taxonomites | Entries tagged with { the doctor (tenth)

allthatlife.livejournal.com

Martha Jones appeared in Taxon wearing a wedding dress and a frown.

“Oh, you have got to be …”

In a rustle of silk and chiffon, she stepped off the platform, lowering her bouquet to put her hands on her hips and survey her surroundings. The technology was clearly advanced, but it lacked the life and warmth of the TARDIS or the cheerful haphazardness of the Hub. She didn’t know who – or what – had made the transportation device and the fact that it clearly wasn’t Sontaran didn’t make her feel any better. The Earth had plenty of enemies. (And Martha – or, more accurately, one of Martha’s closest friends – had even more.)

“This is Doctor Martha Jones of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce.” Her voice was calm, crisp and official, though she wished that she’d had the presence of mind to tuck her ID card in amongst the flowers. She should have known better than to expect a smooth wedding day. “I don’t know who you are or what you want, but, believe me, kidnapping me isn’t going to help you.”

She noticed the bracelet on her wrist before she noticed the tablet. The metal – was it silver, or was it just an alien ore that looked a lot like silver? – was cold and, even more worryingly, it seemed to be fused directly to her skin. Martha gave it a tentative tug, before raising her hand to examine it properly. Oh my god. She’d been tagged, like some sort of pet. Like some sort of experiment.

“Send me home,” she demanded, in a sharp tone that she hadn’t used before. Anger – not fear, definitely not fear – bubbled up in her chest as she discarded her bouquet and picked up the tablet. (The same unusual metal, but the layout reminded her of a mobile phone or one of the sleek devices that Tosh had liked to customise for her colleagues.) “I’m supposed to be getting married today and, believe me, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of some of my wedding guests.”

revivedqueen.livejournal.com

Her sarcophagus. Her resting place. She had gone to visit it mere moments ago, as a means of connecting with a past she can no longer return to.

Too many things to ponder on. Too long had she been held in this place, against her will, against her desire. And she can find no means to alleviate her increasing discomfort. Her recent bout with Spike, and even with the vampire leader, had helped little to comfort her. Her conversations with the younger Wesley only confirmed her thoughts.

She had no purpose here. She had no place here.

And yet this realization is not new.

Illyria reaches out to touch her sarcophagus - when the glitch hits.

She watches, disturbed, as her skin, her armor changes. How can this be? She had no desire to look like Winifred. Illyria had not willed it. She throws her head back, closes her eyes - nothing.

She grits her teeth as suspicion begins to gnaw at her. Lashing out, she pushes her sarcophagus away until it crashes and destroys one of the walls.

Amidst the dust and debris, Illyria stands panting. Her tablet, attached to her wrist now, records her movements as she begins to inspect her borrowed form.

aworldenchanted

Tara's had her first full day back at work. It was quiet, and calming, and she feels a little better for having something to do. She's been working on herbs, magical and mundane, principally for Morgana, who she genuinely hopes is healing herself. She hasn't looked up Morgana (or Cordelia or Rose) yet, giving them a bit of space and taking some for herself. Still, she's getting the shop back in order, expanding the inventory, and trying not to think about the fact she hasn't felt her magic since Sam had told her she could let go. It would come back - she just had to wait and trust it.

And if it didn't... she'd survive. Maybe a little broken, but she'd hang in there. There was a lot a person could learn to live with, if they have to.

She locks up and starts to head for home. She feels like walking; there's a small current of fear that doesn't leave her these days, but being around Extras is worse than walking by herself. It's a nice enough evening, a little cloudy and not too hot, and she could use the exercise, now that she feels stronger.

Of course, this is all lovely until the glitch hits.

Suddenly, Tara looks terrified. She doesn't know where she is, or how she got here, but she knows she is not where she is supposed to be. This is so very, very bad.

She fumbles through her pockets and finds a thing that looks sort of like a phone. She presses "talk," and says, "H-hello? Is a-anyone t-there?" Her stutter is thick, and her voice is quiet despite the panic; if she were less panicked, she would never dare to just talk on a strange phone, but when her family notices her gone, bad things will happen. And if anyone here finds out what she is -

- she needs to go home. Right away.

rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com

after this.

