taxonomites | Entries tagged with { briar moss

Morning sun spills into a welcoming kitchen and onto a plant mage. Briar has his sleeves rolled up, a grin on his face, and more food surrounding him than even he can possibly eat before it goes bad. "As you can all plainly see," he announces, "I got a little carried away in the garden this spring. I could use some help. Of the eating variety, though if any of you want to join me in my kitchen or take vegetables back to your own, that'd be welcomed too."

Still smiling, he finishes the thought as he starts slicing vegetables. "I'll be cooking whatever I can think of to do with ingredients I've got on hand, and I'll have some tables outside if anyone in the city would like to join me for a celebration this evening."

( Private to Ashley Magnus )

---

That evening, Briar is ready. He has a big table set up for food and covered both with dishes he's made and enough empty space to accommodate should anyone bring more. Many of the dishes made by Briar are primarily vegetables considering his food source, but some meats are available as well.

Smaller tables with plain benches line the edge of the garden, and people are free to move from table to table and choose who to sit with.

Even if Briar isn't telling most of his guests what they're celebrating, he knows, and it feels right that it be in the garden. After all, his chosen birthday is the anniversary of the day Rosethorn first invited him into hers.

---

((Anyone is welcome, and you're also welcome to use it as a party-style log. Characters can tag each other, ~~take opportunities to see loved ones before the mods whisk them all away...~~ I'll get subthreads set up for everything.))

sourcebloodaughter

It’s close to the end. Ashley can feel their hold on her loosening and she’s fighting it harder than ever. Her movements are jerky and far less easy than they had been previously. She’s taken to hiding herself when she feels bouts of control seeping back to her, but it’s not enough and it’s not permanent. On the last day, she’s still wandering the streets, but she’s not actively searching for anyone. Cabal Ashley wants a fight. Sane Ashley wants it to end. With luck, she’ll come across someone who can end it, even if that someone is the form of a tiny dragon.

------------------

Later on, once everything is over, she holes up in her apartment, keeping the door locked as she doesn’t really want to talk to anyone. It’s too hard to face everything right now and she’d rather be alone. Instead, she sends out a couple of text messages.

To the whole of Taxon:
Sorry about what happened. I wasn’t exactly myself, but I am now.

To everyone she met while glitched:
...Really sorry about that. Is everyone okay? If you’re looking for answers, I’ll give what I can, but it’s not a fun story.

To Kitten, Nikola, Briar, Buffy, DG:
...Thanks.

To Briar, James:
...Are you busy?

To Arthur:
Consider this the text you asked me to send.

[ and thus ends ashley’s glitch! The top part is for kitten only, but the rest is open for anyone. people are welcome to try to find her afterwards, but she won't be very open to seeing a lot of people so soon. ]

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! ]

sourcebloodaughter

The tablets click on in the middle of the night, when Ashley is sound asleep. There's no real light shining into her top bunk space so there's not much to see aside from darkness, but the sounds of a struggle can definitely be heard. It's not enough for her to be yelling, and really she's not making any vocal noises, but she's clearly shifting against the sheets. Violently.

In her dream world, she's reliving some of the worst memories of her life, being trapped and genetically engineered. She can clearly see that tank where she spent six weeks of her life, the scientist on the other side injecting something into the water, the table where she lay for so long-

Ashley awakens with a loud cry, flinging her arms everywhere to get the feeling of being trapped away and knocking her tablet off its stand. It crashes to the floor - the far down, first "story" floor - and turns off. Ashley takes a little longer to gather herself before she climbs down to retrieve it and send one very heavily locked text to a few people she knows can help with this.

locked to DG, Buffy, Nikola, and Briar.

Hey. I need to talk to you. It's important. Sooner rather than later on this one.

/lock

Knowing full well they likely wouldn't reply until the morning, she grabs her weapons, tucking her tablet into her pocket, and decides to go hunting for something to knock the terrible Cabal taste out of her mouth. Maybe this place had a shooting range or something she could make use of.

skysung

Kitten had hesitated to visit the zoo. For anyone who can understand the speech of animals, zoos are exceedingly unhappy places unless they are constructed with the animals' natural habitats in mind. She is relatively pleasantly surprised by Taxon's zoo, but then, she supposes that the aliens are used to adding amenities to their prisons.

