taxonomites | Entries tagged with { katherine pierce

Jenna was at the Dodgy Jammer that day, cleaning up. She'd been trying to deny what she's suspected for a few days, but somehow, today had smacked it into her that she no longer could. He was gone, back home and good for him, and she needed to deal with it.

He'd told her he wanted a party if he ever went home, so that was what she was going to do. No tears, Jenna Sommers. When she flipped the tablet feed onto visual, she was smiling, albeit with a lot of difficulty.

"Hey, Taxon. Jenna here. Just wanted to let everyone know that Fitz has gone home. I'll be taking over the Dodgy Jammer, so you're not out of a place to drink and make merry yet. And speaking of, I'm throwing a party for him. He said he wanted one if he ever left, so bring your party hats and leave the tears at the door. Got it?"

She took a deep breath and toasted the feed.

"I'll be here all day and if you're looking for a job, I'm sure we could work something out. It's hard to make a place like this work by yourself."

slayersidekick

Willow awoke with a start. She could feel the tears on her cheeks - whether they were tears of pain or relief, she wasn't sure - and she had already wiped at her eyes before she noticed that she'd forgotten to turn the lights off when she fell asleep. Oh well, too late now. What she had yet to take note of was the flashing light that meant her tablet had turned itself off.

She was also bypassing the big, bloody patch on her stomach where she was missing skin.

Or at least, she noticed it when she tried to move from the bed - being on top of the covers had its advantages sometimes. The amount of pain she was suffering caused her to wince and glance down at her stomach.

"Oh... that..."

Wait a minute. This wasn't her room at Buffy's. Her new one or the old one. It wasn't her house or the dorms, either. That could only mean one thing: it was the castle at Taxon. And she was in the room she'd been sharing with Tara. Or had at one point.

Tears flooded her eyes, spilling forth at the memories, as everything she'd done, both in Taxon and in Sunnydale, came soaring back to her. Trying to hold in her sobs just made her injury hurt worse, so after a while it was hard to tell what she was crying about: the emotional trauma or the physical pain. Eventually, she did try to stand up and so the tablet got a full view of the nice bloody patch, a perfect rectangle across her stomach. She held an arm to it, finally noticing the tablet. Well... it would be easier to call for Buffy this way. And maybe a doctor, much as she doesn't want to do it.

"Buffy? I-I think I need a doctor..."

whoneedsrules.livejournal.com

The tablet turns on spontaneously to reveal a slender young woman with riotous brown curls seated at a table in a certain coffee shop not far from Taxon hotel. Coincidentally, it's the very same coffee shop she'd disappeared from well over a month ago in the middle of a tablet broadcast; the very same table too, in fact.

Her spine straightens and a look of mild confusion crosses her face as she stares at the tabletop - didn't she have a cup of coffee in front of her?

"Okay, that's weird," Katherine mutters, frowning. However, she has witnessed stranger things in her long un-life, so a disappearing coffee cup is no cause for concern. Glancing outside, she's further confused to see snow. She's rather certain that wasn't there when she'd walked into the establishment. Granted, she can be blissfully ignorant of things and people not relating to herself and her plans sometimes, but not this much.

"Ugh. The magic hamsterland strikes back," she drawls, distinctly displeased. She hates snow. Realizing her tablet is recording (oh, but of course it is!) this, she grabs the device and gives the screen an unimpressed look.

"Alright, someone explain. When the hell did that holly jolly Winter Wonderland monstrosity outside pop up?"

( ooc | i can't for the life of me remember if the pause glitch was revamped and how it's supposed to work now, but i'm having katherine pick up from the same place she left off without any recollection of having gone "poof" from taxon for nearly two months. feel free to have your characters inform her of what happened if you want. )

whoneedsrules.livejournal.com

Katherine was seated by her usual table in the cozy little coffee shop not far from the Taxon hotel, a large ceramic cup of fresh latte by her elbow. She chuckled to herself before addressing the tablet lying on the tabletop, the low sound suffused with amusement.

"So, last month was rather colorful, hm?" she remarked gleefully. "This place may not have much by way of TV broadcasts, but sometimes these glitches do you one better. I doubt any sitcom could compare."

She was about to continue when something abruptly caught her eye, wiping that smug little smirk right off her face. There was a sudden, strange paleness, an almost translucent quality to her skin that startled Katherine and had her sitting up straight, her brows furrowing as she stared at her hands. She had just fed; this wasn't the ashy, sickly pallor her skin would take upon starvation.

