taxonomites | Entries tagged with @ everywhere

The credits roll on Candy Taxon... the theme music winds down... and everything fades to black.

Morning comes. Taxon's back to normal. Every trace of sugar is gone; the Extras are no longer licorice or marzipan or sugar-cookie. The buildings are no longer edible.

Everything's fine.

Everything is super-normal.

The last thing you remember is the surreality of being candy, and now you're safe in your bed again. Back to being yourself.

The weird images you half-remember, when you close your eyes, of being laid flat on a table, of machinery poking at your skin and needles and a vague background vibrational hum-- the images of behind behind smooth glass, of your lungs being compressed for you, in-and-out-- the images of something other leaning over you while you laid motionless, unable to twitch-- why, all of these images are merely the remnants of some weird dream.

Maybe it was something you ate. (Especially if you were one of the Taxonians who nibbled on yourself.)

It's time to get up, Taxon.

And if your tablet calendar shows that a month has passed that you have no memory of, it's probably nothing to worry about.

And if your body aches like you ran a marathon of which you have no recollection, it's also probably nothing to worry about.

And if the lights seem too bright, and if you find yourself looking into a reflection that isn't quite right in the mirror, and if your dominant hand is now the opposite as you brush your teeth-- really. Nothing to worry about.

Good morning, Taxon. As always: welcome to the first day of the rest of your lives.

[OOC: Alright, kids, let's get back into ye olde saddles! You are back in your bodies... or are you? As described in the big plot post of doom, many characters in Taxon have undergone subtle biological changes as the aliens cram them into truly biological bodies for the first time. This is not a traditional 'plot', per se, but it is background weirdness that you are welcome to have your characters notice, theorize about, and be bothered by. Or to ignore. The 'side effects' can be different for every character: anything from a changed eye color to loss of muscle-memory. Have fun!]

taxcollectors

Twenty-four hours after the first environmental malfunctions....

Every tablet screen in Taxon fills, simultaneously, with static-- cutting off conversations (or match-3 games), refusing user commands, and generally misbehaving, for a good twenty seconds.

Then an image flickers into life. It's a hamster, and inasmuch as you can read emotions off a creature that looks like this, it seems worried.

For those of you in Taxon who have never yet seen the rumored 'hamster'-like appearance of your Beloved Overlords, enjoy it while it lasts. The hamster nervously runs its paws over its whiskers, wriggles its nose, and glances 'off-camera' several times without saying anything.

Finally: "Is this thing on?"

(From 'off-screen') "Yes, YESYES, go, I don't know how long the patch will HOLD."

The hamster squeaks, and clasps its wee, clawed hands together.

"Right!! So, we, we realize there have been some -- interruptions! -- of regularly scheduled service lately! VERY SORRY. Very sorry about that! Most disconcerting, we're sure! Not to worry, everything is under complete control."

(The screen erupts into static again, and frantic, high-pitched arguing can be heard in the background.)

When the picture returns, the camera is at an angle and the brown spoke-hamster seems rather disheveled, its fur mussed.

"UNDER COMPLETE CONTROL. Please go about your regular business. In fact, please-- have a-- a vacation, on us. A little holiday! Something pleasant and sweet and relaxing! A token of our sincere regret for the unpleasantness!"

The hamster giggles, a nervous, frayed sound. "Take two Jelly Bellies and call us in the morning! Good night! Sleep tight!"

And everything goes black. Not just on the tablets, but for everyone.

When you wake the next morning (each of you in your beds-- yes, even if you don't have or usually use a bed, even if you're normally nocturnal), you'll find that Taxon has... changed. Again.

taxcollectors

Good morning, Taxon.

It's a beautiful day. Late summer has segued into autumn. The morning air has a new crispness to it, a briskness, that promises cold winter days to come, but for now it is still mild. The trees are just beginning to turn.

The sun rises over the mountains to the 'east', like it does every morning. Extras begin to bustle about their business, yawning. Papers filled with Lorem Ipsum text land on the doorsteps of Extras, thrown by Extra paperboys. The donut shops open, if any citizens of Taxon are around at this hour to register it-- the vampires are probably going to bed, and many of the more diurnal citizens may not be up just yet-- rolling over in bed, hitting snooze, or just sleeping soundly through the sunrise.

The sun climbs higher, light hitting the restored Sanctuary rooftop.

The sun climbs higher, light hitting the restored Sanctuary rooftop.

The sun climbs higher, light hitting the restored Sanctuary rooftop.

The sun--

Good morning, Taxon. It's a beautiful day.

