taxonomites | 08 | Visual/Location: Gwen's House

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08 | Visual/Location: Gwen's House | Power Outage.

At first, blue light fills the tablet screen, flickering in and out and making little buzz buzz noises. When it zooms out, two pale hands are visible, and the electricity bounces in the air between Gwen Raiden's palms. Now the tablet focuses in on Gwen, whose way of battling stir-craziness is to make pretty blue light shows with her hands. She's reclined on her couch, sinking into the cushion with her feet relaxed in front of her. The palms of her hands are facing each other, and jagged streams of blue light fizz in and out in the gap between them. She looks concentrated, her eyes not wavering from where the bits of electricity are generated, but she's not focused. She's somewhere far, far away. After a while, the light show tends to lose its shine. After a few decades, it's pretty much like throwing a ball up and down, up and down.

And then it seems to be over. There's one last, dying flicker of blue lightning, and then nothing but air. Gwen's hands still hover, but the electricity's gone.

Now her eyes focus, and Gwen returns. She leans up from her reclining position, her legs swinging up over the table and down to the floor. She wiggles her fingers, moves her hands apart and close together. "Okay," she murmurs, her brow furrowed in confusion and suspicion and a little bit of worry. "What's the game?"

As if struck by some idea, she stands up, walks to the other end of the room, and puts her bare hand to a light switch.

Nothing happens, and this might seem ordinary to most Taxon residents, but Gwen looks like she woke up with purple skin. She moves to another part of the room and touches something, and then another, and then another, and when the tablet finally catches her eye again, her brow has softened, her eyes are bright and wide, and her lips are pressed into the most ecstatic smile Taxon's ever seen.

"I can't believe it," she says, aloud, incredulous. She lets out a short laugh. "It's gone."

[OOC: Beginning of Gwen's glitch! No more electricity what could go wronnnngg?]

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Willow had been watching the whole show, but she couldn't say she exactly understood what was going on. Still, if something was wrong - or not wrong, she couldn't tell - she needed to figure out what. Gwen was part of Angel's crew, after all.

Sort of.

"What happened?" she asked, curious even as she was worried.

Gwen was caught up in the moment, so what would have been her instant smart-ass reply was a little downgraded with her new-found revelation.

And for once, the tablet stalking her every move didn't piss her off that much.

"Oh. Hey, Red." Did she even know Gwen was a bonafied superpowered freak? Did it matter, anymore? "I'm..." What word to choose, how to say it, how not to jinx it? "Normal."

Nope, Willow knew nothing about Gwen. "And you're... not normally normal?" Wow that sounded special. "I mean... are you a witch or something?"

"Nope," she said, in answer to both questions. "I'm---was...a live wire. Literally." She smiled, still reveling in her new found normalness. It was pretty sweet using the past tense. And Gwen didn't feel any hesitation about filling the witch in on the gory details. What did it matter?

"My body runs on electrical energy. It's supposed to, anyway. I won't bore you with the scientific mumbo jumbo. It took me three years to track down something that could fix me--back home. Didn't last. Anyway, just now it just kind of...died out."

"Oh! That's kinda cool." But she could see where it would be a problem. "I wonder if I could find a spell to help that... I-I mean, if this whole fixed thing isn't a permanent thing."

Assuming Gwen wanted it to be permanent, but from the sound of her voice, Willow was willing to bet she did.

"I like specifics." It wouldn't bore her at all. Willow kind of liked that sort of thing.

"Not really," she answers in an instant, with a little smile. She doesn't say that she was eying the witch once upon a time to make work some of her mojo. She had her eyes and ears open when it came to Taxon's more talented citizens, and Willow was definitely one of them. Guess it doesn't matter now, but if everything really did hit the fan, she'll know who to call.

"Really?" she eyes her, with a tad bit of amused interest, and says, "That's basically the gist. I've been like this since I could remember. Found a prototype--real black ops type stuff--that fixed me. A kind of body chemistry regulator. Then everything went to Hell and that was the end of that." A pause followed by a tight, little laugh. "Then I came here, and forgot to pack it."

"That's kinda cool, though." What? Willow likes things like that. It pays that she's the gang's genius. "Did Angel know about all this? I-I mean... y'know, your electricity stuff."

Curious. Always curious. That and she kind of wants to know how trustworthy Gwen is. The girl's starting to warm up to her, but it's still a little weird on the getting to know each other side.

