taxonomites | Entries tagged with { corwin barimen

patternal.livejournal.com

He of all people really should have known better, thinking nothing was going to happen to him just because it hadn’t yet. There was that temptation to just stay in his room and not go anywhere, but that, apparently, wasn’t working out too well for people either. Ending up with strange bedpartners wasn’t exactly a new occurrence in his life, but surprise ones were a little lower on the ladder of enjoyment. He very much preferred remembering putting them there.

As it was, he would always be restless, always have that wanderlust. Even if he couldn’t leave the city, he could at least try and slake the thirst for it by wandering to the edges of the cage and back, even if he would only come back angry. Trapped inside by glass walls. Aimless attempts at an escape that he had honestly given up on long ago, even if he tried to keep up appearances.

Today, though, it seemed that fickle lady Fate had other plans. He had stopped paying attention to the living dolls that he walked past about the time he figured out that they distinctly lacked in the personality department, but as he walked past a rather imposing iron gate, he caught a glimpse of that girl that he’d seen dancing however long ago it was. He nodded once, but he wasn’t really in the mood to talk, and kept right on going—

—until he was jerked back by something in the vicinity of his wrist. Chain. Perfect. To the girl on the other side of the gate. Even better. As much as he was far strong than the average mortal, he had his doubts about moving that piece of metal.

“...goddammit.”

((This took way too long to get up and I apologize. Feel free to ambush him anywhere on the street, too~))

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.

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.

tothelibrary.livejournal.com

[ it's something of a tradition, albeit one that declined as things in taxon sped up and spun out of control; dawn and river dancing ballet together. being as they're all stuck and in pajamas now, there's no better time to revive it than the present.

they're mid-dancing when dawn's tablet clicks on and so the rest of hotel california is treated to the sounds of whatever technically non-ballet aligned music dawn is blaring at the moment, and the sight of two tiny trolls re-introducing themselves to dancing together.

dawn wobbles on a turn and stops, laughing, as river continues triumphantly. ] You've gotten better and I haven't. [ she tries again and hits it this time, not quite as graceful as river but solid. when she stops, she sticks out her tongue. ] You're still a show-off.

( ooc: all replies will likely be trolled by both the tiny ones, ftr. )

a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com

The city - so much smaller than it had been a few nights ago - was balanced on the edge of a knife. One mischievous breeze would be enough to push them off and send them tumbling into the fire. The humans were running in circles, unable to focus on what they really needed to be frightened of. The vampires were butting heads and burning bridges and losing themselves in the woods.

Drusilla could already feel the flames licking at the hem of her dress.

With her head in the storm clouds, she wound her way up to the kitchen on the ninth floor to find herself a mug of blood. It was a good job that the silly little man hadn't poured their supper away. The hamsters were wicked things, but at least they'd had the good sense to give the cats something else to eat when they locked them into the cage with the mice.

She climbed up on to the counter once her stomach was full and, when she tired of the heat that came from dangling over the edge and too close to the flames, stretched herself out like a cat in a patch of sunlight.

It had been so many years since she'd seen the sunlight.

The vampire gazed up at the ceiling, both seeing and unseeing. The stars were hidden from her here - there were too many barriers and bars between them - but she could still see things that other people missed. She could still see what mattered.

"We have all the pieces," she murmured, "But they're not ready to use them."

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. ♥ )

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.

anoblesavage.livejournal.com

When Leela regained consciousness, she was no longer in the Inquisitor General’s room of pitiless machines and cruel technology. She did not know where she was, only that it was silent and cold and her head ached ferociously. For a moment, there was nothing to hear but her breathing.

When she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, the ground beneath her palm was clearly metal. A prison, then. It could only be a prison. That other Leela – who was more of a savage than she had ever been, for all her power and status – was not finished with her yet. She had already taken her memories, but she wanted to keep her alternative self alive in case she could provide anything else of use.

