taxonomites | Entries tagged with { sherlock holmes (2009)

Religion is a word that inspires apathy at best in Bruce Wayne; he didn't grow up with it outside a handful of awkward, politically-required visits on holidays. It brings up memories of cold, uncomfortable buildings and droning music and the expression on his mother's face as she barely suppressed rolling her eyes - certainly not shrines and incense and offerings. Those things he associates more with spirituality, and those memories are mixed with times in which he was far more focused on other things. They were merely the backdrop for the main stage of learning, a pastoral against which he dodged and bled and tried again. His spirit is something that he manages, not cultivates.

( and you think that you thought all the thoughts that i thought you - don't you? )

tothelibrary.livejournal.com

Dawn is used to falling asleep in weird places. On top of books, window seats, things like that. It's just a job hazard when you read until your eyes cross and you just lay down wherever you are and conk out. But given the recent circumstances in Taxon, when she first realizes wherever she is, it's not her room (or even the castle) her first response is panic, sheer and all-encompassing. Angelus--

But there's an empty pizza box under her butt, and the pillow jammed under her head smells weirdly like cornchips. Angelus is a lot of things, but not a cornchip and ratty couch kind of guy. Plus, a quick mental checklist reveals she's: still in her pjs, not tied up, and not bleeding or suffering from head trauma. So: not Angelus.

...Where and what exactly is going on is still a mystery, however. Making a face as she carefully kicks away the suspiciously stained tshirt on the floor near the couch before standing and really wishing she slept in socks. Or shoes. Or maybe biohazard gear.

"Hello?" Crossing her arms over her chest, Dawn carefully navigates her way around empty bottles and crumpled sheets, towards... well, she's not sure what towards, but it can't be worse than the gross couch and weird, stale pillows.

[ ooc: I DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR THE LYRICS also, hopefully this is all right, housemates? Jenni suggested it in the ooc post, and I jumped on it. If anybody really wants to do it instead, let me know.

Also, treat this like a party post; tag, threadjack, whatever floats your boat. ]

ipseite

"Good morning, Taxon." Crisp British diction and smooth French enunciation and it must be the Countess of Gatas, sober in dark, deep blue and holding a china teacup in both hands as she sits down at her husband's desk, dwarfed by the masculine surroundings designed for a man much, much larger than she is but soothed by the authority of it.

Some few days have passed since the bomb threat, and as the city returns to an equilibrium it seems to her eye that there's no time to waste. She sips her tea as she briefly scans the notes she's had transcribed, and then begins. "My name is Lady Petrana, and I am the Countess of Gatas. The Doctor is presently incarcerated in the Alcione dungeons of my home. We have been poorly organized here in the city, and to my eye we're now paying for it. First of all I propose that those of you most closely involved with the capture of the Doctor meet with me here at Gatas; I am his jailer and I'd appreciate being kept aware of how we will continue to handle this matter. Some of you may have seen the gates of Gatas open in the past- they are now closed. They will remain so. Visitors who are not expected will not be permitted within the grounds without a very good reason until such time as I am no longer acting as prison mistress."

A beat passes; Petra takes another sip of tea.

"A committee of some sort seems to be our best - if not our only - option, but to begin with it may be easiest to meet with those involved in smaller groups. I greatly, greatly admire how well we've all pulled together for this, but with so many involved we'll be better served having some sense of organization before we attempt to wargame the situation."

In closing, Petra looks directly at the tablet and smiles radiantly. "I am so proud of you all. The feats of bravery, kindness and keen intellect on that day are well worthy of the knights that I have given my loyalty and love; I can pay no higher compliment. Thank you."

caballero

Bruce Wayne has kind of had enough of today; while the world of Taxon doesn't look nearly like the (artistically rendered, he suspects) Doctor's looming apocalypse, it's still in a near-cracking state. The destruction of citizens vs sentinel robots, accidentally-detonated bombs, and his own creative use of the tram have left a notable impact. Still, there is more to come - but just how much more depends on all of them.

"There's no radiation in the individual bombs," he says, and he's walking, headed straight towards the Sanctuary building in downtown Osten. "The machines are there to protect civilian life, not the explosives. If you're still here and can't get to a safe zone or on the ship, stay as far away from any sentinel activity as you can."

Speaking of the machines - they're approaching, because he isn't stopping, and neither are the people behind him, whose shoulders or backs can occasionally be seen in his broadcast. Bruce is holding something small and heavy in his hand, somehow both calm and extremely annoyed.

"Unless you'd like to get down here and help break this goddamn facility open, because the Doctor is right here."

lanterncast.livejournal.com

After the Doctor's announcement, the city has understandably been thrown into turmoil: with apparently a single hour to either somehow prevent the promised explosions or prepare to meet their various makers, the citizens of Taxon are responding however suits them best. There's always the hope the aliens will get in touch, but that's a hope that a lot of people aren't counting on.

