taxonomites | Entries tagged with { kate beckett

noheatnikki.livejournal.com

Kate dumped her bag down on the bench, unaware that her tablet fell out and turned on. She and John Casey had planned to meet here and do some target shooting, and since Casey had disappeared, gone home, or ended up wherever people ended up when they left Taxon, Kate tracked down the spot and decided to do some shooting on her own.

She's kept her gun loaded and on her person pretty much the entire time she'd been in Taxon, and the tablet catches her assuming her shooting stance and taking aim. She fires several shots, hitting the center of the target, before she pauses, taking a deep breath.

She walks a small circle, shaking her arms and legs out, stretching them. After a moment, she takes position, clears her mind, and aims again.

[Open to anyone who wants to track Kate down and shoot/spar, or just see what she's up to.]

just-axe-me.livejournal.com

When it came to Christmas, Sam Axe was no Scrooge. When it came to Christmas in a subterranean city after being kidnapped by aliens, he was no jolly elf. Hell, he was well below reindeer in the joy to the world stakes.

It felt stupid to try, too -- the Extras did the fa-la-la up at all the shopping malls and to all intents and purposes it was a good capitalist happy holiday, but it felt like the kind of thing they did to get you to revert to habit. Threw you a bone to encourage the numbness setting in. This was nothing new: they'd been doing it in prisoner-of-war camps since William Wallace gave himself blue facepaint.

Anyway, it was usually Maddie putting up the nativity scenes and strongarming them over; Fi sitting at Midnight Mass; his job to cut the turkey open in the spraypaint snow of a Miami Christmas. Mikey looking awkward as hell, like Christmas was something he hadn't been briefed on in years. It wasn't the holiday otherwise. Without the Westens, Fi, and even Jesse, Christmas reverted to what it had always been before: depressive, heavy drinking. The traditional kind. God bless us, every one.

Getting off the tram in Central, you had your pick of bars. There was even one hole-in-the-wall dive with a cracked TV set, thick with tinsel fug and beer, but in the end he made his way to the emptiest and least decorated bar he could find. The aliens, at least, knew what a depressing bar should be: cracked spray-on letters on the glass windows spelling "CRISMAS." That was beautiful. You had to have a degree in not giving a crap before you got that good.

When he sat down on the sagging seats and ordered a mojito, he discovered the downside of a perfectly godawful bar: perfectly godawful drinks. His mojito was mint slush and flat soda water. "Augh," he said, on the first sip. Then he took another. "Jesus christ. I had to be sure I wasn't hallucinating how bad it was."

"Sir?" said the bartender, which was how you could tell he wasn't real. "I can replace your drink."

"I've had better mojitos from grade-school lemonade stands." He tried to rub his tongue against his palate as a retreat. "Yeah, still tasting it, you guys should bottle that aftertaste and use it for crowd control. Damn. I need to shampoo my tongue."

"Sir?"

It was too bad. He'd gone to the bar that he'd found out John Casey had worked at, only to find that there was no John Casey there any more. Sam got up and with no preamble elbowed his way behind the bar: "Sir," the bartender said, but he paid him no mind. Neither did any of the other barflies, who in any case also weren't real and huddled at a booth. From there it was an easy step to commandeer the limes, the wilting mint, and the rum.

"Looks like it's time," said Sam Axe, "to get into the spirit... of Crismas."

[OOC: Totally open if you want Sam to mix you a holiday drink. Free puns, all past their use-bys.]

fathertaxmas.livejournal.com

It's Christmas Eve, and for the most part the night is quiet. The city is covered in a blanket of snow, and the festive lights shine on silently in the dark.

Some might hear the gentle murmur of reindeer shaking off the cold, even sleigh bells and footsteps, while others sleep through. They might even get up to investigate; Taxon isn't always the safest place, and strange noises usually bring about a certain level of curiosity. It's understandable, really.

One by one, be it house or spaceship or 'other,' Santa is making his way down his special Taxon list and leaving presents under trees and on nightstands.

A few will get to be delivered personally, and while that contact is generally Against the Rules, this is quite the special case.

[ ooc: HEY GUYS IT'S SANTA!

We're still doing gifts over here, so go ahead and comment with what you'd like your character to get there if you haven't already. This is open to all characters, even ones just arrived, so don't be shy.

How this will work is: tag in and put the name of the residence in the subject line (ex: 'hyperion hotel,' 'frye ranch,' etc.). One of your mods will play Santa for you and anyone else with a character in the same house that wants to participate. So go forth and comment away! ]

srsbusinessk.livejournal.com

Thump thump, thump thump.

