taxonomites | Entries tagged with { godric

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 ]

faderbroderson

As always, Godric looks like not much more than a teenager when he appears on Taxon's screens, but his poise and quiet certitude belie that initial assumption. He is dressed no more formally than usual, but it's clear by his manner that this is a formal address.

"Some of you know me well, and some of you do not. For those of you who do not, allow me to make introductions. My name is Godric. I am a vampire, and I have been alive for some two thousand years. I do not say this to intimidate, but rather to make plain my position. I am old and powerful, and in that capacity I have in the past held a position of authority in the vampire community of my world." There is no arrogance or bravado in his tone, only a steady and unassuming self-possession born of long experience.

"For the past month, I have been absent due to a glitch, and in that time a number of events occurred which disturb me. I have been trapped in Taxon for just short of two years now, and while there have undeniably been negative incidences between vampires and humans, none have been quite so concerning or in such quick succession as recently. The anti-vampire sentiment that has risen in response is saddening, but understandable. I do not wish for it to persist, or for anyone else to come to harm. Humans should not have to fear us.

"It is for that reason that I have chosen to once again take up my position of authority. If we cannot live together amenably without political structure, then we will have laws, and consequences for those who break them. I will make contact with all of Taxon's vampires privately, and present them with the rules they will follow, from here on out. The primary, and most important of those rules will be that no one is to be fed upon without full and uncoerced consent."

He gazes deliberately into the camera, a silent warning to any vampire who might dare contradict him. He will not be challenged on this, and he will swiftly and soundly demonstrate that standpoint to any vampire who so much as sneers in his direction.

"This also means that should any vampire find themselves knowingly ill, glitched, or in any way unwell, or believe themselves to be a threat to others, they may come to me for assistance." There is the silent allusion that in such situations, they will come to him for assistance. Or else.

"They may also come to me to settle disputes or find resolutions to any other problems they may be unable to resolve themselves. For that matter, humans and others who are not vampires are also welcome to come to me if they have a dispute or some other problem concerning a vampire. I am willing to speak about my kind to the curious, though I will not disclose the personal details of other vampires without permission.

"I cannot promise that this will mean complete safety. Glitches are unpredictable, and our hamster friends do not seek to make our lives easy. But it is my hope that this will be an improvement for all of us."

The broadcast is clearly over, but the connection remains open for questions and responses.

[ooc: Aaaand here we have it! Response to my ooc post was overwhelmingly positive, so we now have a vampire leader, kids. Brush your hair and sit up straight.]

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. ♥ )

faderbroderson

The first thing Godric notices when he wakes, before he opens his eyes, is that he's fully clothed. He can feel the fabric snug against his skin, and that is a very unusual thing. Godric, as a rule, sleeps in the nude. It's also disturbing to note, when he opens his eyes with a frown, that he isn't in his room. He isn't even in his house, or in Faith's house, or Sookie's, or any house he recognizes.

That's enough to have him rising from the bed very quickly, which to human eyes would look rather like teleportation, if it weren't for the discarded sheets fluttering down to fold back onto the bed. A frown mars his brow as he looks around for any indication of what the hell has just gone on.

His eyes alight on the tablet, conveniently recording already, and he makes a movement that might have been a sigh, had he any breath. He picks it up off the nightstand and looks at the screen wryly.

"I should be accustomed to this."

verylittlesugar

Mattie is sitting at a table, holding her tablet propped in front of her as she nearly always does (it seems rude to communicate with people and not give them her full attention, and also she still has some concern that the tablet might begin doing undesirable things if she isn't watching it while it's on). She appears to have been using the hatches, as the high-necked blouse she's wearing is not the one she arrived in, and her father's clothes are nowhere in sight.

"I am given to understand that the line of credit we are extended runs out at the end of each month. While I do not see why they set it so high, it does seem an awful waste not to use it all. I have everything I need, is there anyone out there who does not?"

faderbroderson

The thing about cars is, if you don't drive them, they break down. Godric isn't entirely sure this holds true in Taxon, considering that the cars, like everything else, are alien-made and seem to be impervious to permanent harm. But he's never had any wish to test the theory on his Aston Martin DB9, which was a gift of sorts from Angel. So on occasion, he chooses to drive around the city rather than walk or run as only a vampire can.

