taxonomites | Entries tagged with { dawn summers

tinynarcissist.livejournal.com

In the hours since he awakened in a room not his own, in a building definitely not his parents' house, Adrian has quietly gathered as much information as he possibly can. He knows the room belongs to someone older, but a little trial and error shows him how to get clothes his own size from the kind of science-fictiony cupboard. And some time spent investigating the little communication device has given him enough information to be able to use it and navigate his way around the city.

Now the problem lies in finding out what happened to put him here, and how to get home before his parents realize he's missing. Carefully working out the best way to approach open contact with a group of strangers, he decides a simple broadcast is best. Cuddling a little purple lynx kitten in one arm, he sets up the tablet and addresses it solemnly, in perfect albeit slightly accented English.

"My name is Adrian. Can someone help me find transportation to Midtown Manhattan, please?"

[ooc: In case I forget for future reference, Adrian at this age (12) speaks with a very slight German accent.]

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. :>]

comprehender.livejournal.com

She hadn't minded the city's change, not even having to go from one end to the other between the zoo and Serenity, or the extra miles between all her other haunts. The space between did a lot to alleviate and distract from the claustrophobia of two years in captivity weighing on her shoulders, two years of people leaving, two years of Not Much Changing.

But of course, days of Not Much Changing can't last forever.

The tablet clicks on (convenient as ever) just as River wakes up in her bunk, looking a little younger than she did yesterday. It catches the slow realization that she isn't where she thought she'd be, the look of suspicious horror as she looks down at herself and examines her surroundings, and the subtle shift from surprise to fearful anger.

"Simon?"

River isn't moving to get out of that bed, not yet. Not until she knows what's going on, and if Simon doesn't answer her she might never get out, and the more everything stays quiet the louder that keen edge of fear becomes very apparent in her voice.

"You know, discussing the history of post-migration piracy with you didn't mean I'd think you putting me on a ship like this in my sleep would be funny." Pause. Wait for a response and get nothing. Try again. "Because it really isn't."

Okay, one more time, a little louder. Cursing should usually be done with a little more oomph than this, especially when attempting to taunt someone out of hiding, but a vaguely angry sounding, "Qīngwā cào de liúmáng," is all she can manage before the tablet clicks itself back off.

[ ooc: GLITCH TIMES! details and plottings can be had in the sott thread over yonder. and lo, let there be horrors.

translation | frog-humping jerk ]

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.

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. )

aintnoconvict

Another careless chucking of the tablet, another free show from the resident headcase. This time he's in the laundry room, wearing a red and black striped tank top, charcoal gray sweatpants, and a very dismayed expression. Clearly something has gone wrong in his world.

"Oh cripes!" Glitch declares and holds up a garment that looks like it has been clumsily tie-dyed in shades of blueish lavender. Once upon a time (roughly forty minutes ago) the shirt had been a nice eggshell color. After being accidentally bundled into the wash with his new blue robe, however... not so much.

"This...I...cripes!"

ooc: laundry party post, I guess! feel free to harass Glitch or engage in other clothes-cleaning shenanigans.

adeadringer.livejournal.com

[ elena's transmission is silent at first, save for some shallow breathing and some scraping noises as she attempts to pull herself into a sitting position. it doesn't work. she can barely move. she was lucky she was able to get to her tablet from where it landed on the floor and even luckier that they turn on with the slightest touch. if she could, she'd send an individual message to stefan or jenna or damon or caroline, but she doesn't trust herself to send it to the right person right now.

a few more shallow breaths are heard before elena attempts to speak, and when she does, her voice is hoarse and barely audible. ]

Hello? [ she attempts a deep breath. it doesn't work out too well and ends with a cough. ]

I'm - I'm hurt. [ she doesn't mention how. even though she's groggy as hell right now and isn't even totally sure where she is, she remembers how tense things are regarding the vampire population and doesn't want to add fuel to the fire. ] I'm in...in the hall. Don't know which.

