taxonomites | Entries tagged with { angel

a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com

Drusilla rarely dreamed for the sake of dreaming. Though the future could be pleasant enough, the fragments that crept into her head while she slept were generally too disjointed to be genuinely enjoyable. Putting the pieces together took effort and keeping things secret ... well, that was enough to tire anyone. Even her.

She missed them when they weren't there, though. In fact, waking up to find that her head was as empty as her bed - no pretty boys or delicate girls to devour for breakfast, no dolls to lavish with attention, no companion to share her darkest heart with - was enough to send a shiver up her spine. She didn't like it.

Where had she gone? She couldn't remember leaving the city, but, at the same time, knew that she must have been somewhere else.

If the hamsters had invited her to a party, they should have let her keep the favours.

The vampire stretched, slipping out of the tangled silk sheets and walking to the window. It was night. Cool and soft and false. Some things would never change.

She picked up her tablet. That hadn't changed, either. She didn't like technology, but at least familiar technology could be watched. She knew how to make sure that it didn't bite her when her back was turned.

"I hope someone remembered to tend Miss Edith," she said, by way of greeting.

She hoped they'd missed her.

comprehender.livejournal.com

It's hot. Really really hot, and River isn't used to it in the slightest. Wasn't it snowing a few days ago? Does it matter?

Even prone to a certain level of sleep paranoia (thanks, alien abduction), she's been catching naps during the hottest parts of the day if only because it's too hot to do much of anything else. She did not expect to wake up from one of these naps in a cushy bed with her tablet on.

In a cushy bed with a lukewarm person in it next to her.

She turns, slow and tense, to see if she's somehow woken up to a new adventure in dead bodies when she suddenly recognizes who it is.

What was panic a few moments ago is now pure, unadulterated frustration.

"You have got to be kidding me." A beat passes with a sigh and the jingling of an inspected chain. "At least we aren't getting electrocuted."

The sound of that particular voice snaps him into immediate consciousness, and Angel looks over at the girl lying next to him, then down at the chain linking their wrists.

"...they should've killed that hamster."

River just rolls her eyes. And so it begins.

eggplantgout.livejournal.com

[Jason is in what used to be Sookie's house next door, sitting at the kitchen table. He looks confused and guilty, like he had committed a serious offense but can't remember what it is though he is determined to make up for it.]

Sook's gone. Like, taken by the aliens and won't be back no more gone. Loki's still gone too.

All the people I know best keep disappearing. What am I doin' wrong by the city?

herotypical

There is a saying: I'll sleep when I'm dead. Or maybe that's a Bon Jovi song. Either way -- Buffy is not currently dead but she is currently asleep; however, she has tended to do a bit more of the former than the later in her so far brutal but miraculously long (for a Slayer) life. And while asleep, the Slayer dreams. Terrible, horrible dreams that aren't so much dreams as memories. Recollections of girls from other times. Most often, Buffy sees how they died. Perhaps she should alter that saying to they'll die while I sleep.

Dreary thoughts.

But the morning breaks and Buffy shuts her eyes even tighter against the prospect of facing yet another day in this prison city. Maybe she can talk Dawn into going shopping although things had been turbulent with the younger sister since...well, she doesn't want to think about sleeping with Angel right now. That is the bad kind of thought-path that leads to smiles and relapses. And she wants neither of those things right now.

Except...except the memory of being with her ex is so fresh that she could almost imagine feeling his glitched human warmth under the covers next to her. Haunting, that. Buffy recoils from the phantom sensation only to find a sort of dead weight dragged with her. Huh. Peculiar...

"Holy sh--" Her eyes open and yes, dear Lord, there is a someone in bed with her. A someone who she recognizes but that recognition is second to the horror of someone being in bed with her.

Buffy yanks rather magnificently away from Glitch; the silver chain between them only managed to bring them closer as she found the co-inhabitor of the bed was now incriminatingly tangled up with her. And her tablet -- once perched precariously on the pillow next to her -- was now blinking a steady gleam of activation. Broadcasting her humiliation to the whole damn city only she couldn't quite reach it at the moment...