(Eric's corvette needs to be taken out at some point as well, but Godric doesn't have the heart for it yet.)

That's why tonight, Godric is cruising the city streets in his car, with no particular destination in mind. His tablet is resting on the seat next to him, and comes on without his knowledge just as he pulls up to the curb and parks in front of a hobby store. He smiles faintly, then reaches for his tablet and sees that it's already recording.

"A new board game, Lilla Amiralen?" The message is clearly only meant for one person, though the broadcast is public. Feel free to respond anyway, or approach in person.

faderbroderson

Godric is making the bed. A silky sheet carefully tucked, a pillow fluffed, a blanket smoothed. His hands move at a human pace, his touch unhurried and almost reverent. It isn't his bed. The colors and ornaments lending personality to the room are not to his taste.

He moves on to the dresser and proceeds to fold away a small pile of clothes left on the surface. They are too large and too dark to be his clothes. The drawer closes with a thump, too loud in the empty room.

His hands linger, and he stands unnaturally still for a long moment before casting his gaze around the dim room, looking for loose ends. He finds only the recording tablet, and expresses no surprise. He lifts it and brings it with him as he leaves, flicking off the lights and shutting the door quietly.

"Eric Northman has gone home," he addresses Taxon. "Fangtasia has gone with him. If you were employed there, you may contact me for other options."

The broadcast ends.

verylittlesugar

[Mattie feels the ground give way under her feet, panic closing off her throat as she begins to fall, scrabbling uselessly at dirt and brush-]

The holo feed shows a small figure dressed in too-large, old-fashioned clothes appear in mid-air, then fall to the ground with a hard thump that knocks the wind out of her for a moment. She lies still, gaping up at what should be a blue sky or at least the darkness of earth over her head, and then hesitantly brushes the fingers of one hand against the unyielding surface of the floor.

“Mr. LaBoeuf?” Her voice is embarrassingly weak, and she takes a deep breath and tries again, more loudly. “Mr. LaBoeuf!”

There’s no answer, of course, and common sense tells Mattie that although she doesn’t rightly know where she is, it’s obvious where she is not, and she shouldn’t expect any response. That realization urges her to sit up, the hat falling off her head as she slowly pushes herself to her feet and looks uncertainly around.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?” She approaches the nearest wall and runs her hand along it, then turns her head to take in the others, just as blank as this one. Raising her arm, she pounds her fist against it, voice taking on a more forceful (but also more desperate) tone. “Whoever’s out there, open up this minute! You have no right to hold me against my will, I’ve embarked on no wrong-doing.. I have a good lawyer, and I will write him and you will hear how the law looks on the incarceration of innocent children!”

When the wall doesn’t give way and door doesn’t appear, Mattie steps back with a sigh. “Papa, I believe I have found some trouble for myself.”

werealegend.livejournal.com

Alright, enough of this Broodier Side of the Force crap. I'm bored.

[ to the trained, experienced ear, that's...not exactly angel speaking. he's grown tired of the faux soulboy routine. ]

It's a wonder none of you have keeled over from lack of excitement. Sure, there was the whole zombiepocalypse thing, but what did that really accomplish? Nothing but a few cases of trauma here and there. Don't get me wrong, I love a good few rounds of quality mind fuckery, but why lite the bonfire if you're just going to douse the flames and make the forest all shiny and new again?

Lay off good pellets for a while, fuzzy buddies. Might help you plan better next time.

( ooc | phase two of the angelus revival glitch: the reveal. planning post over yonder. )

faderbroderson

While he slept, all of Godric's soft edges have hardened, sharpened to fine and deadly points. Decades of dulling the blades have been undone, in hours. When he opens his eyes, they are colder, darker, and possess a hint of something playfully cruel that would make the most courageous of men hesitate and back away. Godric is awake, stripped of the crushing guilt and sadness that plagued him, free of the soft feelings that had made him weak. He is full of life (and somewhere deep inside, full of a knotted ball of black anger), and his mind is suddenly working overtime, pondering all the things he's left unaccomplished.