Blood, coursing through his veins loud and clear, pressure building in every atom of his being and Sam can't tell if it's from adrenaline or the demon blood, or maybe a horrible combination of the two.

Thump thump, thump thump.

It's not like he's scared. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts; he's faced more monsters than he can count for longer than he can remember, but this? One on one face off with the Devil?

Thump thump, thump thump.

Despite his steadily beating heart, Sam is not scared. They'd fought for this for months; they'd died for it, and friends sacrificed themselves for it. This isn't just his fight, it's all of theirs. And there isn't anything that could stop him from seeing it through to the end.

Thump thump, thump thump.

No, he isn't scared. Not one bit. He doesn't have time for it. "We don't have any other choice. Yes."

Thumpthump, thumpthump--

And there's an impossibly bright light. Sam's waiting for it, the impact, the explosion, the pain and heat and darkness that is possession, but it never comes. There's nothing. In fact, he just feels...cold? He opens his eyes and there's metal, only metal and electronics like he's never seen before. It doesn't make sense, it's wrong, and all that suppressed fear comes flooding in like a river.

Thumpthump, thumpthump.

Sam jumps off of the strange platform and down to what looks like it could be a door, pounding on it in a panic. "Cas, get me outta here! We don't have time for this! Castiel!" He stops his shouting, and exhales shortly, "Dean."

Thumpthumpthumpthump.

Dean. If he's here, that means Dean is - with Lucifer, alone. Panic, fucking panic, and Sam starts looking around the room for a way out. He's better than this, smarter than this, so he needs to calm the fuck down and figure this out.

Thump thump, thump thump.

There's a...phone? No, not quite. Something similar, maybe, and Sam walks over to it warily. He hesitantly picks it up and notices - it's on? Shakily, unsure, "Can..can anyone hear me?" He feels particularly foolish, but he's desperate and it's the best option he sees right now. "I have to get out of here. I have to find my brother. Please."

He doesn't have time for fear.

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Spencer Reid had been so scarce over the past few days that if one wasn't looking for him (or observing his dot on the tablet tracking device) one might have thought he had gone home. In fact, he had been busy putting the finishing touches on his latest project.

He had spent the first few days reorganizing the library how he wanted it. Thanks to a group of helpful Extras, it had gone much more quickly then he thought he would. Spencer used all of the previous day to go through the shelves and memorize the catalog. He was going to put it to paper eventually in case he ever got any help, but for now his memory would be sufficient.

And now he stood in front of his tablet, grinning like Taxon had probably never seen him grin before. Behind him, one could see the huge shelves of books rising out of the marble floor. Between the marble columns and the mahogany study tables, it looked like something out of Rome itself, or at least an Ivy League college.

"So, uh.. the library is open. We currently have 20,868 books. Hopefully you'll stop by and find something to read.. I can help you if you're looking for something specific."

With that, he offered Taxon one last closed-lipped smile and shut off the visual component to his tablet. He surveyed the library proudly for a moment, then went to work on some paperwork behind the desk.

[OOC - Yes the mod-approved library is open! Hope this all looks Kosher. It's located in Central. Come visit and check out some books! OR if your character would like to work at the library that'd be cool too. Spencer may be a genius with an eidetic memory but he can't do it alone. XD]

Current Mood: accomplished

midwesten.livejournal.com

Michael sat on his kitchen counter, tablet in his lap expanded to its biggest laptop form. He was pretty sure he'd worked out most of the kinks in the gadget -- well, more or less -- except for the crucial matters of breaking it, sabotaging it or trying to get it to stay off for long periods of time. How was it even powered? Taxon (he was resigning himself to accepting it was called that) defied the laws of physics as he knew it, like it had its own laws of sci-fi physics. It probably did. That unnerved him beyond belief -- he was used to being from a world where vinegar and baking soda made foam and gasoline and Coca-Cola bottle made Molotov cocktail. Having to re-learn the basic rules of reality was like getting the muscles in his legs rearranged while he slept so he woke up not actually knowing how to walk.

But: first things first. You broke a task up into tiny steps, and you took the steps. Eventually you got to the end of the task. Or it kept adding steps faster than you could keep up, but Michael Westen was Michael Westen and in his own opinion he could keep up pretty goddamned fast.

He crossed his legs next to the new range Jesse had installed and, after a moment of consideration, tapped a few icons and dialed Paul Smecker, call set to Visual.

