taxonomites | Entries tagged with { alexis castle

gotcouplings.livejournal.com

The Frye House kitchen seems to be going full steam. There's a tea pot on the stove, baking supplies spread out over the counter, and one mechanic bustling about in the middle of it all. She's a lot more cheerful now than she was a year ago, when systems were shutting down and they were all suffocating. Definitely a better day, and by far a better birthday (even with people going home).

She smiles down at her tablet, raising a spatula covered with pink cake batter in greeting. "I'd like to invite anybody who wants to come by the ranch for a little party tonight. The weather's nice enough for it, and there'll be snacks and drinks aplenty for anybody who wants 'em. Don't gotta bring anythin' special, just yourself. Seems like a shiny day for having a get-together without us all bein' stuck in the same building."

Invitation standing, she gives the tablet another grin, then turns it off as she sets back to work. It's a good distraction, and even if nobody shows up there will probably be plenty of citizens who walk out of their door to find baskets of goodies in the morning.

The tablet switches itself back on just in time to catch Kaylee humming the last few bars of 'Happy Birthday to You.'

[[ OoC: No seriously, party post, get your butts in here and mingle!! ]]

taxcollectors.livejournal.com

The presence of Aliens in the building was something uniquely un-ignorable, and uniquely catch-able.

After a rousing bout of 'Catch the Hamster in the Giant Hamster Wheel and Watch Him Cry,' both he and Mayhem are on display in the first floor lobby and on tablet screens all over.

...In a giant ball guarded by one Taxon's resident angry witches.

Mayhem is under the assumption that it's made of found materials, magic, and Willow's pure, unadulterated hate. The Hamster just sits in his pseudo-corner as far away from her as he can get and grooms himself.

Come one, come all! Ask your questions, get some answers. Kick them, even! It's doubtful anyone will stop you.

[ ooc: THE TIME HAS COME! Both the Hamster and Mayhem are here to be interrogated, negotiated with, and potentially kicked in the face. You can also comment and talk to Willow instead! ]

littlestcastle.livejournal.com

Alexis stood outside the steps of the Sanctuary and for a moment she stared up at the building where they'd been stuck for three weeks, then down at her tablet. Her expression was confused, and there was slow growing worry in her eyes.

"Has anyone seen Kate Beckett? Or Dr. Reid?" she asked. Despite the fact that she was asking the question, there was quiet resignation in her voice, as if she already knew the answer. "I think they've both gone home."

She frowned and it was obvious she was debating whether she had anything more to say. Eventually, she bit her lip and asked, "Does anyone have a suggestion for a place to stay?" A pause, and she added quietly, "Somewhere with a threshold?"

entractes.livejournal.com

Kurt's explorations finally bring him to the 11th floor! Took long enough. After spending some time just acclimating to the new stage area, he is hit with something of a wonderful idea.

"Attention, Taxon!"

Needless to say, Kurt was excited.

"As you are all probably well aware, none of us appear to be going anywhere anytime soon. But don't despair, I have a solution to the doubtlessly growing boredom of you being stuck here." He turns the tablet around to pan the camera around the stage area as he talks. "Since coming here, I couldn't help but notice that the city is a little bit of a cultural deadzone, but I know there are at least a couple of diamonds in the rough out there. So, I propose..." he pauses as he often does for the sake of tension, "Taxon's very own glee club."

He turns the camera back to himself, "Not to worry, this won't be the stuffy, uptight choir group you may have heard about at your local church. Instead, this will be an opportunity to express yourself, to let loose, and experience something wonderful. For those who don't perform, you are more than welcome to watch or sway along merrily in the background.

"So, if you would care to join me, Kurt Hummel, in the 11th floor Playhouse, let's get some introductions going. In lieu of just standing around in a circle and talking about ourselves, you would ideally come ready with a song that you feel tells your story and be ready to sing. No pressure, though." He totally understands if you aren't like him and don't always have that sort of thing ready to belt out at a moment's notice.

patternal.livejournal.com

Waking up in a place he had definitely not gone to sleep was a rather large blow to Corwin’s soldiers’ instincts. He’d come awake all at once, tense and ready to strike with his hand on his blade—

—but nothing had happened. Typical. Get him worked up over nothing…

Everything felt too…medical. Stifling. Too many reminders of a certain Greenwood Private Hospital and nights spent over-narcotized and memoryless. Dreamless, even. They hadn’t even given him that luxury.

He could at least change that, dammit. He’d lost his cloak in the suddenness of the move (not so much as a warning to grab at least a few things, hm?), but it wasn’t the worst thing that could have vanished. He still had something sharp with him, the sword his best and most trusted companion, that one piece of the Pattern that he still had access to.

