taxonomites | Entries tagged with madelyne pryor

The visual from Sherlock's tablet flicks on while he's talking to it, which gives the fleeting and erroneous impression that he's broadcasting by design. This is not true. By all appearances, Sherlock -- or Bagoas, as he looks and sounds right now -- is recording an impromptu nature documentary. That is to say, he's taking shaky and wildly variant video footage of a stegosaur from a tree while talking to himself for his own notes. Note-taking by vlog is more efficient than typing when he's trying to use his tablet as a video camera, after all. And it's working, for the most part. He just hasn't noticed that the video is not just going to his own records.

"Those plates are unfriendly," he says to himself in Bagoas's voice as the stegosaurus lets out a suspicious bellow at his presence. "It really is like they're lodged straight into its flesh. How odd. I wonder if that's the true animal or a construction from Hollywood. For all we know we've been putting the skeleton together wrong all this time -- wait, are those spots? Why has it got spots? What would it need spots for? Is it hoping to camouflage itself from something at its size? -- no, wrong, wrong, that's the old fallacy that evolution has to follow pragmatism. Some ancestor could've needed spots at some earlier point in its evolutionary history. That's obvious. Ugh. I feel menopausal."

He lets out a noise of frustration and sets down the tablet again in the nook of branch and tree trunk next to him, which incidentally affords all of Taxon a view of what he's doing. Specifically, he's sitting in a tree. He's sitting rather wisely far up in one of Taxon's new trees, though still under the canopy as to avoid the pterosaurs, and he has his legs crossed in what look like a new pair of blue denim jeans and a jacket he's decided Bagoas apparently needed. More conspicuously, he's got short hair. Bagoas most certainly didn't have short hair. Sherlock-Bagoas does now. Sherlock's new hair's been shorn unceremoniously close to his head, with much less care than his own actual haircut: it's fairly obvious that he went at it, albeit carefully, with a pair of scissors.

"This is ridiculous," he complains to himself, bonking his head back against the trunk. "My first and only chance to take samples of long-extinct megafauna for veracity and I'm a teenager with a hormonal dysfunction. It's impossible to climb in this body. I've got to see what their DNA looks like."

Sherlock frowns at the screen, evidently noticing something. "Is this thing even on?"

theextras

By the evening of the 31st, the fog is so dense you can barely make out your own hand should you stick it in front of you. Take one step away from your friend and it's as though they were never there to begin with.

And it doesn't stop there. Just like before, the fog does strange things to those who get lost. There are voices in there, familiar ones calling out for anyone out there, and should you go investigate, you might find yourself all the long way across town. The lights on the trams flicker and spark, the street lights seem dimmer than usual, and does nothing to help guide your way.

Unlike the tesla coil display, so proudly operated by one of the Extras, and at one point even hooked up to a computer. Not only does it shoot lightning bolts, it plays music!

But the fog is not to be trusted. It moves down the streets, makes seeming feeble attempts of climbing the buildings, and it isn't long before it covers Central square and the carnival.

The music stops, something fizzes and sparks, the Extra falls back and for one, heartstopping moment the tesla lightning goes amok. The air hisses with electricity, filling the tent with the smell of ozone and copper-- in the background someone calls out "It's gonna blow!"

Panic erupts.

And in that panic, in that rain of proverbial fire and mayhem, the lightning bolts shatter the House of Mirrors and the merry-go-round and the dinosaur eggs exhibition.

Everything is in shambles, the Extras climbing over each other to get away, and in the darkness, something - or a variety of somethings - slithers away into the fog.

***

A misty dawn breaks over a very different Taxon. The streets are shaded with impossibly tall trees, the buildings covered in creeping vines, squares are replaced with swamps and meadows, and new rivers have sprung up.

And echoing through the air are strange new sounds: hoots, trills, shrieks, growls, and the occasional roar. The ground shakes under heavy footsteps, and distinctly reptilian forms can be glimpsed lurking behind buildings or rushing through the undergrowth or gliding high above the canopy.

Of course a few of the citizens have some more immediate concerns than the change in scenery. Namely why they are somewhere not in their own bed and, more urgently, why they are suddenly in possession of a body not their own.

Chaos, confusion, misunderstandings, and shopping sprees (yes the stores are still hilariously open for business) are bound to ensue so long as no one gets stomped on or eaten in the process. Good luck, citizens!

apackofone

"Hello everyone."

Remus is as cheerful as ever, curled up in his armchair at home. "Apparently there's a probably evil carnival in town. That sounds fun. But if you'd rather avoid the fun of the evil Halloween carnival, I'm opening up my place. It's well out of the way, quiet and heavily shielded. I have a cold basement for vampires and I can add enough beds for anyone who wants the security."