"What the hell is--"

The rest was lost, as was the vampire herself. The steaming cup of coffee continued to sit on the table, untouched, and the Extras around the café went about their business as usual - as if the haughty brunette in the corner table hadn't just disappeared like she was never there.

[ ooc | and katherine is thus pause glitched until december! obviously she won't be answering to anything, but feel free to have your characters tag in with their reactions; discuss, threadjack each other, throw a party, etc. anything and everything goes! ]

ownlittleprison

For Mick, the past week had passed in a blur of activity. Early morning saw him barricading the windows to keep out as much sunlight as possible, and his Extra neighbors had complained greatly to the Extra who kept tabs on everyone in the building. He'd been issued a warning, and informed that two more strikes meant he had to leave.

It had taken considerable effort on his part not to twist its neck.

He was rather proud of himself for behaving.

But that was then, and the past few days had been indescribably worse. The urge for blood had become to great, making him careless - he'd do anything, as long as he could get a taste. Just one drop. Just a mouthful. It got to the point where even the stop signs in the streets made him think of blood; so vibrantly red he wanted to climb up and lick them. It was the same with fire hydrants, tomato juice, anything even remotely resembling blood.

He knew he wouldn't last much longer. The first defeat came when he caught the faint scent of blood on the air, stalked one of the fake people through the night-- And then another. He wasn't sure how many he'd hurt since that night. Three? Five? Twice that?

It had to stop.

It had to stop before he hurt someone else. It was just a matter of time before he couldn't control himself any longer.

---

Hands shaking, body wracked with the shivers of fever and pain like he's never felt before, Mick takes out his tablet from his jacket and pokes it to life. He's shaking so bad he can't hold it still, but from the moment his feed starts transmitting, one or three things are blatantly obvious:

He's in real bad shape - pallid, sickly skin tone, dark circles around his (pale blue to the point of milky white) eyes and cracked lips. He's covered in a fine film of...is that ice crystals? And last but not least, if you're looking closely, his teeth are sharper, longer than ever before (all the better to eat you up, like the granny wolf said to a certain girl in a certain hood).

"...I'm sorry," he grinds out, breath stuttering out of him in little huffs of white smoke. "I-I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I-- I'm the one--"

He swallows, throat too dry to speak, lips too stiff. Heart racing wildly in his chest; the entire city must hear it, it's so loud. "I hurt the Extras. I didn't mean to, I, I couldn't--"

Missing the point here, Mickey, get to the point. Just say it. Out with it. I'm a vampire. You did it once, with Beth, you can do it again. 'I am a vampire'.

...I'm a vampire.

I'm a--

His breath stutters, his head twitches like a stop motion dummy stuck between one moment and the next. "I-I think you're going to have to kill me. I'm losing control. S-stake to the heart first, then fire. Cut off my head, burn the corpse. Stake won't kill me, j-just paralyze me.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

whoneedsrules.livejournal.com

This is exciting! Katherine thought she had the names of every vampire in Taxon - after all, only Drusilla was public with her fangs. Katherine and Caroline had kept their vampire status on the down low. The only one who would (or could, in Drusilla's case) actually attack people was Katherine herself, and she hadn't touched those bland-tasting Extras since that one mistake she'd made shortly after arriving into Taxon.

Katherine's exceedingly curious about who this person behind the attacks on the Extras is. But true to her style, she isn't going to make the effort of finding this mystery vampire herself if she could get someone else to do most of the dirty work for her. It's fortunate that she hadn't done anything hasty in her anger and revealed herself publicly as a vampire after Stefan's disappearance a while ago, as that secret becomes useful right now.

"So, apparently we either have a vampire Extra, a glitched kidnappee, or an actual vampire kidnappee on the loose," she says, her features an artful mask of unease. That's exactly what it is; a façade. She's been playing games, lied, cheated and manipulated for over five hundred years, and she's good at what she does.

"Now, I don't know about you people, but I'd definitely feel better knowing this guy - girl? ...person was identified and caught."

Pffft. Katherine is probably one of most dangerous things in Taxon herself, at the moment, even if she has been on her best behavior for a good while. But Stefan is gone now; he was the only tether that kept her somewhat grounded and controlled, kept her from causing mayhem for her own amusement. It's a different game now, and Katherine feels like playing.