Then she reaches a section that makes her skin crawl in the same way Ozorne's menagerie had. Unicorns. Not killer unicorns, even, but their far from malicious cousins. Winged apes not in league to anyone and wishing to fly free.

Kitten screeches. She holds back just long enough to listen to the creatures for a moment, to get a clearer idea of whether they would be peaceful when released. As soon as she is satisfied they will be, Kitten takes action.

With a low croak, she shatters the locks on their cages, the entrances to their enclosures swinging open.

Unicorns and flying monkeys flee from their prisons-within-the-prison, free to at least travel the larger enclousure of the city itself. And then, to protect her new acquaintances, Kitten turns to the tablet.

She slowly types a message, switches to visual mode long enough to whistle for everyone's attention, then transmits what she has to say.

I am aware that many of you will be concerned at the appearance of winged monkeys in the skies of Taxon, considering recent events. Be advised that those currently flying throughout the city are not in service to anyone. They have no desire to harm humans, and should you attack them unprovoked, I will see it as an attack on an innocent and respond accordingly. It is bad enough that we are all trapped within the large prison of the city. I see no need to leave magical creatures imprisoned in an even smaller cage, not unless they are a threat to others present here. Neither the unicorns nor the winged apes released today should pose such a threat.

((OOC: Feel free to use this as a party style post! Tag each other, encounter the newly released creatures around the city, respond to Kitten's network post, have fun finding out that you can't get near the unicorns unless you're a virgin, etc.))

hasaheart

You can say a lot about one Wyatt Cain. For instance, you could say that when he cleans up, he cleans up good. After weeks of neglect in favor of focusing all his attention on other people's varied amounts of crap, most notably Paul's, and then Glitch and DG's (and their particular mess had proved not only difficult to deal with, but highly disturbing on several planes, emotional and spiritual) during which Wyatt had simply opted to let less important things slide, he was finally feeling ready to get himself in gear. The less important things like shaving every morning (which was usually a staple where his routines were concerned), or like making himself get a hair cut every three or four (or five) weeks and trusting the Extra barber not to slit his throat...well. That'd have to change. Nothing like routine to get him up in the morning. Yes. Routine.

But, DG's and Glitch's heap of troubles squared away, he had some unfinished business of his own to take care of, and, as previously noted, it's the sort of business that requires a bit of neatening up. He could only hope that they'd sort the rest of it out themselves. Simply put, he'd have to trust that they knew what was best for both of them. And if that involves Glitch staying at his place for a few days, then that's fine. Cain's door will always be open. It's just...as much as he loves Glitch (beyond words), he doesn't like leaving things or people hanging. It sets him on edge almost as much as the unfinished business in question.

Monday morning, he shaves. He even makes a point of going to the dreaded barber, for wanting to look...not 'his best', as he isn't sure there is such a thing when he's gone so long with deep, dark circles under his eyes. He wants to look like his own, usual self. Before the Extras went crazy (again), before Paul got shot and almost died (again), before he made the well meaning but ill advised decision to stick around the birdhouse (just for a week or until Paul felt better) and help out any way he could.

Before the awful, vicious fight that he still finds himself reeling from, in part. So he makes himself look presentable, dressing in comfortable clothes that speak more to him of Life in Taxon rather than Life Before. Before Taxon. Before the one-man prison. Before the dungeons. Less cowboy, more...whatever it is he's trying to find his way back to.

He takes the tram to the birdhouse in the early afternoon, opting not to call ahead for fear of outright rejection. It's unfair and a touch on the manipulative side, but he knows it's harder to turn someone away if they're right on your doorstep. Harder than doing it over the tablet.