[OOC: Call is locked to Paul, but post is open to anyone who wants to call or visit Michael ~~for some reason~~]

deniedthesight.livejournal.com

[ there's a little bit of rustling after angela turns the tablet on, and then a clearing of the throat before she speaks. ]

Hello, Taxon citizens. My name is Angela Dodson, I've been here...a couple of months, at this point. I've got a couple of questions for the population at large.

First off, I was wondering if there was any sort of law enforcement in place in the city, and related to that, did anyone find any new information on about the Extra that was murdered last month? And have there been any other murders of Extras since then?

Any information on either of those topics would be very much appreciated. Thanks for your time.

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Spencer stood in the office that Brennan had allowed him at the Jeffersonian, staring at a white board covered in writing. On the right side were the names of the most recent newcomers: Paul Smecker, Michael Westen, Sam Axe, Sookie Stackhouse, Buffy Summers (with an asterisk next to both of those names), Katherine Pierce, Elisa Maza. On the left, recent departures: Kara Zor-El, Mal Reynolds, Harold Saxon, Andrew Wells, Charles Gunn, Piper Halliwell, Cordelia Chase, Tony Stark, Illyria. The names were written in blue marker, to stand out. Everything else was in red and it truly looked like some form of foreign language. There were lines drawn connecting various names and any number of equations and notes written in the margins such as "answering the phone" or "disappeared overnight".

The tablet zeroed in on Spencer from behind as he stared at this massive mess of numbers and figures and words. He muttered to himself - somehow it made sense to him. He wrote another few things in the margins, then stood back again. Spencer rubbed his temples with a sigh. Hours of staring at this board and still no discernible pattern.

He could only imagine what a Herculean task this would have been if he had tried to do it in his apartment. Here he could spread out his paperwork and leave it wherever he pleased. The board would not be accidentally erased or have something spilled on it. Although, Spencer had to admit that his original reason for wanting an office was because he found his room mate distracting. Now Kate distracted him in an entirely different way. They'd already consummated their relationship (three times!), though he still had trouble defining what they were. A little voice told him that it wasn't important, that he should just enjoy it, but Spencer was a man who classified things, who analyzed things. He had no other way to experience his emotions but to think about them and to organize them.

But that was not what was important right now. Instead he chose to focus on the myriad of writing in front of him. He picked up the marker again and went back to work.

ergaleomancer.livejournal.com

There was a steady stream of extras for customers, and that would do at a pinch, Theta supposed. It would have to do for the moment. They bought the clocks and the watches that she had spent so long refurbishing, though it drove her just a little bit mad that she saw no boost in her earnings for selling a larger piece, and the beginning of the month saw her earnings wiped clean and replaced with her stipend. This...wasn't encouraging her to work any harder, but her sense of pride and dignity wouldn't allow her to do anything less.

She wasn't content with this at all, though, and if she couldn't measure her success in one way, she would measure it in another. She picked up her tablet and flipped it on, smirking proudly for the city at large and hoping to reel them in with her confidence and charisma. "Good afternoon, Taxon! This is Elizabeθ Buckley speaking, once again extending an invitation to all of you to come and visit my shop. I have expanded what I have available again, and now offer to you clockwork teapots in addition to clocks, watches, and jewellery."

She switches it to holo projection and picks up a teapot. She takes a small pitcher full of cold water and pours it into the teapot, then takes up a clockwork key and gives the teapot a few gentle winds. It starts pacing around her desk near to the camera, then after several minutes, it approaches her and bows to her, in so doing tipping its spout down to fill her teacup. It pops out a little spout, which it adds a bit of milk to her cup with, then a bit of sugar. The spout returns back whence it came, and a little spoon pops out to give her tea a bit of a stir. There's steam obviously escaping from her cup. Theta turns it back to just video, smiling smugly the whole time.

"I trust I will see you soon." She shut it off entirely, sipping at her tea and working in her notebook, waiting either for customers or for the tablet to chime at her about people with questions.

iminmynightie.livejournal.com

It had been a crazy time for Amy since arriving in Taxon, but since she usually had a crazy time wherever she was, that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Stone statues snapping peoples' necks, vampire alien fish making brides for their sons, and hanging out with Churchill and Van Gogh were all in a day's adventure for her. So even though the recent glitch where she'd been transformed into a 1950s housewife was rather embarrassing, the more she thought about it, the more Amy had a laugh over it.