( Cut for length and POSSIBLE TRIGGERS. It's pretty mild, but Godric is a possessive creeper right now, so you have been warned. )

What else? He'll have to ask Eric if he's forgotten anything. He's sure his child will be relieved he's come to his senses. He'll have to apologize, make it up to his dearest one. He must have been such a headache, these past months.

That thought in mind, he pads silently to Eric's room to wake his child with the happy news that he's well again.

_____________________

[ Location: Osten ]
Much later, when the sun begins to rise, Godric goes out. To a casual observer, he looks like just another person out on a morning stroll in Osten. A good hunter never looks like he's hunting.

[ooc: Yes folks, it is time for VAMPIRE HORRORS. Lock up your Extras and for the love of all that's holy, don't invite him in. Plotting post is still open here.]

biverbam.livejournal.com

The gates had held for almost a full day before a panicking infected Extra tried to get out. By the time River gets her tablet and puts it on visual, everything is dark. The only thing that can be seen in the emergency backup lights of the gift shop is her lower jaw dotted with dried blood (not hers, for the most part) as she whispers as loudly as she dares right into the microphone.

"All of them listen. They-- Shhh."

Outside a lion roars and is quiet and River presses the tablet against her stomach to scurry over to the opposite side of the shop. Away from noise, away from detection.

"Need a clear path. Between the smaller bones."

[ WARNING for general violent zombie mayhem, with additional possibility for descriptions of zombie cruelty to animals. (don't worry; the unicorn lives.) ]

undoing.livejournal.com

Angel had abandoned the hotel after grabbing his sword and stocking his person up on other assorted weapons. The hotel had been home to him for so long, but it wasn't worth defending anymore. No-one that mattered lived there, and the only purpose it served was to be a fixture for memories; some he cared to remember, others he often wished would just stay forgotten - like the faint outline of the point of a pentagram that peeked out from under the couch that had been placed on top of it in a futile attempt to hide it.

He frowned at it, remembering the primordial magic he'd tampered with when he was trying to find a gateway to Quor'toth and the son that had been here in Taxon for a while, but had since been sent home. He was glad Connor wasn't here to deal with any of this chaos, though he knew his kid would be able to handle his own.

Into Wilde he went, tearing down zombies as he made his way towards the home of the person he'd since proclaimed himself the protector of. There was complicated reasoning behind why Angel was currently going deeper into the heart of the areas the zombies now overran, some of which he'd yet to clue himself into, but by the time he arrived on her doorstep, he was already wearing half of what he killed. (One didn't go into a fight expecting to emerge with a spotless wardrobe.)

[ ooc | for various planned shenanigans, but feel free to run into him somewhere in wilde or prod him via visual. the more the merrier! ]

faderbroderson

Godric's inhuman speed and his poor tablet have never mixed very well. It turns on in mid-air as it goes flying, landing just in time to catch the image of Godric's blur passing by a small crowd of zombies. Godric abruptly stops in a crouch next to the broadcasting tablet as the zombies fall behind him like dominoes, gore spilling from their heads onto the ground where they land.

From a visual perspective, it looks as if the zombies' brains have suddenly and inexplicably exploded at Godric's passing. But a quick glance at the blood covering Godric's hands and forearms tells a different story. Crushing skulls with your bare hands; it's a vampire thing.

The tattoos on Godric's arms and torso are stark against his skin, his shirt discarded as soon as it became apparent this would get messy. With fangs displayed, he makes a positively savage picture, but the expression on his face is calm. Noticing the tablet, he politely detracts his fangs before picking it up and rising to his feet to speak.

"It seems our hamster friends have done something foolish again," he says rather dryly. "I hope those of you who haven't taken it upon yourselves to fight are remaining safe. Sookie, Mister Stackhouse, are you both well? River, Dawn, Kaylee? Should anyone need assistance who does not have it, you need only ask.

"Eric, where have you gotten to? Faith is just behind me; we're heading for Wilde."

stacked

The tablet turns on abruptly, as Faith tosses her bag down with a thump on the pavement. The odd angle means she's only visible up to about the chest, but anyone who's met her won't be able to mistake that leather on leather taste in clothing, or the smoker's rasp to her voice as she laughs.

