taxonomites | Entries tagged with { kara zor-el

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

After spending a week in a female body, Spencer had been thrilled to finally wake up as himself again. He was all out of sorts yesterday. He tried to read and work on running his stats of arrivals and departures, but he couldn't concentrate. Around 9 o'clock, he fell into bed.

This morning, he woke to the sensation that there was somebody in bed with him. He nearly fell out of the bed when he realized that it was Beckett. Quietly, so as not to wake her, he had slipped from his room into... a house? His apartment had turned quite suddenly into something that it was not last night. His furniture was now art deco and he had a television - one that he suspected only showed programs in black and white.

Spencer had made his way to the kitchen and brewed a cup of coffee in an ancient looking pot (which somehow worked like it was brand new). Now he stood staring out the large window in the kitchen, clutching his mug of coffee and contemplating the beautiful manicured green lawn in front of him, which stretched to a white picket fence.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and wrapped his robe further around him. Spencer had no idea what to make or this, or what to make of waking up to find Beckett sleeping beside him.

[OOC - This is for Spencer, Kate, River, Ax and Kara to have their family shenanigans. Although, any friendly neighbors who want to stop by are also welcome.]

faderbroderson

"--a messy eater, Eric." The tablet focuses on Godric's elbow, very near the screen. Beyond him is a blur of white and red that eventually comes into focus, somewhat alarmingly, into a white couch with blood spilled on it. Visitors will recognize it as one of the couches in the living room at the nest. The stark contrast between white cloth and rich, red blood is rather pretty if you're into that sort of thing.

"Why you insist on white furniture is beyond me." Eric's voice, just off-screen and mildly exasperated.

"I like it. It isn't as if I can't afford to get it reupholstered. But we should probably attempt to clean it." Godric's voice again, serene but vaguely concerned at the last. Then Eric snorts, shifts, and his elbow comes into the shot, a little farther from the tablet, a little closer to the couch. Some of his torso is visible too.

"We should have people for that sort of thing. You shouldn't have to bother with it." Godric's elbow moves up and down as he gives a small shrug.

"I don't mind. Do you want Extras in the nest?" There's a short silence. Eric doesn't respond verbally, but Godric chuckles. "I thought not."

justaddsunshine.livejournal.com

Glitch's plan had been to ease down from the floating position he'd woken up in. Nice, gentle, simple landing with all sorts of (new weird girly Kara-like oh gods) body parts on the floor where it was safe and (relatively) normal.

He miscalculated and crashed down with an "Oof!" which activated the tablet on his wrist, so everyone got treated to a very startled not!Kara.

"Oh cripes!" he exclaimed, then his eyes widened at the sound of not-his voice. He pushed himself off the floor, completely miscalculated his new and infinitely improved strength, and propelled himself backwards out the previously-closed and now shattered window. Fortunately he was now invulnerable so that didn't hurt at all, and he sort of glided out over Sanctuary Square, which was when his fear of heights kicked into overdrive. Down down down need to be down need to be not-up need to be on the ground NOW.

Wish granted! With a shriek he flung himself earth-ward, tumbling gracelessly until he hit the center of the square with enough force to leave a decent-sized crater. This...did not especially hurt either, for which he was eternally grateful.

He gingerly climbed out of the hole and oh-so-carefully got to his (Kara's) feet to survey the damage.

"Oh, cripes!"

ooc - backdated to the 29th

not-so-natural.livejournal.com

A terrified looking Kaylee appears on your tablet screens, her hair a mess and her face like she's just seen a ghost. She's clutching a shirt to her naked chest.

"I-I-I think there's some kind of problem here. T-This is Spencer Reid, but I seem to have... woken up in this female body. I-I don't understand..."

He runs a hand through his - or Kaylee's, rather - hair, appearing as though he's about to have some sort of panic attack or worse.

"I just.. I'm trying to get out of here - I don't even know where 'here' is, actually - a-and I need to get dressed because um.. apparently this woman doesn't sleep in much. But, I found some clothes and I'm trying to put them on, but I can't... I can't..."

Now Spencer-as-Kaylee's face is bright red as he stares down at the floor, mortified to ask the question he's about to ask.

"H-How do you put on a bra?"