It truly was ridiculous, seeing herself as the polite, buttoned-up wife in pearls and high heels. But she was glad to remember that she hadn't lost any of her spunk, and that she didn't just stay quiet and let the Doctor do as he pleased.

She snorted to herself, stopping at a window display at the mall. The Doctor and her, married, and being domestic! One thing was for sure: whenever the two of them were released by the hamsters and made it back to the TARDIS, that glitch would be something they'd skip over when telling her husband Rory about their stay in Taxon. Rory wouldn't be amused hearing that the two were married. He'd want to know if things had happened.

At least it was all over and done with, and Amy could say she'd had her first glitch. She was just hoping she didn't make a habit of it.

noheatnikki.livejournal.com

Kate had been pacing in her room since she recovered from the glitch, trying to determine how to best address the situation. She was pretty mortified by her actions, especially with her "family." She wasn't sure how to act around Reid at all, not to mention the way she'd completely mothered River and Ax. Finally, Kate turned on the tablet, then cleared her throat and took a deep breath before she spoke.

"So, uh...I realize now that I was glitched. Needless to say, I had no idea what was going on, though it seems like I was only one of a few who didn't...you know what, that doesn't even matter.

I just...I want to say thank you to everyone who knew about the glitch and showed me kindness. Especially Spe-Reid, River, and Ax. I...just thank you."

Kate buried her face in her hands.

"I kind of wish I didn't remember everything that happened."

bonescientist.livejournal.com

The tablet switches on without its owner noticing as they're wont to do, granting Taxon an extreme closeup of a... tree. More precisely, the trunk of a sturdy old oak tree on the yard of a nondescript house somewhere in the Shelley district. Despite the relative darkness of the night, the pale hand clawing at the bark at the corner of the feed is plainly visible. Suddenly, the tablet jostles violently, accompanied by distinct sounds of tearing bark and rustling of leaves, followed by a sharply hissed, "Oh, shoot!"

The feed spins madly before coming to abrupt halt with a dull thud; the device has fallen to the ground and is now tilted at an upward angle, affording a slightly slanted view up into the tree.

About ten feet up, balanced precariously on a tree limb and strangling the overhead branch with both hands is one Temperance Brennan; a studious, geeky girl possessing a bigger brain than a sense of adventure. Except for tonight, it seems. Collecting herself, Temperance glances towards the house flanking the tree, visibly relieved to find all the windows dark, still; someone is clearly not looking to wake up the residents. Someone is clearly sneaking out of their second-floor bedroom using the tree next to their window, hours after curfew on a Friday night. It's definitely an activity that a good girl like Temperance shouldn't even think about doing, and yet here she is. But Angela made it sound like she's missing out on so many things by never bending the rules, and the slight rush of doing something forbidden is undeniable.

Slowly, Tempe begins her descend from the tree, scrambling down one branch at a time. She's not really the most graceful teen around. Plus, climbing in a skirt is surprisingly difficult.

[ooc | forwarded to maybe around 9PM friday night. feel free to troll her mid-climb (just don't make her fall, lol) or later on her way to... err, wherever all the cool kids hang out. Anything goes! ♥]

theextras.livejournal.com

The flyers have been up since the beginning of the glitch back in time: SOCK HOP! 5PM ON THE 19TH AT THE STROLL DANCE HALL! Or, some variation thereof.

For such a small town as Taxon, this is an event for the whole community. Young people come to dance and meet their friends, the older hoodlums stop by to be bad influences, and the adults show up to (try) to keep everything under control (and maybe take advantage of a few of the slow dances).

By four o'clock the mirrored ball is making its first preliminary turns while the band, a little ragtag and slapped together but very good at what they do, warms up for a long night. Punch and small finger foods are set out on a long table set strategically near the far wall away from the dance floor. Most of the younger people that work in town have been given the night off just so they can attend, leaving the many good eats and treats places staffed by those who aren't so into dancing anymore.

With so much publicity, this will probably be a good place for those who know what's going on (the glitch, the Extras, the everything) to find one another and commiserate around the punch bowl.

[ooc: Pleasantville is still going through tomorrow! Enjoy your extravagant send off to the fifties, citizens!

(Also, if you'd like to assume your character works at the dance hall or is a member of the band or anything, go right ahead. Have fun!)]

iminmynightie.livejournal.com

Amy bustled around the kitchen, humming along as Elvis sang on the radio. She was just finishing off the canapés for the party she and her dear husband were throwing for their neighbors. Since the two had finally settled on a house, it seemed only proper to open the doors and show it off. She couldn't wait to hear what the other wives thought of her curtains and throw pillows.