"We can't just sit around and wait for another attack, right?" she continues, pausing before adding the punchline, "What if next time it's not an Extra but one of us that gets hurt? Or worse?"

Game on.

rereremembered.livejournal.com

You can take the companion out of the TARDIS, but when one hears a mysterious noise coming from an alley one will still investigate.

Not that Fitz was all that thrilled with the idea, he'd much rather finish his walk home to the pub in peace. Plus pursuing mysterious noises in alleys tended to result in getting arrested or maimed or - given that this was Taxon - worse, but...he couldn't ignore the pained groan. Or, once he looked, the way the man (an Extra who appeared Indian) was stumbling towards the street.

Or the way his hand was pressed to the side of his neck and blood was soaking into his t-shirt and hoodie. Right.

"Oh for God's sake," Fitz muttered and hurried over to the man to grasp his shoulders. "Hey, what happened? Who did this?"

The dazed Extra stared at him blankly and shook his head, completely unhelpful. Fitz did manage to coax him into showing him the wound, which did not have the classic two-puncture hallmark of a vampire's fangs but was definitely a bite of some kind.

"Right, I'll take you to the good Doctor Jones, she'll sort you out." And he may as well get the word out while he was at it. With one arm around the Extra to support and guide him, he turned on his tablet.

"So...all right, there's no way to sugarcoat this: I've just found an Extra who's been bitten. In the neck. I'd suggest locking your doors and not inviting anyone in for a while."

ooc: a post to get the ball rolling on Sofie's plot with Mick. go go vampire panic!

sacrifica

The phone dropped from her hand as she turned.

"Jenna?" She could hear Katherine vaguely as she ran to her aunt, hands holding onto her face as Alaric steadied her against the counter.

“Jenna, no, come on.” All she could think about was Katherine, her parents, everyone that had died over the past year. At first she’d blamed the vampire presence but this was because of her… her and Katherine. She wanted to know why – why Katherine wouldn’t just come after her instead. She was sick of all of it.

Elena could feel a hand on her shoulder, a voice telling her that everything would be alright, that they were on their way but she barely heard it… barely felt it. She didn’t want to die but if it meant stopping all of this? Stopping everyone she cared about from being in constant danger? She had to do something.

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. It was impossible… she couldn’t see any good outcomes from it. How could they beat Katherine and have no one else die? And what about aunt Jenna, what were they going to tell her… would she even live? God, Elena hoped so.

It was a few minutes before she moved again, finally letting out the breath in a sigh. Opening her eyes Elena looked to Jenna, panic rushing over her when she didn’t see her. Something in the back of her mind wanted to tell her that the paramedics were already here, that she was on her way to the hospital but she didn’t believe that… couldn’t. She turned her head, looking for Alaric or Jeremy by she was faced with wall… solid metal wall that was impossible.

“What?” She stared at it for a moment, slowly reaching out and pressing her hands on it.

It was real. But… how? How could she be here?

“Katherine?” Unless somehow she’d been drugged and this was hours later she hadn’t moved, that and she didn’t have any gaps in her memory. Scrambling to her neck Elena panicked again when she realised that the necklace was gone. Had Katherine compelled her and made her forget she'd been there? But... why? Just to lock her in the tomb?

Her mind was racing, trying to think of any other ideas but… there weren’t any. Elena couldn’t think of how she’d gotten here; the why was a little easier but could she even be certain of that?

“Oh God.” She leaned against the wall, fearful and a little defeated. She was stuck down her – she hadn’t seen any doors when she’d looked around – and she had no way of contacting Stefan; her phone had been in her bag. She was stuck here for God knows how long and God knows where. And what was worse was that she didn’t know if Jenna would live or not.

She wanted to cry, to scream out until all of her pain was gone… except that she knew that wasn’t an option. There was too much and she couldn’t let that happen – she couldn’t let herself become defeated before she’d even tried.

“Come on Elena, pull it together.” She was muttering more than talking, not quite trusting herself to fully talk, not sure if she could listen to herself. “Katherine’s obviously not here or she’d have done something by now, that means someone else has done this.” She’d managed to get to that but without anything more she was stuck.

“I really wish you were here, Stefan, broken up or not.” At least around him she felt safe – knew that he would keep her safe; even Damon seemed like a good option at this point – he cared enough to save her.

