taxonomites | System Glitch: In The City

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System Glitch: In The City

The artificial sun rises in the artificial sky... just like every day in Taxon. For some of the inhabitants, this has been going on long enough to be very routine.

This morning, though, the light shines over quite a few gaps in the city's architecture. There is no Oxford library, no Hedge Maze. A number of the private residences are simply gone, those that people brought with them to Taxon. And the streets are very empty, indeed: no Extras on the sidewalks, no Extras driving cars. No smiling faces in the corner coffee shop. The trams rattle around the city with nary a soul on board. The streets are silent.

But it's not just the Extras who are gone. Most of the familiar faces are, too. The tablets show only a very short list of 'Contacts'-- those few citizens left in the city proper.

Save for a small handful of Taxon's prisoners-- left rattling around like the last pills in a nearly empty bottle-- the city is deserted, and silent as the grave.

[ OOC: The first of two log posts to kick off the event! For reference, these are the characters who are remaining in the city: Azkadellia, Briar Moss, Charles Xavier (AU), Daphne Powell, DG, Drusilla, Eanes, Illyria, James Holmes, Jenna Sommers, Martha Jones, Remus Lupin, and Wyatt Cain. ]

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The term partner when he’d used it before had made her think of the pairings of soldiers she had known of before. Those who were friends, closer than friends, and there for one another. She hadn’t thought more of it. Until now, when he spoke of Paul cooking and Cain baking and she couldn’t help but wonder. She couldn’t help but smile a bit, moving to lean against the counter, watching him. It was the one thing she knew she was good at after so many years. Watching and learning.

At the mention of Glitch, she flinched, looking down and away though it didn’t last long, looking back to the other room, thinking of that design and of the floor. “He has such a great eye for things,” she said, fairly choking on the words as her memories and emotions threatened to overwhelm her. “Is that something you did in the O.Z.,” she asked, curious of the man he’d been as well as the man he was. “Gardening? I admit, I enjoyed a bit of it, of digging in the woods for things, though I rarely had the patience though I enjoyed the science of plants very much,” she said, smiling at the memory of her studies.

“What does Paul do,” she asked, refusing to speak of him in the past tense. Too much had changed, too suddenly, and she didn’t want either of them thinking in the past tense of those they cared for.

On the counter, the coffee maker bubbles quietly, doing its thing and filling the room with warm, fragrant steam. It soothes Cain in a way very little else does. The smell reminds him of home, of better times both at home and at work. Some nights he can't sleep without it warming him from the inside out. Not far from the coffee maker is a wooden platter stacked with fresh produce taken straight from the green house at Sanctuary, or the small vegetable patch he's set up on the roof. Plum tomatoes and baby cucumbers mingling with broccoli and great red bulbs of onion mingling with garlic and a sprig of dried herbs.

"Glitch is an artist more than anything, I think. He has this affinity for it that just hits home every time it surfaces," he says, moving for the fridge where he keeps the things he can't grow or make himself. Cold cuts of meat, cheese. A few other dairy products, left overs kept in neat stacks of plastic containers.

"I was a police officer back home. A Tin Man. Me and Adora had a small house in Munchkin Country. It was more a cottage, but it was big enough for us. We were largely self sufficient. Had a small garden full of herbs and vegetables and fruit. Even flowers. My family had a farm. Guess I got the green fingers at an early age."

He brings out a small jar of home made butter, the cheese and thinly sliced horse meat, setting it out beside the loaf of bread and vegetables.

"Paul..." He glances her way, turning his head for a proper look. "He's an Othersider. He was in law enforcement too, but on a much higher level than me. I think... I suppose his branch was equivalent to the Royal Guard, but I'm not sure. His world's so much bigger than the Zone. Takes a lot more levels of management."

The scent of coffee brought memories. Good and bad, and all those colors of grey in between. In truth, she thought it all good, only in that she survived. It was easy to think of it that way, right until she was faced with the reality of that time that was neither there or not for her.

Adora. She knew that she was Cain’s wife and, from talks between the witch and Zero, she knew she had been used against Cain. While such things that happened to Glitch had been going on since before the witch’s reign, it was still a horror to face because of the intimate views she had of it.

Yet coffee meant the mornings. Those brief moments when, for a startling and shining moment as she woke, she thought she was herself once more. It was work beginning, and her mother smiling and so many little things that came from darting through the kitchens as a child, avoiding their tutor and seeking out the adventure that DG seemed to feed on.