John had to be turned out of the kitchen numerous times, because he was determined to help her cook. Silly man. Didn't he know the man's place was behind the bar, cocktail shaker in hand? That was just where she had sent him, to mix up a few drinks. Amy's stepdaughter, Jenny, had helped Amy with the cooking all day long, but was now upstairs finishing up getting ready. Amy herself had already changed for the party, and was wearing a vivid green dress that complimented her red hair.

Pushing open the swinging kitchen door with her rear end, Amy sauntered down the hall and into the den, humming along and joining John at the bar.

"Here, try one, and tell me what you think?" She held out a canapé for him to bite. Their guests would start arriving any minute and she wanted them to have good food as soon as they entered.

[OOC: All characters welcome! Your character doesn't just have to live in Shelley to be invited. Amy, the Doctor, and Jenny will be thread hopping around this post. Oh, and John Smith is the Doctor's alias during this event. ;)]

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

After spending a week in a female body, Spencer had been thrilled to finally wake up as himself again. He was all out of sorts yesterday. He tried to read and work on running his stats of arrivals and departures, but he couldn't concentrate. Around 9 o'clock, he fell into bed.

This morning, he woke to the sensation that there was somebody in bed with him. He nearly fell out of the bed when he realized that it was Beckett. Quietly, so as not to wake her, he had slipped from his room into... a house? His apartment had turned quite suddenly into something that it was not last night. His furniture was now art deco and he had a television - one that he suspected only showed programs in black and white.

Spencer had made his way to the kitchen and brewed a cup of coffee in an ancient looking pot (which somehow worked like it was brand new). Now he stood staring out the large window in the kitchen, clutching his mug of coffee and contemplating the beautiful manicured green lawn in front of him, which stretched to a white picket fence.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and wrapped his robe further around him. Spencer had no idea what to make or this, or what to make of waking up to find Beckett sleeping beside him.

[OOC - This is for Spencer, Kate, River, Ax and Kara to have their family shenanigans. Although, any friendly neighbors who want to stop by are also welcome.]

wildflowerstill.livejournal.com

"Why?"

The scratchy voice is heard as a body takes form in mid-air, just before it hits the floor with a dull thunk. A young woman, looking no more than her early twenties, lies on the cold steel ground, face pale with veins trailing in a crisscross pattern along her skin. She doesn't move for a good full minute and to any eye, trained or untrained, she looks dead as a doornail. Maybe the aliens screwed up and brought the wrong person. Or maybe the aliens have a thing for shits and giggles. We shall see.

Suddenly, the girl bucks upwards, taking in a deep gasp of air, only to cut it short, because hi, she really is dead and dead people don't exactly need air. Well, undead, but it's not like she has a sign on her forehead saying so. The pale cast on her skin fades away, taking the visible veins with them and it seems like just the barest hint of color returns to her cheeks.

"Son of a bitch! He actually killed me!"

Taxon, meet Lexi. Lexi, meet the rest of your afterlife. This should be exciting.

Lexi's distracted from this new place she's landed in because there's a big gaping hole in her shirt that screams out for attention. One finger gets slid into what used to be a stake wound in her chest, only to come out free of any blood and of that damned wooden stake. A slight shimmer of light on metal pulls her eyes downward and Lexi looks at her wrist which seems to have a new decoration in the form of a silver bracelet. Her face clearly says that she's utterly confused by these turn of events. "What the hell is this? When did I put this on?"

Taking it off seems impossible, no matter how hard she digs at it. A few choice words leave her mouth as Lexi flips her long blonde hair from her face and looks around at her new digs. A solid metal room with a door on one side and a pedestal on the other. Weird. She's been quite a few places in the centuries she's been hanging around, but none of them ever looked like the actual inside of a spaceship's jail.

"Hello? Stefan? Elena?" Her voice bounces back at her with no answer from the names she's called out. This. Is. Weird. Not scary, though. Three hundred and fifty year old vampires don't get scared. They're hardcore. Yes, Lexi sure enough is. Rising to her feet, she dusts herself off from head to toe and takes a better glance around. Nothing seems familiar. If she's dead--again--this is a suckass version of Heaven. Hell. Wherever vampires go where they get staked by their best friend's brother. Whatever.

"Damon? I swear I am going to snap your neck into little pieces and then decide what to do with the rest of you when I get out of here. You hear me? Asshole."