“I know you’ll get me out of here…” You always do, was her unfinished sentence.

Elena sighed again, closing her eyes and pushing her head back against the wall. This time she really felt doomed.

secretshame

Jenna had looked high and low for her niece for the last few days, calling Elena, trying to be sure her suspicions were correct and that she wasn't just jumping to conclusions. But after almost a week and no sign of Elena at all, Jenna was forced to admit what she didn't want to face: Elena was gone. And she wasn't coming back.

In a last-ditch effort to be absolutely sure, Jenna sought out Caroline. She had to know, had to ask the blonde if she knew where Elena was. Jenna could handle it if Elena was just trying to protect her again - albeit, likely not very well - but she had a feeling that was just wishful thinking.

Once it was clear to Jenna what had happened, she took up a post at the Dodgy Jammer, tear-stains clear on her cheeks, no matter how much she wanted to hide them. After a while, she opened up her tablet to let the rest of the world know.

"As much as I don't want to admit it... Elena's gone. I can't find her anywhere."

What she needed right now was a couple of good drinks. So, that's what she was doing, trying to drink away her sorrows so she wouldn't remember.

ownlittleprison

If there's one thing I've learned in 85 years, it's that what we want doesn't always matter. Yeah. You can say that again.

It had been a good twenty something hours, all things considered. He’d saved the day, saved the girl, gone on the strangest roller coaster ride of his life - literally - and at the end of it, he got a curve ball to rival all others. It came in the shape of a kiss.

Soft, warm lips touching his; there one second, gone the next, over before it had even started, and absolutely, positively perfect. For the duration of that one, precious little moment, with Beth’s heartbeat vibrant and loud in his ears and palpable on his lips, she’d made him forget everything else. All his worries evaporated, all his troubles went poof! Gone. Just like that.

He’d said goodbye.

He’d gone home, fighting the dopey smile that kept tugging at his lips, stars in his eyes when there were none to be seen in the polluted LA sky. He’d felt more alive on the drive home than he had in decades.

And now this.

There one second, gone the next; the hallway leading to his apartment, poof! Gone. Replaced by a metallic cylinder taken right out of one of those dentist horror flicks, or one of the sci-fi double features of the ‘50s. A weird, Star Trek type thing right above him, stairs right in front of him.

“I think someone needs to have a serious chat with Scotty,” he murmurs to himself, his pale blue eyes widening slightly as confusion creeps into the shell shocked disbelief. He’s had some weird fever dreams over the years, but this has got to be the single weirdest one of all. A raised platform, a circular room (cylindrical, that’s what it is, like some kind of test tube gone wrong) - and for a moment his mind races in panic: Is it silver? No, it can’t be. He’d be able to smell it (burning flesh and blood and silver oxide and gun powder, and the smell is just a memory but it makes him feel sick). He moves, pushes himself out of the daze and takes the steps two at a time. His eyes never stop moving, gliding over too shiny surfaces that look too Weird Science even for his taste, and the light from above reflects too brightly on the elaborate white gold ring on his index finger. ...and is that a bracelet? Fused into his wrist? “--what the Hell?”

Time to breathe. Don’t panic. It’s just a metallic room with no visible way out. “Hello? Is there anyone there?”

It’s the first rule of horror movies, I know. ‘Never ask if there’s anyone there’, ‘cause there always is. The guy with the axe hiding behind the curtain. The zombies pouring out of the only house for miles. The vampire trapped in a tomb, just waiting to be let out.

Bad example.

“Look, I’m sure there’s some way we can figure something out,” he adds with a crooked smile - it’s a bit of bravado, of course it is, but it’s either that or literally climbing the walls to look for an exit. The last thing he wants is to show his captors that they got one up on him, which they did, but a guy’s got his pride.

“I like the iPad. And the, uh, accessory. Nice touch, but not exactly my style.”

Sometimes what we want doesn't matter. But sometimes... Sometimes it's the only thing that does.

((OOC: 1 AM means my brain refuses to put together good enough tags for my liking. I'm calling slow-times, and I'll keep tagging everyone tomorrow morning. And remember: it is never too late to leave a placeholder tag. :3))

disparage

Something is wrong.