It was, understandably, a surprise when he ran face-first into…something keeping him inside the building. First holding him inside the city, now…caging him in here? This place was getting to be more a prison every day he stayed.

Experience here told him that anger was useless, but it should have been frightening. He’d done terrible things to people for less than this—he should have been an unstoppable force—

—only he wasn’t. And that only made him angrier.

After several more attempts at leaving, he finally gave up with an oath and turned to stalk the halls instead, all dark and silver, restlessness hardly abated.

Someone else had to be in here.

littlestcastle.livejournal.com

[Backdated forever because I fail at putting things up on time]

For a long moment, the tablet's visual showed nothing but a grey-white haze, eventually resolving into swirls and billows of smoke. There was the sound of coughing, and a lot of handwaving, and anyone who walked by outside would have seen a small plume of pale smoke streaming through an open window.

Eventually the smoke cleared and a triumphant Alexis appeared on the screen, smiling widely. "I think the smoke bomb worked that time, Mr. Smecker."

eggplantgout.livejournal.com

When people leave here, where do they go?

Jason doesn't feel like getting too personal right now, a text is all anyone is going to get.

patternal.livejournal.com

Corwin should probably find a way to rope his unruly tablet into line. When half the time he seems not to care that it exists, though, that makes things a little difficult, and he’s still subjected to being captured at whatever hour of the day, doing whatever it is he’s decided he’s doing.

At least it looks like he’s found something productive to do. Something that doesn’t involve ruining his blade against a tree and putting it back in order. Now that he has learned a painful lesson in “be careful what you wish for,” he isn’t likely to forget it. And he has a long memory. Whatever the damn hamsters were doing, at least he had something to do to keep himself occupied. Damned if they were going to hear another complaint of boredom out of him.

He has replaced Grayswandir with a simple fencing saber— though the Night Blade isn’t far off, resting on the ground next to a much simpler foil—running through offensive drills of a more formal nature than he had for a long time against no one.

At least he remembered most of them. But then, it was always easier to make things look good when he wasn’t trying to defend himself.

smecker.livejournal.com

For a moment the screen is at a crazy angle, and fingers smeared with blood scrabble over the glass, leaving red messy trails on the broadcast.

Paul Smecker rights the tablet, gives Taxon a visual of his face, paler than normal, dotted with sweat. The hand not holding the tablet is clutching at his neck, and blood is visibly welling out from between his white-knuckled fingers. His shirt collar is damp too, but the astute-eyed may see that it's mostly water, and not quite as bad as it looks.

He's sitting on the floor, leaned back against an overturned table-- a shambles behind him, signs of a struggle however brief. Paul sags against the table, tries to focus. Blood loss, his mind tells him, it's blood loss making him weak, shaky-- (not shock, not panic, not shameful fear over someone he trusted turning on him-- no, not weakness like that), but he has to focus, has to tell people.

"Dawn--" His voice is a croak, he clears his throat, tries again. "Anyone who's watching-- Dawn Summers's... a vampire. Attacked-- bit me..."

Yeah. Yeah, bit him, and the mere thought of that makes him start wanting to hyperventilate. Keep it together, Smecker-- but all he's seeing is an innocent face twisting into a smile out of hell, fangs gleaming. The strength, the speed-- how the fuck do you fight that? All his planning, and... he'd trusted her. Trusted-- stupid, fucking stupid.

"...hey.... Buffy?" Paul rasps. "So's you know-- holy water... works pretty goddamn well."

And then he closes his eyes, leans back against the table and tries to think. The tablet's heavy; he lets that hand lower it to his lap. His other hand is still keeping the pressure on the punctures on his throat; he tries to think, figure if he'd be better lying down or not. Elevates the wound, yeah, but doesn't let blood get to his brain either, hell. Handkerchief-- he's still got one somewhere, right? Pocket-- yes-- he folds the cloth, gets it over the holes in his throat, then lies down on the floor, taking deep breaths.

[OOC: So, I MADE A BOO-BOO, some miscommunication on my part. Paul's not as seriously injured as the initial tags would have suggested-- he won't be unconscious, and will be able to update people as to the situation. Anyone needing to alter their tags in light of that, I will offer you chocolate. Sorry!]

painsinger.livejournal.com

"This shouldn't be happening! It can't be happening!" Stefen hadn't intended to speak out loud, but the frustration and the fear obvious in his voice had, it seemed, other plans aside from stunned silence. Maybe not stunned, if the look of resigned terror on his face said anything--like someone watching their worst nightmare come to life, only they had been expecting it. Nothing was ever simple, and the half of him that was still a child wanted to complain about how unfair this all was, while the half that was more what he should have been--the half that was Master Bard Stefen, performer to the King-- knew that it wouldn't have changed anything if he did.