Judith is one of those people. Going on Holmes' suggestion, she's keeping on eye on her map as she searches the outer edges of Taxon for a possible hideout/meeting place. It's almost certainly hopeless, and she doesn't even want to think about the odds, but there's nothing else she can think of to do. Periodically, she stops to work out her anger on a sentry or two, even if she can't manage anything with the bombs themselves.

Whether wandering the city, seeking a solution, making their peace, getting ridiculously drunk, or otherwise managing, everyone copes with impending doom somehow.

[OOC: This is a big post for ...basically anything you want to do with reactions to the bomb threat! Have your character bite some sentries, run into other characters, make a big 'The End is Nigh' sign and stand on a street corner--anything is fair game, along with any format of communication. Jack Bauer watches over you. :3]

rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com

The Doctor appears on the screen. He's in a dirty blue suit, and surrounded on all sides by rubble and debris. The screen ripples with heavy radiation.

"Hello there," he says, grinning broadly. "This is a message for the people who have captured the citizens of Taxon. Well, when I say 'citizens', we're really just a bunch of prisoners, aren't we? But this message is for the ones holding us all here."

He holds up a small, cobbled-together device. "This is a molecular ray demorphiciation replication unit. Basically, it's a short-range time-hopper. Doesn't hop very far into the future, so I've set it to exactly one hour after this broadcast has been made. As you can see---"

He gestures behind himself. "Not exactly the most pleasant place here. This is Taxon, after I've destroyed it." He pauses. "There are three thousand, two hundred and fifty eight bombs littered all across Taxon. Feel free to check your records, I've acquired enough materials from your replication units to make them. And when I press down on this---" he holds up a small detonation device, "---they'll all go off, one at a time. Unless you meet with me and discuss the complete evacuation of everyone within this city. Including the people called the 'Extras'."

He takes a breath and looks, for a split second, unsure. He relaxes. "So everyone gets out, or everyone dies and your precious city is destroyed with them. You have one hour."

OOC: Blowing up stuff plot get! Everyone who wanted to be part of this, feel free to have your characters head off to the places the bombs/sentinels are set up! The sentinels look like this and shoot non-lethal rubber pellets and knockout darts.

orderfromchaos.livejournal.com

I've a rather pressing query for the lot of you.

Assuming something were to - oh, I don't know. Burn down. Would it customarily be replenished of its own accord, or has anyone yet to test this theory?

levilup.livejournal.com

There's a small hurricane making its way through Taxon this evening, and it's near impossible to stop. It's been going for a few hours, like a less frantic version of the Tasmanian Devil, but only just so, because Levi has discovered that Shane's marker on the tablets is gone. Shane hasn't been home in hours, and Levi's held himself together this long, but he's starting to get angry, irrationally so, the way he does when he's trying not to just collapse into tears. The vampire's nearly tearing Taxon apart in his search for his fledgling, ignoring the fact that Shane's most likely... just not there anymore.

The tablet flickers on as Levi's frustration peaks, catching a few seconds of Levi's angry expression before there's a rush of movement-- and then the tablet hits a wall and lands with a clatter, having been flung clear across the street. The tablet films the sky for a few more seconds before the feed cuts out.

About half an hour later, Levi appears on the tablets again, calm now. The hysteria is lurking under the surface, though, ready to break out at any second.

"This may not do me any good, but it's worth a try," Levi begins, breathing in deeply. "Has anybody seen Shane? Shane Hayes. He's rather short, brown hair, was wearing plaid the last time I saw him... he's-- he's gone missing, and I... I'd just wondered if anybody had heard from him."

[ooc: no, Shane isn't gone for good, his object's just acting up; he got a bedsheet that causes the user to become intangible, invisible and inaudible. However, if the user continues to use it, they may become temporarily unable to return to normal. This is what has happened to Shane, but Levi doesn't know it, hence... freaking out.]

orderfromchaos.livejournal.com

This is yet another morning where Sherlock Holmes is far from keen on waking up. The light's already stinging his eyes, and he finds himself issuing a half-grumbled, half-growled "Watson," as his hands flatten to the floor before him, splayed in such a way to provide enough traction to drag himself forward a fraction of an inch.

His brows furrow when he slides with such surprising ease. There's another guttural sound as Holmes pats the surface beneath him - curious. It wasn't the carpeting, nor the hardwood, with which the detective was so familiar after years of missing his bed. "Should have been hardwood, at least," he mutters to himself, still far from awake, already set into the throes of some wild theory before his eyes so much as slit open.

He takes note of the smell. ( Or lack of smell, as it were; )