So that's where he's going. To face the music. To make amends if he can. He doesn't bring anything, unlike the last time they fought, over a year ago now (and he can't really take it in, that it's been so long) after the zombie thing. He brought food then, as peace offering. Food and cider like he remembered it from home and a relatively idyllic childhood. It's one thing to say sorry for taking sides. It's another thing entirely to apologize for stomping all over a major trigger point, and for no good reason. Paul isn't without blame - Cain isn't blue eyed enough to even for one second think that - but he figures it's better this way. Paul may have shoved, and hard, but Cain pushed back too hard. He crossed a far worse line than verbal abuse in that particular context. Worst case scenario, Paul doesn't want to talk, let alone see him. This way, all he's got to haul back is his own sorry ass.

That doesn't mean the tram ride is at all pleasant. It flies by too fast, and before he knows it, he's virtually hovering outside the birdhouse entrance. Easiest way to get in is to just press his hand to the scanner. It'll let him in, just like Paul's hand print on his own scanner at the old place will let him in.

It would probably also be the fastest way to get himself thrown out.

Pressing air out through his nose in a small puff, he grabs his tablet and sends a voice message. Or he tries to, stopping and starting several times over. What is there to say? How to explain why he's here all of a sudden, what gives him any right to just charge on over?

In the end, it's not really so much about the words, as getting them out. "Paul. It's me. I don't want to intrude, but I need to speak with you. I'm outside... Can I--"

He sighs, away from the tablet. Heart beating its way up his mid section, heading straight for his jugular. "May I come in?"

[ooc: If you've been wanting to toss your character at Cain, this is as good an opportunity as any to do so. :D Bump into him in town, or knock on his door before noon. Catch him on his way home in the afternoon/early evening. Bother his snarky, sometimes abrasive ex-cop self via tablet. Anything goes :D]

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.

apackofone

Remus paces restlessly around a small cottage room. There's little in the way of furniture visible, just an armchair and some curtains fluttering in the breeze, suggesting a garden outside beyond the open window.

The man shifts restlessly, clearly agitated and muttering to himself, throwing himself into the arm chair, getting up again to pace, tugging his hair with his hands. "It's getting too soon, too close, I can feel it, but even if I found a brewer, it's too late to start for this cycle. I should tell them, no, Remus, think, you can't tell them, they don't even seem to have magic here, explaining the details of being a Dark Creature isn't going to go over well. But I'm a danger. I know I'm a danger and I need them to stay away. I'm not near anyone, but someone might come looking for me, because they're all nice and thoughtful that way, buggeration, I can't think when it's so close!"

He throws himself into the armchair, glowering at the tablet. "And you, you horrible little thing. Why are you flashing at me? I don't know what you want, stop it."

He's clearly not quite himself. He also clearly has no idea that the tablet flashing means 'broadcast'.

thornandmoss

Briar is stretched out on the peak at the center of a slanted roof, a makeshift shelf for building supplies set up next to him. He has obviously just finished modifying the roof, widening the ridgepole of it. Not to make it easier to reach, but to give him a comfortable seat when he does. Briar leans back and rests his elbows on the lip of the chimney, the weather warm enough that no fire is lit below. Running water forms faint background noise, his home located not far from the river.

"Has anyone else noticed how strange the plant life here is?" he asks idly, alternately basking in the sun and enjoying the view. The garden, the sun, and the cloudwatching are all doing him more good than he can say after recent events. Being up on a roof always did seem to help some.

During Briar's first explorations of the city, he made note of both familiar and unfamiliar plants, anything he could find as many of them went dormant for the colder months. "The weather here fluctuates more than the usual climate for a lot of vegetation I've found. I wondered whether they adapted to cope with a wider variety of temperatures and rainfall levels." He pauses, frowning. "But they haven't."

Briar's garden stands out in stark contrast to the neighboring areas to someone who knows what he's looking for. Seeing it from above only makes what he has already observed from ground level even clearer. "My garden is still growing what I planted in it recently, but nearby? That's different. There's plants that weren't there before, plants that wouldn't have survived the colder months here. Decade-old trees that hate cold temperatures are flourishing, and they weren't in the city when we got snow."