“You can do what you like to me,” Leela growled, addressing the unseen figure that she felt sure would be watching. Her hands bunched furiously into fists. She wished that the Gallifreyan soldiers had not thought to remove her knife from her belt. She would certainly need it before the day was out. “I would rather die a thousand deaths than help you.”

“Mistress?”

“K-9?” She had been expecting a reply, yes, but she had expected it to come, cruel and gloating, from her other self. Not from a friend. Leela stilled, torn between delight and confusion. “I thought you had stayed on the Axis with Braxiatel. Are you here to rescue me?”

“Negative, Mistress.”

( “… you mean you are not here to rescue me?” )

OOC: For the sake of my sanity and because of exam related chaos, Leela and K-9 are reentering the city. The threads from her last entry post are being carried forward, but feel free to tag in if you didn't have a chance to greet her last time.

slayersidekick

For the first time in a while, Willow's making a visual transmission instead of relying on audio or replying visually to someone else. She's accepted - as much as she can, anyway - that Tara has pulled a Buffy: she's gone. The aliens sent her home. Still, that doesn't mean that her disappearance doesn't hurt. It hurts a lot and Willow's pretty sure anyone who knows her has probably noticed just how much it hurts. And now with Dawn running around... well, Willow's a bit preoccupied.

Even so, she'll never quite get over that genius part of herself and the radio transmission has her interested. So, while curled up on the bed she used to share with Tara - it feels so empty these nights - she turns on her tablet and addresses Taxon. Two birds, one stone.

"Hey, guys. Since Tara seems to have gone home, I figured I'd take over the magic shop. So, i-if anyone needs anything, I'm running Tamper and Trick now." Slight pause. "If anyone's interested and still looking for extra employment or entertainment, I wouldn't say no to a couple of employees."

Now, with that out of the way, she fiddles with her hands for a minute before continuing. "And I don't know if anyone else has caught that new transmission, but I couldn't figure out what it was saying. Maybe I should take up language studies or something in my spare time. This is getting a little silly."

Current Music: Within Temptation - All I Need | Powered by Last.fm

bonescientist.livejournal.com

Tapping her pen against the notepad in front of her, Brennan exhales in irritation as she stares at the words written on the page with her neat handwriting. For the second time, the radio broadcasts of Taxon have been interrupted by a static-filled mystery transmission. Brennan tended to keep her radio on for some quiet background noise in her office at the Jeffersonian, usually not paying it much attention. A few days ago, she'd returned from lunch when she'd caught the tail-end of the unexpected transmission, hurriedly grabbing a notepad and a pen to write down as much as she could. She doesn't have much, though, and what she does have makes little sense to her.

While the first transmission hadn't seem to be in any recognizable language, Brennan did identify this latest one to be spoken in Portuguese. She isn't fluent in Portuguese, but she is in Spanish - and although the two languages have considerable differences, they also have enough mutual intelligibility for her to be able to translate a few words. The rest she'd looked up from the institute's language database.

Determinately, Brennan grabs her tablet and addresses Taxon at large.

"Did anybody manage to record or transcribe that radio transmission that interrupted the regular feed a couple of days ago in its entirety, by any chance? I only caught the end of it, unfortunately," she frowns, clearly displeased. "The language spoken seemed to be Portuguese, this time."

[ ooc | backdated a few days after the latest transmission due to my own fail and slowness. :| ]

malleableness.livejournal.com

( cut because OMG HUGE TEXT )

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.

slayersidekick

Because, once again, Willow cannot face the tablet network that is Taxon, she is making this post audio. It's clear from the way her voice cracks that she's been crying. She is officially a mess. It's not like Tara to disappear like this, which makes her wonder something she doesn't want to even think about.

What if Tara's gone...?

Willow, honestly, has no way to tell, no way to know. So, she does the only thing she can think of:

She asks Taxon.

"Uh, h-hey, Taxon... I know I've been here a while and I should, uh... probably know the answer to this... but I-I just wondered...."

Breathe, Rosenberg.

"I-is there any way to tell if someone's, y'know... gone gone instead of just... here gone?"