"What the Hell are you doing in my bed?" Oh, honey. It's not your bed.

The yanking and the yelling was enough to rouse Glitch, who gave an annoyed grumble which transformed into a yelp as he got tangled up with sheets, chain, and Slayer. He blinked, horrified, and tried flailing in a (for the moment futile) attempt to extricate himself. “Oh gods, I’m sorry! This is…I don’t…”

Ozma, he was in bed with a woman half his age. The inappropriateness was horrifying.

(ooc; reply to either or both! expect threadjacks! have fun! remain indoors!

undoing.livejournal.com

It had been a long time since Angel had stepped foot in a church without having to be constantly mindful of what he touched. He knew the 'safe' areas like the back of his hand: the wood of the pews, table tops and other objects that were seldom blessed. Now, however, while he was human and without the restrictions put on him by the demon he'd been bound to, he could touch whatever he wanted without fear of harm.

And he did, running his palms along the dulled edges of a cross that stood taller than him, set off to the side of the ambulatory. He was tempted to move it to stand in the center before the choir where it ought to be, but this was Taxon and he doubted any of this meant anything to their hamster overlords. This all meant something to him, once upon a time. Before the vampire he'd become had twisted the faith he held as a human into a cruel mockery of it.

"I shouldn't be here," he declared suddenly, hands falling away as he took a step back. He didn't leave, though. He just stood there, staring.

Two hundred and fifty-four years was a long time.

a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com

While Drusilla slept on the silk sheets that Angel had promised her, the figure reflected in her window pane - a girl who was both like and unlike the vampire - said her prayers.

Her lips barely moved as she murmured her supplications up to heaven. They were secrets, her prayers. Secrets that weren't for the ears of anyone but the Lord. (It was strange, wasn't it? The girl gave her heart and her trust to the same deity who had, in another life, abandoned her to the clutches of the devil.) The rosary clutched in her pale hand was worn with use and with piety.

The Drusilla on the bed wore red. In the right light, it looked as if she was a corpse in a pool of fresh blood, stark against the snowy sheets.

The Drusilla in the glass wore a coarse nun's habit. In any light, she glowed with virtue.

It was the life that she could have lived. The person that she could have been. She rarely dreamed of such things - the pixies whispered of the future, not the futures that had never been able to come to pass - and, when the sudden sharpness of the reflection pierced her head, Drusilla woke with a start. For a moment, she gazed - wide eyed and unblinking - at the window.

"No."

She snatched up the lamp that stood on the table next to her new bed, throwing it without hesitation. The glass shattered and the girl disappeared before she'd had a chance to ask for forgiveness for the sins that her other self had committed.

"I'm not sorry," she snarled, addressing the broken window and the shadow that had stood there, "I'm not sorry."

faderbroderson

The tablet switched on when Godric flipped Faith over in bed, his bared fangs a marked contrast to the playful, lusty grin that displayed them. He laughed as Faith swore at him, grinning and laughing herself, all teeth and fire. She sought to overpower him, and after some struggling that could better be called mutual groping, he allowed it. She straddled his hips victoriously, rocking them together, Godric's hands moving to hold her waist. The bunched duvet and piles of furs concealed a lot from view, but Faith's breasts were proudly bared for the camera.

Someone might want to tell them this isn't a private event anymore, not that they'll be particularly bothered.

[OOC: Uh, porn warning goes here, obviously. THERE IS PORN IN HERE, OK. :>]

theextras.livejournal.com

Word has it, Taxon, that there's going to be a party. These rumors are not untrue, for one

slaying has arranged something of a get together for the Fourth of July. Unfortunately, the Extras have caught wind of this soirée and are already in the presence of crashing it, rocking those holey jeans and chilling with some Lynyrd Skynyrd and good ol' Hank Williams. This is their kind of party.