He shrugs and smiles. "The offer's there."

theextras

On the evening of the twenty-second day of the tenth month, the chilly weather takes on a slightly different shroud: veiling itself in brighter starlight and clearer air and a crisp, pitch black cloak of darkness...lit up by streetlamps and bright, autumnal window displays, and carved vegetables as far as the eye can see.

It's not just Jack what makes a lantern this time of year, but courgettes and bird cages (birds not included) and jars and actual wrought iron lanterns. Candle light permeating the very air of the city, casting a warm glow on anyone who happens to draw close enough.

Here and there Extra parents tug their Extra children along in a hurried quest to find the perfect outfit or costume for this or that party, spooky or sweet or just plain excellent.

What's more is the long winding carnival snaking its way along the many winding streets of Taxon, hundreds of Extras all dressed up in outfits that some may find more disturbing than others: zombies, ghouls, old crones and Killer Klowns and white-masked beings, moaning and wheezing and giggling their way towards Central Square - but who knows where they're headed next.

Fun fair's in town, kids.

hasaheart

It feels like yesterday Wyatt sent out his first year's summary of sorts. He was reasonably mellow back then, his moods evened out and tempered by sheer determination (and a bit of help from his friends, some of whom are no longer here).

For those gone, he goes to the Wishing Tree planted during the Month of Living Hell (as he's come to think back on it), with a scroll each for those who've gone home: DG, of course, and Party, the Kid, one for Briar and his sister for good measure... one for Gwen, though he never actually got to know her properly. Last, but certainly not least, one scroll each for his wife and son - both of them forever locked away safely in his heart.

Midday, he calls Paul to invite him to dinner - he's cooking, it's his damn anniversary and there's no one else he'd rather spend it with. Fancy dress is optional, but, he tells Paul with a cheeky grin, flair is darn well mandatory.

The next day, Sunday mid morning, he thinks he's ready to face the rest of the population. He's taking his cue from Glitch, bringing gifts to a select few people. Glitch of course gets a visit, as does Azkadellia, but he hasn't forgotten Long or Maddy, though he's woefully inept at keeping in touch. Buffy too will find a certain someone knocking on her door sometime during the day.

And should he happen to bump into anyone else on the way, well, he's in a fantastically good mood, if a touch baffled and dazed. Two annuals? Really? How did that even happen?

no_rose_tint

When the message comes, it's just audio now, since Scott has no desire to flash in inability to see to the world at large. "The gym's open again. I'll be starting with my regulars again, but we're going to have to renegotiate things. Call me, or come and see me at my office."

The message closes with no more preamble.

It's fairly safe to say he's not coping brilliantly with being blind, since he's taken to living in his office, where he knows where everything is and nothing ever gets in his way. Literally. He's sick of walking into furniture.

aintnoconvict

At roughly quarter to nine in the morning, Taxon is greeted with a video broadcast of a holo broadcast.

"Hello?"

One can tell it's not a proper arrival because instead of the usual stark arrival room, there's a tiny Glitch hovering over a nightstand. Beyond, there is a patchwork quilt covering a shifting, grumbling lump.

"DG...Cain?" From under the covers, Glitch's head emerges and he peers blearily at his tiny duplicate. "Raw?"

"Cute," he mumbles, the props his chin up to watch the show.

"Cain's going to be mad," the hologram remarks fussily. Glitch snorts. "But...no, it's not my fault this time. I was following him! I was following him! I was follow-"

"All right, enough of that." Glitch pokes his tablet so the holo replay of his arrival vanishes, then scowls when he notices that it's still broadcasting. "Guess that's the aliens' way of wishing me a happy anniversary. Morning, all."

Then he turns the tablet off and flops back with a sigh.

Three annuals. Thirty-six months. One hundred fifty-six weeks. Something like a thousand ninety-five days and he's still not sure how he survived the first dozen of them. Illyria'd basically pointed him at the door and he'd been on his own until DG's arrival. Adaptation. Coping. Moving on. Waiting and surviving, that was 90% of this place.

Today, though, he'll keep busy and distribute a few gifts. The first pumpkin from the garden for Cain with a short length of distinctive gold braiding tied around the stem. One of DG's sketchbooks for Azkadellia, a more intimate glimpse of the younger princess' life here. He's ready to let go, and he hopes it will give Az some comfort. The first volume of his organized notes on Taxon for Mayland, a drink or two with Paul after lunch, dropping a scarf off for Madelyne (the days are getting chillier and he frets), and then...then he'll take Bagoas out for dinner. Because why not.

