taxonomites | Entries tagged with { charlotte blaine

ladyofice.livejournal.com

Arabella is kneeling on the beach, getting her skirts horribly dirty in the process, poor dear... But her kneeling isn't just to get herself all dirty and odd looking, it serves a great purpose, for her at least, to other people it's probably just a little creepy and/or odd looking, it depends on your point of view.

Anyway, she's concentrating on the water, after a minute or so she lifts her hand slightly and makes a slight pushing motion in the air, the motion doesn't look impressive... But the small wave that rises impresses at least one person judging by Arabella's grin as she clambers back to her feet "at least he didn't take everything, I should practice more."

She doesn't seem to have noticed that her tablet is on, why not surprise her?

Current Mood: cheerful

hearts-of-gold.livejournal.com

Inara wakes up gradually, and as she becomes more conscious a few things become obvious more or less right away.

First, she is not in her shuttle. She's in a fairly featureless room, sitting in--

Make that confined in a large chair of some kind.

Secondly, she is sore. She feels as though she has been through a very vigorous fight, and was not exactly on the winning side.

Third, her clothes are...odd. She's in some sort of clingy black outfit and her hair is up.

"Hello?" She calls out, and her voice is hoarse. As if she'd done a lot of shouting recently. She tugs at the restraints that are holding her in the chair and they prove to be quite firmly secured, but after some wriggling she feels her tablet in her pocket. She shifts and wriggles some more until buttons are pressed more or less at random by the arm of the chair, and is now broadcasting a visual feed. Even if the only visual supplied is the black fabric of her pocket it should still pick up her voice, though.

"Hello?" She tries again. "This is Inara Serra of Serenity's crew...I seem to be...captured? Is anyone there?"

[OOC: There we go, glitch end! Huzzah! You may all go about your business now >D Unless you want to get in on the big last confrontation with Adria which is still being planned out, in which case go here!]

aesthetic_mojo

Charlotte sat well back on the stoop, her head down as she lit what was clearly not her first cigarette. It was very early in the morning, before the fake sun was all the way up. She couldn't sleep and didn't want to wake John, so this is what she came up with. Sitting on someone else's steps smoking too many cigarettes. His cigarettes.

"I'm getting tired of this place, I realize. Not enough to do besides watch each other be miserable. Dig hasn't started, nothing else to do. I think I'm going to take up competitive drinking."

therealcaptjack.livejournal.com

It was time for that wonderful thing known as exploration. Part of the reason Jack had been staying within the Hub was that he didn't want anyone to see him. He was finding that there were more than a few people that had dealt with the earlier him (or was it the later one?) and there was a bit of that old Time Agent in him that clearly said he couldn't cross timelines like this.

However, the more he looked at this place from the monitors, the more Jack was feeling like this place was out of time -- rather like he was. So what was the harm in getting out a bit more? There was that dinner with Charlotte Ianto had mentioned on their 'date' the other night. Probably should see when his presence was requested for that, right?

But for now, to explore for one. And to have a bit of fun with the Hatches on the other hand.

Speaking of hands... Jack fitted his hand against the panel, requesting the first thing that came to mind.

"The complete works of Sartre, if you would be so kind," Jack muttered under his breath.

dci-gene-hunt.livejournal.com

"Bolly! Bolly! BOLLY!" Gene contemplated actually shaking the female Detective lying in the Intensive Care unit to stir her into some kind of reaction. She had to wake up. Fucking hell Alex, wake the fuck up now damn you!

Gene dragged his fingers down his eye sockets, the DCI was knackered, he hadn't slept since the shooting and the pressure was starting to show. If she didn't come out of this, he was as fucked as Debbie in her hay day in bleeding Dallas. Frustration chose to express itself through aggression, and Gene sent his fist flying into the flimsy MDF wall of the hospital cubicle wall.

Only it didn't make contact. Gene found himself standing in a cylindrical clinical looking room, or rather stumbling forwards when his fist met thin air and set him off balance.

"What the fuckin' 'ells goin' on 'ere?" Gene's face looked like it was set in stone, permanently etched with the expression of a man who wasn't impressed by events at all and could just as easily shoot his way out of the room. Gene's had his fair share of DI's that are a pork pie short of a picnic, not a full shilling, devoid of a full set of marbles - but not him. He's not the one who hallucinates - maybe he passed out from exhaustion. That can't be right though, he might have been tired and stressed but he's not a southern pansy that passes out just because he's a bit tired.