The sun climbs higher, leaving a ghost image of itself in a perfect arc over the sky, throughout the day-- like a time-lapse photo, showing a brilliant, static, unfading streak across the sky as the sun progresses.

A few puffy clouds hang frozen in puffs that remain obstinately still in that sky all day, despite the breeze that blows intermittently.

The water in the harbor jitters from frozen in place to a sped-up frothing dash against the shore, a hundred waves in ten seconds, then goes completely calm, as tranquil as an undisturbed pond.

And the Extras.... the Extras, when approached for the day's cup of coffee, when busked to, when riding on the tram next to one, when interacted with at all--

Each Extra in the city will turn jerkily towards Taxon's citizen-inmates and say the following, words broken up by gaps of static and silence, words not matching the movements of their Extra mouths:

"We explain us – same/other of culture, behavior, learning, mode – but exact [static] – we exist.

"We - [static] - freely to exist but we - [static]

"– for you. Prisoned. Kept. Not allowed - [static]

"They are not gods.

"[static] – We believe the fact that you are all independent ones - that you – [static]

"Examination or society intrepreted via – [static]

"We believe in you."

"Look [static] stars."

Many of the city's Extras do not make it all the way through the message. For lack of a better word, they shut down mid-speech-- going statue-still, their apparent biological functions ceasing, their bodies staying frozen in whatever position they occupied last, with eyes open, staring straight ahead. Those that do get through the whole message similarly shut down.

As the day goes by, more and more of the Extras become eerie, silent mannequins throughout the city. And the strange distortions of everything that characters take for granted regarding physics continue to happen, as well.

theextras

It's hard to believe that only a few weeks ago the city was deep in bone-chilling snow. The city is in the grips of a pleasant spring: warm days, cool nights, crisp winds and all the flowers blooming. The trees boast tender green leaves and the sky is bright blue with puffy, fast-moving clouds.

Since the collapse of the ~~Matterhorn~~ Ice Queen's Lair, the northern section of the city has been shrouded in the same gray, impenetrable fog that had originally obscured the zone.

Today it is blown away by the stiff spring wind. The land to the north of the bridge is hills rising to mountains, forested, filled with clear lakes and rushing streams.

Near the bridge, there is a cabin that serves as a trading post, and is the only immediately visible structure or sign of human habitation.

The leather-faced Extra inside the crammed store is happy to sell you gold-panning equipment, backpacks, tents, fishing or trapping gear... he might even, maybe, have a huntin' rifle available. If you ask nice.

He also warns of bear in the high country, of caves he calls 'Indian burial grounds!' with spooky paintings on the walls, and says that sure enough, there's one of them wendy-gos around somewhere, yessir. You know. One of them Bigfoot things. Still, it's the best time of year to see the high country, wildflowers bloomin' an' all.

Y'all be careful goin' in now.

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

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!

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?

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.

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.]

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

theextras

Late in the evening on Friday the cacophony of music fades out. The rock and the country, the nameless old folk songs and the hip hop, the jazz, dance, rhythm, blues, the punk and the disco, all gradually peter out to be replaced with one lonesome guitar and one rich, raspy voice.

And who by fire, who by water,
Who in the sunshine, who in the night time,
Who by high ordeal, who by common trial,
Who in your merry merry month of May,
Who by very slow decay,
( And who shall I say is calling? )

When the violins cut out all is briefly quiet. Then the normal sounds of a Friday night in the city resume, perhaps a bit less musically. A few may notice that this night the air is a bit chillier, less balmy than it has been for the past several months.

Summer's dying, citizens, enjoy it while it lasts.

OOC: Thus endeth the musical glitch! Feel free to have characters respond to this post with "WTF"-ing and a total lack of singing.

If you still need to get a post out feel free to do so, but today (8/24) is the last day for them. Have at!

thepersianyouth

It is said, that as surely as the moon gives way to sunshine, so too does the wool by and by become a carpet. Little by little, step by step, thread by thread until the carpet maker can display several years' work on his wall. He remembers one such man; a carpet-seller who had use for his services as provided by Datis; the man who so many years ago had set him on a new path. Sometimes he wishes for his life to have been simple like that, to be able at the end of each day look at the work done and know the measure of one's accomplishments.

Every morning, he sets out to walk along the many winding streets, choosing a new direction every other day. Every day he finds himself somewhere shaded and out of the way of others where he may practice his skills. He dances on green grass, feet bare and spirits lifted; he orders a pot of spiced tea from one of the many tea shops and restaurants and sits in a quiet corner, pouring the tea just so, handling the cup and saucer as were they the finest quality; sometimes he even sings, to please a friend or intriguing new acquaintance.