[ another attempt at a deep breath, punctuated with a sob. she wants to cry, but knows she can't afford to expend the energy. she doesn't know how much blood she's lost, but she's feeling weaker the longer she tries to stay awake and her vision is starting to become framed with black. ] I need help. I need -

[ whatever else she was going to say is abruptly cut off as elena loses consciousness again, and the connection shuts off as she slumps to the floor. ]

[ OOC | taking place...some time after rose attacks her. she passed out for a few hours and sent this after waking up and remembering what happened (or enough of what happened to know to send the message). the thread is still ongoing, so i'm not sure how bad the damage is yet or what her wound looks like, but she is in pretty bad shape. ]

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. ♥ )

adeadringer.livejournal.com

Elena's tablet switches itself on to show her sitting in the window seat in her bedroom - her bedroom, in the house she grew up in. Jenna brought it with her when she arrived in Taxon, and part of her is happy to have it back. She's missed Jenna and their home. But she also misses staying in the boarding house, sharing Stefan's bed and room with him and how it had come to feel like home to her, too. She's writing in her diary about it all now, about everything that's happened since Stefan told her about what he's been doing with Katherine to obtain information about the Sun and Moon curse that she's needed to break, about Jenna and Caroline's arrivals, and how she feels about it all. She's happy to see them both again, but them being here means that things are more dangerous. She's worried that if what Stefan's doing backfires, Katherine will go after her through them.

Those who know her well or just pay close attention to this kind of thing may take note of something: she's wearing her old necklace again. Since breaking up with Stefan, she's been wearing a different one, the one that Damon got her for Christmas. These people may have a few questions for her about how she got it back, ones that she's not particularly eager to answer, so when she looks up and realizes that the tablet is recording her, an irritated expression crosses her face. She rolls her eyes, then picks it up and addresses it.

"Okay, just out of curiosity, has anyone ever tried to figure out why these things like to turn themselves on without warning and when you least want them to? Because if there's a way to get them to stop, I think someone should find it. If I were at all technologically inclined, I might try to fix it myself, but since I'm not...well, a professional might want to give it a shot."

And then she switches the tablet off, sets her journal aside, and leaves her room, heading downstairs.

"Jenna? Are you down here?"

tothelibrary.livejournal.com

[ the tablet clicks on to reveal dawn; she's sitting in her room at the castle, hair wet and pulled back in a tight ponytail, looking fragile and practically swimming in a sweatshirt that only a few people left in taxon will recognize as xander's. ]

Hi-- um. I should have probably planned what I was going to say before I turned this on. It might make this easier. Or... less whatever. Something.

I just wanted to apologize to anyone I-- [ she swallows hard ] hurt, this month. I didn't mean to, but not like that means a lot because I still did. It was a glitch, but-- that doesn't make it better. Or okay. So I'm just so, so sorry. And whatever I can do to make up for it, I'll do. I just-- I'm sorry.

[ she fumbles with her tablet for a second, and this last bit is locked to paul and mattie. ]

I'm-- well, I'm still sorry. But I hurt you both, even if it wasn't me-me. And if you both don't ever want to be around me again, I understand but if I can do anything to make amends, I will. [ she opens her mouth to add something else, then shrugs, shoulders slumping. ] I'm just so sorry.

( ooc | post-glitch! backtagging on horrors is still a go for those who want to, and this post is around for ooc workout if you want/need it. )

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!]

verylittlesugar

Mattie's outside today, enjoying the sun and fresh air despite the chill, contemplating whether she might take advantage of this month's free things and start some kind of little garden.

She's also contemplating something that she's been wondering about for days, something she really needs an opinion about.

"Are any of you acquainted with a man named Damon Salvatore? Can you tell me why he has such intent interest in girls' dresses? And can a garden be put anywhere?"

virtued.livejournal.com

It was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid Damon. How he managed to dodge his brother successfully for even a week is beyond him, but he's tired of ducking out of the house whenever he sees that dot on the map approach, tired of feeling like an intruder in his own home. Is that what he's become, someone who's so out of the loop he's supposed to be in that he's overstepping new boundaries that have been put into place to compensate for his actions? What started out as a simple mind game has quickly progressed into something much more that's spinning rapidly out of control.

How ironic is it that the one place he can find solace is the one place he really doesn't want to be? Seated on the couch in Katherine's hotel room, Stefan drops his face into his hands. He's in too deep and he knows it. Problem is, he's at a loss for how to dig himself out without everything coming undone, but doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up.