The Doctor leaves Rose sleeping after a while and heads to the console. He promised he wouldn't take them from Taxon until Rose woke up, and he plans to keep that promise. He'll say goodbye to Rose, send her back to her world, and then take everyone else back. Everyone except the Master. He can't give him back to the timeline, he just can't. He needs to convince himself that he's wrong, but that will take time.

But, there's something he needs to do in Taxon, first. Someone he has to give some very sad information to.

He steers the TARDIS towards another room in HC Clements, one with another victim of the Master's resting up. Vaguely, he recognizes that going to visit Morgana while Rose is sleeping won't look very good to Rose, who is already suspecting he's up to more than he actually is, but he can't just run away from this. Not this time.

He parks the TARDIS in the middle of the room and heads towards the door.

nopalehorse.livejournal.com

[Methos is still getting his bearings, but all in all, things aren't so bad. For all the inconvenience of being suddenly snatched away from his life into an ant farm run by giant hamsters (and he's quite eager to confirm that for himself, because really?), Methos is actually enjoying his time in Taxon so far. Much of the reason for this has to do with the distinct lack of other Immortals. He's been all over Taxon twice now, walking its streets and riding its trains, and not once has that familiar buzz dodged his steps. After becoming so used to the sort of trouble Duncan MacLeod attracts like a magnet, he's positively giddy at the change of pace.

This doesn't mean everything is flowers and rainbows, though. If Methos is anything, he's paranoid, and it's let him keep his head this long, thank you very much. The woman who'd spoken to him when he'd first shown up had been decidedly unhelpful, but he'd been able to glean a thing or two about his situation by paying an almost obsessive attention to the conversations going on over the tablets.

So while he's not even close to being properly settled in, he has warmed somewhat to the idea of actually talking to people via tablet, since they all seem to be real people and not the empty-headed automatons running around everywhere. Thus, he makes his first broadcast to Taxon at large, asking a Very Important Question:]

So. Where can I find a nice place to sit down and have a beer?

bigbad

Spike sits at a table, looking straight into the tablet. His arms are crossed, and he looks annoyed.

"All right, I'm looking for a girl," he says. "She was one of the people the Master took, long brown hair, very pretty, probably knows Drusilla. You all right, love?" He doesn't know her name, and he still feels bad about not pulling her out. But he had to take down Drusilla first.

He pauses for a moment, licking his lips, then leans forward. "Not actually her I need, though, I put my coat over her during the fight. It's a long, black leather duster, and I'm bloody attached to it. So whoever's got it, give it back."

He clicks off the transmission and sits back to wait for answers.

aworldenchanted

It's safe to say that no one who hasn't made a concerted effort has seen Tara since her rescue from the Master. Tamper and Trick has been closed, and she hasn't been much leaving her room. At first, this was due to physical healing; she'd gotten off lighter than some, but she'd still hurt all over, and hadn't wanted to move for awhile. There'd been a lot of sleep.

Now, the bruises are still present, but fading, and the smaller cuts are almost healed. She could go back to work, but she can't quite seem to find the will to do so. And as for lessons with Piper and DG... that brings up another problem.

Tara looks at herself in the mirror. She's still pale. She could do something to cover up the bruises; she knows how. But she'd rather just stay in. The idea of talking to much of anyone is a little overwhelming. She should check on the others, Rose and Morgana and their fellow captives.

Tara puts her head down on the desk, for just a moment.

There are a lot of things she feels like she should be doing. But she hasn't done any of them. She doesn't feel like she knows how to even move anymore.

Of course, she can't control the fact that her table decided to turn itself on, in the meantime.

[I am also still willing to backtag with her on older, more immediate aftermath threads, so feel free if you prefer more immediate post-rescue.]

oneofthequick.livejournal.com

The communications system flickers on and displays a man wearing a drab, dusty taglemust but with a recognizable sword buckled at his hip. After a moment of surprise, he skims over a few notes on his tablet before unveiling his face to speak: "My alternate has left notes for me to read, but I would prefer a more reliable source of information."

greenballadeer.livejournal.com

Lorne takes the stage, ready to entertain the folks who have come for a celebratory drink after the big rescue. He has a punchy 40s tune planned, something to get the crowd dancing in their seats. The plan is to celebrate, but the musical glitch has finally taken hold of Taxon's most musical resident.

Violins swell mournfully out of nowhere. Lorne raises the microphone, even though he hardly needs it; his voice fills the bar, every square foot of air vibrating with the bitterness of his song.