"Whichever cowardly prick hasn't got the balls to attack from the front had better show their miserable little worm of a face, pronto." The words are spat out with venom as he fiddles with the fancy 'pong' machine sat on the pedestal, already making his way to the door, gun in hand and ready for anything. He didn't expect it to be open, he'd expected to be locked in, even if the cell was nothing like any police cell he'd ever seen. Just where the fuck had he ended up?

seven-of-9.livejournal.com

Seven is not particularly happy. This statement is somewhat of an understatement. It's been a few hours since she returned to her normal state. To have Annika's memories and feelings so fresh in her mind, she really doesn't know how to handle that at all. She has no idea how to reconcile that little girl, with the person she is today. She may have thought her emotional development was progressing well, but in the face of true humanity and a child's blind love for and trust in her own negligent parents...

...well have an officious Seven, who really does not wish to even approach this subject, but it is a necessity, for no more reason that common courtesy.

"To those parties who assisted in the care of Annika Hansen, I should like to extend my gratitude. She is no longer with us however, you need not concern yourselves anymore."

She only hopes that Kirk will not reply to this, her reaction to him will not be pretty. As it is, she doesn't know how to react to John, he stirred up memories she'd forgotten existed.

lapsedsaint

John was still scratching his head in mild confusion at the entire sequence of events when Kara ended the transmission. He had no idea what to think about any of it. And it was definitely time to let Charlie know they were having company.

Armed company.

He got up and wandered into the other room, past a hatch where he could have armed himself. He just wasn't thinking about that. "Ah, Charlie?"

[Posting order: Charlie, Kara, John]

glowingseer.livejournal.com

Oh, Prada. So wonderful to wear you!

Cordelia sat on her couch, admiring the newly hatched pair of shoes, when it hit her. The vision only took a few seconds - as it normally did - but there was something... different to it. There was--

She shook her head and reached for the tablet. Might as well think about it later, when all is right in the world, right?

"Visual, visual..." Convinced that she had the correct settings, Cordelia cleared her throat. "Guys, or whoever is listening to this... you don't by any chance know a girl with long blonde hair, right? Excluding Buffy and Charlotte. Kinda looks like Uma Thurman? Anyway, if you do, or if you are in a place near... wait, oh yes, definitely smells like a bakery."

She cleared her throat. "Um, if you're near a bakery, look up. You might just save a woman that way."

In the meantime she would be heading out to look for this woman as well.

[OOC: The actual saving part will happen on the next post.]

crowzley.livejournal.com

Crowley, not under-optimistic but slightly paranoid, could never shake the feeling that once something was over, it was never really over. Kind of like James Brown collapsing onstage and 'miraculously' bursting back into life, but usually more unpleasant. He couldn't shake the thought as he drove himself and Aziraphale home, and he certainly couldn't shake it when he blinked - for Someone's sake, he really needed to stop that, even if it was only once in a while - and everything was gone. The jeep, Aziraphale, Lower Tadfield -- everything.

Fear settled in. Bugger. Bugger, bugger, bugger. Just when he'd thought he was safe, that all this was going to blow over and in a few years both Up There and Down Below would look back on it and have a good laugh -

"Er," he managed, tugging self-consciously at the knot of his tie, "Now, I know what you're thinking, and I know it probably involves a great deal of pain."

Crowley looked around the empty room. This was weird. There was no way Hell had got this high-tech without him knowing. He thought of the irony, though, of his own evil upgrade suggestions being used against him for Eternal Torment. And swallowed.

"But I'm sure we can just chalk all this up to a big misunderstanding and call it a day, eh? Yeah? No harm, no foul, all the more time to - er - you know, just do our jobs and - ah - keep making the world a --" Pacing a little on the platform, Crowley spotted the tablet, peering at it from under his sunglasses but not picking it up just yet. It could be a trap. Or it could start screaming details of his fate at him, like every other piece of electronic equipment had been doing lately.

... Bugger it, he wanted to investigate. It was flat and sleek and shiny and had buttons, and also brought the doubt in his mind even further to the forefront. Hell couldn't do this. Could they? Last he checked, the mobile phone concept was still way over their heads. They used computer towers like one might use a bag of bricks. And this was...

"Ooh. Transmitting? Erm - holo, eh? Hallo? Anyone on the other end?" Hopefully lacking torture implements and other nasty things, he thought, then stay far, far away.

"I come in... ngh... peace? And all that."

lapsedsaint

John appears on the screen, holding Annika. She has an obviously broken arm, the result of some over eager swinging and the evils of gravity. "There wouldn't happen to be a doctor around who could maybe come and give us a hand. We've had a bit of an accident and, well, there are broken bones involved.