Current Mood: distressed

wantstwolegs.livejournal.com

What's probably the most disorienting thing about getting body swapped is that Kara has been asleep when she was swapped. And the body she was into sleeps with one eye open, which makes the shift of senses enough to wake her up the moment her mind is swapped with Aximili's. Her (his?) eyes snap open, and she twists around in confusion, taking a few stumbling steps around the forest she's woken up in.

«Wh-What the hell?» she thinks. Thinks. Kara-Ax's hand rise to her face and... there's no mouth. Right. Aximili's a telepath of some kind, isn't he? «Oh shit. Ohhhhh shit.»

What follows is, to say the least, a very long and rather impressive string of Kryptonian expletives and frustrated not-quite yells. «Goddammit, you stupid hamsters! Put me back in--» She cuts herself off as she realizes something. She's not in her body and, while she's not the best when it comes to mental mojo and everything that goes along with it, she's about 99% sure that Aximili isn't in this body either.

Kara scrambles for the tablet nearby, noticing with a little bit of embarrassment that it's already on and gives the network a somewhat desperate look. «Despite all appearances, this is Kara Zor-El. Apparently messing with us was on the top of the hamster's Halloween To-Do list.

«But, sweet Rao, someone please tell me my body isn't like. In a ditch somewhere and brain-dead. And Aximili? You're out there too, right? Safe and sound?» she asks, a hint of panic seeping into her voice. She may be used to dealing with really, really, really weird things, but this? So not anything she's used to and it's freaking her out more than a little, no matter how much she tries to keep her head together.

likeajoan.livejournal.com

[ Boredom is a dangerous thing. It can lead to all kinds of bizarre pursuits, such as the one Buffy is currently on. She's taken it into her head to attempt to procure a replacement toy from her childhood, and the toy store at the mall seems to be the logical place to do that. Unfortunately she's not paying attention to her tablet, which is indeed recording. Also unfortunately, the search isn't going well. There is some muttering under her breath: ]

Crappiest stuffed toy selection ever.

[ Because it's fun to take isolated comments out of context? ]

bigbad

Spike is sitting on the floor in the Hyperion lobby hunched over and concentrating hard. He's holding a deck of cards, and several other piles are in front of him on a foot stool in the solitaire set-up. He moves an ace up and stares at the cards for a little while before flipping three down. Then he moves the cards around again. This continues for a while until finally, he shifts into his vampire face. His forehead wrinkles up and his eyes turn yellow, teeth lengthening.

He growls and knocks over the table, sending cards flying. He smiles for a minute. It's vaguely satisfying, but it doesn't really help anything.

Spike sighs and lets his features go back to being human, then turns to the tablet. He notices it's already recording, but at this point it's really too late to do anything about it. He picks it up and speaks into it.

"Anyone want to fight? I'm this close to seeing if I can hatch a demon to kill, I am so bloody bored."

skort

Kara flicks the visual feed on her tablet as she's reorganizing a shelf in the store. It's not much, just moving things up the shelf a little so customers don't have to reach so far back to grab them, but it's something to do when things are a little slow.

"I have a question for my fellow captives," she says, and pauses to turn something around. "Where's the best place in town to either get a slice of cake or a good cake mix? Preferably chocolate, but I'm definitely up for suggestions." She throws a glance and a smile to the tablet attached to her wrist before going back to her organizing.

"And thanks in advance for any responses. This isn't something that's vitally important, but it is something kind of special." The expression on Kara's face gets a little melancholy for a moment before she reaches over and flicks the feed off. No need to continue it and have people watch her work aimlessly. She can always turn it back on if/when she gets a reply.

patternal.livejournal.com

[There are a few sounds at first that suggest that this post isn't entirely intentional- things like something metallic striking something else, the occasional rush of air as something swings through it and displaces it. Eventually, though, a steely hiss registers softly as Corwin's sword meets its sheath and slides back into it before he addresses the device recording him.

Maybe it wasn't all that accidental after all. But then, the device is still just slightly beyond his understanding of how technology should have been, so it really could go either way.]

I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I'm looking for a fencing partner. Preferably of the less idiotic variety. There's only so much you can practice on your own, you know?

icanhaslogic.livejournal.com

This was a room he had never seen before, and hardly where Spock had been expecting to turn up when he had stepped onto the transporter pad. It hadn't been all that long since the crew had formed itself around the incorrigible bravado of James Tiberius Kirk, but there was that element of trust among all of them that only a massively traumatizing and life-threatening encounter could create.