"Could have been, if I could turn it on and off," she answers with a shrug, holding her hand. Willow's admiration of it reminds her of Party. Yeah, it seems cool: like a comic book superhero, right? Not many seemed to get why she wanted to be rid of it. How much it sucked to not be able to hold hands or have a pet or let someone get close.

"It's how we met," she answers, remembering the big handsome lug fondly. She wonders how he's fairing back home against Gunn. Did they stop him? Did they fix everything? Does he hate her? (Probably) "He was looking for some mystical doodad to find his girlfriend. A really expensive mystical doodad. One I was hired to..." Woooord choice... "...Acquire."

Those were the days.

"Oh. Oh." It hits her then and her eyes go wide. Okay that would suck. A lot. Now she gets it.

A magical doodad? "What was it supposed to do? I mean, who was it fixing, what was wrong?"

The unspoken question was why didn't he ask her to help, though a smaller part of her knew the answer was because she was with Buffy, helping out in Sunnydale and they probably couldn't have spared her. Not with everything going on. Even if Angel and Gwen were from Willow's future, she knew there would always be a fight. That's just how it went when you were the best friend of the Slayer.

She nods. Yeah. And her eyebrow raises faintly at the witch's enthusiastic questions. "Kind of like an inter-dimensional telephone. She went missing, he was the big romantic hero set out to find her." Her smile is wistful and a little sad. "Figured I'd throw him a bone. So I let him borrow it."

Long time ago, it seems. And she's studying the girl's reaction. "She turned up later, so I guess that worked out. Not as gentle and heavenly as I would've thought, though," she says, unable to resist the edge.

"That was nice of you." Okay, still trying to figure out a) who this girlfriend of Angel's would be and b) what happens in her future. "Who was he trying to save?"

Because she could think of someone - Cordelia, as weird as that is to consider - but she can't really wrap her mind around Angel or Cordy forgetting their work long enough to do... well... that. And then there's the whole soul-Angelus thing to think about. Okay head hurting from too much concentration.

She smirks. "I think I got the better end of the deal."

Because Cordelia? Not worth 33 million dollars. But you know what they say about love...

(And the fact that Connor had a creepy thing with her way back when? Definitely not a factor in the animosity...)

"Cordelia Chase." She pauses and thinks, as if she's really, really trying to think of something nice to say. "She was...something." She shrugs. "She was important to Connor. And to the big guy."

Cordelia. Well that just added an extra layer to Willow's life. Why couldn't the aliens have left Angel here so she could ask him about it?

"Cordelia's a friend of mine from high school." Is. Was. Whatever. "She's a good person."

Okay, this is awkward. Gwen apparently doesn't like Cordy - which Willow could understand. She was a little difficult sometimes, but she'd turned into a good person underneath all of those high school layers of intense bitch.

Oh. Gwen's face falls just barely, her eyes flashing with realization.

Someone's using present tense and not picking up on Gwen's use of the past. She deducts that the witch doesn't know Cordelia's been dead for...well, maybe a year? How long has it been? She doesn't really know. And maybe it's not the point.

"God, this time thing is really messed up," she says with an awkward sigh. She looks away. Maybe it's right there on her face, but she doesn't say anymore.

Oh, Willow had caught it. She just... didn't want to believe it. But Gwen's comment about time gets a sigh out of her and she finally asks, "How long ago?"

When did Cordelia die?

She gives it some thought. It seems like she's been in Taxon forever. How much time has gone by in the real world, she wonders. Does anyone miss her like they miss Cordelia?

"A year, maybe? Less than. When all that stuff went down with Angel at Wolfram & Hart. They all..." she pauses here, because the sentence doesn't come out as easily as she thought it would. "...started dropping like flies once they took the gig at that place."

God. What a way for the good guys to end, huh? Gwen shakes her head, a bitter gesture.

Willow could answer one of those questions, mostly because she almost has been in Taxon forever.

"A year for you," she agrees carefully. "And you're from my future." Everyone's always from her future. She should just find a poster and write 'FROM YOUR PAST. PLEASE UPDATE.' on it. "Like Fred. And..." She frowned. "Wesley, too, right?" Hadn't someone told her that?

She nods. "And...Charles. Gunn. Not sure if you knew him." She stops, looking down, and her lips press into a small, sad smile. "He was a real dish. Suave-ist guy I knew. Never could admit he was better than he thought he was."

She stops, as if realizing her mouth's gotten away from her. It's not like her, but she hasn't had many opportunities to talk about those guys. It hurts, and it feels good at the same time.