Don't let them have all the fun. The sun is getting low, so get on out here and get your party on before fireworks start lighting up the faux night sky.

herotypical

"So," Buffy Summers addresses the tablet network with her very best not-so-large-but-totally-in-charge voice. She has a smile on her face; she is feeling not so bad at all. So a few pieces of strange news had filtered her way of late -- she could deal in her most classic of dealing ways. Distraction. Specifically? A party-shaped distraction. "There's a beach."

She quirks an eyebrow and pauses for a somewhat dramatic effect. "There is a beach and Monday is July 4th. So we might not all be red-white-and-blue-blooded here but...seriously, Taxon? Are you gonna turn down a party? 'Cause I wouldn't. I'm thinking big time barbecue fun out by the water. I'm thinking fireworks. And I'm thinking wicked loud music. Can I get witness, here?"

Buffy settles the tablet gently against the vanity table in her bedroom -- leaning her chin on one hand. "Any and all help will be appreciated. Be there or be beyond square. Bronte Beach, July 4th. Noonish? It's a date, Taxon."

[ then there follows a locked text message to angel: ]

i expect you there -- considering all those flashy working taste-buds you're now boasting.

undoing.livejournal.com

His son had been right, everything was different. The hotel had once been in Speares and was now located in Osten, southwest of it's previous location. Perhaps he should've checked the map before he went looking for it, so he could have avoided a tram ride with a bunch of Extras to the more southern district, his car attached to the hotel that wasn't where it should be. It'd been located in Speares for the better part of two years, since the day he arrived in Taxon; having it be in Osten was going to take some getting used to.

Angel wasn't a fan of change, but he would manage. He would have to, in more ways than one.

Sleep had been hard to come by while trapped in the Sanctuary, so that was what the vampire first indulged in upon returning home. Taxon wasn't home and would never be home, but this hotel was the closest thing he'd had to a real home in very, very long time. He slept better in the hotel than he did in most places he'd lived over the past three centuries, and last night was no exception. He slept soundly, without tossing or turning, and only rose when the artificial sunlight from the fake Taxon sun crept in through the windows.

He rose like the morning was no different from any other, oblivious to the tablet he'd discarded on shelf catching him sliding out of the sheets to stretch the stiffness of sleep out of his muscles before he got up from the bed entirely. (With a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants on, thank you. He's not sleeping in the nude after the lack of clothing debacle of weeks prior.)

It's a day back on par with the pattern of others, rise and get--

Wait.

Angel paused in mid-step, just past the line of view of a mirror popped up on top of one of the dressers. The thing was useless when it came to function, but it was a priceless antique he hadn't felt comfortable with leaving in the lobby after that weekend of excess visitors. He'd stored it up here temporarily, not expecting to ever see anything in it. Anything.

So, why was it that he could see himself?

"...you have got to be kidding me." He edged closer, eying his image and the visible scaring, both seemingly recent and old and faded, on his chest and arms from wounds that had been healed by primordial magics no person should dare dabble in, especially not a vampire turned human and his ghost of a liaison. "I really hate this place."

( ooc | human!angel, as touched upon in this ooc post. specifically, the human he was in hell during after the fall. )

prophecy-boy.livejournal.com

Over the past several days, Connor had made a habit of routinely checking each exit as he passed, having taken to wandering and exploring the furthest corners of the Sanctuary, just in case their situation had changed. He had heard Wesley say something once about the definition of insanity, performing the same task over and over and expecting different results. Well. He felt that in this particular situation, he should be exempt from such a label. After all. The aliens had implied that the relocation was temporary, or so the initial message on the tablet when he had first woken up there had lead him to believe.

Still, he was surprised when one door actually gave way during his morning rounds. He stared down at his hand a moment before giving the door another push, and when it swung freely, he darted through it and into the sunlight that bathed the front facade of the building, welcoming its warmth after being shut indoors for so long. Being confined had never agreed with him, really. Reaching for his tablet, he quickly fumbled his way through the video settings and started the feed.