I'd rather not take her to the hospital to be seen by one of these... others. I'd rather it be one of us."

He looks down at Annika and kissed the top of her head. "it'll be okay, sweetheart. I promise."

[ooc: Follows from here.]

islegendary.livejournal.com

Do ya mind telling me what the hell is going on?

I go on a little retreat with just me and pond and look what I come back to. Can't leave you people alone for a minute now, can I?

{ooc: and now I gotta go to work baaw... replies when I get back!}

theonlysunshine.livejournal.com

Sunshine had been feeling off ever since she got here. Not off in any of the ways she had unfortunately gotten used to, more like she's lost her balance, and can't get it back no matter what she does. She'd thought at first that it was an effect of turning up here. But it had been a while since her arrival. She'd found an apartment in the southern part of the city, more like a loft, really, with large windows, a balcony, and a garden in the courtyard outside. It was almost as good as her apartment back home, though it was higher up and definitely lacking in the comforting presence of Miss Yolande. Or any wards at all, something Sunshine was trying very hard not to think about, just as she was trying to avoid the whole "vampire in the city" problem. Well, trying to minimize her contact with that problem, at least. Mostly.

She wasn't having too much contact with anything expect sunlight, and that didn't seem to be helping much. Maybe this place's sun just wasn't as high quality. Ha ha.

But if there was anything that was likely to put her back in control of herself, back on track, it was working. And fortunately, the city had seen fit to give her a bakery identical to the one she'd had at Charlie's. It even had a storefront. She was very pointedly not looking this gift horse in the mouth. At least, not out loud.

The problem was that while the bakery had come stocked with all the ovens, mixers, and bowls she'd had back home, it didn't have any of the more perishable basics. Spices. Milk. Eggs. Flour.

Which was why Sunshine was now hauling a 20-pound bag of flour out of one of those ubiquitous, useful hatches. The upside to this was that she was getting flour of a quality that she hadn't had in a year, since her favorite supplier had closed down. The downside was that she had to haul the bags back into the bakery herself. The things were awkward to carry, and parts of her tank top, jeans, and skin were fading quickly into white.

stealth-shot.livejournal.com

The visual comes on showing Zoe sitting on a crate inside Serenity's cargo hold. While it might be hard to tell at first, she does not look happy, and that will be very clear to the crew that knows her. She doesn't seem to be looking at the tablet at first, instead looking up and off to the side. Those that know the layout of the Serenity might be able to deduce that she is looking towards Inara's shuttle.

Zoe shifts her focus back to the tablet, "I'm going to say it right now, whatever happened to Inara is making me nervous. I don't quite understand it, but after all that gos se she spouted, I'm starting to question how much we can trust her on this ship."

She sighs, "It's not that I'm against religion or the people that preach it, we had a Shepard on this very ship after all. At least he wasn't making threats out of it though."

Zoe glances up in the direction of the shuttle again, her voice lowers slightly, "Course, it could just be this bad feeling I have. Captain, do you think we can do something about it?"

Current Mood: discontent

hearts-of-gold.livejournal.com

The visual comes on, sent to as many people as possible, and Inara's looking a bit...different-ey. Her hair is swept up into a refined, almost regal style and her expression is far harder than usual. Something in her eyes suggests that she is both very focused and very displeased about something, but when she speaks it's with a smile.

A not at all reassuring smile that seems like a thin veneer over superior disdain.

"I am not familiar with my surroundings. I can only assume that I have been captured by the enemies of the true path of Origin. This will prove to have been a mistake." She ponders her tablet for a while, tilting her head with detached curiosity.

"In the meantime, I sense many new souls in this place, unfamiliar ones. I would like to extend the opportunity to them to come to the power and the glory of Origin. The power and the greatness of the Ori cannot be denied, and those who accept the one truth of Origin into their lives and their hearts will be richly rewarded with that truth. Blessed are those who walk in unison, and hallowed are the Ori. Those who follow the path of righteousness shall be raised up high..."

Her expression hardens further, her lip curling briefly. "And those who reject the path to enlightenment must be destroyed."

[OOC: Glitch start! For the next two weeks Inara has been possessed by Adria from Stargate SG-1, a half-human, half-godlike-creature imbued with phenomenally powerful psychic powers like telekinesis, mind reading, mind control, summoning fire and magical healing. And she has an agenda. Also, she's Vala's daughter! More details here, and I hope this'll be a lot of fun. Questions, plans, anything, don't hesitate to ask! :D ]

aesthetic_mojo

[Note, this is closed and might get all adult and stuff. You have been warned! Also? I blame it on Cordy.]

