taxonomites | [ first thread - location: sanctuary

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[ first thread - location: sanctuary - holo ]

For a brief moment, home had finally felt like home again. She and Briar had argued, loudly and with the reasoning of children, but in that small instant of irritation Sandry had seen their old sibling bond. She had stormed around Daja’s house, taking measurements and debating the best fabrics and colors for her foster brother and sisters. That afternoon, despite her somewhat childish behavior, Sandry had returned hom with a new spark of hope in her chest. Thy were going to be okay. They had to be okay.

What she hadn’t expected was to wake the next morning--or was it still the same night?--in seamless metal chamber with no sign of an exit. For several moments Sandry took in the room, blinking at the walls around her for any sign of magic. The heaviness at her wrist distracted fairly quickly, and she turned to inspect the bracelet on her wrist. It told her nothing, and without Daja’s knowledge of metal there was no telling how or why it had been placed on her. The obvious answer, at least at first, was that she had been taken for ransom, and that the wrist was some sort of magic inhibitor. But there was no magic within the bracelet, and Sandry could feel her own magic as plain and clean as was normal. “Either they’re very good, or very stupid,” she mused to herself. Of course she couldn’t do anything with metal, but there might be other options...

Brow furrowed, the noble finally rose from the ground and checked for the pouch around her neck. Whoever had taken her hadn’t been very smart at all. The pouch was still there, as were its contents. The room was bright for now, but if whatever source was causing the light went out, at least she still had her crystal. More importantly, she had the thread that represented the bond between her foster siblings and herself. The lumps that lately had been warm with Tris and Daja’s magics were cold, but Briar’s gave a faint pulse. She gave it a slight tug, but the connection was still firmly closed. Unless she absolutely could not find a way out it would stay that way. Briar didn’t want her there, and she wasn’t about to force it after their arguments the day before.

Sandry sighed and placed the pouch back under her nightclothes, then smoothed the material over before firmly setting her jaw and addressing the empty room. “I am Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, Clehame fa Landreg, and I demand an immediate explanation as to why I have been brought here.”

No response.

“I won’t sit quietly and wait, if that’s what you’re thinking, so you may as well just answer me now. The very least you can do is give me your terms. It will be much easier on you if you cooperate now.”

Nothing. Mildly frustrated now, Sandry pushed her magic out, seeking some sort of material she could get a grasp on. There were wires in the walls, but she pulled her magic back quickly with a sharp, “Oh!” when she felt the electricity running through them--she would need Tris’ help to even think about doing anything with those.

“Oh, cat dirt.”

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"M'votin' on stupid. Tumbleweed." There's a semi amused look on Party's face--which is to say his lips are pursed into a thin, almost smile. There's a large part of him that's already got his hackles raised, though.

"An' no mean to burst your bubble, cityrat, you're in a place where nobility flies about as high as a Drac at a wavehead bar." A large, heavy sigh.

"Just pick up the tablet thing my voice an' face is comin' by, door will open. Boom, you're in a city you've been kidnapped and placed inn. And what does cat dirt haveta do with it?"

The voice startles Sandry, despite the fact that she's been waiting for an answer, and she approaches the pedestal cautiously. There's no magic showing on the little device, but there is the young man speaking, plain as day.

Well, plain as Briar might have when he'd first arrived at Discipline.

"I can see I've been kidnapped," she replies, a little more curtly than she would have under normal circumstances. Her cheeks redden at his mention of her pathetic swearing, but she ignores the question and focuses instead on pulling herself back, loosening up. She's still on edge, and isn't sure what to make of the device or the man's picture on it, but there is a significant lack of authority in her voice when she speaks again.

"A city where?"

The redhead shrugs. "Welcome to the club. Well, not literally--inasmuch as more of a colony of captives, running around." A bit of an amused look crosses his face. "Like Australia. Where I can't tell you, Sunshine, but you're in a place called Taxon with a bracelet on your hand that all the other folks got," --he holds up his own--"and not a clue how to get out. Sorry 'bout that. Here's the deal, I guess."

He mutters something about being the welcome wagon, and lets out a huge sigh before continuing.

"You've been kidnapped and brought here by weird creatures that only show up when they want to. Us? We're your allies. Pulled from different worlds. A lot of us seem to be from Earth, or varying states of Earth. Buuuut you never know."

Much of what he says confuses Sandry more than she likes to admit. The places he names are places she's never heard of, and the way he phrases things is odd. She is able to get the gist of it, though: captives, all of them...however many 'all' is.

