Mayland Long (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imperial_long) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
taxonomites2013-11-19 02:49 am
imperial_long) wrote in taxonomites2013-11-19 02:49 am
Entry tags:
[Location: Kelebek] / [Video - All] / [Audio - Locked to Ambrose]
One moment he is working on his translation, and the next he is-- in bed. Blinking several times up at the ceiling of his hotel room, cognizant that his excellent memory would record his passage between one point and the other, cognizant that if his memory does not record this, it is due to some sort of anomaly, some sort of outside interference.
And because this is Taxon, he has a strong suspicion of who 'outside interference' might be.
White teeth bared in a silent hiss, Mayland Long sits up and reaches for his tablet.
The calendar is the first thing he checks, and discovers to his immense irritation that he has missed weeks-- no, more than that-- of time. The last thing he recalls is the oddity of the day where the sun had hung in the sky. Scrolling through tablet feeds shows him he missed a good deal of the usual Taxon... eventfulness.
Well. He can't say he is entirely sad to have missed out on the pastel-colored experience.
But why? he wonders. Why had their captors seen fit to suspend his... mind... self, consciousness, at that particular point?
Struck by a suspicion, he tabs to the file on his tablet where he keeps his translation attempts. It is no longer on his tablet.
Growling a noise that does not sound remotely human, Long climbs naked out of bed and moves for his bookshelf. He keeps paper notes too, because as convenient as the tablet is he prefers paper.
His paper notes are also gone.
Mayland Long is massively, massively piqued by this. He stands very still for two minutes-- if anyone was looking, he would appear to be struck by some random musing, frozen in thought-- but actually he is engaging in cathartic mental cursing, in several languages.
Eventually he goes and takes a bath. It goes a long way towards calming him down. Mayland Long is dressed, and back to his usual sang-froid self* by the time he opens a visual broadcast on his tablet.
"Good morning, Taxon. I apologize for my unintentional disappearance from the city. It seems our captors saw fit to rob me of time as well as several of my possessions," he says with cool displeasure at this fact.
"I have apprised myself of the apparent 'candy' malfunction. I cannot say I am sorry to have missed it--" (although he is vainly curious as to what he might have turned into) "--but perhaps more to the point, it seems as though it was dedicated distraction from the events directly before the... sugarizing process. I was engaged in a comparison of the message we received to a previous message the city had received. I have lost all of my notes on the subject."
Not that that means he has forgotten what they said, but that's a separate topic.
"If anyone wishes to discuss this matter, I shall be at the Library."
Long ends the transmission, and flips through a few other messages to make sure he's not missed anything else. But he most certainly has. A certain arrival.
He stares at the tablet, then finds himself sitting down on the edge of the bed. After several seconds, he tabs buttons to open a call to this new arrival.
"Excuse me," he says, and then hesitates, for once unsure what he is supposed to say next. "Glitch? I'm sorry-- Ambrose?"
***
*Long looks like himself... except for the fact that in direct light, patterns of scales can be seen upon his skin. And also, he seems to be blinking a lot, with a third, semi-transparent eyelid that he didn't have before.
And because this is Taxon, he has a strong suspicion of who 'outside interference' might be.
White teeth bared in a silent hiss, Mayland Long sits up and reaches for his tablet.
The calendar is the first thing he checks, and discovers to his immense irritation that he has missed weeks-- no, more than that-- of time. The last thing he recalls is the oddity of the day where the sun had hung in the sky. Scrolling through tablet feeds shows him he missed a good deal of the usual Taxon... eventfulness.
Well. He can't say he is entirely sad to have missed out on the pastel-colored experience.
But why? he wonders. Why had their captors seen fit to suspend his... mind... self, consciousness, at that particular point?
Struck by a suspicion, he tabs to the file on his tablet where he keeps his translation attempts. It is no longer on his tablet.
Growling a noise that does not sound remotely human, Long climbs naked out of bed and moves for his bookshelf. He keeps paper notes too, because as convenient as the tablet is he prefers paper.
His paper notes are also gone.
Mayland Long is massively, massively piqued by this. He stands very still for two minutes-- if anyone was looking, he would appear to be struck by some random musing, frozen in thought-- but actually he is engaging in cathartic mental cursing, in several languages.
Eventually he goes and takes a bath. It goes a long way towards calming him down. Mayland Long is dressed, and back to his usual sang-froid self* by the time he opens a visual broadcast on his tablet.
"Good morning, Taxon. I apologize for my unintentional disappearance from the city. It seems our captors saw fit to rob me of time as well as several of my possessions," he says with cool displeasure at this fact.
"I have apprised myself of the apparent 'candy' malfunction. I cannot say I am sorry to have missed it--" (although he is vainly curious as to what he might have turned into) "--but perhaps more to the point, it seems as though it was dedicated distraction from the events directly before the... sugarizing process. I was engaged in a comparison of the message we received to a previous message the city had received. I have lost all of my notes on the subject."
Not that that means he has forgotten what they said, but that's a separate topic.
"If anyone wishes to discuss this matter, I shall be at the Library."
Long ends the transmission, and flips through a few other messages to make sure he's not missed anything else. But he most certainly has. A certain arrival.
He stares at the tablet, then finds himself sitting down on the edge of the bed. After several seconds, he tabs buttons to open a call to this new arrival.
"Excuse me," he says, and then hesitates, for once unsure what he is supposed to say next. "Glitch? I'm sorry-- Ambrose?"
***
*Long looks like himself... except for the fact that in direct light, patterns of scales can be seen upon his skin. And also, he seems to be blinking a lot, with a third, semi-transparent eyelid that he didn't have before.