"Yesterday
All my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh I believe in yesterday.

Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

How I lost my way, I can't say,
I can't explain.
I did something wrong,
Now I long for yesterday.

Yesterday,
I didn't know that I could kill a man.
I killed Lindsey; now I know I can.
Oh I believe in yesterday.

The violins fade away, and Lorne visibly slumps. "Sorry, folks," he says softly into his microphone. "I didn't mean to spoil the party."

He creeps off stage in a fruitless attempt to be inconspicuous. "Casey, can you make me a Sea Breeze, ASAP?" he calls to someone off camera. "It's an emergency!"

[OOC: You can play this one of two ways: your character picks up the performance via tablet, or is at Caritas itself enjoying a drink or some music and hears the song in person.]

whoneverwas.livejournal.com

Charley had been walking down a perfectly boring corridor on the Viyran ship when on her next step... she finds herself here. Not that she's entirely certain where here is, but she's been everywhere on that ship and this room certainly isn't part of it... so where is she? Sadly, she doesn't really have time to finish the thought: it's a bit disorienting to be so abruptly moved from one place to another and as she attempts to stop mid-stride, she winds up falling to the floor in an awkward jumble of limbs.

"Oof," she says, with all the poise and grace that might be expected of someone who'd fallen on a patch of floor that was, perhaps, light years away from the one on which they were previously walking.

Well, the floor is as good a place as any from which to survey her new surroundings. Grey walls, grey floor, and above her... is that some sort of transmat sensor? It might be, but then again it might be the heating element in some sort of huge toaster oven... as much as she'd prefer not to think she's in some sort of huge toaster oven. And there are no exits and no people. Well, at least none she could see...

"Hello? Listen, I'm not quite sure how I got here -- and I really am sorry if I'm trespassing or something -- but I'm not going to hurt you. If anyone's there, you can come out."

She glances around the room as though hoping to see someone emerge from the shadows. Her voice echoes back to her, but no response comes.

"Well, it was worth a try, anyway."

She reaches out to run her fingertips across the floor -- smooth, metallic, and much like any of a hundred other space stations or starships she'd been on. Nothing to tell her where she is but -- now that's interesting. A smooth metallic band around her wrist, vanishing seamlessly into the skin. She twists her arm around to get a better look, tracing over it with her fingers.

"Curiouser and curiouser."

A second glance around the room revels the... well, she's not sure what it is, but it's not entirely dissimilar to communication devices she's seen before. She pushes herself to her feet and goes over to pick it up. She uses her patented 'press buttons until something happens' tactic of dealing with unfamiliar technology and... oh, did something just light up?

"Hello? Sorry to be a bother, but I seem to be stuck in this room..."

rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com

The Doctor hatched a set of handcuffs. They were for him to use. The last time he'd let someone else restrain the Master, the Doctor had held him, still in restraints, as he died. That wouldn't happen this time. The Doctor would save him. Somehow.

Everything was ready. It was just time to move forward.

OOC: Final post for the Master's plot! Everything is in individual threads and threadhopping is encouraged. If you see that this needs another plotty starter thread, drop me a line and let me know!

EDIT: I was requested to put up a note letting everybody know that this is a backdated post.

rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com

For the first time in a quite a long while, when the Doctor flips on the tablet, he doesn't look his usual smug self. He, in fact, looks quite panicked. He's run from Donna's to Rose's and back, and confirmed exactly what he was afraid of. They're gone.

"Hello," he says, trying (and failing) to affect a look of calm. "It appears several of my---several citizens of Taxon have been taken from their homes. I don't know everyone who's been taken, but I can wager a few guesses."

He takes a breath and starts naming names. "Rose Tyler, Donna Noble, Tara Maclay, Morgana la---just Morgana, sorry, Fitz Kreiner...I don't know who else, but I know who has them. I don't know what he's going to do, but I don't think we have much time."

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the Doctor humbling himself enough to admit this:

"I need help. Anyone, please. Just---for the sake of the people who were taken, I need you to work with me."

OOC: After this. Actual meetup thread halfway through, but please don't hesitate to bring new people in to respond. No such thing as late to the party.

consorting.livejournal.com

It was just a normal morning. Guinevere did her typical routine; up around sunrise to get herself ready before checking in on Morgana. There were a few extra things she had to do herself now that ~~almost~~ all of the Extras had been banished from the chambers, but it only delayed her an extra half an hour or so.