Yeah, the aliens love their jokes. Too bad Lexi’s the punchline.

not-so-magical.livejournal.com

With a sigh, Kaylee turns on her--Spencer's--tablet, and does her best to offer a smile up to the citizens of Taxon. While Spencer's body is looking plenty tense (at least she's made it back to the ranch, that's gotta be a plus), his clothing has probably never looked so relaxed. T-shirt, jeans, no vests or collars or ties...

"Alright, this is Kaylee, callin' for a sound off. Who's who? And does anybody know where Malcolm Reynolds, River Tam, 'n Tony Stark might be findin' themselves in all this mess?"

not-so-natural.livejournal.com

A terrified looking Kaylee appears on your tablet screens, her hair a mess and her face like she's just seen a ghost. She's clutching a shirt to her naked chest.

"I-I-I think there's some kind of problem here. T-This is Spencer Reid, but I seem to have... woken up in this female body. I-I don't understand..."

He runs a hand through his - or Kaylee's, rather - hair, appearing as though he's about to have some sort of panic attack or worse.

"I just.. I'm trying to get out of here - I don't even know where 'here' is, actually - a-and I need to get dressed because um.. apparently this woman doesn't sleep in much. But, I found some clothes and I'm trying to put them on, but I can't... I can't..."

Now Spencer-as-Kaylee's face is bright red as he stares down at the floor, mortified to ask the question he's about to ask.

"H-How do you put on a bra?"

Current Mood: distressed

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Kate Beckett had finally convinced Spencer to shut off his computer, put down his books and enjoy the outside for a while. He had wanted to go to the planetarium, she to run in a park. They compromised on the zoo.

It seemed that fall had finally arrived in at Taxon and a cool breeze caused him to pull his tweed jacket around himself a bit more tightly. Doing so reminded him of the Smith .38 attached to his hip. Spencer still clipped it on his belt every morning by rote. Today marked 50 days in this place but he still didn't truly trust a soul. Plus, there were those vampires...

He and Beckett had stopped in front of the chimpanzee enclosure and Spencer stood for a while watching them in silence. Did they arrive here in the same manner that they all had? Were they perhaps napping on a tree somewhere in the Congo one moment and then here in Taxon the next? Had they been beamed into a metal room as well? Spencer couldn't help but wonder if they all were part of some colossal experiment. He and Beckett stood there, watching the chimps run and play in the grass, but who was watching them?

Finally, he addressed her. "Did you know that chimpanzees are our closest evolutionary relatives? Humans and chimpanzees share approximately 94% of identical DNA."

[OOC - Kate!mun and I will be threading a lot here, but if you want to have your character stop by, that's totally fine too.]

captbrowncoat.livejournal.com

It was late, but Mal was still awake, caught between pacing the halls of his ship and getting comfortable in the kitchen and cleaning his guns. Both were regular routines for him, but at the moment, he wasn't sure which one was the biggest draw.

He'd just cleaned the weapons he'd accumulated a month or so ago, but there was something oddly relaxing about it. He didn't think anyone else understood that, but he didn't care either. So that was what he did.

Sitting at the table, with two of them in front of him, he picked one up and started the cleaning process, thinking that at least this would not take long. With only two guns, as opposed to the large collection he had that was not immediately available to him, this would be short but still satisfying.

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The City of Taxon

Entries tagged with { kate beckett

Case #4 [Visual : Taxon Forest]

[Location: Bar in Central] It's Crismas O'Clock Somewhere

[ location: IN YOUR HOUSE ] right down santa claus lane

[ oo1 | holo | here we go again ]

8% [visual | location: taxon library(!)]

[OPEN] [Casa Westen] Six of One, Half Dozen of the Other

TWO; AUDIO [ more people gotta scatter and run from us ]

7% [accidental visual | location: the jeffersonian]

[video/holo/action | location: Theta's Shop]

003 ∞ [Location: Central - Taxon Mall]

Case #3 [Visual | Location: Shelley]

3 | [ location: somewhere in Shelley ] / [ accidental visual ]

[ location: THE STROLL DANCE HALL ]

002 ∞ [Location: Shelley - Amy & the Doctor's House]

5% [location: Shelley; Spencer's... beautiful two story home??]

[1]

[ shí yī - Visual ]

5% [visual | location: Kaylee's bunk aboard the Serenity]

4% [location: Taxon Zoo]

03 - Location: Serenity [Voice/Visual]

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