taxonomites | Entries tagged with madelyne pryor

To some, a familiar voice and memorable face - albeit one they haven't even thought about for quite some time - crackles into view on their screens.

"What the flamin' hell is goin' on in?! Where the hell did all this snow come from? And where the hell are all the damn hatch-maker things?"

His face looks strained, as if he's recently awakened from a long, heavy sleep that was somehow not all that restful.

theextras

The snow has gone from a winter storm to something truly impressive. Ground-level doors are nearly buried in it; windows reveal walls of solid white pressing against the glass. Chimneys have iced over, and cars are buried in deep drifts.

The trams stopped running two days ago, with polite notes reading Temporarily Out of Service - We Apologize for Any Inconvenience affixed to the frozen doors.

Taxon is very quiet.

The Extras huddle indoors, and the streets are long white swathes of virgin snow. No car horns, no hum of traffic. The river is iced as well, and the edges of the shore boast chunks of white ice floating in the black water.

Near the Sanctuary, a water main has burst in the night, and the day's slight increase in temperature thawed it enough to erupt and flood a street. The buildings of that street are hung with sheets of icicles, gleaming like someone's idea of a Christmas decoration taken beyond all reason.

The wind blows from the north, and skirls the snow into further drifts and piles. If you listen-- if you listen very carefully-- you can hear the sound of voices on the wind, and howls that cut as keenly as the Arctic wind.

If you must go outside, Taxonians, breathe slowly and carefully-- for an incautious breath can freeze the very lining of your throat.

And at night...? Well, tonight the howls become more than distantly-imagined sounds: tonight, white shapes stalk Taxon's white streets-- wolves the size of ponies, whose eyes flicker with blue fire and who are hungry for warm meat.

theextras

It's the second day of the heavier snow. Taxon citizens are still moving about their business-- trudging through the deepening snow-- and Taxonian children are out on the white streets, school canceled for the day. Many of Taxon's broader streets have been turned into impromptu sledding areas, or battlegrounds for snowball wars.

At least at first. As the day carries on-- and the snow continues to fall, soft and silent, even the most exuberant of children begin to drift inside for hot cocoa and the chance to warm up.

The late afternoon sky is gray with clouds that promise no respite anytime soon. Sunlight seems a vague memory, and the white flakes continue to drift down... and down... and down.

hasaheart

As per usual every morning with his first cup of coffee, Cain checks his tablet and the list of names cataloguing all the residents/fellow prisoners of Taxon, old and new and present. He doesn't get past the letter A. His mug, his tablet fall from limp hands; the hot coffee spilling over his legs doesn't register until much later.

Once his hands stop shaking, he sends a text message to Glitch. Az is gone. She's gone.

Another few minutes later, he writes another message, hesitating for a moment before sending it. What does it matter? Who cares? Was she ever here to begin with? What's to say she was? When he's gone and Glitch is gone (like DG), and everyone who ever knew her is gone, who will have a clue she was ever here?

He swallows through a painful lump in his throat, and clicks the 'send' icon on the tablet screen.

For those of you who knew her, Azkadellia has gone home. For those of you who didn't, she was just like the rest of us. She had a past, and was making the most of her present, to the best of her abilities. She was family. She'll be missed.

aintnoconvict

"All right, I'll try and make this quick:"

Glitch? Getting to the point in a reasonable amount of time? Is it possible?

"For those who don't know me: my name's Glitch, I'm that guy who's been here since forever and kinda know the most about all the...stuff that goes on here. Sorta."

No, no it is not.

"Anyway, ah...I've been studying the lighthouse and found some peculiarities with the light-beam thingy which I wanna discuss with everyone. Or most of you, if you can make it. Plus there was that whole hanging out and having drinks thing which I mentioned before all the stuff north of the river happened-- hey we can talk about that too."

Yeah he is taking notes now, all frowny and confuzzled.

"Right! Unless you've got something drastic going on, let's meet at the Black Friar after sundown for the...sunlight-avoidant. First round of drinks is on me. See you later."

ooc: Gathering of the citizens! This is a mingle log so tag in, tag each other, frolic away. I will be adding a tag of Glitch discussing his Very Scientific Observations and there will e a Q&A to follow which I hope will e full of threadjacking. And here havesome pub details. Go go go!

somelittleinfamy

There is something stuck to Johannes Cabal’s wrist.