He grins now, informing everyone, "Fruit trees that weren't even around to get pollinated are in season. I've transplanted some vegetables that are near the end of their growing cycle but definitely weren't last time I checked them. If anyone wants lemons or oranges, I've found a lot. I've also got--" He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a brown and fuzzy-skinned oblong fruit. Briar peels half of it with a small knife, biting into the juicy green fruit inside. He chews, swallows, and smiles again. "I don't know the name for these, but they're good."

He shrugs a shoulder. "I'm in the northwest district, Wilde, a mile upriver from the tram line to the center of the city." City still seemed a misleading word, given the massive size of the place. "You're welcome to stop by and visit if you'd like some fruit or some company." Briar adds as an afterthought, "Or a sparring partner. I haven't gotten much practice with a staff lately."

secretshame

It's morning, a time that's usually spent waking up and getting ready for the day. Usually, Jenna would be out of the door by this hour. But no. Not today. Today, she's just taken a tumble out of her bed, knocking her tablet off the dresser and to the floor next to her. A dark red patch has appeared around her stomach area and she clearly doesn't have the presence of mind to even press her hand to the wound to stop the bleeding. In fact, her eyes are glassy, as though she's not really seeing what's happening, and the truth of it is that she won't remember this at all.

Clearly, she needs help.

A few hours (days idk) later, once she's been tended and has rested enough to address the tablet, she does so, turning on the voice feature this time, though she's camped out on her couch.

"Hey, Taxon. Life is kinda crazy, huh?" She gave a soft, nervous laugh. "Just wanted to let you all know I'm fine. Just had a little tumble out of bed, but it's all fine now."

Actually, it isn't. She can't remember anything about what happened, just a few new memories of home and then waking up here. That's all. And it bothers her.

"Oh, and hey, has anyone heard from Katherine Pierce lately? Y'know... worried aunt here. Kinda hoping she went home." For many reasons.

She'll be camped out in a guest room for a while, until this wound she can't remember getting heals.

[ ooc: jenna's canon update finally! feel free to tag in before or after she's rescued, but she won't respond until long after. rescue crew, you can feel free to tag without jenna, as she won't be able to respond. the wound is a very deep stab wound in her stomach. and she's up for being bugged in person once she wakes up again :3 ]

thornandmoss

Briar buried each of his hands in a jar of the temple's medicine supply, green energy flowing from his fingers into the dried plants. The medicines were due for a renewal, and this would double their strength. They would be needed.

The Yanxing emperor had decided his empire was not vast enough, and his troops were coming. A temple might be a terrible thing to target, but it was a strategically sound one. Living Circle temples were centers for mages and healers, and they would be as vital to the defense of Gyongxe as civilian militia. Briar's first priority was always Rosethorn and Evvy, but doing everything he could to help temple mages and healers survive the onslaught came in a close second. Time was limited, and he set aside his current jars to move on to the next pair.

Bells rang, a warning rather than a call to service. Briar's head snapped up. Extending his magic through the network of plants in and around the temple, Briar withdrew as several of them died. The temple was burning. Where were Rosethorn and Evvy?

Briar ran toward the fires rather than away, keeping an eye out for Rosethorn's familiar green magic as he went. She would always be where she could do the most good, unless she were looking out for someone. He stopped very briefly to pull a jar of burn salve and three cloth-wrapped balls of thorn seeds from the kit slung over his back, then broke into a sprint. He had to find them.

electro_girl

The body of Mayland Long lies dead on the floor of the library, surrounded by smashed china and spilled tea. The rest of Taxon cannot smell the smells (unless you happen to be in the library), a small blessing, but they can hear the animalistic sounds of fear and rage coming from the woman on the scene.

"No! No. No," Gwen repeats. "A glitch. Gotta be. It was too strong. The charge was too strong!"

Somewhere, a woman appears beside her--an extra--blathering in Gwen's ear and kneeling beside the body. "Don't touch him!" Gwen shouts, before remembering that she's the one who shouldn't be touching anyone. "I'm gonna fix this," she says, only because she's said it before and it feels like she's living in that memory. Everything seems like a dream, slow and thick like molasses, and Gwen doesn't even have time to react when the extra tries to shake her out of her reverie.