This just rang too close to sloppy work done far too quickly. Hardly what he had come to expect and surprising enough that he spoke to someone not there without remembering that he wouldn't be heard if he didn't say it into a communicator.

"I believe you may have missed, Mr. Scott." It was only after he had spoken the words that he realized that the lack of communication devices would make it impossible to speak to those on board the Enterprise, and yet, when he searched for his, it came up missing (he had been certain that he had put it on his belt next to the phaser that was also gone. It was supposed to be standard equipment after all).

The next logical thing, then, was some kind of practical joke, though he had assumed that the crew members would know better than to try it on him as he would not give them the reaction that these kinds of things always seemed to call for. He arched one angular eyebrow over his alien eyes and spoke again to invisible people that might well have been listening from behind the strange metal walls.

"This is no time to make a vain attempt at humor." This mission was supposed to be important and they were wasting time-

-but there was no response. Hardly unexpected, though still almost-frustrating in that way that only a Vulcan could understand- emotional and not all at once.

"I am afraid that I fail to understand the joke." Hadn't he mentioned that these kinds of things escaped his understanding once before? Illogical and unnecessary, all of it. These things served no purpose, and yet humans seemed entirely fascinated by them. It was rapidly becoming apparent, though, that this was no prank, and that perhaps there was no Enterprise nearby to hear him- even if he had his communicator with him.

All he could do, then, was explore this strange room that he had ended up in. Metal. Nothing he had ever seen before, and his scientist's hands itched to be holding his tricorder and find out what it was. What this was.

He took a few steps and nearly tripped over an object at his feet- his lyre, strange thing to have in the room with him. It served no purpose now and he had left it behind in his rooms. It would have been illogical to bring it with him. Still, he cared for it as much as he could care for an item, and he bent down to retrieve the fragile, stringed thing from the floor where it was certainly unsafe.

"This is entirely illogical. Cease these actions immediately and return me to the planet's surface."

A last ditch effort, perhaps. The feel of wood beneath his fingers as he cradled his instrument gently in his hands made it fairly certain that this was no prank. In which case, his first priority was survival in whatever place this was. And that meant leaving this room.

Though the means to accomplish that were hardly apparent.

adeadringer.livejournal.com

One minute, Elena is driving her car, admittedly a bit fast, away from her boyfriend's house. The necklace she's taken to wearing all the time, even while sleeping and bathing, is conspicuously absent from around her neck, and she is crying beyond consolation, but being very, very careful to maintain control of the car.

Until the next minute, when someone is in her car's path. Someone who was not there just a moment ago, someone who moves quicker than can be seen, but she doesn't have the time to make that connection before she slams on the brakes to try and avoid hitting him -

But it's too late. He's hit and she's suddenly spiraling out of control, her car flipping and landing upside down with the sound of glass crushing and metal crunching. This is not Elena's first time in a car wreck, and the memories that come flooding back to her from that first time when the car lands and she fully realizes the situation have her crying again. But she tries to reign it in, tries desperately not to panic. She turns to see if the man she hit is all right, and he's crumpled in a heap in the middle of the road, a pile of broken limbs. For a split second, worries run through her mind, the fear that she's killed someone, but then the pile starts to move. It's sickening to watch as the figure rearranges his limbs, bones cracking and snapping back into place, but Elena can't look away, transfixed in horror. And then the figure is fully formed and standing, as if nothing happened at all, and then it is heading straight for her.

He's right outside her window and she can't move, can't get out of the car, can't reach her phone, can't run away. She's trapped and he knows it and he's coming for her, there's nothing she can do. She squeezes her eyes shut, opens her mouth to scream -

And when they open again, she's in a room. A large, metal room, nothing like anything she's seen before, except maybe in sci-fi movies. Her breath catches in her throat several times as she tries to take deep breaths, calm herself down enough to figure out where she is. Nothing looks familiar and nothing here is as it was just a second ago - her car is gone, the man coming after her is gone, and everything is silent.

Something catches her eye - something set atop a small pedestal. She stands - it takes her longer than she'd like, she's not too badly injured considering the kind of wreck she was just in, but she is pretty banged up - and picks it up. It looks like some kind of phone, and if it is, maybe she can call for help.

"Hello?"

It's a start but not the best one, her voice is choked with tears and barely audible. She clears her throat and tries again, louder and a bit clearer this time. "Hello? My name is Elena. I was in a - I was somewhere else, and now I'm here - I need to know what's 'here'."