She eyes his bracelet carefully, then looks back to her own. It appears to be made of the same material, and looks just as foreign and uncomfortable on him as it feels on her. "Taxon...is a prison, then? For what purpose?"

There's a pause as she debates just how to approach the subject without appearing as though she has gone completely mad. Then, tentatively, she adds, "Is Australia a prison as well? I've never heard of one named such." She can only guess it's part of that Earth country.

Party's surprisingly okay with the latter half of this, and it's easier to say: "It's just a huge country that's full of like, decendants of villians. Cooler than it sounds, not important." Mainly because Party's always wanted to go but he's not even sure if Australia exists in his world anymore.

"You're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, though. Nice, motorbaby. Alright, here's the scoop: pick up the tablet thing, the one with my face on it? The door'll open. you'll be lead into the city. Don't bother with anyone that doesn't have a bracelet, they're fucking robots. And more importantly, remember:" Sure, his tone is ominous, but he's a dramatic guy. "Even if they do? Watch your back."

Sandry raises an eyebrow. A country of villains? "It sounds dreadful," she states plainly. "Especially if it's cold." How strange their punishment system must be, to send evildoers to the colder countries.

For as much as she thought she had been following him, some of what he says is completely lost on her. She isn't sure whether or not she should be offended at being called 'motorbaby', but there isn't much time to ponder before he's giving her instructions on how to get out.

Good.

Gingerly, Sandry picks up the tablet. It's lighter than she expected, but the sound of the door opening in the wall distracts her for the moment. An apologetic look crosses her face and she bites her lip. "Robots? I'm terribly sorry, I've just never heard many of the terms you're using. This is all distressingly new to me..."

"Don't worry about it. Not many people 'round here do. Only two Killjoys in Taxon right now." he says 'right now' because he is desperately, foolishly, selfishly hoping for Fun Ghoul or Jet Star or Grace to get snagged up.

"Anyway, tumbleweed. You don't worry about the lingo thing. There's another guy here that's just as confounded as you by all this tech, which is weird for a guy like me, but." Another shrug. "Let's go outside, huh? If you want I can be there in," he checks his watch. "10 minutes to show you the ropes of this place."

She can only assume that a Killjoy is his people, but at least he has someone else here. While the thread with Briar's magic is barely pulsing, she isn't about to get her hopes up that the other confused individual he mentioned is Briar.

Other things first, then she would track him down. Maybe. If he wanted her to.

"I would hate to ask it," she starts, but the fact that the room is confusing enough, followed by the idea of stepping out into a city that is just as strange and filled with 'tech' stops her. Having someone to show her around, even someone as odd as this young man, is better than floundering about in an unknown place. "But if you don't mind it, I would be very grateful if you could."

[ There's a sound of screeching tires. Party Poison was already in his car, and he switched the visual to just audio as he drives.]

I offered, sunshine. So, Lady Shangri-lee fa-two...whatsitcalled, welcome to this fucked up place. Name's Party Poison.

There's something wrong with the tablet, she thinks when his picture abruptly disappears. His voice can still be heard, though, and for a moment Sandry wonders if this is how Tris must feel when hearing things on the wind: utterly confused.

"Sandrilene fa Toren," she corrects, "but please call me Sandry. The title doesn't come into play unless it can't be helped." With a last glance around the chamber, Sandry frowns down at her nightgown--meeting someone in her nightclothes, especially a young man, is not something she had been expecting to do--and steps out into the long hallway. Just to make sure she heard him correctly, she repeats, "Party Poison?"

An old, beat-up spraypainted Trans-am rolls onto the road, nearly clipping the cur--no, it clips the curb, and Party sticks his head out. he's got aviators on, and after a few seconds he pulls them off of his head, tosses them into the back seat, and gets out of the car.

No mistaking the girl in her nightgown with a bracelet and a familiar lost expression.

"Look alive, sunshine!" He offers a half-wave, shivering against what's freezing for him. "Welcome to Taxon. Wish I wasn't the welcome wagon, but.." A shrug. "Gotta start somewhere." He extends a hand, half-smiling in that 'I can't quite remember how to laugh' way that's all too real for him and Kobra.

What Sandry hadn't realized while wandering around inside was how cold it would be when she finally stepped outside. She hovers just inside the doors, waiting until she sees the very peculiar horseless carriage pull up. Then, as bravely as she can, she tugs the thin material of her robe around herself and steps outside. Regret for not turning the throw pillows in the lobby into slippers immediately hits. If it weren't for the fact that she didn't know whose pillows they were, she would strongly consider going back inside for them.