"I found a door that opened for me. I'm outside now. I think we might all be able to leave." He glanced upwards then, and something struck him as odd -- the distinct cityscape in front of the Sanctuary had changed.

"Um," he went on, eloquent as always. "It looks different out here."

whoneedsrules.livejournal.com

Katherine is hungry. Scratch that, she’s starving. Being stuck in the Sanctuary with the rest of the captives has put a serious damper on feeding and keeping it a secret. The kitchens are too public, and Katherine, ever distrustful, doesn’t put it past those law-enforcement types (or anyone wishing to track Taxon’s vampire population) to somehow keep an eye on them. That’s what she’d do, if the roles were reversed. No, it’s too risky to attempt taking any blood herself, considering the recent spike in the anti-vampire mentality. She hadn’t made it to be over five hundred years by being stupid or careless. Obviously she can’t even think about breaking her "straight from the vein" ban – but oh, how badly she’s tempted to. There is hardly a thing more appealing to a hungry vampire than all these warm bodies in such close proximity that she can hear the beats of their hearts, circulating that sweet blood she’s craving for.

Well. She’d just have to come up with something else.

Leaving Stefan's room on the seventh floor that she'd claimed as hers, too, Katherine wanders the hallways towards one of the kitchens, dressed in pale pink pajamas she’d managed to find from the storage earlier – hardly her usual color, but beggars can’t be choosers. If nothing else works, the vampire considers compelling some poor fool to fetch her some blood; her and Stefan, of course. She flashes a quick, pleasant smile to a random passerby, brown eyes flickering to their throat just for a brief second. Yes, she needs to feed soon.

Perhaps she’d bump into her "poor fool" candidate somewhere along the way.

slayersidekick

It's been a few days, but still, Willow is officially Not. Pleased. Too many things have happened in too short a time. Added to that the little encounter she had with an actual hamster alien and she is angry. The days have not cooled off her temper. In fact, the added time has just made it worse. People have been hurt lately, two of her friends in a close span of time, and as the resident witch, she's starting to think this is going to be her job to sort out. Just what she wanted.

So, she camps out in the library and flips open her tablet, forgetting for a moment what the crackling of her power is going to be doing to her physical appearance. Her hair is still red, clothes still normal, but her eyes are pitch black and when people start to arrive, anyone with any kind of ability to sense power will be able to feel the magic coursing through her. This is a witch not to be messed with.

And when in doubt, blame the hamsters. It's always their fault.

"Okay, whatever is going on needs to stop. I don't like this prison within a prison thing and I don't think anyone else does. And too many people are getting hurt. So. We're going to stop it. I've talked to one of the hamsters. Not long, but it was enough. I want a longer talk. If anyone's interested, meet me in the library on the fifth floor. I have an idea."

[ ooc: the official planning post is HERE. I just figure she'd be the one to get this ball rolling! Library comment thread / tracking down the hamster will come once I figure out interest. (there will be links once comment threads get posted.) Feel free to just respond to her post (if you don't want to turn up for the meeting) or just turn up at the library. She will respond either way.

Let me know if this works / doesn't work for people, hit up the planning post so we can figure things up and tag in over here as you see fit! ]

Current Music: Krypteria - Sweet Revenge | Powered by Last.fm

undoing.livejournal.com

Angel's not very good at public relations. He hates dealing with public relations. This is why Cordelia always handled people, and why he had a department to handle that when he was running Wolfram & Hart. Something, however, needs to be said before things get out of line. And if he doesn't say it, who will?

Here goes nothing.

"If we wanted to eat you, we would've already," is probably not the best way to start this, but it's certainly one way to get everyone's attention. "Most of the vampires here in Taxon have been here for a long time, some of us pushing a year, others two. The only evidence you'll find against us can be placed during times when we were glitched. None of us can control that. If anyone's at fault for the things we've done while glitched, it's the hamsters. If we're to be held accountable for those actions, then by that logic, you should be, too, for the things you've done when glitched out of your mind and acting on impulses that you've otherwise got under control.