"Anyway. You've seen the blue chick, right? Miss Holier than Thou? That's what nipped cherry in the bud. Creepy, right?" Lucky for her, Illyria seems to be before her time. Otherwise she might have to face some not-so-pleasant memories of the past, and her actions in Hell-L.A.

Willow notices the way Gwen's mouth draws up, but she has enough tact not to comment on it. That would be like someone pushing her about Tara.

"She's just another hell-god," the redhead answers with a shrug. Clearly, she's met a hell-god before and she wasn't the one who came out the worst for it. "She can be stopped."

Gwen looks at her, a little bit of surprise on her face. "You have much experience with hell-gods?" she asks.

Illyria was the first one Gwen's had to deal with. And it wasn't fun. From what she heard, she spent most of her time hitting things and following Spike around. But she imagined the loss hit Gunn pretty hard, and the sight was creepy enough. Still is.

"A little. We fought Glorificus two years ago and we won."

Okay, she couldn't be completely nonchalant about it because it was a pretty big deal. Dawn... and Tara... and Buffy dying.

"She brain-sucked my girlfriend, so I kinda... lost my temper at her." Black magic: a witch's version of losing control. "But in the end, we stopped her and now there's no more Glory-hell-god."

Her eyes widen a little bit, looking impressed. "Nice," she says, with a nod, looking the witch over. She doesn't know what this Glorificus thing is, but if she's anything like Illyria? Girl must be toting some serious power juice. Not a bad chick to have on your side, that's for sure. "Sounds like she deserved it.

Willow made a face. "She was kinda trying to kill Dawnie and suck the world into a hell dimension. She definitely deserved it." And if she ever turned up here, the redheaded witch would make certain she paid for everything again.

The first thought that enters Gwen's mind is: Wow, honey. You have a lot of friends. And whoever this god is, it sounds like she beat the hell out of all of them. And note to self: if she ever turns up here, find a nice little hole to hide in.

The second thought is: "Hell dimension, huh? You sure she didn't succeed?" Because when she left L.A., it definitely wasn't a sunny paradise. If it wasn't the evil law firm, Gwen would place her money on a power-hungry hell god. Why not?

"Definitely sure. That was two years ago." And as far as she knew, Sunnydale was still Sunnydale after everything had happened because dear Buffy had sacrificed herself to save the world from that fate. And then dear Willow had pulled her out of heaven like a good best friend does. Sigh.

"Don't worry. We took care of it."

"Heya, Gwen." Party pokes his head around the corner, sticking his head out before walking in entirely, sketchbook in one hand and a wet paintbrush in another, flecks on his face and in his hair.

"So there's, uuh, this like persian carpet. Real shiny. You might need to get rid of it if you can't get black paint out," He confesses, and fully into the room he gives an apologetic grin, hazel eyes immediately taking in something different.

Gwen was smiling, sure. But Gwen was smiling differently. He put on his own confused grin, clearing his throat to get her attention after she laughed. Sweet. Maybe she hadn't heard the mishap and he could just casually toss it out. There's no way she'd notice something like that going missing in the huge house. Hopefully. But, more importantly:

"You shiny, Tumbleweed?"

Gwen's still in her own world, and Party's entrance echoes like background music in her ears. She knows he's there, and rambling in that Party Poison way, but she barely registers it.

At first.

When she does, and she realizes on a conscious level that he's in the room, only feet from her, Gwen doesn't think. She acts. She acts with that same instinct that drove her to that make-out session with Angel, before he got all broody about his goddess lover. It's just blind, eager instinct of flesh.

And as Gwen is taking her strides toward her friend, crossing the short distance between them in less than a second, as she puts her hands on his shirt for just that micro-second long enough to confirm he's not fried, as she brings her lips to his and kisses him full on the mouth...

She wonders if this is what it's like for everyone, every day.

"Cool your motor, tumb--" Party can't even finish the sentence because Gwen has a hold of his dumb, ratty T-shirt and then--

Oh.

Oh, okay.

Party has no idea why he isn't charcoal but it's not like he could really think the thought when the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on currently has him in a lip lock. He lets instinct take over--instinct he was taught to be proud of, a headfirst attitude of doing what feels right and questioning things later, and he wound up grabbing Gwen by the shoulders, pulling her towards him and guiding them against the nearest wall.

What are you doing? This is Party Boy we're smooching, here! is what a rational, conscious Gwen might have said to herself.