Charlotte turned off her tablet and put her head down on the table in front of her. Between all those lovely questions at the party and Cordy repeatedly saying 'your guy,' Charlotte needed a drink. Or a nap. Or a drink and then a nap. And then another drink.

Instead, she made herself get up and go looking for John. There was so much from the last few days they hadn't talked about at all. Somehow they seemed to have fallen into a routine where they didn't talk about life outside the house much. It was as if they both worked high stress jobs they didn't want to bring home. It made for a pleasant life, but eventually those things they set aside needed discussing.

Not that she said a word to him when she found him. Her arms went around his waist, her head on his shoulder, and she sighed softly. Her guy.

diedwithit.livejournal.com

So he's thought about it. And he can bet that after knocking Dean around the way he did the other night, the boy's blabbed about it to whoever might've seen that short transmission. What's there to lose, really? There may be vigilantes and the foolish, but the fact that he didn't kill and drain Dean in itself is a statement that he's not a threat. That, and three months have passed without a problem.

Cian turns on the tablet, which shows him sitting in his comfortable desk chair, leaning back semi-casually. At ease, but businesslike. He eyes the screen.

"I don't doubt that most of you have seen the state Dean Winchester was in last night, and I certainly don't doubt that he informed you of who put him there." Both hands lazily coming into frame, he gestures lightly at himself.

"But I can promise you, it was only self-defence. I'd like to avoid having to deal with a... misunderstanding such as that again, so listen. My name is Cian, and yes, I am a vampire. Creature of the night, drinker of blood, blah, blah. But put your stakes away. I don't drink from humans, and I haven't done for the last eight hundred years.

"I can't say I blame the Winchester boy for attacking first and surely intending to ask questions later had I stuck around, but still. You lot live in relative peace and quiet, and I expect the same."

He takes a breath, then as an afterthought adds, "And if that's not enough to change any minds, for the love of God, don't come after me. You won't die a hero, just an idiot. Ta."

glowingseer.livejournal.com

Cordelia stood in front of a hatch, looking upwards and apparently deep in thought. Clad in oh-so-expensive stuff, she could be seen totally abusing a 'privilege' that the idiots who took her idiotically left her with. She placed her hand on the hatch, waited a few seconds, opened the door... and with a wide grin, claimed her sunglasses - the tenth in the line of sunglasses she thought of and the most expensive. Naturally, she wore it.

A few seconds later, she claimed another LV bag. As she turned to place it somewhere, she accidentally knocked her tablet over - which would now reveal a small mountain of assorted bags, clothes, and shoes that she had already ordered from the aliens to the rest of the Taxon citizens.

"Ah, crap," she said, picking up her tablet.

fudgingkillyou.livejournal.com

The tablet clicks on as it hits the couch in Bobby's house rather violently. The way it landed, on it's side, lets the viewer have a clear visual of Dean throwing himself into the chair opposite the couch, nursing a bloody nose, several nasty looking bruises and a wounded ego. He's irritated because of the fight he'd gotten into with Cian, and he's still not willing to think that there are actually good vampires, so he's ignoring the fact that Cian didn't kill him and drink his blood, preferring to sulk over his injuries.

When he finally looks up from rubbing tenderly at his head and sees the tablet recording, he jumps up and rushes to grab it. Those same viewers can probably hear Dean cussing under his breath as he turns the visual function off.

damnfinecoffee.livejournal.com

Ianto had just been starting to get used to Taxon when the population had suddenly surged. He wasn't quite sure that was a good thing, but he'd at least started to feel a little more comfortable than he had been to start with.

Even if they hadn't all been quite so generic he'd have been unhappy about it, but even just observing them he's been getting the distinct feeling something isn't right about them. Not that there was anything right about this place to begin with.

Sighing, Ianto reaches for his tablet, and sets it to visual. "So, what do we make of this? We've been flooded with a group of people who've had their memories altered, or they aren't real people to begin with? Or something else?" he asks, addressing anyone who might have theories.

Personally, he suspected the second option, though he couldn't be certain. He knew there were probably several other alternatives he hadn't even thought of. Some might even have been more likely than his own.

songofspoilers.livejournal.com

"Not one. Not one response." River holds up one of the flyers she'd posted up around the city yesterday.

"An entire city full of people, and not one of them wants to get involved. Is it just me or is that more than just a little odd? Usually people jump at the chance to get involved with projects like this."

The flyer says 'Discover the truth behind Taxon. Archaeological Dig, Volunteers needed. No experience necessary. Please apply in person to Professor River Song...' and River's credentials and Beach House location are printed at the bottom.