"I'm not saying that your fear isn't justified or that you don't have reason to be cautious. You do. We're predators, specifically designed to hunt you down. The point is that we don't. Letting paranoia and fear control you is only going to make things worse. We want to survive as much as you do; getting rid of our means of survival is not paying us the same respect we're paying you.

"Many of us have been around a long time. We haven't lived this long by being so stupid as to do what you expect of us. Most worlds have vampires that have gone unnoticed, because we don't get involved or cause trouble... with a few exceptions here and there." Like him, back in the day before that gypsy curse. "Leave us alone and we'll leave you alone. There's no reason to ruin how well we've been cohabitating in Taxon, just because we're all stuck in the same building. If anything, we should be working together to find a way out."

( ooc | i'm heading out the door to a concert, but wanted to get this up before i left. will hit tags when i get home later tonight. ♥ )

cheerioless.livejournal.com

Quinn hasn't been a big fan of making visual posts, but now she does so out of necessity. She can't think straight enough to text anyone, like Kurt or Lex, or even Willow or Elena. The rational part of her brain won't even let her think about Stefan right now, the possibilities after what just happened are to horrifying. She feels worse than she's ever felt in her life, and she is beyond terrified.

When she gets the visual transmission to work, the screen is shaking. She is sitting on the floor of the ladies washroom at the Taxon Mall, her head propped up against the stall. She's pale, very pale, her hair is a mess but what stands out the most is the blood and two puncture marks on her neck.

Quinn opens her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Suddenly she drops the tablet, maybe the adrenaline is finally wearing off, or the loss of blood has finally hit her. Viewers will just be able to make out her shaking hand in the frame as she tries to pick it up, and hear her wimpering slightly.

When she finally manages to do so, she pulls her knees to her chest and rests the tablet there.

"Could..." her voice falters slightly and she swallows hard, looking like she might pass out at any moment "...help?"

[ooc: So in other words, while at the mall Quinn got attacked by glitched!Rose, luckily or unluckily Quinn didn't manage to see Rose's face. Backdated to a short bit after Rose's post.. DUN DUN DUN!]

eventextras.livejournal.com

It's around five o'clock in the morning when the citizens of Taxon find themselves inexplicably transported into rooms within the Sanctuary. Doors are left open and beds unmade, food abandoned and lights left on, still shining brightly for those who were awake and are no longer present. The Extras don't seem to notice the captive population's sudden disappearance, continuing on with their business as usual.

For those relocated, though, it's an entirely different story.

They find themselves in rooms with white, alabaster walls that gives them an almost too-clean feeling, as if the entire place was sanitized prior to their arrival. The room assignments are seemingly random, people placed on floors with those they don't know and don't like, people they would rather not be within twenty feet of. It matters not, for what's done is done and cannot be undone. For those who happen to have pets, they'll find them waiting for their owners in the rooms as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

The only thing the captives have managed to bring with them is the clothes on their back and the tablets. On them, they find the following message:

SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY WHILE WE ADDRESS CERTAIN TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

Unfortunately for those who try to find a means of escape, they'll discover there is none. Leaving the Sanctuary will prove to be as difficult as leaving Taxon itself. However, if one heads down the right corridor and the right floor, they'll find something else entirely lurking in their midst...

( ooc | sorry for the delay in posting! your mods were otherwise occupied with things of the irl variety this morning. THIS BE A PARTY POST, Y'ALL. room assignments are here, and refer back to the sott post proper for any additional information. please contact us with any questions/concerns you may have in regards to this plot. ♥ )

taintedrose

( cut for IC background to the glitch )

She was currently pacing around her place, unaware of her tablet recording her every moments. Rose looks tired, pale and unsteady with a light sheen of perspiration all over her body. If you looked close enough you would see the rather angry looking mark on her left shoulder when she turned; it resembles something like faint claw marks.