He sends a voice message to his friend to make arrangements (Italian, Glitch decides, will be nice), gets ready for the day, loads a basket with goodies, and sets off on his bicycle to make the rounds.

ooc: THREE YEARS what even. He'll be stopping by to see everyone mentioned above (and all of that's hadnwavey if you like), but anyone not mentioned is totally welcome to bump into him too. OPEN POST IS OPEN.

genequeen

A little better, all the time...

Madelyne has no idea why, exactly, that song is running through her head. It feels sort of like a cruel twist of fate that she cannot get it out of her head. Scott isn't dead, which is great but he's constantly in pain. It is hard for Madelyne to think that alive and in pain is better than some of the alternatives. Then again, this is better than dead at the bottom of a cliff or at the bottom of a waterfall, right?

Tony Stark has been around helping. In fact, he's in the house right now. That's part of the reason she's out here on the porch. Having Tony and Scott inside makes it a little too crowded for anything other than the two of them in there. She's come out here with a blanket and a tea set, though the tea in her cup has grown cold as she's been wandering her own thoughts.

She has no idea, really, how to handle her ex-husband being upset and wounded and horrible at accepting help. Being strict with him and forcing help on him seems counter-productive on multiple levels. Leaning back, she starts the swing moving, chuckling softly, appreciating the fact that she can have these problems - as absurd as they are here in this place.

no_rose_tint

Scott’s marker comes back onto the map with as much pomp and circumstance as it vanished.

More strangely, his tablet doesn’t join him instantly to broadcast his misfortune. It appears nearby, resting on a tree stump out of the way, but whereas usually it delights in showcasing these moments, it remains quiet now, when perhaps he needs it most.

Five days is a long time where he’s been. He’s pale and drawn, deprived of sunlight and enough food and water. He has dark circles around his eyes, a mixture of exhaustion and bruising.

There’s no awareness of being moved again. He’s simply regaining consciousness and feeling grass and dirt rather than the metal and stone of where he’s been held, a deep ache in his head and uncomfortable pressure in his eyes.

Slowly, he reaches up, feeling over his face and flinching as his fingers poke sore skin and no visor. He has to risk it anyway, bringing his hands to his face, fingers white knuckle laced as he flickers his eyes open.

Nothing.

No light. Not in or out. No warmth over his hands.

He opens them again, fully, but nothing reaches outwards. Nothing explodes, nothing is rent apart.

Everything is dark.

He can’t see.

He snaps his head up, eyes wide and unseeing, a solid, lightless red covering them from side to side.

loveawkward

Entrances had been made. The people of Taxon, some of them at least, had arrived. As the sun was setting and casting the room into shadows, the lights began to come up. Twinkling white lights on the balcony around the pool, mood lighting throughout the room to separate the loft into differing areas for different events. Light music played throughout the main room, though at poolside was a section set aside for dancing as well.

Pausing to overlook the affair, for a moment, Josef felt like he was still back home.

Well, minus the bevy of beautiful women offering up a vein at the snap of his fingers. He was still getting used to that loss, which hurt more keenly than most.

((ooc: Come one, come all. Feel free to set up your own posts or use the starter areas. Josef's place is a massive loft, with three separate rooms including a bedroom with an oversized freezer in it. There is also a rooftop pool area with a wide wall overlooking part of the city.))

personaldemon

Jason's sole concession to coming back to himself in medieval costume, with a sword, an empty credit balance, and an impressive hangover is one terse text message sent out to the city at large.

My apologies for the interruption of service at Tamper & Trick. I will be at the shop regularly again starting today.

There is absolutely nothing else he wishes to say about his brief reversion to a person he hasn't been in a very, very long time. At least not publicly.

And if there's some choice swearing in the privacy of his home, well. That's not broadcast.

no_rose_tint

It might take a while for people to realise Scott isn't around.

He normally gets up before Maddie and is out of the house early. He works during the day, but then goes off to climb and do other crazy things on his own once he finishes and doesn't come home until horrendously late at night.

But one day he doesn't open the gym and he's not there for his training appointments with people. His tablet is on his bedside table with his photo. He doesn't appear on any of the city maps.

He's gone, but it's not like usual, when people are removed from the city. It's more like he found a way to drop off the radar and promptly did so with a thoroughness that would baffle even a seer.

[OOC: Scott will be missing for a few days as the start of his glitch. Feel free to put character responses and reactions here, I will reply with information as characters require it. Contact me ooc if you want to plot and plan.]

loveawkward

The packages were delivered by extra courier. One to Buffy. One to Maddy. Then one to Jason Blood.