Even this kitchen reminded her of that little space. Wood and vegetables, light and heat and coffee. It was childhood and yet her new life, and that was where she found herself poised. Learning new ways instead of sinking back into the past. That was what she needed to do, to learn and move on. She needed to make a life here, for however long here lasted.

“When I was a child, I was… enamored of him,” she said, fingers picking at her skirt, smoothing it down as she spoke. “Everyone seemed to notice how regal and handsome he was but all I saw was this brilliant man who was everything I had hoped to become. I wanted to grow up to be that smart and respected.” She laughed, the sound nearly bitter at how things had turned out.

As they spoke, and he moved about the kitchen, she carefully moved to not get in his way even as she peered curiously at his actions and those things he chose and those he didn’t.

“So your companion is also an officer. Interesting,” she said, smiling though there was nothing smarmy about it. “I suppose that makes sense. Just what little I’ve seen of you, I can’t imagine someone without that same regard for order and law would appeal. Not to one a Tin Man.” She remembered them from her childhood, and remembered what became of them under the witch’s rule.

“Did you ever want to go there,” she asked. “As a child I always thought I might want to. Just to learn,” she admitted, blushing slightly at that thirst for knowledge she found she still had. “I always want to ask everyone about the Otherside because I want to learn more about it but I worry I’m bringing up bad memories of what they’ve lost.”

The thought of a childhood crush made him smile, just a bit, and when she says companion rather than partner, he can't help but feel... It feels like it isn't such a bad thing to talk about. It's good that she figured it out, and while he's never had a problem with being discrete, he's never liked feeling like he's hiding something. Like he's hiding away Paul. They agreed, almost an entire annual ago, not to hide. They wouldn't flaunt anything, because it was a private thing just between the two of them and nobody else's business...but they wouldn't hide.

Carving nice slices off the chunk of bread, he gestures for her to make her own sandwich. "Paul's... He's difficult to describe. But the most important thing is he's a good man."

Even having done the things he did for the vigilante brothers, there's no doubt in Wyatt's mind he's a good man. "He's real smart. Intelligent, I don't even know how to tell you, he just knows so much about so many different things."

He gets coffee mugs then from one of the wall mounted cupboards. Cream and sugar, in case Azkadellia wants it and because he thinks he needs the sugar. "He's not just intelligent," he settles on, coming back from the fridge and pantry. While it hurts to talk still, it's settled into a heavy band around his chest rather than the sharpness of knives in his heart.

"He's intellectual, and witty. He's got a mouth on him like you've never even heard before, and he won't hesitate telling you how he sees things." He ducks his head, brushing a thumb over the rim of his empty mug. It's dark blue, covered in a matte glaze.

"I've always liked that about him. He doesn't try to make friends with everyone. He doesn't fake it. He's real, through and through. Adora was like that too. No nonsense... Just, straightforward, cut to the chase, speak your mind. That he's in law enforcement was just common ground when we first met. I knew how to explain Taxon to him. Kind of."

She pulled a plate to her, two pieces of bread and considered. Even with foods she remembered what she liked as a child but as an adult, she wasn't always sure. She took up a knife though, spreading butter to one slice of bread and layering meat and cheese delicately. She was careful, lining them up along the edges of the bread.

She paused as he spoke though, taking moments to watch his face as he talked about the missing man. A slight smile curved her lips as she paused, turning to face him fully as he got the mugs.

It was nice to hear, to listen to someone who had shared emotions with another. Her own were so distant, the memories she had of watching her parents so fuzzy as to nearly be gone. What she remembered from the witch was nothing like this, and it was sharp knot in her throat facing they might never know when they'd be reunited with those missing, if at all.

"He sounds like a really amazing man," she said, refraining from adding the part where she hoped one day to meet him. They had to assume that he and Glitch, like others before she'd come to Taxon, were gone to wherever they went.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she whispered, realizing the full extent of what he'd lost. It seemed so unfair a man like Cain who had been this good to her would lose not just one but two people he cared about.

He nods, eyes lingering in the darkness of the mug, but he looks up at the spoken condolences. "Yeah, me too, kid," he says, giving her a smile that falters halfway.

"Me too."

His left hand comes up to brush at his right eye, but when he smiles next it's coming a little bit closer to an actual smile. "And, you know what? I never wanted to go to the Otherside until I met him. It's not just a legend, or myth, it's a real place with real people, and yet everything seems so different there. I'd like to see it someday, but I think I'd want to show him the Zone first."