Caroline tries to wrap her arm underneath her pillow, expecting to kick Bonnie’s leg and knee Elena in the back, but she feels nothing on either side of her or underneath her head. “Bonnie? Elena?” she says it sleepily, expecting to get an elbow in the back for talking. “Where’s m’pillow?” She frowns, her eyes still closed, and begins to realise that she’s no longer wrapped in the warm sheets of her bed but lying on a cool, hard surface in her pyjamas.

She bolts straight up, rubbing a hand furiously over her face to wipe the sleep from her eyes and from her limbs, and takes in the room she’s woken up in. Her heart hammers inside her chest. This wasn’t like the cage the werewolves had stuck her in—what with the lack of bars and Brady sitting outside her little cell, pointing a gun in her direction and firing without blinking—as it was expanse, bare, and circular.

That still didn’t mean there weren’t any werewolves.

Caroline tries to stand up straight, bracing herself for the bullets or vervain. She takes in deep breaths, trying to see something within the room that will give someone away—or give her something to fight back with—when she looks down and notices the bracelet on her wrist. Her attention now on the bracelet, she frowns and tries to pry it off, only to have her fingers slip over it. “What the hell is this thing?” Exasperated. What kind of sick joke was this? Hadn’t she been taunted enough?

Her fingers were still trying to pry the bracelet off her wrist as she looked around. “Stefan? Elena?” Surely Stefan would know, right? He was the walking encyclopedia of fangs. Inhaling deeply, she looks around the room once more, looking for anything when she notices a pedestal a few feet away from the platform she’s currently standing on. Biting her lip, she takes a few tentative steps towards the stairs, looking for any oncoming bullets or surprises that may be sent her way.

Nothing came.

Feeling a touch bolder, she speeds up her pace by a second, hesitantly approaching the pedestal and frowning at the tablet sitting upon it. She didn’t dare touch it, her fingers slipping over her bracelet as she tried to peel it off during her walk towards it. “What is this thing?” She isn’t sure what she is referring to, exactly, but with another second frowning at the tablet, Caroline turns her back and takes a few steps back towards the platform. There has to be a way out. She continues to glance around the room, fingers eventually coming to a halt with fiddling with the bracelet.

Taking in a deep breath, Caroline let go of her other wrist and tried to calm down. “Okay, Caroline, this isn’t as bad as it can be. It’s just a rabbit hole I’ve fallen down. Not one I’ve been put into by a pack of fur who have nothing else to do during the month.” That was a touch comforting, at least.

Despite that, her heart still hammers wildly in her chest. Some rabbit hole this is.

Current Mood: scared

virtued.livejournal.com

The sheets were soft; much softer than those on his own bed or anything he had access to on Serenity. They weren't the fine silks that Katherine's bed was lined with, either. Yet, the feel of them against his skin was familiar to him somehow, and in the bleariness of morning, Stefan couldn't quite place it.

He stirred, rolling over instinctively towards the warm body on the other side of the bed. Still sleepy-eyed, he smiled at her. "Good morning."

Elena stirred at the familiar words and voice, putting her hand on her forehead to push the hair that had fallen in her face as she'd slept out of her face. Blinking as things came into focus, she turned to the other body occupying her bed and smiled, pleased to see him. "Morning."

Stefan held that smile for a moment longer until reality set in and who he was in bed with clicked. His eyes widened. "Elena."

Elena's eyebrows knit together in confusion for a moment, wondering why he was surprised, and then everything came back to her in a split second and she sat upright with a start, eyes going wide and a hand clapping over her mouth.

"Stefan," she said breathlessly once she removed her hand. "What are you -- what are we -- what happened? Do you remember?"

He sat up, too. "No." Last he could recall, he was crawling into his own bed at the boarding house. He couldn't remember how he even got to Elena's, let alone what they did or did not do. "Do you?"

"No," she replied with a shake of her head, absently feeling around to make sure her clothes were still on. Not that she didn't trust Stefan and not that they weren't sleeping together anyway, but she didn't like that she couldn't remember it if it had happened. "Just going to bed last night."

Similarly, Stefan was lifting up the covers with and peering under the sheets to make sure he still had pants on. Check. Thank God.

He slid out of the covers and stood-- Or he tried to, but the silver chain that had thus far gone unnoticed pulled taught between them, catching him off guard. Stefan stumbled and fell awkwardly over the side of the bed.

Elena was concentrating on not panicking when she suddenly found herself jerked violently to her side, landing face-down on her bed as Stefan fell over the side. "What the--" And then she saw it -- the chain glinting in the early morning light that connected them by the wrists.