"Alive as I can," she promises Party, wondering at how he can look as cold as she feels in so many layers. A moment of hesitation and she delicately takes his hand. "My brother has just informed me that he is also on his way. I apologize for the trouble you might have taken to come here, and will understand if you would rather leave than wait. It is much warmer inside..."

Very precise. Party's reminded of Mr. Library, because all the please and thank yous have since gone from California 2019.He mutters something along the lines of no problem and notices the poor girl's probably freezing her ass off.

So's Party, of course, acclimated to desert and radiation, but he doesn't like to show it and he instead is opening the trunk of the trans-am, pulling out a large blanket and offering it to her. "Here." And, because old habits die hard: "Free of charge, tumbleweed, you're in your damn nightgown."

He shuts the trunk, though, sitting on it, feet balanced precariously, and points, things clicking together.

"Your brother's totally Briar. You guys talk the same, all big words with no meanin'."

"Are you sure?" Of course he isn't, anyone could see that. For the moment, though, Sandry really isn't in a spot to protest the extra heat. "...thank you."

She can feel the fibers of the blanket reaching out for her, offering warmth and comfort, before she even touches it. This material doesn't know her like the cloth at home does, and it takes several scoldings before the threads settle and behave.

It's no surprise that he's put her and Briar together, really, not with the way they all seem to speak here. Funny, how it doesn't even require an explanation in a foreign place when people at home constantly questioned them. "He's my foster brother, yes," Sandry confirms, tucking her chin into the blanket and wondering whether she should be offended by the second piece of that statement or not. Not, she decides. Blanket says not.

"M'not usin' 'em, Sunshine." Party attemps a comforting smile that comes across a little oddly, his face not really used to that. "Y'ever need anything, look for this." he jerks his thumb towards his trans am, spraypainted and broken down and generally looking like it's on it's last legs.

"I'll be there. Or Kobra Kid. He's my brother: same eyes as me, blonde hair, pinched jaw, never really talks that much? Look for these," he turns around, showing his Party Poison logo, and then points out Kobra's symbol on the car, "on the walls of Taxon's buildings."

Briar rounds the corner and is mildly relieved to see Sandry wrapped in a blanket. Apparently Party is taking care of his sister. It's too cold here for anyone to be out in their nightclothes, as the cloud formed by his breath reminds him. Of course, Sandry could probably have managed something with any textiles she found in the area, but the thought still counts for plenty.

His initial relief at a familiar face and voice has subsided somewhat, and Briar is back to the same place he was before arriving in Taxon. Not quite sure how to fit all the messy edges between them back together, he slows his pace a few steps away from his sister before closing the distance between them. He won't protest if Sandry hugs him, but he greets her with a smile and a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's good to see you, Sandry," and he means it, in spite of nothing being how it once was.

He turns to the other man, nodding, smile still firmly on his face. "Hello, Party." That red is even brighter in person, and Briar idly runs through a list of dyes in his head, wondering which combination produces a color that bright.

Sandry and Briar, unlike Kobra and Party, couldn't look much less like siblings. They have different hair, skin tone, eye color, and facial structure. If Party can identify them as such, he's very good at looking past appearance and into the way things are. In Briar's experience, a lot of people lack that skill.

Sandry can tell enough about the look of the vehicle to say that it looks as though it could crumble at any second. The threading inside alone is whining loudly enough for that. She itches to repair, but knows that it would probably be an unwise move on her part so soon after meeting Party. He doesn't seem like someone who would enjoy the new girl playing with his toys.

"Do you place your mark many places?" she asks, leaning closer to look at the logo. It's certainly very...distinct.

Sandry is about to ask more about Kobra Kid when she feels the familiar pull of Briar's magic approaching. At first, she isn't sure how to react. They hadn't parted on the best of terms the night before, and there's no telling how Briar will react to her now that they're face to face.

His hand on her shoulder is enough. Sandry, doing her very best not to pout, closes the final foot or two and hugs Briar tight.

"I'm so glad you're here."

He's sitting on his truck, waiting for them to hug it out. A hand goes to his nose and he touches it, gingerly, feeling a pang of jealousy. The siblings reunite and they get a hug and nice rapport, Party and Kobra unite and Kobra breaks Party's nose.

When he gets uncomfortable he clears his throat and answers the girl's query:

"Places I've checked before, places that are safe. Places I'm workin' on making milkshake, slaughtermatic and reachin' up to heaven with a sword and a shield," he states softly.

"But you've got someone you know. S'half the battle, junkpunks."

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[ first thread - location: sanctuary - holo ]

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[Location: Central]

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