And then, just as the coffee maker's lamp switches off to signal the fresh batch, a thought strikes.

"...would you like to see him?"

Azkdellia hesitates as he wipes at his eye. She ached to hold him, to hug him tight and fight not giving him platitudes that came to her tongue. Instead she held her ground, lowering her gaze until she saw his hand fall.

Looking up, catching that smile and echoing it with one of her own. "I saw that it treated DG well and I wondered more than I ever did, though I guess this is closer than the Zone," she admitted, looking around.

Azkadellia blinked, looking stunned and confused. "See him?"

"I didn't have much time to think about the Other Side when I met DG, though I think she's influenced me too."

He gets a tray for the coffee and its fixings. "Yeah, see him. The tablets, they record everything you ever transmit. And Paul, well, he's a proactive guy. Unlike me."

He nods his head towards the lounge, heading there with the tray. "I'll get the tablet, won't be long. Help yourself to coffee and anything else you want."

"You were... you were busy then," she said, realizing how horrid that sounded as it came from her. It may not have been her but she bore the same face.

She followed him into the lounge, smiling at the very idea of watching the tablet, to see this man that Cain was thinking about.

"No rush," she said softly. "Take your time," she said, seating herself in the same chair once more.

He comes back in a matter of minutes, bringing his tablet, and he can't quite believe there would ever come a day when he was glad to have it. He takes a seat on the sofa, dark green and plush, with carved wooden legs that look as close to organic as they can be without being raw chunks of wood.

That was Glitch's idea to. The organic theme.

"Now, I told you he's got a mouth on him," he says, scrolling through the archives, eyes searching for the right broadcasts, the right conversations. He's not about to share everything, but a few little somethings. Safe somethings, not too private.

"Here. I forgot to tell you he's got a temper too. He curses worse than a Sin District bouncer." He gives her the tablet, touching the screen to make one of Paul's more memorable broadcasts come back to life all over again. And one of the responses...they'll look at that one too.

He'd told him he was interested that day. Almost a full annual ago, looking at the date stamp.

She settled in, toying with the edge of her sandwich while he was away. When he came back with the tablet, she added sugar to a cup of coffee, adding a dollop of sugar.

"I admit, I find that thing fascinating. The technological parts are amazing." She paused. "Is that the word," she asked, not entirely certain she had it all right.

Taking the tablet, she watched the video. The cursing had her blushing, ducking her head but she was grinning. "That is... that is quite the mouth," she said with a laugh, red to the tips of her ears.

"I admit... never heard it quite that way," she said, giggling and covering her mouth with one hand as she held the tablet.

The second one though had her alternating frowns with smiles. "I don't understand what he meant about stereotypes," she admitted. "But he is fond of you like you are him, isn't he?" There wasn't that much to go from on the tablet feed, and she wanted to know Cain was happy.

Wyatt watches, and listens, and can't help but chuckle helplessly at some of the more colorful phrases. He did warn her, but he'd forgotten just how bad it was. Maybe he's just spent too much time--

No. Not too much.

He pours himself a cup of coffee, adding sugar as an afterthought. He usually takes it straight up black and steaming, but there's a shakiness to his hands that he doesn't like. He hates the tremors, and hates even more how they're an obvious tell of the stress he's under. So sugar it is. He'll have something to eat later.

"That's, uh, that's the day I told him. That I was interested in him as something other than friends."

He sips. "The mutual consensus was we'd been silly and foolish not to have come clean sooner. But on the other hand, we were good friends by then. Close friends. We'd been through a lot...even death.

"Later that evening, we kissed for the first time."

Edited 2012-06-27 08:06 (UTC)

She held the tablet almost reverently. Not because of the technology but because of what it represented to Cain in this time of such confusion. It was what he had of Paul, and from what he'd said earlier, what she might be able to use to try and find out from others about the music for him. Some small part of her found that important, though she wasn't entirely certain why. If only so she could bring him some sort of comfort.

She peered a bit closer. "It's been nearly a year," she said, marveling at that. While she was making the best of Taxon, to see them working at making a life for themselves gave her a hope she hadn't had before.

"How long... Is it wrong of me to ask about your wife too right now?"

"Yeah..." Oh, he knows. Boy, does he know. "Just don't tell Paul, or he might have conniptions." Yes, that was an attempt at a joke. (Sorry, Paul) He shakes his head, then scoots closer to look at the tablet, see what else he can find.