Lifting his head up, he spots the tablet he discarded on the coffee table before him recording, the red blight blinking at him almost mockingly. He scoffs at it irritably, shaking his head. "Of course," he says. "You always seem to come on during moments like these, as if you have some sort of built in sensor that alerts you to the perfect moment to invade someone's privacy."

Uncharacteristically, Stefan swats at the tablet, sending it flying across the room. When it lands and the video refocuses, it catches the eternal teenager slumping back against the couch with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl set into his features.

smecker.livejournal.com

( Paul Smecker maintains a list of scents he doesn't wish to smell ever again... (all my usual teal deer) )

Paul digs out his tablet, his cigarettes, one with each hand. He lights up before turning on the communications device, flips it to an open visual broadcast to the city.

"Hi. Paul Smecker here. We've probably got some new faces here since the last time I said a nice big group how-the-fuck-do-you-do, so: How the fuck do you do? Or, here's a better and more interesting question: what do you do, everybody?

"We're each here from god knows where, and in some cases when. It's entirely possible we're selected on pure caprice, but operating on that hypothesis doesn't give us anything helpful, so personally I'm choosing to invest in the alternate theory, which states that we were all snatched from our so-very-happy lives for a reason. Don't know what it is, but I personally would like to know more about who my fellow inmates in the inter-stellar zoo are. Some of you who are willing to answer will probably lie; I can't stop you, obviously.

"Part of why I'd like to know is that if we have a crisis again, like the zombies, that's a threat that affects all of us, whether or not we trust each other. And I'm pretty sure we all hate the hamsters. So we do have common enemies; what we don't have is anything like a coherent way to approach our common enemies. I'm not going to even try and talk about organizing against the hamsters right now; frankly I doubt the lot of us could cooperate enough to work our combined way out of a wet cardboard box.

"But zombies, and things like that: we can do simple shit, for fuck's sake. We can organize defensible points. Those of you who are superhuman, and obviously there are those of you who are, can make it clear if you're willing to pitch in to protect the less fucking gifted. As for the rest of us, being slower than speeding bullets doesn't mean we don't have skills: what I am trying to do right now is ascertain what those skills are, what people are good at. If you know first aid, if you know how to defend yourself, if you're good with electronics, good with barricading a building-- we can't organize if we don't know our resources.

"So, what the fuck, I'll go first:

"Paul Smecker, career FBI agent, to those of you from realities with no FBI it's law enforcement with an investigative mandate. My area of expertise was largely forensics-based, but I can handle a gun, I can do CPR and other basic first aid, I'm a good cook and I will kick your ass in any sort of classical music trivia contest you want to have.

"Next? Oh, and Buffy and DG? You two got time for a chat?"

Current Mood: determined

dreamsinwhich.livejournal.com

The changeover is a subtle one; one moment, Dawn stretches and rolls over in bed, rubbing at her eyes sleepily. (Taxon: great for naps, when things are boring instead of falling apart.) The next moment she jolts upright, face confused.

"What the hell." She looks around, then down at her plain tee shirt and shorts with distaste. "Ugh. Who dressed me, Suzy Q Homemaker? Angelus, not funny. We talked about this innocent little girl fetish, and why you should indulge in it with actual innocent little girls. I'll watch, but I draw the line at cotton shirts with--" she looks down and rolls her eyes. "A duck on it. Seriously, why not just put me in a little plaid skirt? At least that would look cute. This is just annoying."

She waits, tapping one bare foot impatiently. "Angelus? The moment of surprise thing is old. I'm done with this game, why don't we play the one where I'm not in this stupid shirt and we eat out tonight?" For a moment, she looks genuinely worried; then her face smooths out and she rolls her eyes. "Fine, whatever. Be that way, I'll just explore your little drafty hideaway until you come back. Maybe start breaking things."

This is a new game, but whatever. Maybe Angelus read Cosmo and decided to spice things up with a surprise. Maybe he's getting dinner, or maybe he's off doing... who knows what. Dawn can take care of herself, now. She doesn't need her Sire on call 24-7 anymore.

The glint of her tablet catches Dawn's attention, and after a second of consideration she picks it up and takes it with her out into the hallway, where she opens a door at random.