The woman goes down to the floor, her head landing on Long's blackened hand.

Out of all things--the sight of two blinking tablets snaps Gwen out of her daze, and she kneels over the woman and zaps her twice in the chest. Like startin' a Chevy.... Her eyes open and she coughs, a sputtering and painful sound.

"Help," she finally calls aloud, her eyes finding the tablet. She's done what she can but it might not be enough. She can't touch them anymore. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

[OOC: Immediately following THIS. Thus ends Gwen's glitch, and so her electricity returns full force. Any poor soul who wants to get in on this toasty goodness, hop on in. The Extra's alive but needs some serious post-electrocution care. Or just gawk at the misery.]

smecker

It's another beautiful day in paradise, or Taxon as the case may be. Well, not beautiful exactly, but the weather's taken a turn for the warmer the last few days. Paul Smecker's in one of the city's grocery stores, shopping-- the produce that's available bears no relation to whatever season Taxon is pretending to be, and he's accordingly loading up a handbasket with various vegetables. Some bok choy, water chestnuts, peppers, sweet onions... Stir-fry sounds good tonight. His tablet is blinking away in his basket, not that he notices.

There's a couple of reasons he bothers to get his food in the markets. He still thinks that it tastes better than hatched food, even if it's just a psychosomatic thing. And two, the hatches deduct money from his bracelet, and Paul-- over a year into his time in Taxon-- still refuses to pay whenever he possibly can.

It's more than routine now; he loads up his basket, heads for the door. The clerk at the register calls after him, "Sir! Sir! Excuse me, you'll need to come over here to pay for that! Sir, if you don't stop I'll have to call the police!"

The latter threat is new, just started in the last few months, but nothing has come of it the many times he's done this now, so Paul absently flips off the Extra cashier and keeps walking for the door.

And comes face to face with a man wearing a badge.

Paul stops, blinking-- partly because he's pretty sure that the guy hadn't been there five seconds ago. He didn't walk in, he didn't jump out from behind something, he was just... there. Where he hadn't been.

( Cut for Paul's as-usual R-rated language )

[OOC: As with previous arrests, the tablet will not show Paul's current location. Those who have been to the jail before (DG, Party, the various doctors of Taxon) will find that if they attempt to go to the location in Central that held the prison previously, there is only a small donut bakery in its place. Apparently the aliens learned from Kobra's tracking down of DG.]

Current Mood: bitchy

thornandmoss

Briar is sitting crosslegged on the floor, a miniature tree on either side of him and an assortment of small jars and containers stacked in front of his legs.

"If any healers are in need of medicine, I have a lot of experience with plant based formulas. Here's what I've managed so far. I'll be able to do more once I get a proper garden in place." Briar assumes that they have healers here. There have to be. Right? Better safe than sorry, though, so he adds, "I hope we have healers in the city. If not, I have experience with first aid and managing diseases and injuries, but I'm not able to do much more than anyone could given common sense and excellent supplies."

With the most pressing order of business taken care of, he has messages for several people specifically.

"Kobra, I can come by whenever you'd like to show you what to do with your shakkan and hear that bass you were telling me about."

"Party, I've got something for you, too." He grins as he explains, "Yours is a little bulkier, so I didn't bring it to the party with me."

"Master Long, I do want to make time to visit the library when it's convenient for you. We could exchange languages, if you like." Briar is quick to pick up understanding of a language, but his accent is generally atrocious until frequent use can remedy the problem. Recalling the way the other man's face had lit up at the knowledge that Briar speaks several tongues, Briar's mouth twitches with a slight smirk, "I thought you might prefer that to any tangible gifts."

taxcollectors

"Hello citizens! Hellooo!"

It had been some time since that cheery greeting had first rung out across the tablets but there it was once again, accompanying a holographic broadcast from the arrival room. The platform was occupied by two hamsters of unusual size, the first with short tawny fur and the second with long white fur. Both were waving their little paws.