"Yeah, come on. Let's do this." There's no one else on screen, but the shuffling, dragging footsteps that echo through the tablet are unmistakable and should be a cue to run the fuck away, right now.

...She's not running, however; she's standing in place, stretching, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet with excitement.

When the first set of zombie feet pass the screen, Faith charges at the entire group; she fights a little like she's dancing, if dancing involved arterial spray. No guns here, just her fists and a sword. It's over fast-- a little too fast for her taste, to be honest-- but the street is momentarily cleared of zombies.

She stretches a little, letting her joints pop, and sighs with unmistakable satisfaction. She kneels by her bag, wiping idly-- and without much success-- at the blood on her face; when she sees the tablet's recording one eyebrow sneaks up before she shrugs easily, then rolls her eyes and reaches past the tablet into the bag. After a moment of rummaging, she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and takes a second to light one up, oddly casual for someone chilling out alone in a zombie infested section of the city. "I'd be pissed about the free show, but screw it. This is the most freaking fun I've had since I got dropped here." Another long drag, then she grabs the tablet in her free hand and pulls the bag over her shoulder and stands, all in one smooth moment. "In case anybody missed the memo, try not to get bit and leave the killing to the professionals."

Her laugh is raspy but genuine. "Always wanted to say that shit." Chances to kill undead Extras is apparently all it takes to make Faith Lehane cheerful, good to know.

( ooc | faith's in osten at the time of the post, but if you'd rather do location than tablet and want to run into her somewhere else later on, just put it in the subject line and it's all good. she's basically drifting around the city kicking ass, so she can be wherever you need.

ALSO WARNING FOR POTENTIAL HEAVY VIOLENCE IN COMMENTS. )

imperial-long.livejournal.com

It had been a full and busy day, passing out red money envelopes to nigh everyone he had met in Taxon so far. But Long thought it a day well spent, a day full of interesting conversations in which he had gotten to digress a few times on the customs of the Chinese new year, to wax wistful for things like the dragon dance that would wend its colorful way through the streets of whatever city he was in. Even in San Francisco the dragon dance had always been splendid. He was skeptical as to whether there would be such a custom here in Taxon, but he supposed only the morrow and the first official day of the spring festival would tell.

Shortly before midnight, Long retired to his bedroom, turned off the lights, and crawled into his sinfully comfortable bed with a yawn. Creature comforts-- he was altogether too fond of them, he supposed. Several of those he had visited today in Taxon managed with much, much less. Perhaps this was another thing about being human with which he might have to come to terms.

He dreamt of China, of Hunan. Of the freedom of the air, the craggy mountains, sheep and oxen on pastureland and the voice of the boy, or girl (for it had varied) reading to him in the early days, the very long ago days. They were good dreams. He slept well.

He was still asleep the next morning when his tablet, thrown by concussive force out of his hotel room to land on the pavement several hundred feet away and six stories down, accidentally blurped! into broadcasting life.

He was still asleep when Taxon received the ( Visual. )

Current Mood: sleepy

eggplantgout.livejournal.com

“Andy?” Jason called out loud, looking around. “Can’t I do something else now? No one’s calling.” This working at a desk business wasn’t going to work. When he said he wanted to be a cop he meant being out in the field, taking down the bad guys and busting meth labs every Tuesday. If he had known that being a cop meant playing secretary he would have just stayed on the road crew. At least there he had a supervisor position and some authority. Being on the bottom rung and making copies got old within the first hour.

He wandered to the office supply cabinet and grabbed a box of paperclips. After opening the box he began to loop one through another and loop the other after that, making a chain. Now he could at least stay entertained. He strung one end of the chain at the top of a filing cabinet and strung the other against his desk and attempted a limbo, bending backward and walking underneath the paperclip chain. Upon successfully completing this he lowered the end that was attached to the cabinet and tried again from the other side.