When Morgana did not respond to the knocking at her door, Guinevere entered with little delay, but dropped all the sheets she had been carrying once she saw the state of the room and the lack of its Lady. There was clearly a struggle, objects from the vanity and the very linens had been ripped away from the bed. Her window was wide open, possibly the point of entry as the path of the struggle lead clearly towards the door.

Guinevere looked around herself, mortified and mentally cursing herself that she had not heard any of it happening just two rooms away. She took her tablet from her bracelet, frantically hitting whichever button she could quickly and paying little mind to the method she used to begin her transmission. It was all still new and confusing to her, but she needed to get the message out quickly.

“Arthur! Mr Casey! Lady Morgana has been taken from her chambers. I know not by who or where they went, but there was clearly a struggle. Please, help!”

[ ooc • backdated to right after they were taken by the Master. Feel free to jump in; Gwen's not savvy and this was transmitted publicly. ]

beholdthedrums.livejournal.com

( Locked to Drusilla )
[Public]

The visual opens on the Master's mad grin, and he murmurs at the device, as though trying to lull the population to sleep - though the words of choice... well:

"♫ When the Devil is too busy
And Death's a bit too much
They call on me by name you see,
For my special touch.
To the Gentlemen I'm Miss Fortune
To the Ladies I'm Sir Prize
But call me by any name
Any way it's all the same -♫"

And then he's pulling away into a waltz with his Extra dancing partner, moving through amongst a square in Central, spinning elegantly along the edge of a fountain. The Master is more than pleased for this song and dance number.

( I'm lying through my teeth )

a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com

It was time.

Drusilla had been waiting patiently – for the right moon and the right moment and, most importantly of all, the right people – and, at long last, it was time.

“Little lamb, little lamb
My birthday is here at last!
Little fish, little fish
Do you think I'll get my wish?
Little lamb, little lamb
I wonder how old I am ..?”

Centuries and centuries. It didn’t matter. She’d made her wish and Miss Edith was already on her way. A hundred birthday gifts – a thousand! – couldn’t mean more to her than that.

The vampire stayed close to the shadows. Not because she needed to, no, but because the darkness was soft and familiar. The sleeping city rippled with anticipation. Something was happening. It had started with the Extras, though they hadn’t – wouldn’t – harm Drusilla. Unlike the rest of the residents, she was moving with purpose and determination, encouraged by the hamsters and aided by the stars. They guided her footsteps, telling her who to seek and how to find them.

The first one would be easy. His name had been on the tip of her tongue since she’d spoken to the hamsters. He was so lonely. The loneliest man in any world. He’d be delighted to see a familiar face, wouldn’t he? Just for a little while? His hearts – two of them, which would make sure a mess if his throat was ever slit – hammered with the need for love and attention.

She didn’t know the others, not really. Just their faces. Just their faces and wishes that called to her across the city.

That was more than enough.

OOC: Open to the ~~unfortunate~~ lucky individuals who are about to benefit from Drusilla’s sudden surge of charitable feeling. There is also a fresh heart in a box on Ruby's desk. Good luck with that?

rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com

Several notes have been left around Taxon over the last few days.

( Left on the door to Fred Burkle's... )

( Left on the door to Rose Tyler's... )

( Left on the door to Castle Summers, for Tara Maclay... )

( Left on Fitz Kreiner's door... )

Once all are delivered, the Doctor plants himself in a nondescript alley in central, smooths out his hair, and flips on the tablet to visual. He grins madly at the camera.

Of course, right before he opens his mouth to speak, music begins playing. Ah, it's that old familiar tune, the first bars to "All By Myself". The Doctor feels the music tug at his heartstrings, and he opens his mouth and says:

"No, I'm serious. I'm not singing that, stop it."

He says it with enough force, that an Extra walking behind him stops and turns to stare at him. The Doctor focuses on the tablet.

"So, rumors of my disappearance have been greatly exaggerated, of course," he says, all smug and self-satisfied, as per usual.

The Extra behind the Doctor picks up a pipe from the ground and starts towards him. The Doctor, focused on the tablet, doesn't notice.

"But! Since the Council, or whatever you call it, is doing such a fantastic job of keeping law and order, I think I might give the citizens of Taxon a head's up about the actual threat around this place."