A wave of dizziness and pain washes over her and her eyes close for a moment as she sways, but she quickly re-opens them, not wanting to wake up somewhere else again. (Not that she wants to go back to where she was, either.) "I'm in a room. It's - it's big and metallic, and empty. It doesn't look like anyone aside from me is here." A horrible thought occurs to her - the idea that whoever brought her here might be coming back. She remembers the man coming towards her, and she suddenly really wants to get the hell out of this place.

"Can someone - I need to know how to leave. Does anyone know how I can get out?"

With that, she settles (more like collapses) onto the floor, unable to stand any longer. She's scared, feeling weak, and in pain, and it's taking a lot of effort not to pass out. She's so distracted that she doesn't even feel the weight of the necklace that's suddenly back around her throat, the light thud of the charm knocking against her chest.

skort

Kara's tablet turns on when she smacks it as she turns over in her sleep. From the looks of it, it's not a particularly good dream. In fact, judging by the choked off yell as she sits up, it was down-right nasty. She looks at nothing in particular, her expression shocked like nothing else. "What... What the hell was that?" she murmurs quietly.

Without thinking, she brings her knees to her chest, curling her arms around them as she mutters to herself quietly in Kryptonian, trying to figure out what just happened. Her breathing is coming a little quickly as realization dawns on her and her expression slowly turns to something akin to horror.

"Oh, Rao..." Cue more angered murmuring in Kryptonian before Kara just buries her face in her knees.

The feed times out.

[ ooc | canon update! also. forward dated a few hours to like. 4 AM Wednesday. ]

notabuymoron.livejournal.com

If anyone is paying attention to tablet transmissions, they may see a shirtless Casey exerting himself with intense physical labor. He's hacking at a tree with a fire axe and with a vehemence which is not exactly pleasant to watch. Behind him, in the background and slightly off to the side is what looks like a pile of debris, stacked into a makeshift bonfire.

There may be some noticeable bits of furniture in that pile, don't ask him how he dragged them there.

There may also be evidence that he's been drinking heavily. Probably because at some point he pauses to take a swig from a half empty bottle of Johnnie Walker, black label.

Message at your own peril.

skort

[ kara flips the voice feed of her tablet on as she flies through the air around taxon, trying to let off some steam. it's easy to tell she in the air, what with the sound of air whistling past. When she speaks, her voice is even and oddly flat. ]

For everyone who knew him, Herc's gone. Sent back home, it looks like.

[ there's a long pause, as if kara's thinking about saying something else, but then she cuts the feed off abruptly. ]

bigbad

[There's the faint sound of buttons being pushed and mechanical beeps. Spike is playing video games!]

Come on, come on, oh, bloody hell, I was not trying to go there! Stupid plumber. I... no, wait, don't--

[He lets out a frustrated noise as his character dies on the screen. After a few moments, he resumes.]

Bloody game. Princess is just gonna be in another sodding castle anyways, don't know why I...

[He suddenly drops the controller and clutches at his chest, though to anyone listening it will sound like just some muffled thumping. This would be his soul being ripped out of him. On the screen his character dies again, but Spike's not paying attention anymore.]

Oh... god no...

[ooc: And thus begins Spike's soulless glitch! Expect him to deny everything.]

tiberiuskirk.livejournal.com

Kirk stood outside the doors to the severed bridge of the ship he hadn't seen in over a year. There used to be a hallway here - to the right, sickbay and to the left, the transporter room. Both were gone, sent home along with the people they'd accompanied. Sickbay had vanished months ago with Doctor McCoy, but the transporter room was a more recent disappearance, gone with Uhura. Both she and Spock were now absent from Taxon.

Part of him was glad they were gone. No-one deserved to be here. Better they be home, leading the lives they were supposed to than here in sometimes apocalyptic hamsterland. The other part was angry and jealous; felt abandoned and alone. Irrational, he realized, but hey, he was only human.

He took a step towards the doors and they parted obediently, granting him access to the Enterprise's remaining piece. Once on the bridge, he lifted the tablet he'd known was on all along into view so he could look at the screen directly. For once, he'd actually turned it on himself and wasn't just the tablet glitch that plagued Taxon's residents.