Oh, and it does rather appear that someone’s abducted him--again. But that’s a matter of secondary concern. There’s something stuck to his wrist and that’s annoying. It’s some sort of lady’s wristwatch and it’s fused straight through the skin of his wrist: molded seamlessly into his body like some demented surgeon’s flayed the skin off his right arm in a ring and lovingly stitched it back up with a smooth hard bracelet where his flesh had used to be. He worries at it with the fingers of his left hand but all he succeeds in doing is turning the skin around the wristwatch rash-pink: it won’t come loose. The watch is useless, too. It’s covered in pointless buttons and it hasn’t even got a face.

“Verdammt noch mal,” he mutters and resigns himself to looking around.

This is how this always works: 1. Someone abducts him. 2. They want something. 3. The something is either something to which he might assent, like creating a horrific monster for them, or something to which he won’t, like being tortured and executed. There is not usually a point in this process where someone consults Johannes. There is not even always a point in this process where someone explains to Johannes what’s going on. So finding himself in an odd room with some sort of collar fused to his wrist and not the foggiest idea of what’s happening isn’t quite as disquieting for Johannes Cabal as it might have been for other persons of his acquaintance; this sort of thing is, not to put too fine a point on it, always happening to him. He’s never been at a loss for enemies.

Usually, though, they have the decency to turn up at all. He takes inventory: he’s wearing everything he was when the ship he was on--er, crashed--and he’s got his cane, which is a trifle insulting, really, because no one ever leaves a prisoner with a weapon unless they’re making a point. And he still hasn’t seen a sign of who sent him here.

The metal room is bare, clinical, even a little laboratorial, which doesn’t surprise him: cells tend to be featureless. What they don’t tend to be is open. This room has an open doorway: waiting for him, it seems, to walk through. To Hell with the doorway. It’s clearly a trap. He ignores it: anyone who goes to the trouble of kidnapping him can damned well come and explain things to him themselves; he has no interest in running some sort of ridiculous rat maze for his captor’s or captors’ benefit.

The really irritating thing about this is--all right, all of this is the really irritating thing. This is a really irritating situation. Look, resigning yourself to this sort of thing and developing a tolerance for it are not quite the same. But the really, really irritating thing about this is he has no genuine idea of what’s happening. He hasn’t stolen any books recently. He doesn’t think this suits the modi operandi of any of the people he’s recently angered, most of whom are dead, anyway. If he didn’t know better, he’d have to say that about this whole situation, there’s something curiously--impersonal, almost.

This is stupid. Someone is going to turn up sooner or later, they’re going to tell him what they want, and either he’s going to give it to them or he isn’t. This is stupid, he tells himself and, still clad in his black waistcoat and jacket, sits down on the floor to wait.

As far as Taxon’s concerned, he’s a nondescript, yellow-haired man of about thirty wearing spectacles and a three-piece suit cut in the style of the late nineteenth century; he looks peeved, but not shocked, and like he has every idea of what’s happening and just doesn’t care for it. (In fact, he’s cultivated this expression; it’s amazing how far you can go in life simply by looking as though you aren’t surprised by anything.) As far as he’s concerned, he’s a necromancer of some little infamy and things don’t just happen to him without a distinct purpose: someone always wants something. Ergo, he’ll wait here until they tell him. The only thing that casts a shadow of doubt over his straightforward hypothesis is the open door: when he glances at it some rebellious part of his mind says, and what will you do if there is, in fact, something you haven’t accounted for?

loveawkward

The light overhead was blinding, neon white and painful as it seemed to burn into his retinas. Something held his wrists, binding him down as he fought and struggled. Already pale eyes turned icy blue, the nearly white as the skin about the sockets darkened. Fangs extended as his head lifted towards that light, roaring as he bucked up against the restraints.

They held.

At least the ones in his dream did. The bent back into place lid of his freezer wasn't so lucky. The lid flung back with a squeal of metal and a clang as it hit the wall. It wasn't the loft Josef had known before. Not that he was seeing the room.

Because just as in the dream, as the tablet began to broadcast, it showed a vampire quite on the verge of rage. Eyes icy pale, his fangs sharp and extended past the curl of his lip. Snarling as he fought to remember where he was, what was going on in this world instead of thinking about the bright light, the restraints. Except without those thoughts what he thought about was the pain burning in his chest, making his fangs literally ache with desire. With hunger.

whyfearthedark

If there's one thing that can be said for Nuada, it is that he does not suffer idleness. Since his arrival he has gathered information from Long, traded for tools with Glitch, found a friend in an upside-down skull monstrosity under the delusion it's a canine companion, proposed a bargain with a werewolf - and generally made quite a nuisance of himself.