"Long time, no chat," the tawny one pronounced and scratched at its ear. "Sorry about that, we've been awfully absentee."

"Yes, it is most unfortunate," the white one agreed. "But we've been quite busy, and still are! Holiday rush and pinched budgets, you know how it is."

"They do, they do! Happy new year, belatedly! Though it's still early for Mr. Long, isn't it?"

The second hamster nodded. "Oh, yes, a little early yet. The point is we have a teensy bit of time now."

"Just a little, just enough to answer a few questions and take a few comments." The first hamster waved its paw. "But then it's back to work, so make it quick!"

goodluck-kobra.livejournal.com

Kobra was hiding behind his sunglasses again, but it was obvious that he looked at least marginally less sick than before the new year. The tree he'd gotten from Briar was standing safely beside him where he was sitting by the beach, still not willing to stay anywhere inside.

"Um. Hi." He waves awkwardly at the tablet. "I just...just wanted to say thank you again." He hadn't gotten presents like this in ages, out in the zones you got maybe a new gun or a shirt or something, when it was available. "I'm working on getting your gifts ready." the corners of his lips quirked into a tiny smile. He'd managed to set recording equipment up, now he only needed to actually find the music he wanted. It didn't seem too popular in Taxon. Or to exist, really.

[Locked to Party Poison]

"Party? Where are you?" Kobra was still sulking, all right, but he had promised to share the gifts with Party. "We...we got presents. C'mere so we can open them."

aintnoconvict

These days in Taxon were short, the sun rising a little before ten in the morning and setting shortly after one in the afternoon. It was also cold and snowy, and combining all of that together it could be difficult to find anything worth celebrating. Fortunately, there were some individuals intent on making making sure there was still warmth, that a few lights still glowed.

Over the past few days Glitch and Cain (with a little help from Fitz) had transformed a small warehouse in Shelley into a little haven of whimsy. Upon entering one was presented with a coat rack which sprouts a fresh hook for their belongings, and then beyond the curtain was a little piece of the Outer Zone. Overhead was a holographic projection of the Ozian night sky (an array of unfamiliar stars and three moons), a dance floor illuminated with shafts of colored light that seem to sparkle, a large table with assorted snacks and a self-serve bar with both alcoholic and booze-free drinks. There were folding chairs and small tables scattered about and party favors, noise makers, and festive hats were available for all who wanted them. Music for the evening would be techno-flavored jazz and the occasional intrusion of ~~Otherside~~ Earth dance music. Whatever's playing, it'll have fabulous rhythm.

For anyone who wanted to escape the noise, the warehouse's office had been converted into something of a lounge, decked out with a few pieces of furniture borrowed from the Northern Island.

It's Annual's End, time to celebrate the past and leap into the future.

[ OOC: Party post! Tag in, tag each other, meet new folks and mingle around. There's a planning post here which you're still welcome to hit up :D ]

imperial-long.livejournal.com

Tap, tap on the screen, as one might tap a microphone to test the sound. There, visual broadcast active.

"Good afternoon," Long says with his habitual politeness, sitting as is frequent behind the library's big information desk, with brass plaque polished and help bell gleaming brightly.

"I hope that everyone is staying warm in this absurd weather." (He so does not like winter, and has a scarf wrapped around his neck even though he is indoors.) "We have quite a few new arrivals lately, and I have been attempting to compile a guide for those of us who are newly brought to Taxon. There is so much information to impart, and it seems inefficient to repeat the same thing to the newest unfortunates again and again...

"Accordingly, I am transmitting a file of my drafted, how shall we call it, welcome brochure? I should be obliged if those of you who have time might look through it and contact me with any suggestions you think ought to be included. I especially value the opinions of those who have been here periods of under two months, as you are beginning to comprehend the city but are not yet so accustomed to it that you have forgotten the immediate questions of arrival.

"Thank you for your assistance. If anybody wishes to discuss the guide with me in person, I am usually at the Library-- oh, if there is anyone I have not yet met, my name is Mayland Long. Good day."

He reaches to turn off the tablet, then pauses as one more thing occurs to him.