Each were delivered in the middle of the afternoon, just before Josef made his broadcast.

Elegantly dressed, he stood out on the wide balcony deck of his building, overlooking the central area of Taxon City.

"Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. Some of you I know, and I'm aware others are new to the city and I've yet to make your acquaintance. Welcome, hello, all of that. Now, for the reason for my broadcast.

"A bit ago I discussed a party with some I know here. It's time for that party. It's to be held this weekend, to celebrate the date that I believe is sometime around the kick off for fall. A perfect time for a last days of summer celebration that isn't a pool party, despite what we may call it. None of us are ready for water like that, I don't think.

"Some of you have received packages. The hatch is a mercurial thing. If they don't work for you, please let me know. I won't be offended.

"All are welcome and things shall kick off in the afternoon, just for cocktails and then dinner will be served buffet style. Music and dancing. Things like that. I hope to see you all there."

The transmission ended with a last item delivered.

The card was hand delivered to Bagoas, written in his own language. With the practice, Josef was getting better at things.

Darling Bagoas,

You are cordially invited to an evening party at my residence for the City of Taxon. It is a semiformal event so that you may know what to wear, and I would be grateful for your appearance. I hope to see you soon.

With much affection,

Josef

taxcollectors

It's a Monday, and research showed that Mondays were tricky and that people don't especially like them. Especially fat orange cats, they found the day particularly distasteful.

Despite the lack of fat ornage cats among the city's citizens, the aliens decide a change of pace will be nice. So the meteorology division does...whatever it does, and the heat and humidity which has enveloped Taxon for months is replaced by something a bit milder. Sure the humidity's still there and there'll likely be rain on Tuesday, but still. This is nice, yes? Of course it is!

Along with the weather they send a message, a little note to remind the citizens that they still care.

Hello everyone! Lovely day, isn't it? You're welcome!

We have some things to tell you! First, there are pumpkins available in Sanctuary Square which you can decorate or make into delicious pies that you can decorate too. Second, there is a stable in Shelley with horses! Horses you can ride and up your giddyness! And finally, we love getting suggestions for making your home cozy. Please do write, we find it very informative and entertaining!

That's all for now! Take care of yourselves and each other! (*^3^)/~☆

(That's us blowing a kiss, see?)

Responses to the text will not be replied to, but hey, there is always the suggestion box.

OOC: Mingley open post for getting your whatever on, enjoy :D

starknaked

Building and presenting the wind tunnel had actually made Tony happy. It was a scary thing to be happy with giving, and he blamed his time with the Avengers for such emotions. Whatever it was, he had thing to do in and about the Tower. If he was stuck here for the duration, then there was a lot that needed to be done.

Plans for the rooftop suit robotics were in place. He'd gotten things up and running on Taxon's electricity since the device he'd used for sustainable energy before hadn't proven compatible to this place. At least not yet. That left some of the little things.

Stepping into the lab, he heard movement. His first thought was Selina, though a mental image of Sherlock flashed through his mind as well. It turned out to be neither of them as the cylindrical head lifted, slowly tilting to one side quizzically.

His breath caught in his lungs. An award winning robot built when Tony was just seventeen and for all his issues with the thing, with it's lack of judgment in so many things, Tony suddenly felt a little less cut off from his life to see Dummy there.

For a long time he was silent before stepping into the room and crossing to stand before the robot.

"You've been slacking," he said, waggling a finger at the robot. Dummy's head tilted the other way. "Don't give me that. We've got work to do."

Pausing, he clunk his brow against that cylindrical "head" before turning away. "Right. Work. Come on."

An hour later he was on a ladder, mounting one of a series of cameras to the outside of the building. This one over the main door, pointing at the spot before a buzzer. He looked up into the camera.

"Link the locks with the camera and link it into the facial recognition hardware," he said to the robot inside, his tablet blinking through the entire moment as he'd found Dummy and building the cameras as it broadcasted. He really didn't pay it any attention.

Climbing down from the later, he pulled a flat, engraved panel from his back pocket. Using a drill and masonry bit, he mounted the plaque beside the buzzer.

STARK TOWER Ring buzzer for admittance Smile for the camera and the facial recognition software If you're Sherlock, the US government, or somehow Fury... Make an appointment for two weeks from never

infinitelystranger

Sherlock ignores his tablet for about sixty minutes of his initial text asking for a count of the theft victims, and for a short while it seems he's forgotten about it. However, another text message arrives in the inboxes of the listed individuals, locked to them.