He has a standing arrangement with the barriers surrounding the city, for instance, and he knows for certain there are two residents here who would like nothing more than for him to make an untoward move. Or, well, one of them; the would-be knight, the tarnished champion of the 'peaceful' residents. The other one, the woman, he's not so sure would raise a hand unless it served her own agenda.

If she sets her filthy paws on his crown, he'll rip her voicebox right out. That goes for anyone, human or simply a fool.

But, all that aside, as mentioned, idleness sits very poorly with him. Having ventured into the Northern district, it seemed to him a natural progression to see about weapons. The Extra patron wasn't too happy about relinquishing his forge, but Nuada can be very persuasive.

And so, one elven prince can be found in the Medieval village's forge, day or night, fashioning himself a pair of blades. Bare from the waist up and perfectly covered in soot and grime, handling the metal and the heat as if he's done so a thousand times before. Perhaps so. But a more relevant question is this:

Do you dare approach?

threelivesdown

"So, ladies and gentlemen, of Taxon. I'm about to go into the crazy castle land and do some exploring. If anyone wants to come with me, you can meet me on the edge to the northern area. I'm planning on doing some exploring of the area, in general. I'd like to find a way into the castle at the very least but it seems that there are a number of different things that could be done."

That's code, of course, for Selina wants to go loot the castle but, well, that may or may not be obvious. She's planning on completely taking what it is she can take from it.

aintnoconvict

"Hey everyone, Glitch here." Yeah starting out like that has gone beyond self-parody but if it ain't broke he's not gonna try and fix it.

If anything of late has been (for lack of a better word) broken, it's been himself. The winter, particularly January and February, particularly when it's as bitter cold and snowy as it's been, saps his energy, curiosity, and drive. In their place are ennui, sulking, and hopeless dread since this time of year typically brings out the worst in the aliens. To avoid inflicting his moodiness on the population he's mostly avoided his tablet and only kept company with his nearest and dearest, but he knows himself enough to realize the need to break out of his self-imposed isolation.

Plus he'd very nearly spilled his coffee when he'd checked tablet this morning and seen a few names he hadn't realized he'd been missing. Later he'll probably go punch an Extra, if only to keep up with his traditional reaction to these kinds of shenanigans.

"I see a few of you have been returned and...I'm glad." He smiles sheepishly at his selfishness, but it's nice, really, to be that much less alone here. "Az, if you're up for it, we should have tea. Everyone else: I'm kinda thinking we need a gathering that includes alcohol and music. And comfy couches. I'll see about getting that together this week cuz...well, why not?"

Legit question, really.

"And, uh, with Mick gone-- " A pause because that one stings a bit. "--we're out a doctor again and need to figure out what resources we have. I know some folks know first aid but if anyone gets really hurt..."

That can dangle as a thing he doesn't want to think about too hard.

genequeen

"Hello all," Madelyne says from her kitchen.

"Things have been a little strange around here, not that they're every anything else, but I thought I would send out an invitation to everyone here to tea. I have something of a stash built up and I want to get to know my neighbors."

There is a tea pot behind her on the kitchen table along with what looks like tiny little tea sandwiches and perhaps cookies.

"It seems this place is smaller now, so I thought, perhaps, we could start to treat each other a little more like neighbors." It could also be that Maddy sort of liked the person she was as a high school girl and is trying to be more like her and less like the person she was. It feels like she's figured out who she wants to be /now/, instead of defined by her past.

"I'd like to toast new beginnings and try to appreciate the chances."

untoldtale

"What is that?" Emma whispers, staring at the purple smoke speeding through town from the forest.

Beside her is Henry, the boy who moments before had been dead (a thought which fills her with emotions she can't name or tolerate), the boy with all the answers. He's staring along with her and shakes his head. "Something bad."

Before she can ask what that means the smoke fills the window and her vision, and when she blinks it, Henry, and in fact the entire hospital are gone. Instead there's a circular metal room, some steps leading down to an opening doorway, a big machine thing, and a pedestal with a familiar sword and scabbard leaning against it.

"What. The. Hell." She reaches for the gun holstered under her jacket, remembers that a) the clip is empty and b) how useless it was last time she employed it, and strides over to pick up the sword instead. This doesn't look like any fairy tale she's heard of, but the past few days have taught her to prepare for anything. Awkwardly she pulls the scabbard's strap over her shoulder, trying not to think too much about her three awkward dates with Ken the LARPer from South Bend.

Though maybe she should have paid more attention to all his talk about the best way to kill an orc.