But all Gwen's thinking is touch, touch, touch and feel, feel, feel. She doesn't know how long this is going to last, and a part of her doesn't care. That same part of her knows that if this is a fluke and her powers came back just in time to end Party for good, it might be worth taking the risk. Maybe that's one of those inner, selfish thoughts Gwen might kick herself for later, but right now?

Feel, feel, feel.

All she cares about is all the little nerve endings on her skin running loose and free. Just a little bit longer, just until she gets it out of her system. She lets him guide her against a wall, pleasantly surprised at his initiative. She puts her hand, hesitating for just a second, on his back and then on his neck, just so it can feel something other than cotton.

And then it's That Time. She remembers everything she'd forgotten, and her lips break from his. She doesn't take a step back, with the wall there, but she looks at him with what might be wonder.

It was the best feeling in the world, Gwen's little touch against his neck--it send chills down his spine, little sparks through his system but not literally , and as soon as Gwen moved her head away Party took a beat to look into her eyes, smiling.

"Hey." His voice was soft, light. Barely above a whisper. His hands moved to cup the other's face, thumb brushing her cheek. Smiling. A genuine smile.

"You can touch me."

"Hi." She's smiling a little, looking still very much bemused that all of this is really happening. His hand feels warm. And nice. And all the things she remembers.

It's not a let-down. It's not one of those things you build up in your head, only to be disappointed when it's not as good as you hoped. For Gwen, just as it was the first time, being able to touch is exactly as she imagined it to be.

"And you're not toast. Guess it's my lucky day, huh?"

"You're the lucky one?"

Party can touch her--Party can touch her and it's selfish on his part, completely selfish, but he's stroking her cheek before he presses their foreheads together. It's stupid but he just wants to see that she's real, and this isn't another one of his silly daydreams.

"I can--this is.. This is shiny, Tumbleweed! Gwen, I can touch you. I can--" He leans in, kissing her again, and pulls her off the wall by her waist, lifting the lithe girl up and spinning her, setting her down and grinning like an idiot.

"FUCK yes!"

She's laughing as he twirls her...really laughing. It's girly and it's happy and it sounds free.

"What do you think?" she asks, holding up her hands and throwing them in the air, as if the question doesn't really matter to her that much. "Some kind of belated Christmas present? A reward for putting up with this place?"

Or a glitch. But everything else seems to be normal. Party doesn't seem any different, and why would something affect her and only her?

"You kiddin'? Who motherfucking cares?!"

Party's stroking the side of Gwen's cheek--because now he can touch her, it's a stupid thing, but he never wants to let her go. It's sappy and dumb but he leans over and places a quick, chaste kiss on her cheek before positively beaming.

"You gotta not dwell on the fucking past, Tumbleweed. The future is bulletproof and the aftermath is secondary and I can touch you. Like.. Touch. No gloves. Just this. Just us."

His laughter was incredulous, pulling her tight and bear hugging her.

"Look alive, motorbaby!"

She sighs with a happy little smile. "Good point." Excitement aside, she's not above the eye-roll especially reserved for Party and his motivational speeches.

But really, truer words were never spoken. Who cares? Is Gwen supposed to brood over why the bane of her existence suddenly went 'poof'? That's not her style. Maybe in the real world, but not here. Not where people become cats and fairy tale characters and disappear and come back from the dead. It's a reward. Gotta be. She's put up with a hell of a lot in Taxon, and maybe the aliens decided to throw her a bone.

Or hey, maybe not, but Gwen's not going to waste this opportunity. The risk is worth it. She's going to enjoy it as much as she can. Maybe she didn't do that enough the first time.

She can change the television without making it go all static. She can pet animals, hold hands. She can go outside in a storm without being struck by lightning. She can get drunk without worrying about electrifying the entire neighborhood. She can grab a fistful of metal and watch it sit in her hands and not melt. She can kiss, and keep her gloves locked away in the drawer.

"Okay. Okay, okay okay." And maybe Party's panicking more than Gwen--if the small flail of his hands are anything to go by as he tries to explain what the hell he's planning, he's giddier than he's ever been. Which is sort of frightening--to Party at least.

"Okay Tumbleweed. We're gonna do all the shiny things you can even think of. Like. Fuckin' petting zoos. And goin' to that church thing so you can say reeses pieces. Or...Whatever. Do they have churches in Taxon? Wait--does it fucking matter?"