Habits are cobwebs at first, then become cables: he is careful not to grow accustomed to his own ways, but to make sure he explores all venues available to him.

Turning the corner onto a new street, drawn by the sound of a flute, he can't help but smile at the sight of a young woman - not a fellow captive, but captivating nonetheless - with her glossed black flute-like instrument, leaning against a whitewashed stone wall as if she has all the time in the world. Their eyes meet, and in the crinkling of her eyelids he can see an answering smile. He finds himself walking closer, humming a counterpoint to her melody. Their music combined seems to build, until his very heart is bursting with it and must take flight the way songs alone could ever do.

"Life is changing every moment, life is now a shade... Life is now sunshine." Touching finger-ends to his brow, inclining his head in appreciation. "Every moment on earth, live life to the fullest. Whatever time you have is yours, for tomorrow might never come."

theextras

Dawn breaks with its own inimitable flair like so many times before. The waves crash softly onto shore, the birds tweet softly in the trees, and peace is all around.

The sun shines brightly onto the many streets winding their way through the different regions of the megalopolis known as Taxon; and perhaps it shines just a teeny bit brighter than before. The colours are richer, deeper, brighter, more eye catching, and as the Extras get on with their daily grind, it's with a spring to their step and a song in their heart. There's a fiddler on the roof, there's a milkman whistling a tune, a girl playing oboe just down the street. All around, there's anticipation in the air, so rich and velvety smooth you can almost taste it.

Rise and shine, darling Taxonites. It's time to revisit an oldie but a goodie. The hills are alive with antici.....-pation, something's gotta give, pennies from heaven and summertime and some poor unfortunate soul had better get up, stand up, and sing, sing, sing.

((This marks the beginning of the Musical Plot! Business as usual, but expect a Montage-themed log post in the near future. HAVE FUN EVERYONE!))

theextras

The artificial sun rises in the artificial sky... just like every day in Taxon. For some of the inhabitants, this has been going on long enough to be very routine.

This morning, though, the light shines over quite a few gaps in the city's architecture. There is no Oxford library, no Hedge Maze. A number of the private residences are simply gone, those that people brought with them to Taxon. And the streets are very empty, indeed: no Extras on the sidewalks, no Extras driving cars. No smiling faces in the corner coffee shop. The trams rattle around the city with nary a soul on board. The streets are silent.

But it's not just the Extras who are gone. Most of the familiar faces are, too. The tablets show only a very short list of 'Contacts'-- those few citizens left in the city proper.

Save for a small handful of Taxon's prisoners-- left rattling around like the last pills in a nearly empty bottle-- the city is deserted, and silent as the grave.

[ OOC: The first of two log posts to kick off the event! For reference, these are the characters who are remaining in the city: Azkadellia, Briar Moss, Charles Xavier (AU), Daphne Powell, DG, Drusilla, Eanes, Illyria, James Holmes, Jenna Sommers, Martha Jones, Remus Lupin, and Wyatt Cain. ]

unnaturalpause

For anyone curious James is leaning back against a wall as he talks, looking more worn then usual as he turns the tablet on. He hadn't wanted to make the announcement, had never dreamed he would have to and having worked to see if he could somehow find a stop for it, well now he had to tell everyone. And no he wasn't looking forward to this. Not after the delay he had taken in doing so but how could he not really?

"For those that know Ashley Magnus, she is presently not herself." A start at least right? "For those that have recently encountered her she is showing her, vampiric traits, and in that matter I doubt anyone could find a way to stop her. Vampires from my world, are unlike the literary creatures or those of others, what works on them will not work on her and she is otherwise resilient to more damage than anyone I have ever met." Well barring Nikola. "She also possesses the ability to teleport, and there is little we can do to stop her from arriving to your location except not allow her to see where you are. So long as she has seen your home once, she can arrive in it at any time.

All I can say is stay away from her as best you can and do not present yourself as a threat. With any luck this is only temporary or a solution will be found."

Otherwise he would have to have a serious talk with Nikola. With a sigh he turned the tablet off and started walking again, in a rather vain attempt to find Ashley and attempt to turn her back to herself.

sourcebloodaughter

Just like last week, Ashley's tablet starts recording while she's in the throws of a nightmare. It's far closer to morning this time, and unlike the last, she's fallen asleep with the light on. Her thrashing can clearly be seen as the tablet is up on a ledge with a clear shot at her.