"All right, Regina, whatever you've done, whatever you've got planned--" She steps out of the doorway, then whirls back around as it seals itself up again. What now? Guards? Wolves? The flying salamanders of Zo?

"Who's there?" she calls and starts down the hall, reaching back to (again, awkwardly) draw the sword. She adjusts her grip until it feels right. "I swear to God if you've done anything to my son I'll shove this thing straight up your ass!"

Later she'll regret how cliche that is but now's not the time for creativity.

~*~

Sometime after getting the low-down...

theextras

As the sun rises on the first day of Taxon's new year, only a measly four months from its fourth anniversary, the artificial sun in the artificial sky shines down on...a Taxon of a different stripe altogether.

Gone is the massive city that took forever and a day to traverse: gone is the mall with all its nifty things you never knew you wanted, gone are...well, in actual fact a lot of the old city is still here. It is just...taken down to size.

At the heart of the city lies Central still, with its Sanctuary standing as proud as ever (though it seems to have undergone a facelift to match the new lighthouse in Speares); the district itself framed by the rivers Miskatonic and Buenaventura, which neatly divide the city into three sections: the northern, eastern and southern districts.

Waking up, people may notice a software update notif flashing brightly on their tablet screens. In so many words, it is an introduction to a brand new feature called BankBuddy, through which non-natives can transfer credits to each other as necessary. An apologetic post scriptum adds that unfortunately the replicator hatches are a thing of the past, so to speak, and shall not be implemented forthwith.

As for all the rest, well, there's only one thing to do. Go out into the city and explore.

theextras

The stockings are hung by the chimney with care...! No, wait, sorry, wrong holiday.

Taxon High's gym has been converted to an impromptu ballroom and banqueting hall. One section of the floor is cleared for dancing, and a band is on the stage; another half of the gym has buffet tables lined with food and smaller tables for sitting and ~~gossiping~~ eating.

The gym's been done up in blue and silver tinsel everywhere, and blue and silver drapes! Big banners hang from the ceiling with HAPPY NEW YEAR emblazoned on them, and above the stage there's a large red clock with a countdown to the midnight hour in ticking red letters. A disco ball hangs on a pole nearby-- apparently, the hamsters have learned from the last new year, and have glitzed their ball up a bit.

Come and mingle, kids! The punch table is all decidedly non-alcoholic, but has that ever stopped kids from spiking it? Request a song. Dance your feet off. Kiss someone at the stroke of midnight, or whatever strikes your fancy.

It's the end of the world as you know it, Taxon.

genequeen

Tonight is the night of the big basketball game between Taxon High and their rival Cricetidae High! It is the biggest game of the season for the basketball team, the band /and/ the cheerleaders. All of them have performances that they need to hit out of the park. For some there are scholarships on the line and for others it is a huge peer pressure moment.

Of course, for others, it is just another thing to do, another place to be seen and another chance to get out of the house.

What might happen this evening? Will there be triumphs or tragedies? Will there be hookups or hangouts?

Only time will tell!

theextras

Morning comes to Taxon like every other morning, but, as is sometimes the case, the city is ever so slightly different. It is the first day of the weekend, a small but well needed break from the monotonous frustrations of school. Come Monday school begins anew - all the better to make the most of the weekend. Hang at the mall, get up to no good, stock up on energy for the coming week. You might just need it.

[OOC note: Consider this a log post for all your High School plot needs, in and outside of school - just label your tags accordingly.]

starknaked

The body swap had been more than a little disconcerting. Not only because of the man whose body he found himself in but the acute and physical reminder that he wasn’t himself. Not the lack of a body and face he loved dearly, but the missing arc reactor in his chest. As he had lived with another in his body, he had realized how much he worried for both the suit as well as the arc reactor itself.

So it was that the moment he found himself back in his own body, he began working on a few things. First of all had been an override lock implanted into the coding on the arc reactor. It had involved a lot of time flat on his back, the reactor pulled out and partially dismantled on his chest. Tools balanced on his stomach as he laid back half way in the chair, the wires leading into his chest still.

At some point he became aware of the blinking red light, looking up to see the tablet he’d left on the work table likely broadcasting. Giving a small wave and a roll of his eyes, he went back to putting the reactor back together. As he slid it into his chest, he gave a small sound of contentment, glad to have it back where it belonged.

Laying back and taking a deep breath, he realized what was needed next.

The machine was still in place from where Maddy had helped him put it in place. The pieces of the suit were loaded into place. Now all it took was a test run.

Or becoming trapped in the suit once more and plummeting to the street below. One or the other.