The Extra is now right behind the Doctor, and it raises the pipe above its head.

The Doctor continues. "You should really look out for---"

The Extra slams the pipe down, and the screen goes suddenly static, then fizzes back to the Doctor, struggling with the strangely violent Extra. The Extra smacks him across the face and he falls over, out of camera range.

OOC: To those whom he's left a note, you're welcome to just meet him at HC Clements after or prior to the events with this Extra.

skort

One second, she was on New Krypton. In the next, she was standing in a white room she was more than sure she'd never been in before. “What the...?” was all she could say at first as she took in her surroundings. It wasn't like Kara had never been teleported somewhere out of the blue before. Hell, she'd been zapped to the thirty-first century and an alternate dimension before. At the same time. Suddenly being in one place unexpectedly wasn't, in and of itself, a terrible, horribly awful thing for Kara.

What was terribly, horribly awful was the fact that she got teleported when she really, really had something she needed to be doing. That, combined with the tired ache that seemed to be in her right down to her bones made her a little cranky. “Look, whoever you are, whatever it is you're doing, I really need to get back home, alright?”

No answer.

Kara let out a small huff and absentmindedly picked at the cuffs of her sleeves. “I really don't want to right now, but I can force you if I have to. And if you're one of Zod's followers, keeping me here isn't going to work, you know,” she said as she finally stepped off of the transporter. Her hands balled into fists as she looked around the room, her eyes taking on a slight blue glow. “Okay, so you know Kryptonians can't see through lead. Good for you. That doesn't mean I can't still break out of here and I will, if that's what it comes to.” The somewhat torqued off expression on her face was enough to show that she's serious about it. It didn't matter that she had just gone through a rather nasty and exhausting battle, both mentally and physically. She had to get home. She had to.

consorting.livejournal.com

Guinevere was restless. Evening chores were handled and each resident of the Royal Chambers was locked away in their respective rooms (or wings, in the case of Arthur). It was then that she could feel how unfamiliar the new quarters were for her. They were lovely, much grander and better decorated than any room she’d ever slept in. But down comforters, silk sheets and mahogany vanities did little to chase away the homesickness that swelled in her. This was a piece of Camelot and she had Morgana and Arthur but...

"♫ May the light of this
Flickering candle
Illuminate the night the way
Your memory illuminates my soul. ♫"

The words came to her and she did little to stop her quiet song. Candle carefully lit and Tablet clenched in her hand, she grabbed a shawl to cover her arms and shoulders as she trekked out of her room. She moved quietly in hopes not to disturb Morgana who was just a few rooms away in her own chambers, but did not worry once she descended the stairs; with the extras gone the house was empty and she didn’t think Arthur would pay much mind to her leaving.

( Can you hear me praying? Anything I'm saying? )
[ ooc • Somewhat reduxed version of Papa Can You Hear. Some context: King Uther hates magic, caught Gwen's dad doing some forging for a sorcerer and had him locked in the dungeon. Gwen's dad escaped and was killed by the guards. ]

rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com

For those who watch the maps, who wonder where everyone is, or for those who've been keeping track of a certain criminal on parole around Taxon:

At exactly 8:45 am, the Doctor's signal vanishes from the map of Taxon.

His tracking anklet remains on, though it is sitting in a rubbish bin in Osten. The written-up plans at the work site will suddenly no longer be there, and the Doctor will not be appearing for his regularly scheduled work.

likeajoan.livejournal.com

It's not the first time Buffy's woken up with a shiny new set of memories, but the other times haven't been like this. The other times she hadn't found out that she's a monster. A vampire. A thing.

Losing her powers for two months, the ordeal with Angelus, losing Dean, going through that cruel glitch with Ethan, losing Giles for the second time... the combined weight of the past year spent in Taxon is finally beginning to take its toll on her, and in epic fashion.

Which is why she's decided to take matters into her own hands. Literally. Anyone looking up at the sky will see an odd, vaguely discernible blur, flying into an invisible barrier, impacting hard and then bouncing off again, only to repeat the action. Over and over. She's trying to break through the wall, and it isn't working.

[ooc: canon bump to issue #33, but before the big Twilight reveal. Gonna be slowtagging on this one due to hiatus, but there we go. ALSO she has her tablet with her, so is contactable.]