This time around he couldn’t quite make it and got himself caught, slipping to the ground. Instinctively Jason shut his eyes during the fall and upon opening them he looked up at the ceiling. This wasn’t how he remembered the sheriff’s station. Why was everything silver all of a sudden? Jason pressed his hand against his head and upon doing so noticed what looked like a bracelet fused to his skin. “What the fuck? What is this?” He picked himself up and shuffled backward, looking around and dropping into a defensive stance. “Whoever kidnapped me, you’d best get your ass out here right now. I got a lotta people who’ll come looking for me when they find out I’m gone. You will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for kidnapping a cop.” Jason had no idea what the validity was of that last sentence, but it sure as hell sounded good.

faderbroderson

Godric is slouched in a chair in his living room, looking out the window. He seems melancholy, but it's difficult to say if he's truly having a bout of depression or if he's only being reflective. Such is often the case with Godric. After a couple of seconds, he turns his full attention to the tablet.

"I'm afraid I haven't been very social of late," he starts off casually, "but I've noticed we have a number of new faces. I thought I should mention that I run a staffing agency here, for anyone who may be in need of a job but is unsure where to look. I also own a hotel, the Hotel Carmilla. I've converted it into something of a getaway, with free room service and access to the pool and spa. There are masseuses, manicurists, essentially everything one needs to feel pampered. Should anyone be interested, there's always an Extra at the front desk to check you in."

Leaning forward, he rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands.

"For those of you who know me, how are you getting on?" A little smile steals over his face. "I think I owe a number of you belated thanks for your thoughtful Christmas gifts."

Kaylee might notice that his couch, which can just be seen in the background, now sports a lovely white slipcover, and the scarf she got for him is hanging over the back. He pauses, and then says in halting Chinese, "River, little admiral. How are you?"

His pronunciation isn't the best, but passable enough to be understandable. He could use some practical conversation.

lajolieblonde.livejournal.com

Sookie's Christmas was the first she's ever spent alone. It's hard, missing the people she left back in Bon Temps (Lord help her, she misses Bill; heartbreak can't seem to erase what she feels for him. Felt for him. Oh, fine, it's the first.)

But Lord knows she's had enough moping, and it's not in her nature anyway. Instead, she's taken it on herself to clean the house she took over top to bottom, the project keeping her mind from dwelling on the lingering uncertainty, sadness.

She slips on some water and the teapot in her hands goes flying, crashing against the wall and shattering into a million pieces. It was nothing, just a nice little flowered thing she got for herself around the holidays. But as her knees crash to the floor and starbursts of pain run up her legs, that teapot seems like the last straw.

Without thinking about it, she stretches out her hand and light arcs out, and the pieces are dust, now. She slumps down, resting her hands on her knees and hanging her head. "Oh, hell." There's a small beep and either her power turned the tablet on or her luck is just that awful, because when Sookie looks up it's recording her slumped defeat and she quickly scrambles off her knees-- not completely being able to hold back a tiny moan of pain as she does so-- to flip it off.

vikingvampire.livejournal.com

The sound of a shower going and a slightly foggy video is all that can be made out at first, when the tablet spontaneously turns itself on. When the shower turns off, a blurred male figure walks out of the bathroom, allowing the steamy air out and the tablet to defog. After a minute, Eric walks back in with a white towel around his waist while finishing drying his hair with another, smaller towel. He's completely oblivious to the broadcasting tablet as he stands at the sink preparing to brush his teeth. He may be a vampire, but even they have hygiene habits. And having clean teeth and breath that doesn't smell like old blood is part of his daily routine.

It takes a minute or two to thoroughly brush, making sure he gets his fangs clean too. Sure he could easily use his vampire speed to do it in under 20 seconds with the same results, but today he doesn't mind going slow. Once that's done he takes his comb and slicks his hair back, getting rid of the few tangles that had formed from towel drying. It's as he's doing this that he pauses and it's clear he's focusing on something. With narrowed eyes, he leans forward a little and combs his fingers through his hair, lifting it up so he can see what he's looking at better.

"Oh great," he says, obviously annoyed, "just what I need."

There's about half an inch of new hair growth that's a shade darker than the blond hair he sporting now. He blames it all on Pam. She was the one who wanted to dye it a lighter blond to begin with and now he has to maintain it. And since she's not here, who can he get to dye it again? She's the only one he trusts with his hair.