"Well-guarded, indeed. One moment in Haven, the next here..." Not that he hadn't heard of stranger things happening from the Heralds and with his particularly strong ties to both King Randale and Herald-Mage Vanyel, he was a particularly prime target.

Vanyel.

Oh gods. He had been right. If they knew who he was, it was only a matter of time before the worst happened and if they didn't know how important he was to either, it was only a matter of time before they found out and...

"V-Van...?" But he wasn't really expecting an answer. This place looked too alien, even for the kind of "company" that Van tended to keep. And if the Herald wasn't here, then there was only one real option left--Stefen was being used as leverage. Abducted by some invisible force with some phantom goal in mind. Vanyel had enough enemies that there was no telling what any of them wanted.

It wasn't until he reached up to run a hand through his fiery red hair that he realized that he was still clutching an instrument against his slight body. That added a whole other level of confusing to the situation. This looked enough like a strange prison, so...why was he permitted an instrument? And his favorite, no less.

"R-Rosewood? What are you doing here?" He held her a little more gently against his chest, but she was a small comfort in the face of abduction.

Calm down, Stef. You've had training. Nothing is wrong with Vanyel or you'd know. He closed his green eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He was supposed to be attached to the palace, not dealing with magic or prisons or any of...well, this.

Someone has to be looking for me. Let's face it, at this point I'm too important for someone not to have noticed that I've vanished. But that would only make them--whoever "them" were--try even harder to hide him. After a few moments of silent internal struggle, an oath that would not have been very welcome at Court all but exploded from him and the look on his face turned into a mixture of frustration and rage. There wasn't anything that he was capable of doing to get himself out of this--all he could do was wait to be found.

And that was precisely what he set out to do, dropping to sit on the floor and sulk (even if he would never have called it that) very much like the child that he had barely outgrown.

"Havens..."

nobodylshome.livejournal.com

Caroline set the flat iron down on her sink, shaping one of her blonde curls with her finger. She was frazzled from the night before and the fact that Matt still hadn't answered her messages (it was official - he -was- avoiding her), but that didn't mean she was going to go out looking like a wreck. When she was satisfied with her hair, she turned off her flat iron and unplugged it from the wall. What she had expected was to walk through the door leading into her hallway and to be, well, in her hallway.

That was not how things actually went. Instead, she found herself in an unfamiliar room (if it could be called that at all) on some sort of platform... thingy. Were she less out of her comfort zone, she would have tried to describe it with something less general, but right now 'thingy' would have to do. It described most of what she saw -- especially the weird device above her.

There was something unfamiliar on her arm and looking down revealed it to be a silver bracelet. "Ew, what's this? It's incredibly tacky." Removing it was apparently a no-go, because the bracelet didn't budge. "Is this -stuck- on me? Okay, I don't know what's going on here, but," she fiddled with the bracelet, disgusted that apparently seemed -fused- onto her, "this is definitely not cool." Caroline was aware that she had inevitably bigger problems, but this one seemed manageable and like a good place to start. "How do I get this thing off?"

cametolife

The temporary population influx hadn't gone unnoticed by Liz Parker. It had kept her busy with customers, natives and captives alike, coming and and out of the Crashdown. It was like a Crash Festival week with tourists coming and going as they pleased, crowds of people filling the streets. Though the streets of Taxon were still foreign to her, the sight had given her a sense of nostalgia that almost made her feel comfortable in Taxon. Almost. There was no presence of her parents, trying to manage the crowds, nor was there Michael and the rest of the kitchen staff complaining about the rush, and all the other familiar faces of Roswell.

She missed home.

Now, however, the café was virtually empty. Liz sat at the bar, silver alien antenna headband discarded off to the side as she refilled sugar containers. It didn't really need to be done, but it kept her busy.

"That was actually kind of nice, don't you think? Not that I'm saying those people being brought here, even for a short time, was a good thing at all, but it was different. Made this place feel livelier, for a little while."

slayersidekick

It's taken Willow a really, really long time to work up the courage to make this broadcast, and even when she convinces herself she can't wait any longer, she still has to have some measure of comfort. Colette, her calico kitten, is tucked in her lap, purring contentedly as Willow leans back against the back of the chair she's sitting in. She's in her bedroom, the one she shares with Tara, and she looks nervous as she flicks on the feed.