Glass of scotch in hand, she plops down on the couch before she realises that her tablet had been recording. She frowns a little.

"You've caught me on an off day, Taxon. Lucky me."

((ooc: There you have it! First part of Rose's glitch. My apologies for only posting it now, RL got the best of me! Her next part will come in a few days time in which she'll be far worse than she is now!))

eventextras.livejournal.com

Somewhere in Wilde there is a flower shop. Every day at noon an Extra man enters this shop, picks up a bouquet of red roses and has the following conversation with the Extra clerk:

“I would like to buy these roses.”

“Are they for your girlfriend?”

“Yes, I hope she’ll like them.”

The transaction takes place, and the Extras go about their programmed business. On this particular day, however, there is a difference in the discussion as new programming is implemented:

“I would like to buy these krzfup.”

“Prl fkjn segknm gogfaf?”

“Aekmn goksn sdokng.”

This happens now throughout the city, language degenerating into nonsense babble even as Extras continue on as if they don’t even notice it. After five minutes of incomprehensibility it’s abruptly cut off and the city is consumed by silence. Not a word or a whisper or a peep is to be heard.

As if on cue, the tablets now only support text transmissions, with any attempts at visual, voice, or holo leading right back to the little tablet typing screen with cursor blinking in anticipation.

Enjoy the silence, Taxon. You’ll have a lot of it to go around.

[ ooc: And so begins the language glitch! Remember, five minutes of gibberish followed by everyone being completely unable to speak. We'll be making another post when the next part of the glitch begins, and if you have and questions or concerns don't hesitate to let us know! ]

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.

prophecy-boy.livejournal.com

He was sure something with the ritual had gone wrong. Not that there was much that could go right, he corrected himself, the sick, heavy feeling that had settled in his stomach so many hours beforehand still refusing to let up. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting and scenery; he had gone from a dark warehouse with the windows boarded up and rusted meathooks hanging from the ceiling to… this. He couldn’t think of how to describe it. It was so different from anything he’d seen before, even since coming to Los Angeles – bright, metallic and utterly foreign.

“Cordy? Can you hear me?” He cringed as the sound of his voice echoed back. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Connor looked up, attempting to process his surroundings. What was that up there? He shook his head, causing his already mussed hair to fall in front of his eyes as he moved forward, almost tripping down the first step before taking the rest down to the floor without incident. He had to find some way out; things were happening back at that warehouse and Angel was due to arrive any minute, he would have to fight him to keep him from interfering – or keep him from getting hurt, he wasn’t sure which now. Maybe he was here because of the ritual, maybe Cordelia had sent him away... except that didn’t make sense. Not after everything she had done to make sure he stayed close.

It must have backfired somehow. … hmph. That was the price of relying so heavily on magic.

“I guess weirder things than this happened,” he muttered to himself, his eyes finally accustomed to the brightness. Another look around revealed there was no exit that he could see. There was, however, a pedestal a few steps ahead of him with some device on it. He frowned as he examined it as best he could from where he was standing.

Usually, it didn’t pay to touch something if you didn’t know what it was. Especially not if magic was involved. It wasn’t quite as foreign as the rest of the room, however, and he took a few steps closer to get a better look at it.

“… kind of looks like a video game,” he thought aloud. The more he talked aloud, the more that heavy feeling in his stomach abated. Maybe it was best not to think about what had happened at the – no. No way. He couldn’t just cut and run like that. “… nevermind. Can’t waste time here. I have to get back.”

It was a great plan, except for the part where there was no door. He scowled and cupped his hands against either side of his mouth to help his voice project, turning his face upwards as he shouted. “Can anyone hear me? Get me out of here!”

If nobody answered, that meant it was just time to start punching walls. He’d punched his way through the barrier of a hell dimension. He could definitely punch his way through a regular wall. … eventually.