Party's laughter is genuine. "This is twice as shiny as God's revolver--this is Victory Mile, motorbaby!"

She watches him flail for a bit, because it's always prime entertainment for Gwen. She's not a flailer. She knows how to keep her body calm, relaxed, to keep skill. At least when she needs to. Hey, it's part of the basic skills of any good thief.

But even though she's not panicking, her heart is racing with excitement. It's no less than the first time she was able to touch--after super suave Charles Gunn fired up L.I.S.A and she was good to go. It's different, and it makes her miss home, miss Connor, but the feeling is just as overwhelming.

"I wanna pet the animals," she says, knowing how young that makes her sound. "No churches."

"Then let's pet animals!" Party can touch Gwen now--the thought just keeps repeating in his head. Once he considers someone a friend, he's a pretty touchy person in the first place--and Gwen with her chocolate curls and gorgeous smile and strangely cat-like eyes that makes Party's heart beat just a little bit faster? She's not free from it, either.

He takes the other's hands again, pulling her towards the door.

"C'mon, we're going to the zoo and we're going now."

"A fortuitous turn of events, by your expression," Long observes, casually interested in whatever has Gwen so over the moon.

"Might I ask what has you so pleased by its absence, miss Raiden?"

Gwen's smiles at the tablet, not bothered by the accidental broadcast (not today) and genuinely happy to see him.

"I think I just got a gift from the Taxon gods," she replies. Only now, as the first seconds of the discovery dwindle, she wonders if revealing to someone like Long what she was before might taint his opinion of her now. She respects him, and he's always nice to her. Would knowing why she always wore gloves put him off?

She decides that no, he'd probably dig it...in that intellectual intrigue way. But she holds off. "I had a kind of...power. It sucked. And now it's gone."

Long is less than sanguine about her cheer, although he hates to be a wet blanket. So he doesn't say their gifts never last, instead he only offers a non-committal noise.

The bit about the power is interesting, though, and he arches a brow. "A power! Do tell. I must say, I have never met so many people beyond the pale, as it were, in many years of life on earth, as in my single year here in Taxon."

She smiles crookedly, thinking that it's just so much easier (not to mention, having a cooler dramatic flare) to show and tell. Without the Show, Tell just looses that extra something.

But is Gwen going to complain? No.

"I hear ya," she says. "Makes a girl feel right at home. My thing? Exciting subatomic particles with electrical energy, making them dance around and all that fun, textbook science stuff." She shrugs, like, no big deal. Been there, done that. She wiggles her fingers.

"I doubt the side effects would shock you."

She can't resist.

She's punning; Long's face remains politely impassive but his eyes gleam a bit with humor.

"And currently you find yourself discharged of this ability? What a jolt that must be," he deadpans, and then relents enough to chuckle.

"My initial amusement was correct-- over your name. I am always delighted when nomenclature is appropriate."

"I'm absolutely awestruck," she adds with a light laugh of her own, but definitely unable to keep the impressive straight face even for a moment.

"Yeah. Funny how that works out." She shrugs--a nonchalant, accepting gesture that shows the irony is definitely not above her head, but whatever, she's over it. "Guess the universe has a sense of humor. But between you and me?" She holds up a hand. "I like not being a live wire a lot better."

Edited 2012-02-16 01:34 (UTC)

"I can imagine so," Long concedes. "Day to day life would be necessity be more complex when one is... ungrounded." That one, he means as less pun and more philosophical statement, but the difference may be hard to tell.

"When will I receive the pleasure of your company for tea, Miss Raiden?"

"You're one of the first people to say that, here," she says, her smile thin. And there's irony in that--that the reaction here is so opposite to what it is back home. "Back home, I'm a freak. But I deal. Always have. I know how to make the most out of a suck situation. But here?" She holds out her hands, like she's on display. "I don't stand out so much, here. Most people think it's cool. Like I'm some busty chick from a comic book. But they seem to miss the punchline."

She isn't sure which of those reactions she likes better. But she's not going to cry over people being nice to her, instead of screaming and running.

"Tea," she says, with a relieved sigh. "As soon as you can brew it."

"Back 'home'," Long answers dryly, "I am bored. Less so in Taxon. I will refrain from commenting on any resemblance you may have to a 'busty chick from a comic book', although I will say that Tank Girl is an amusing read.

"Tomorrow, then? Mid-afternoon, shall we say?"

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08 | Visual/Location: Gwen's House | Power Outage.

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