"Uh, hi, Taxon!" She's using a falsely bright tone at the moment, because it's easier than acknowledging the fear and worry she's trying to keep at bay. Come on, Willow. You can do this.

"I-I know most of you probably know me by now, but, uh, if you don't, my name's Willow and I've been here for a couple of months now."

Pause. Breathe. Stroke the cat for comfort.

"What I really wanted to talk about is... my glitch a couple of months ago. Back in February. I know it's been a really long time and words aren't gonna make up for everything, but... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Well, yes, actually she had, but that was her glitched self, so that doesn't count at all.

"I'm a witch and I have some really powerful magic. I just... I'm learning how to control it so that doesn't happen again. My magic's just a part of me and I-I'm... sorry any of that happened."

Before she can beat herself up any more, she switches the feed off and waits to see how the rest of Taxon responds to her apology. Castle Summers residents can find her in her room. She'll be happy for visitors.

Current Music: Reina - If I Close My Eyes | Powered by Last.fm

littlestcastle.livejournal.com

The tablet flickers on, and there's a glimpse of Alexis on the roof of a building before she turns the tablet away and points it at the roof. The camera angle jumps a few times, as if Alexis is fiddling with something, then the camera flies out into the air, jumping wildly for a moment before its descent is slowed by a whoosh of wind. The tablet sways a couple of times, sometimes showing a visual of the nearby buildings, sometimes showing a cage built of straight wooden rods and string.

The tablet descends gently until it hits the steps of the Taxon library, then it bounces a couple of times and comes to rest against a rock. The view shows the rock for a few minutes, then a shot of Alexis running up, then a closeup of her feet before it turns off.

patternal.livejournal.com

Corwin has definitely learned his lesson in “be careful what you wish for,” and instead of wandering the city aimlessly and complaining about how dull it is here (or hacking at trees), he’s managed to find something to occupy himself with.

He has always enjoyed the company of books—something about being surrounded with so many words had a calming effect that nothing else could even come close to matching. He spent a good deal of time simply wandering through the shelves and taking in the smell of them. It had been a long time since he’d been near so many. Too much to do…

It took a lot longer than it might have before he finally made his decision, sliding an obviously old, rather thick, and doubtless dry piece of literature off the shelf it sat on and retreated to a chair to sit and read it, cigarette in hand that he rapidly forgot about, lost as he was in the world of words.

And all of it for the enjoyment of the tablet. Evidently, it didn’t like him today.

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Spencer drained the spaghetti as Kate was putting the finishing touches on the sauce. He glanced back at their small table, now hastily set for three. They would need a bigger table if Alexis was going to stay permanently. The apartment was cozy with two, but a bit small with three, even though Alexis had been staying in the spare bedroom.

He placed the bowl of spaghetti on the table and gave Alexis a smile. From the few days that he'd known her, she seemed like a very bright, considerate and driven girl, and he was eager to get to know her a bit better. Spencer sat down next to her and placed his napkin in his lap as Kate brought the sauce over.

"That looks good."

Unconsciously, he placed his hand on Kate's thigh as she sat down, rubbing her gently. Having Alexis around would take some getting used to. He hoped that this dinner would be the first of many "family" dinners they would have. Spencer served Kate some spaghetti before offering it to Alexis.

thenormalsquint

Sweetie, I love you, but no. You can't leave the chapter off at that.

[It's just another day in the Montenegro-Brennan household. There's the clickity-clack of Brennan at her trusty computer, the lazy voice of Angela throwing in her well-meaning opinions, and the sound of... grunting?]

What do you mean, Angela? I personally fail to see anything wrong with it. [As usual, Brennan sounds completely mystified.]

Everything is wrong with it. Bren, Andy and Kathy are alone. In her apartment. Late at night. Normal people don't talk about bones. They talk about sex. And then do it. [A pause and then Angela laughs.] Or they talk about boners and then do it. Either way, drop the science and add some passion. Hot, screaming, your-clothes-are-in-the-way-so-I'll-just-rip-them-off passion.

What evidence do you have to support such a hypothesis? Because it's clearly incorrect. I am often alone with Booth in my apartment late at night and we usually talk strictly about the cases only without ever having engaged in sexual intercourse. [Brennan pauses, before adding in a somewhat suspicious tone of voice:] Are you intoxicated, Angela?

[For a moment, there's silence on Angela's part as she considers the possibility that the glass of wine that's keeping her company might have her brain a little screwed up.]

Maybe? More horny than drunk actually, but that doesn't matter. What does matter is that I have a fantastic move for Andy to pull on Kathy. Remember that thing I told you Hodgins did to me once that had the neighbors calling the police? Instant orgasm for Kathy, instant bestseller for you.