The chain wasn't what Stefan's eyes were on. "Elena..." They were on the bright red recording light on the tablet.

It recorded a few more seconds of footage, then cut off the feed.

stacked

Two years. Two goddamn years. Maybe one of the geeks could tell you exactly how long that is, how many days or seconds. All Faith knows is that it's a hell of a long time to be stuck in one place, and that even if Taxon's a nicer prison than she's used to it's still a prison. The bars are wider, there's more room to run, but she's caged all the same.

She's not big on melancholy or on metaphor, but the thought of cages sends her out on a run, feet pounding against the pavement like she can outrun the idea of being stuck here forever. Not like the real world's got much more to offer, but at least there she can get the fuck out if she really tries. Here, nothing's in her control and with Willow ratting out Angel's latest life choice, Faith feels more out of control than ever. Not like she's jealous-- not like that at least, not like she wants that herself-- but Jesus, it's Buffy.

Without really thinking about it, she ends up at the zoo; then it's nothing to hop the turnstiles, make a quick stop to hatch a bottle of jack and six pack of beer and park her ass in front of the tigers, stare at them through their bars.

She's down all but one of the six pack and half the bottle of jack when her tablet turns on, recording the vaguely unsteady way she swigs right from the bottle and then sets it down next to her, staring at the big cats intensely.

"You guys got it easy, you know that? I mean, sure, prison sucks and you can't run around and all that shit, but you know where the bars are. Not a bad freaking deal, I guess. Better to be out in-- wherever the hell you live, eating bunnies and whatever, but at least you got an idea, you know? Plus, you're all new. I got two years in this place coming up. Two freaking years, Jesus."

She raises the bottle again in a toast, drinking deep. "Mazel tov, I guess. Happy anniversary to me." Next to her the tablet continues recording, unnoticed.

( ooc | tablet stuff is all good, if you want to location it up that works too! just let me know first. )

a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com

While Drusilla slept on the silk sheets that Angel had promised her, the figure reflected in her window pane - a girl who was both like and unlike the vampire - said her prayers.

Her lips barely moved as she murmured her supplications up to heaven. They were secrets, her prayers. Secrets that weren't for the ears of anyone but the Lord. (It was strange, wasn't it? The girl gave her heart and her trust to the same deity who had, in another life, abandoned her to the clutches of the devil.) The rosary clutched in her pale hand was worn with use and with piety.

The Drusilla on the bed wore red. In the right light, it looked as if she was a corpse in a pool of fresh blood, stark against the snowy sheets.

The Drusilla in the glass wore a coarse nun's habit. In any light, she glowed with virtue.

It was the life that she could have lived. The person that she could have been. She rarely dreamed of such things - the pixies whispered of the future, not the futures that had never been able to come to pass - and, when the sudden sharpness of the reflection pierced her head, Drusilla woke with a start. For a moment, she gazed - wide eyed and unblinking - at the window.

"No."

She snatched up the lamp that stood on the table next to her new bed, throwing it without hesitation. The glass shattered and the girl disappeared before she'd had a chance to ask for forgiveness for the sins that her other self had committed.

"I'm not sorry," she snarled, addressing the broken window and the shadow that had stood there, "I'm not sorry."

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.

aregulargirl.livejournal.com

Max has gotten bored, and as a result, has ended up in the casino on the eighth floor. She looks around for a while, taking in the flashy decor and bright lights. The scene reminds her of when she went with Original Cindy to scam a bunch of gangsters out of the money Sketchy owed to them, how they'd dressed up a (or down, considering how revealing and tight their outfits had been) and pretended to be ditzy, flirty nightclub dancers.

That felt like so long ago, now. She misses her friends, misses the days when things were more carefree, when she didn't have the guilt of letting out so many transgenics that weren't prepared for life on the outside into the world, people who didn't have means of disguising or defending themselves. People who were getting lynched on the streets, just because of what they were, just because they were trying to blend in and survive.

Her smile fades, and she's suddenly angry with herself. Angry that she's let a bad memory (and reality) ruin a good one, and angry that she can't go back and do anything about what's going on back home. And if she lets herself think about it any further, she'll fall into a pit of despair, and that's not why she came up here. (Or down, considering her room's on the floor above this one.)