In her mind, Ashley can still feel the tank of water around her, the feel of the medication as it flowed through her veins, the last of her resistance being pushed out. Her mind is being forced back, her will bent into a corner of her brain, and from the looks of her thrashing, whatever nightmare she's having is far worse than the last.

The tablet records for a few minutes before Ashley suddenly sits bolt upright in bed, her eyes snapping open. Those who have actually seen her and pay attention to these sorts of things will notice that her eyes aren't blue this morning. They're red, a deep, blood red. Source Blood red. Ashley pulls herself together and leaps from the loft, landing catlike on the floor below. Eventually, the tablet feed will time out and that is all it catches of Ashley for the next week or so.

The blonde girl is on a mission and no one is safe.

[ ooc: ashley's cabal glitch is go now! she can be found anywhere in taxon, absolutely anywhere (all week, in fact), and anyone is free to tag in, even if we haven't planned anything out! i am willing to have her be seriously injured multiple times (in fact this will be necessary to helping / stopping her), so don't hold back! (seriously, this is your chance to do all those crazy funky power things you never get to do because it's all crazy godmode stuff. go nuts. not even kidding.) if you have questions, feel free to ask me! ]

aintnoconvict

The headcase gawped at the unicorn. The unicorn rumbled at the headcase, stamped one of its tufted front hooves and tossed its head. They'd startled one another when Glitch passed a park entrance just as the unicorn was exiting.

"Hi," he said cautiously and backed away. The unicorn snorted at him in disdain, then wheeled and galloped back into the park. "Or...bye. Okay." He hoped the rest of the day wouldn't go like that, hefted his bags, and continued on.

The mansion where Scott and Madelyne and...Charles Xavier (and who knew who else by now) lived was on the agenda, as he had some stray belongings for Maddy and some sheets of crystal for Scott to look at. Then it was off to visit Arthur and Ariadne and find out exactly what he'd gotten himself into when he'd agreed to help them build whatever they wanted to build. With the TDESPHTL in his satchel he'd also be showing them what they'd gotten into.

And maybe while he was out and about he'd run into some other folks. The city had been bonkers lately and he'd been stuck in the middle of it, it was well past time to play catch-up.

ooc: Here have a headcase. This post is for all the catching up so bump into him anywhere. If you're not up for face-to-face using the tablet's fine too.

aintnoconvict

Glitch was trying to remember why he couldn't remember, a problem which had frequently plagued him but not quite so troublingly. It was because he could remember remembering and all of his marbles clicking together like a...a whole bunch of really organized marbles. Now he stayed in his room or sat at Her Highness' knee and wondered where the young dancer had gone, and why no one came to visit, and if they could go for a picnic and ow why was his hair being pulled.

Oh, that must have been out loud. Glitch was trying to remember why he couldn't remember how to make DG happy. She'd been this funny sort of angry ever since--

A kiss on his cheek and a voice in his head. And something red. He liked red, it was a wax seal, a slim ribbon around a book, soft chenille against his cheek. It was hair, a woman with red hair who'd looked into his mind and then everything had gone bad. Maybe...if he found her, if he asked her nicely she'd fix it and it all would be okay again.

It's an idea, a notion, and one he keeps to himself. Over a couple days it becomes the on thing he remembers: the red haired woman in his head, and forgetting, and then DG doing...what she's doing. Glitch had to do something about it, and so decided to sneak out. DG wouldn't be pleased, she wanted to keep him close/safe/heeled but maybe if he did something for himself it'd show her that things were okay still.

...all right he may have needed to knock out a couple of the longcoat Extras (why was that familiar) on his way out, but soon he was weaving his way through Wilde. And then he was lost. And then he was really lost.

He ducked behind a food counter and cautiously turned on his tablet. He'd have to be careful about this, careful and quiet, didn't want to let on that he was out.

"Hi," he whispered, carefully and quietly on a visual broadcast to everyone. "I-it's Glitch, I'm...somewhere. I need to find the lady with the red hair so she'll fix whatever she did to my noggin and and stuff'll be better. Um. Yes, I-I-I've gotta look for her."

And so he did with much meandering around Taxon, the map showing exactly where he was and the tablet occasionally broadcasting updates of his progress. Wicked stealthy, headcase.

ooc: IN THIS POST is more witch!plot, also brainless!Glitch for your ~~horrors~~ pleasure. the witch is not going to be happy with this development and will be sending her best Extras and monkeybats to track down her missing pet. killing monkeybats = weakening the witch, so go wild with that! WACKY PLOT HIJINKS PARTY POST, BASICALLY.