To: Tony Stark, Madelyne Pryor, Scott Summers, Paul Smecker, Buffy Summers, Logan, Gwen Raiden

I know who's stolen from you. I'll know where they've hidden your belongings soon enough. Sooner if you let me onto your property to look. Ms Raiden is welcome to come as well, despite her dishonesty. I am collecting samples at Stark Tower. Hide your locations if you haven't already.

He also sends a private, locked, and shorter message to Selina Kyle:

Stealing from me is an amusement. Stealing from Mr Summers poses a hazard to the lives of everyone in this city. Return the belongings to the Sanctuary and we will not have to play this game, Ms Kyle.

Anyone who chooses to join him at Stark Tower can find him there retracing a set of phantom footprints with careful footsteps. He's chosen Tony's home not because he hasn't started the trail yet -- he's already traced a preliminary one through each of the locations, and drawn his first conclusions -- but because it's a logical place to which to return to gather a party. He's telling the truth; there's only so much he can learn without access to the direct scene of the crime, and besides, he likes a hunting party. He is, above all else, a hunter, and it's been an honest while since he's had challenging game.

threelivesdown

Selina has been busy during her time here in Taxon. Other than flirting with Tony Stark, she's been working hard. The time has been spent learning the layout of this place. It is a large city but she's handled large cities before - several. There is a good amount of rooftop tavel possible here as well as a nice network of streets, fire escapes and alleyways for quick escapes and cross city travel.

The tablet makes it easier, in general, to figure out who is where and when, which, by association, helps her figure out where they /aren't/ and when they aren't there either. This makes it easier to plan a route around the city from place to place. There doesn't seem to be a lot of security in general in this place but she wants to test it. In addition to that, though, she wants to see what happens when she rattles some cages - from the captor perspective and the captive perspective

Turning off her location on the tablet, she begins.

( Read more... )

genequeen

Around the middle of the day there is a sound that most of the modern people haven't heard since coming to Taxon. It starts out as a low droning buzz but too long after after that, there is a small Cessna visible flying through the air. There is a ripple of commentary about it from the Extras, some of them pointing and saying generally inane things to each other about the plane. After circling the Central area a few times, it heads back where it came from.

About 30 minutes later, there is a broadcast over the tablets, "In case you haven't noticed, I have an airplane. If you'd be interested in a flight, come and find me. The first one, or all of them, are free, though I'd be happy to accept barter if you have something you'd like to offer me." She's smiling like she can't help herself the entire time.

aintnoconvict

Out of everyone Glitch should be most wary of just plonking his tablet down during this musical...thing. Knowing better doesn't stop him from depositing it on the many-buttoned control panel beside the brain tank.

He'll just be a few moments, just studying, just being there and barely tapping the glass because he doesn't want to leave smudges but he needs to be just that much closer. Touch the glass which touches the fluid which touches the half-brain and--

A guitar riff plays as he circles the tank, the tablet recording away as he stops to face it, profile toward the camera when he begins singing.

"We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when.
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend.
Which came as some surprise, I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago..."

( Oh no, not me. )

The guitar riff continues, a winding, mournful repetition like a half-formed thought and Glitch heaves a sigh, eyes closed as he sings the chorus one final time-- and looked up to see the tablet's light. His expression is blank as he stares at it, and remains so when he steps closer and picks the tablet up.

Then his lip curls into a snarl. "Serves me right," he mutters. "Okay, fine, behold my brain a-and all that. You can ask questions but I I can't guarantee satisfactory answers."

genequeen

For some reason, Madelyne decided on taking the tram (the Transverto line to Orbis) to visit Remus today. She was idly looking out the window when she saw something, it was a flicker of something as the car moved along the tracks. Before she'd had time to process it, she was standing and signalling to stop at the next station. It was almost too long, she almost had to wait for too long to the next stop and almost broke a window to get out to go find it. Once she got out, she flew back along the tram line, the green glow surrounding her in the air, until she saw it again.

A small clearing in the trees with a small hangar and an airstrip.

When she lands, Madelyne stands there for a few moments, catching her breath, unable to believe what she's seeing. When it passes, she speeds into the hangar, a prayer on on her lips that she finds granted.

There is a Cessna 206 sitting in the hangar.

It has seen better days but she thinks she can get it working with some work. She doesn't even notice the swelling inspirational music after a little bit of time as she works. She misses lunch, she misses dinner and the sun has sent, the hangar lights on, by the time she pulls herself away from cleaning and repairing the little plane. She looks at it with a smile on her face, covered in dirt and oil and numerous other smudges - tired but content.