Flipping a switch, the machine started to light up, one tiny blue light at a time. There was a low hum, a whirring sound and then, taking a deep breath, Tony stepped into the machine.

"Let’s do this,” he said, both feet coming down onto the pressure plate.

The machine began to move. Quick, loud movements but it was working, snapping each of the pieces into place, locks engaging and nuts whirring into place. There was a flurry of movements and sound and then silence. It all went still.

And with a whoop, Iron Man launched into the air, zooming over the Taxon landscape.

theextras

As dawn breaks on Thanksgiving morning, one or two things are different about the Taxon we all know and love.

Most notably, the streets are positively littered with, yes, you guessed it, turkeys.

Live. Turkeys.

Also notable is the fancy, ginormous T-Rex skeleton on display right outside the Sanctuary. Isn't that a nice thing to greet the newcomers with? It's got a plaque and everything!

Even more notable, because all good things come in threes, or so the aliens have newly discovered: just in time for Thanksgiving dinner, all the tablets in the city light up with a cheerful, hamster shaped hologram. The hamster wears Appropriate Festive Gear.

"Happy Thanksgiving, citizens! Aren't you glad to be alive this time of year? Isn't Thanksgiving a wonderful holiday? Yes it is! Say it with me!"

Crickets may chirp, insults may be thrown in its face, but the happy hamster goes on. "In honor of the bond forged between the Puritans and their new found friends, the Indians*, you will all find a dream catcher by your bedside tonight. And remember the old Indian proverb, Never speak of another before you have walked two hundred miles in her moccasins. Isn't that nice?"

Look at its beady, beaming eyes full of holiday cheer. "When you go to sleep tonight, hang the dream catcher above your head and think of all the things you are grateful for. What have you learned from your neighbour's moccasins? Do they pinch? Dream yourself-- back to yourself.

"Make it a good one! Be thankful!"

And that, as they say, is that. The hologram blinks out of existence. Somewhere out there, in the dark, lamp lit streets, an Extra chases down the last of the turkeys.

All is quiet. Shh. Shh. All is well.

For now.

* It must be noted that the aliens have a) a poor grasp of history, and b) no idea what political correctness is.

aintnotinman

First, some background. Once upon a time while DG was practicing magic she happened upon the ability to manipulate the size of things, including living beings, though it must be noted said spell was only tested on a couple Extras. The Extras endured being made pocket-sized and then regrown with no ill effects, so Glitch had her imbue a phial of powdered crystal with the essence of the spell. The crystal powder, thus enchanted, can be used to channel the spell for...purposes. Such as the city being invaded by massive lizards.

Long story short: Glitch has been building himself a ray gun to shrink the critters to a manageable size, so that a few of them can be captured and transported to the zoo.

Wearing his interpretation of Cain's trademark outfit, he opens his broadcast to the city with a single firm nod and a crooked smile.

"Hey everyone, Glitch here," he begins. "So: dinosaurs. I've been reading up on them and they're fascinating and all but I don't think they should be roaming the city all willy-nilly anymore. Sherlock's got an area of the zoo picked out we can herd a few of them into, and...well, I've got this to help with that."

He holds up the gun (see the above link, basically) with all the pride of a new parent. "This is the Prehistoric Beastie Size Manipulation Shooty Thing, or PBSMST. It has the capability of shrinking the critters to a manageable size so they can be trapped and transported. Problem is I'm not sure how much juice it's got so...yeah, I'm going to need backup for handling the traps and-- okay, a good number of these things are really dangerous and need to be put down completely.

"I'm thinking we start at dusk to give those of us who are vampires a chance to help if they can, and I've got four pairs of night-vision goggles for anyone else who doesn't have super senses or whatever. Contact me and each other for coordination, let's get this done in time for supper."

OOC: Big ol' dinosaurs hunting post = go! We've got some plans and ideas running around here but more are always welcome, it's never too late to jump in on stuff!

Now with organizational subthreads!

genequeen

It took some time to get out of Jason's house.

And once she was out of his house, she didn't go back to her house. It felt too strange to go back to the house she's been living in with Scott, so she ended up at the airplane hangar. It wouldn't be the first time she's gone out to the hangar and stayed out there for a significant portion of time.

Except when she wakes up this morning, she's not alone in the hangar.

Peeking out of the airplane window, she sees a dinosaur. Carefully, she reaches down and turns on the tablet. Carefully, she looks down at the tablet before trying to send the images outside of the plane to everyone else in Taxon.

"Help. Please."

There might be more than one out there.

"I'll stay right here."