"--by the by, does anybody still in the city happen to speak Klingon?"

**

There is an attached text file that is sent to all the tablets in the city, with the following contents:

( Greetings... )

(...Hope blooms eternal, Long.)

magic-weaver.livejournal.com

For a brief moment, home had finally felt like home again. She and Briar had argued, loudly and with the reasoning of children, but in that small instant of irritation Sandry had seen their old sibling bond. She had stormed around Daja’s house, taking measurements and debating the best fabrics and colors for her foster brother and sisters. That afternoon, despite her somewhat childish behavior, Sandry had returned hom with a new spark of hope in her chest. Thy were going to be okay. They had to be okay.

What she hadn’t expected was to wake the next morning--or was it still the same night?--in seamless metal chamber with no sign of an exit. For several moments Sandry took in the room, blinking at the walls around her for any sign of magic. The heaviness at her wrist distracted fairly quickly, and she turned to inspect the bracelet on her wrist. It told her nothing, and without Daja’s knowledge of metal there was no telling how or why it had been placed on her. The obvious answer, at least at first, was that she had been taken for ransom, and that the wrist was some sort of magic inhibitor. But there was no magic within the bracelet, and Sandry could feel her own magic as plain and clean as was normal. “Either they’re very good, or very stupid,” she mused to herself. Of course she couldn’t do anything with metal, but there might be other options...

Brow furrowed, the noble finally rose from the ground and checked for the pouch around her neck. Whoever had taken her hadn’t been very smart at all. The pouch was still there, as were its contents. The room was bright for now, but if whatever source was causing the light went out, at least she still had her crystal. More importantly, she had the thread that represented the bond between her foster siblings and herself. The lumps that lately had been warm with Tris and Daja’s magics were cold, but Briar’s gave a faint pulse. She gave it a slight tug, but the connection was still firmly closed. Unless she absolutely could not find a way out it would stay that way. Briar didn’t want her there, and she wasn’t about to force it after their arguments the day before.

Sandry sighed and placed the pouch back under her nightclothes, then smoothed the material over before firmly setting her jaw and addressing the empty room. “I am Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, Clehame fa Landreg, and I demand an immediate explanation as to why I have been brought here.”

No response.

“I won’t sit quietly and wait, if that’s what you’re thinking, so you may as well just answer me now. The very least you can do is give me your terms. It will be much easier on you if you cooperate now.”

Nothing. Mildly frustrated now, Sandry pushed her magic out, seeking some sort of material she could get a grasp on. There were wires in the walls, but she pulled her magic back quickly with a sharp, “Oh!” when she felt the electricity running through them--she would need Tris’ help to even think about doing anything with those.

“Oh, cat dirt.”

goodluck-kobra.livejournal.com

Kobra is in one of his moods, not the good kind. He's been unable to sleep again, nightmares haunting him, and he's homesick. By now he's given up hoping that Ghoul, Jet, Grace or even Show Pony are going to show up here. Sometimes it makes it hard to breathe, like there are people shaped holes in his chest.

His mood has gone from angry to depressed, a distinct and obvious change. Kobra's phases of depression were never easy on him and probably the only case where BL/nd had ever been right about medication. They'd just never given him the right kind.

In addition to that Kobra is still miserably sick, and it was getting worse each day. He is congested, his throat feels hot and raw and even little sips of water seem to send his stomach into revolt. Everything sucks and Kobra wants to pout in a corner, maybe even cry some tears of rage.

Nothing of that shows though as he looks at the tablet, blood-shot eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He's even more sensitive to light these days. His face is impassive as ever, voice just a little bit more flat, a lot more nasal.

"Is there something like a radio around?" Because the one thing that has always helped at least a little was music. But he had none in Taxon. "Or...anything of that kind?" He could probably listen to music on the tablet, but there wouldn't be a proper DJ and Kobra felt like that is too easy for the hamsters to track. Music has always been a form of rebellions, something you do away from prying eyes.

Kobra lights a cigarette and sniffs, rubbing his nose. "C'mon, there's gotta be something?"