be productive to encourage Party Poison to say more about himself.

[Introductions]

[hasaheart]

Cain's turn, and he doesn't hesitate. Like his fellow Outer Zone-er, Glitch, he unfolds from his creaky plastic chair to his full height and surveys the room. Even without his long brown coat, even with his shirt sleeves pushed up, there's something almost authoritative about him - whether it's military brand or police force, or something else entirely, it's pretty universal. He's used to giving orders, and having people follow them.

He tilts his head in greeting before speaking up. "My name is Wyatt Cain. Like Glitch, I am from the Outer Zone. I have been here since October 16th, making my stay close to eleven months long. I was a member of the police force back home, but here I consider myself a civilian just like most of you. I've been helping Agent Smecker with fortifying this building since it was a big block of concrete filled with bird refuse. It's good to finally see it shaping up, and it's good to meet you all.

"Thank you."

Having said as much, he sits back down, picking up his mug of coffee off the floor.

[Introductions]

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

Wyatt Cain. It's the guy that gives Party bad vibes, the guy that reminds him of a lot of things. Outer Zone? Police force? Babble that draws the dimmest of parallels to his own universe. Yeah, don't think you can fool everyone, Pig. Party knows your S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W-esque game.

For nearly the entire time at the table the redhead stares at him, eyes narrowed, not bothering to hide it. Shit, even if he was trying, he'd do a terrible job. Party isn't exactly the best poker-faced Killjoy.

[Introductions]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

Although she might maintain an aura of coolness at first, to say Gwen Raiden is uncomfortable is an understatement--like saying her leather outfit stands out. She doesn't do group meet-and-greets, unless it involves kicking the asses of a bunch of armed guards inside a vault. Because in that case, gloves are off and she's ready to play.

...She'd probably prefer the armed guards. She wonders if they're looking at her and wondering what's up with the gloves and the colored streaks in her hair and her outfit and--

Oh. Oh boy, was this her turn? Was she supposed to speak? Gwen's mind roams all the clever start-offs and quips and clever remarks applicable...

"...Yeah.."

And mentally cringes, but offers a small bashful smile and an awkward glance away. "Not great with the ice-breakers. But I'm Gwen Raiden. L.A., but I'm guessing not from Micky here's time," she remarks, nodding over at Mick St. John and that's right, she said Micky. She raises an eyebrow and continues, "Seeing as it was sucked into hell last time I saw it. Anyway," she flicks a hand and shrugs, knowing the gloves might be a big elephant in the room but would rather not make things even more awkward. "Hi."

Ugh.

[Introductions]

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

Party flashes what could be considered a smile for her, but nothing more--a silent 'I know how you feel,' mixed with a hint of, 'this is so stupid, isn't it?' because he feels just as awkward as she does with his empty plate and yellow carnival mask on.

The joys of being an awkward outlaw.

[Introductions]

[ironfright.livejournal.com]

Puck had been debating whether or not to even come. Even though he'd sneered (or tried to sneer, it hadn't been well-pulled off, an abnormality that he blamed on this city) that he cared not a whit about anyone else in this place besides himself, he was still curious. Call it a long-buried racial flaw.

He very nearly objected when they started going around the room like the first day of kindergarten, but he forced himself to sit still and take in what the others were saying. There weren't any people here who were completely normal.

They weren't exactly as they looked, and neither was he. He wasn't sure if any of them could tell he wasn't human or not. At this point, he wasn't sure he even cared if they found out or not.

"Call me Wynn," he supplied, when the chain of introductions reached him. "I was last in New York, on Earth, in 2011. Nothing especially exciting was happening that I can think of. I've been here since March, but I've been around a long time -- best part of the last thousand years."

[Introductions]

[imperial-long.livejournal.com]

Long stood after several people had already spoken, a slight, middle-aged man in a dark suit, easy to not notice with the seat in the corner that he had chosen. He scrupulously wiped a bit of food from his fingers with a napkin before speaking.

"Mayland Long," he offered, his British-accented voice surprisingly resonant for his appearance. "Earth, San Francisco, 1983. I am a student of history and philosophy, as well as something of a linguist.

"I have been attempting to compile a guide that we might give to new arrivals, to make their transition easier. If anybody would like to assist me in this, please contact me after the meeting.

"Additionally I have nearly completed a translation of the messages of a few months ago that I think may be interesting to the city at large, but it is a bit too complex an issue to broach now. Perhaps in a few days.

"I can usually be found at the city's library."

With that, he sat back down again, and picked up his plate once more.

[ introductions ]

[longaevus]

Helen had been listening intently, making certain to put something with each person along with their name - it wasn't easy with the little that she had but she'd managed to learn something from James in regards to that respect. When it got to her Helen gave them a smile, putting her rather untouched plate to the side.

"My name's Helen Magnus, one of the new arrivals. From what I've been told I was here once before, quite some time ago although I have no recollection of that." She's still wondering whether to be glad of that or not.

"I'm a doctor, from Earth, 2011." She'd heard the range of introductions from the minimal to the little more elaborated upon. Helen wanted to give something more but how far to take it? It was less a case of trust but more of information that she believed sensitive, even non-essential - how much did she want them to know? For now... just that was enough.

[Introductions]

[tothelightshown.livejournal.com]

When her turn came, DG gave the rest of the group a small wave and a somewhat embarrassed smile. There weren't as many familiar faces in the crowd as there had once been, but she took comfort from the people that were present. Paul was right. They needed to work together if they were going to get anywhere.

"Hi," she said, and, after a beat and a moment of indecision, she copied Glitch and Cain and got to her feet. "I'm DG. I was born in the Outer Zone, the same world as Glitch and Cain, but I've spent most of my life in Kansas." She paused, then added: "Kansas, Earth."

(Once upon a time, she would never have imagined needing to clarify that.)

"I've been in Taxon for nearly two years," she continued, "I'm good with engines and a sketchbook and I'm ..." Well, it had to be said ... "I'm a witch. The good kind."

[Introductions]

[allthatlife.livejournal.com]

Martha gave Paul a smile as she got to her feet to introduce herself. She'd been onboard with this project since he'd started it - with the exception of the time that she had spent frozen in Taxon's own form of suspended animation - and she was thrilled with how far it had come. The Doctor would have been delighted. Despite being trapped, despite being left beaten and bruised on numerous occasions, they were indomitable.

"I'm Doctor Jones. Martha. I'm from Earth 2008, but I've travelled to a lot of different planets so I've got a lot of experience in the field and a good grasp of xenobiology." The other prisoners looked human on the outside, but that didn't mean anything. Martha had encountered a lot of aliens who were only superficially human. "I have a surgery in the centre of the city, but if you need me outside normal hours then you can contact me on the tablet at any time."