"...Okay, the shirt thing is forgiven. A room full of shoes covers a multitude of sartorial sins." Setting the tablet on one of the dressers lining the wall, Dawn grabs a pair of shoes and after a moment of consideration, a dress from the closet, stripping down to pull it over her hips. The tablet clicks on as she shimmies a little pulling it on, giving a nice view of her bare back until she twists and closes the zipper. "Not bad. A little long, but any port in a fashion storm."

Tilting her head thoughtfully, Dawn looks down at herself, ignoring the mirror in the corner. "Now, where's a camera when you need one?"

( ooc | GLITCH START. she's vamped and soulless, details in the ooc post etc. open to tablet based unless your character would be in the castle, then location is aces. i'd like to keep dawn on the loose a little while longer, so we can work out details as it goes. ♥ )

patricide

Lex crossed the hallway to his father's LuthorCorp office as he had done many times before. The path was instinctual and the muscle memory carried him along while he made a mental to-do list for tasks to accomplish later in the day. "Confiscating the computers of a bunch of high schoolers? That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" Lex didn’t wait for Lionel Luthor's reaction as he pushed the office door open.

Instead of being greeted by a desk and Lionel's mane of hair Lex found himself in a room even larger than the one he was expecting. Before moving or speaking he took note of this new space and its architecture. He noticed a platform and beyond that a door sealed shut. It was good to know there was a theoretical way out at least.

"I take it back, Dad," Lex called to the open air, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "The computers were nothing. This is overkill on the drama. How did you manage to keep all this construction a secret?" He took his time walking to the platform that seemed to have some kind of object resting on it. If this was some kind of new test for Lex to prove himself, he hoped it was on the less lethal side of things.

gunsnotvoodoo.livejournal.com

[Loki spotted the building a week or so ago, on one of his wanderings, and ever since an insane plan has been percolating in his brain. The weekend party was awesome, but today it's quiet again and he's reminded of the things he misses from home. Like bullshitting clergy members and discussing every inane topic under the sun with Bartleby.

Shit, he misses Bartleby.

So today he makes his way back to the little building with WTAX painted on the side, and discovers that it's frighteningly easy to talk the Extras into letting him have access to the equipment.]

Well what do you know, Taxon! I guess they'll let anybody on the radio these days. It seems to me that you people have a lot of questions, and nobody up top wants to give you any answers. So let me offer my humble services, and many, many...fucking many years of experience.

Hello, I'm Loki, how can I advise you today?

[Treat this like a call-in advice show, ask any questions you like, or just yell at Loki for being annoying. Modlies, is there any chance of a WTAX tag maybe? :D?]

givesahoot.livejournal.com

It had been a few days since Adrian's arrival and thankfully (surprisingly?) there had been no fights as of yet. Disagreements on the other hand were something else entirely. Never was it made more obvious that Dan Dreiberg and Adrian Veidt led entirely different lives than when they had to live in the same house until Adrian got back on his feet. Dan had prepared a meal for his guest and was waiting at the kitchen table when one of Adrian's complaints began to nag at him.

He dragged his tablet from where it lay on the table and turned on the text function: Sweaters aren't a bad thing to wear, right?

eggplantgout.livejournal.com

Jason Stackhouse had never been to college unless one counted a semester at tech school a university experience. He had however, watched plenty of movies that (many of them inaccurate) depicted college. This party was a new experience for Jason and he was damn well going to get it right.

The party would take place outside on the lawn in front of Jason and Loki’s house. Along one side of the yard was a row of tables filled with the promised plastic cups, pizza, and various junk food. (Including an assortment of random candies that Loki helpfully provided.) As long as they were free that month, the table also provided margaritas on the rocks in the event a party goer did not want to partake of the kegs on either side of the table row.

There is a banner hanging across the front of the house saying WELCOME, LOKI! and piñatas dangle intermittently on tree branches across the yard. One in particular is a skull, and while Jason thinks it’s cool, in hindsight he wonders if it will scare anyone off. Music that sounds much like early-mid 90’s Earth hip hop booms across the party, inviting guests to dance. As he waits for the guests, Jason begins to drink. There was nothing wrong with a little pregaming. And of course, he's wearing a toga.