[There are some more grunting and strange scraping sounds that are followed by a quiet growl, the noise drowning out the beginning of Brennan's response.] --sure if I'm entirely comfortable using a sexual maneuver that Hodgins obviously favors in my novel. Isn't exposing something so personal a little... underhanded?

[Suddenly, the feed turns from audio to visual to audio and back to visual again. Through the smeared view is Angela draped over the arm of the couch, legs splayed open in an obvious interpretation of this so-called epic move with Brennan sitting across from her.]

Underhanded, overhanded, who cares? Hodgins will totally take it as an ego stroke. He likes that sort of-- [Her legs drop down to the couch cushions as Angela pushes herself up into a sitting position, a suspicious look on her face.] Sweetie, did you give Tuesday something to eat?

No. [Brennan looks up from the laptop screen, glancing at Angela before turning her head towards the noises coming from the floor-level somewhere. Staring towards the tablet that is recording all of this, Brennan states the obvious as she is wont to do.] Your dog is eating the tablet. Is that yours or mine?

[The dog in question lets the tablet fall to the ground with a clatter, switching the feed back to audio, with all her glorious puppy panting aimed right into the mic. How... cute.]

Mine, I think. [A pause and then the soft thump of Angela flopping back onto the sofa.] Let her have it. If we're lucky, she'll break yours too.

[After a moment of nothing more than puppy panting, Brennan speaks up decisively.] Agreed.

thenerdangel

“I understand.”

Castiel left the Winchesters in dampened spirits to clean up Crowley’s mess, but it took painful effort to do it. He was tired and fed-up. If he had a choice, he would much rather remain on Earth than return to the war in Heaven.

But where he ended up wasn’t where he’d set out to go. He looked down at the metal floor beneath his feet and glanced further afield to realise he was standing upon a raised platform. Not that it was easy to tell from the usual sombre expression, but Castiel wasn’t exactly impressed. “Interesting,” he said flatly, titling his head at the foreign technology and squinting curiously, and although most electronic devices were strange and unfamiliar to him, even he couldn’t miss the fact something wasn’t right. He tried to transport himself to the originally intended location, but nothing happened. “Ah. The power that lies here is beyond my understanding. This is…inconvenient.”

Slowly stepping around the platform, every footfall echoing around the chamber, he reached out to examine the structural materials. And that’s when he noticed the bracelet. “This is strange.” He looked around, seeing more than the average human, but it didn’t make him any the wiser. “Show yourselves. I have a prior engagement and wish to leave immediately.”

Receiving no response, he decided to explore the room further, chuntering to himself. “There’s no need for apologies. We’re your friends,” he mimicked Dean’s words bitterly in a voice that sounded an awful lot like his regular one. “I endured the indignation of being tricked into assisting them, as if I owe more than I’ve already offered, and this is the thanks that I get.” The fact that he couldn’t leave, nor could he overpower whatever was keeping him there, was beginning to irritate him on top of everything else. “You are beginning to try my patience. As an angel of the Lord, I must insist that you release me at once.”

littlestcastle.livejournal.com

Alexis glanced at her phone as she hurried down the stairs to the subway station. “I'm going to be so late,” she fretted, dodging around an older man with an oversized briefcase as she dialed a number on the phone. She swiped her subway pass and scooted through the turnstile as the phone rang, and rang, until it clicked to voicemail. “Oh hey, Justin! I just wanted to call to let you know that I'm running a little late for our violin lesson toda--”

The rest of her message died in her throat as, between one step and the next, the familiar confines of the New York subway system became something completely different, a seamless expanse of sterile, featureless steel.

Alexis gaped, mouth still slightly open. “Hello?” she finally asked. “My name is Alexis Castle. Can anybody tell me where I am? Or how I got here?”

Her own words echoed back at her, and Alexis chewed her bottom lip as she fumbled with her phone, hitting her dad's number on speed dial without any conscious thought. She didn't wait for him to pick up; if she had, she would have realized the phone wasn't ringing, but finding herself in a strange room when she had two seconds before been in the crowded subway station made Alexis less than rational. “Dad? Are you there? I need you to come get me, I think I'm in trouble,” she said, trying her best to sound calm, though it was hard to hide the edge of hysteria, the rising panic in her voice. “I was on my way home, in the subway station, but now I'm not, I'm in a little round room and there isn't anything here--” A pause, as she notices for the first time a podium with a device resting on it. Her voice quavers as she continues, “Except a podium, and I'm getting scared, Dad. Can you come get me?”