She's currently taken Colette the kitten for a ride out to Tamper and Trick because someone needs to watch the shop and she could really use the kitten's comforting warmth right now. If anyone, friend or stranger alike, wants to find her, she'll be there all day.

Current Music: Seether (Feat. Amy Lee) - Broken | Powered by Last.fm

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."

anoblesavage.livejournal.com

cheerioless.livejournal.com

Quinn Fabray had been heading for the girl’s washroom. Bladder control issues were probably one of the worst things about being pregnant. She constantly had to excuse herself from class to go to the washroom. At first she could feel the eyes of her classmates on her whenever she got up. Their stares burning into the back of her head. She didn’t even want to know what they were thinking about her. But now no one looked. No one paid any attention when Quinn got up and excused herself. No one paid attention to her in the halls, it was like she had disappeared off the face of the earth. Quinn Fabray had gone from being queen bee, to the laughing stock of the school, to a complete and utter nobody.

This time she didn’t really need to use the washroom, she just wanted a few moments alone. She sat in a stall and cried. She blamed the hormones, because Quinn Fabray wasn’t the sort to let these things bother her. At least that’s what she told herself, and that’s what she was going to keep telling herself. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anyone anyways. Her parents had abandoned her, she had lost Finn, Puck was more concerned with getting into the pants of every other girl at school, he had said he wanted to be with her – but Quinn didn’t believe him. She knew Puck far too well to believe he could stay true to her. Then there was Santana and Brittany, were they even really her friends?

"Pull yourself together Quinn," Quinn muttered to herself, sniffing. "You’re Quinn Fabray, you used to rule this school. All the guys wanted you, all the girls wanted to be you…" her voice trailed off, and she swallowed hard. "Oh my God. Who am I even kidding?"

Quinn Fabray wasn’t just invisible. She was alone - completely and utterly alone, asides from the tiny life growing inside her – a life she really didn’t want anything to do with.

After what felt like hours Quinn pulled at the roll of toilet paper and wiped her face with a piece of it. Then she stood up and left the stall, and when she did, she almost screamed.

( She wasn't in the girl's washroom anymore. )

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

Spencer Reid wandered through the aisles of the library carrying a stack of books that was far too high for him to handle. As he rounded a corner, the weight shifted and he lost his balance. Half of the stack went crashing to the floor. In the process, his tablet fell with it, turning itself on without his knowledge.

"Darn," he muttered to himself.

He crouched down and started to re-stack his books. Titles piled up in front of the tablet: Wormholes in Space, Physics of the Time-Space Continuum. When he had made a stack about half the size of what he was carrying before, he brought them to a nearby table, then came back for the rest of the books and his tablet.

After sitting down, he glanced at the table and realized it was recording. He gazed at it with a sheepish smile.

"Oh. S-Sorry."

The tablet clicked off.

bonescientist.livejournal.com

Brennan's normally immaculately ordered office at the Jeffersonian Institute is anything but ordered today. Several books have been pulled down from the bookcases and stacked on the floor in rows, a few chairs have been lifted on the table, the cushions and pillows on her couch are askew. Nothing is ever askew in this room. The anthropologist herself appears somewhat frazzled, methodically going through every nook and cranny as if searching for something. Brennan checks behind the glass-case of the mummy (yes, an actual mummy) nestled in the corner of the room before moving along, gaze sweeping the ground.

"Damn it," she mutters to herself and rakes her fingers through her hair in frustration, before going down on her hands and knees to check underneath the couch once more.

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.

aintnoconvict

Behold, Taxon, possibly the most ridiculous thing ever seen on the tablets: Glitch, bathed in the intense gleam of a rainbow, standing beside a pot of gold.

"Look what I found!" he said, all excitement and grinning and pointing. "It just...behind the shop, there's this rainbow and it looks like it goes--" He gestured in an arc to indicate some great distance across the sky. "B-but here at the end there's gold."

Then Glitch remembered he was in the city of horrors and frowned, giving the pot of gold a skeptical look. "Okay, so...what does it mean?"

ooc - yes, crack. also here be aliens.