Luckily, she seems to have found the bar, and she hops over it to fetch herself a bottle of something strong. It looks to be very well-stocked, and Max is about to just snatch herself a bottle of tequila, but then she finds a book by the sink. She's never really been one for fancy drinks (mainly because Crash didn't typically serve them), but she's just bored enough to give an apple martini another try.

[ ooc | backdated to when they were still in the sanctuary! ]

whoneedsrules.livejournal.com

Katherine is hungry. Scratch that, she’s starving. Being stuck in the Sanctuary with the rest of the captives has put a serious damper on feeding and keeping it a secret. The kitchens are too public, and Katherine, ever distrustful, doesn’t put it past those law-enforcement types (or anyone wishing to track Taxon’s vampire population) to somehow keep an eye on them. That’s what she’d do, if the roles were reversed. No, it’s too risky to attempt taking any blood herself, considering the recent spike in the anti-vampire mentality. She hadn’t made it to be over five hundred years by being stupid or careless. Obviously she can’t even think about breaking her "straight from the vein" ban – but oh, how badly she’s tempted to. There is hardly a thing more appealing to a hungry vampire than all these warm bodies in such close proximity that she can hear the beats of their hearts, circulating that sweet blood she’s craving for.

Well. She’d just have to come up with something else.

Leaving Stefan's room on the seventh floor that she'd claimed as hers, too, Katherine wanders the hallways towards one of the kitchens, dressed in pale pink pajamas she’d managed to find from the storage earlier – hardly her usual color, but beggars can’t be choosers. If nothing else works, the vampire considers compelling some poor fool to fetch her some blood; her and Stefan, of course. She flashes a quick, pleasant smile to a random passerby, brown eyes flickering to their throat just for a brief second. Yes, she needs to feed soon.

Perhaps she’d bump into her "poor fool" candidate somewhere along the way.

virtued.livejournal.com

Stefan was pissed, for lack of a better term. Being trapped in here, while not the worst thing in the world, wasn't entirely pleasant, either. Especially not with all these vampire attacks that had taken place recently, giving fuel to the anti-vampire sentiment shared by more than a few of the human captives in Taxon. The fear was justified, warranted, but acting on it while they were trapped here wasn't going to do anyone much good. He agreed with what Angel had to say about the topic, though he hadn't voiced it.

Now he knew who was behind the attacks: Rose. Coming from a point in time before he met her meant that Stefan didn't trust her. He'd been trying to, giving her a chance and listening to what she had to say, especially since she was a source for information on Klaus who wasn't Katherine, but now, he wasn't so sure. Stefan wanted to blame a glitch, wanted to banish away any captious concerns about the possibility of it not, but he couldn't be sure. A glitch would take away all blame and responsibility, but the truth was that he didn't know her. For all he knew, this was just how she was.

He'd been on his way to talk to someone about this - preferably Damon, if he managed to find his brother first - when he nearly tripped over something that went skidding across the floor when his foot collided with it. Upon further inspection, Stefan noticed it was a tablet. Huh.

Digging his own out of his pocket, he switched on a video feed and asked, "Hey, did anyone drop their tablet?"

( ooc | the tablet is

entractes's, dropped during this thread when rose attacked him. )

allthefunever.livejournal.com

[ after a long night, damon didn't have the energy-- or honestly, the desire-- to kick stefan out. it's been a hard, keeping to their self-imposed separation. damon's used to being able to track stefan down whenever he feels like; having his brother firmly back at katherine's side has put awkwardness where previously there was none.

so his tablet turns on the a view of stefan and damon in bed together, reconnecting in a quintessentially salvatore way, remembering the patterns they'd once gone through as easily as breathing.

...one thing in the pattern damon forgot, however: stefan is a horrible bed hog. all the covers are wrapped around stefan and he's sprawled out, limbs all akimbo; damon is towards the edge, one leg almost entirely off the bed. the feed would close on them asleep like that, but damon shifts, and almost falls out of bed; flailing out with one arm, he catches himself and sits up, glaring over at stefan with a fondness he can't hide. ]

You always were one to steal the blankets. [ a smirk steals over his face, and he grabs a corner of the sheets currently wrapped around his brother and yanks, sending stefan tumbling onto the floor. over the sound of his indignant howl, damon leans over the edge of the bed and grins. ] Oops.

[ the feed closes on stefan's hand reaching up to grab damon's shoulder and then and pulling, and the thud of damon hitting the floor himself. ]