"To those of you who knew them, Commander Spock and Lieutenant Nyota Uhura have been sent home."

notabuymoron.livejournal.com

Casey's getting tired of people disappearing on him. Yeah, sure, he's used to moving around a lot, never getting attached. Even burning assets when he has to. He's played the betrayal game, been betrayed and had to leave his current life behind countless times. The first time was the hardest, of course. But the point is...he should be used to endings.

When Morgana and the Royal Chambers up and disappeared, he soldiered on. He's barely seen Gwen at all since she moved into Buffy's castle. And now he finds that the Last Mistake is gone and so's its proprietress.

He knows what it means, but he still can't help what he does next, activating the table to ask:

"So...uh...anyone seen Nazca lately?"

faderbroderson

"A year. Perhaps not precisely...I paid little attention to the date, but it's September again. It seems as if it's been longer." It's almost as if Godric is speaking to himself, unaware that the tablet is broadcasting. He seems very distant. But then, after a long moment of silence, his gaze focuses very deliberately on the tablet.

"It has occurred to me that there's been much misinformation, or indeed, a lack of information readily available for those who have recently arrived. Would those of you who have been here for some time be interested in composing a guide, with all the knowledge of Taxon we've amassed so far?" He's tired of people asking why they call the aliens hamsters, or if anyone has ever spoken to them, or why no one has tried to walk/fly/dig away from Taxon and just what measures have been taken thus far to escape, because they're clearly not trying hard enough? If they're ever going to concoct an escape plan that will actually work, they'll need to keep track of the full extent of their collective knowledge. Re-discovering the same facts over and over does them no good.

There's another long pause where Godric looks away from the camera, a sad, strange expression on his face. Then he tilts his head back toward the screen and speaks quietly, a melancholy note edging his every word.

"For those of you who knew him, Eric is gone. Again."

The public broadcast ends abruptly.

Private to Kara:
I want to thank you.

Private to River:
Litten Amiral, I have missed you. Are you well?

Private to Wesley:
I believe we're overdue for tea.

likeajoan.livejournal.com

[ There's some vaguely ambient sounds in the background here, clinking glasses and faint music. Apparently it's a slow night, because Buffy has the time to consult the tablet. She doesn't sound terribly thrilled, and there are reasons for this. ]

Hey, does anybody know how to get red wine out of formerly-shiny white cashmere-blend?

[ And a pause. ]

And does anybody else think it's weird that nothing's blown up for a while?

numbersnfigures.livejournal.com

"… So you see, because this unsub doesn't exhibit antisocial behavior, then there's no way that he could possibly have committed this crime, because this is clearly the work of-"

Dr. Spencer Reid was so engrossed in what he was saying that it took him a good 10 seconds to realize that he was no longer standing in the bullpen at the FBI quarters with his team. The new surroundings surprised him so much that he jumped and stepped backwards, nearly tripping over a box at his feet.

"What in the-?"

This was a dream. It had to be. Maybe he hadn't actually been at work at all and that was also a dream. This was just a new dream. Yes, that's it. Still, this felt startlingly real. His leg hurt where the box had dug into him.

Spencer surveyed the room, made entirely of metal. Glancing up, he noticed a strange looking metal machine attached to the ceiling above him.

"Is this- did I get beamed into this place? Am I having a dream about Space Trekking?"

As exciting of a possibility as that was, this did not look like their ship. Spencer looked down at the box at his feet and realized immediately what was inside of it. Picking up one of the envelopes, he tore out the letter inside and scanned the page. "My dear Spencer…" There they were; every single letter from his mother piled neatly in a cardboard box at his feet. Why on earth was this in his dream?

While he glanced over the letter, he noticed the strange bracelet on his right wrist. He panicked a bit when he realized that he couldn't move it.

"O-okay, I don't think I like this…"

Spencer usually wore his watch over his shirt sleeve because he disliked the feel of metal on his skin. This bracelet, however, didn't bother him. It was almost like it was a part of him, and that made him panic even more.

"It's just… this is just a dream Spencer… just a succession of images and sound that my brain is creating as a part of REM sleep…"

Finally, he noticed what looked like a cell phone sitting on a pedestal about 3 feet from him. Approaching it, he gazed down at what appeared to be a colored map on the screen. This phone was exquisite; quite possibly the most advanced phone he'd ever seen.

"H-hello?" Spencer picked up the device and was startled as part of the wall across the room moved away, revealing a doorway.