"It's been almost a full annual, and I'd known him for...eight, nine months prior. My wife died four months before I was-- found by your sister and Glitch.

"What would you like to know about her?"

Smiling then, nodding. "I solemnly vow not to say a word," she said. Though the fact that he made a joke set her shoulders a bit easier. She only hoped one day they would be back together to celebrate an anniversary. Some day.

She nodded, not willing to speak about him being found or his time in the suit. She knew of Zero gloating about it and squirmed uncomfortably thinking about it.

"How long were you married," she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, wow," he huffs, mouth curving into a smile. One hand comes up to brush over his short blond curls. He's overdue for a cut, but Paul likes it a tiny bit longer than Wyatt's usual length, and what does it matter?

How long has he been married?

"The short answer is I don't know. I have a difficult time remembering things from before, and the things I do remember are jumbled and faded."

However, that doesn't mean he isn't going to answer. It just means she's going to bear with him, knowing his estimates might not be accurate. "Our son was six years old when the Longcoats came, and we'd been married for a good few years before he was born. We wanted to start a family for a long time, and when we finally had him... Well. You can imagine.

"Nine years, give or take a few months. I don't know how long I was away, but it must've been ten annuals. It must've been. Eighteen, nineteen annuals if you count the ones I wasn't there."

Azkadellia sat back slightly, setting the tablet on the tablet before picking up hr coffee once more. She should eat. She should do a lot but instead she watched Cain. His mannerisms, the expressions that crossed his face. She wasn't always sure what certain things meant but as she worked to give expressions and mannerisms context, she hoped to fill in the gaps until it made sense to her as it seemed to for most.

She listened to it all, frown deepening as he spoke. Cain had been with his wife since she was a child. Truly a child, and DG had been barely walking, toddling after her. Those were the sort of memories she was able to mark time by.

"I feel that I owe you so many apologies for it all," she managed to whisper.

"No," he says firmly, shaking his head and turning in his seat to face her. "Now you listen to me, and you listen good, princess.

"You don't owe me anything."

He puts away his mug, reaching instead for her hand, but whether she takes his is up to her.

"Take my hand, and you listen, okay?"

The firmess of his voice made her tense, chin quibbling slightly though she didn't pull away, she didn't look away. Her fingers curled tightly around his, afraid to let go for a brief moment.

"I'm listening. I swear," she whispered, voice tight. "I always listen. I'm attentive."

"Good. That's good." He softens his tone, if only by a fraction. He doesn't mean to upset her, but he does need to make something very clear, and right this very instant.

"You don't owe me anything, Azkadellia. I know what happened when you were a girl, in the cave. I know your sister, through her young age and love of adventure, got you in a bind. I don't blame her for what happened, and I certainly don't blame you. She was just a child, and so were you."

His eyes burn again, his heart going out to the children that the sisters were and the struggling young woman before him. His thumbs work softly over her knuckles, trying to soothe.

"Now, I know what it's like to be trapped against my will, and unable to do anything about it. I know. It wasn't your fault. None of what happened, or came after. You were a prisoner just as much as I was."

Her lip trembled, tears filling her eyes and leaving them bright and shiny. Yet she raised her chin, just a little, fighting not to let them slide in hot trails down her cheek.

"I should have been stronger. I was the older sister. If I had put my foot down, DG never would have entered that cave. It never would have happened. She was scared and I wasn't strong enough. I should have been stronger," she said, voice cracking.

"I was being raised to possibly rule the O.Z., and I failed in protecting it," she said, shaking her head.

"No, shhh, don't say that," he murmurs, sliding from his seat into a crouch to more easily pull the poor girl into a firm hug.

"Don't say that, sweetie. That's nowhere near the whole picture."

She whimpered then, clinging to him as she pressed close. Fighting the tears, trying to stay strong as she pressed her face to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Sorry for your life in the Zone. Sorry for this. I'm trying so hard not to cry."

"It's okay to cry," he says softly, knowing it could easily fall on deaf ears for all the obligations weighing her down. It can't be easy, having the fate of the entire Zone on her shoulders.

"I promise I won't tell anyone. You're safe here, and--. And you don't have to apologize. There's nothing to forgive."

"I wanted to stay strong," she whispered. "For you." Saying it outloud made her arms tighten around him, more fierce of a hug than a moment before.

"And you should eat. Drink your coffee while it's warm." It was so much easier to try and insist on do what she said, not what she did.

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