Canon AU Event Log

[lucetimods]

Who: You! And you! And you! But uh, not you.
What: Event shenanigans.
When: Today until the end of the event (April 8th)
Where: Anywhere and everywhere
Summary: It's all right in here
Rating: I want to see a nice clean game. Keep your naughty stuff in the penalty box!

Same deal as always. React to the event! Do things! Have fun! Be excellent to each other.

And remember to correctly tag your characters to the post.

Comments

Mostly April second - but also any time.

[abidinglaw]

[When Norrington wakes up at Cullen house he does not stop to investigate what might have happened to put him there. The place has a dark and sordid history - vampires and pirates who knows what else? - and though he is by no means a coward he is not a fool either. He leaves without opening any doors or peering under any rugs, and makes for home at once.

But home is community building 6, room 10, and the door is locked. When he exhausts his options on that front his instincts come sharply into focus. Gather the scoobies.

And so it is that he proceeds to House 7 and knocks upon the door. Later he'll be visiting Willow, and then searching for Cordelia, and later still he'll be in the library poring over volumes of dusty tomes.

Oh, and he looks different. He's dressed in a shirt, vest and longcoat, wears a fedora and carries a cane.]

ooc: say hello to Watcher Norrington, who thinks he's from the cast of BtVS

April 2

[jewitch]

[She's just finishing brushing her teeth when she thinks she hears a knock.

Quickly walking to the door, she smiles a little when she sees Norrington.

Things have been different with them, since her, ah, episode last year. But she's still happy to see him. Cautiously.]

Hey, Watchington! What's up?

[abidinglaw]

[He might have chided her for that, but the neuron that fired to signal his displeasure over the conflation was followed hard and fast by a flood of relief that fizzled across his synapses.]

Thank heavens.

[And in an easy display of intimacy he stepped inside and shut the door behind him with his back. He leaned there for a beat or two to relish in the fact that he was not alone in this. He was not the one being shifted. Then he added,]

The world has gone mad.

Again.

[jewitch]

Is something wrong? [Or is he just being...him?

She hasn't been here for a Shift yet okay]

[abidinglaw]

Something most certainly is wrong.

[He said, but not before locking the door.]

A shift, Willow. Magic. I had thought you were attuned to such -- to such -- abberations.

[Already he had begun to walk deeper into the room.]

[jewitch]

[Following.] Well, yeah, but...[She sighs before continuing. Just ignore the jab, Will.] Magic here is a little different. And I haven't been here very long, remember?

Besides, I haven't even left yet. What's going on out there?

april 3rd

[herotypical]

The pirate captain was walking along in the village -- braids a-swinging -- when she saw the man known as James Norrington. Approaching from the north. Blast it. Admiral Norrington</>, as she knew him.

Her back straightened. She would walk coolly by him, she would.

[abidinglaw]

Like hell she would.

"Buffy? Miss Summers!"

He broke into a jog the moment that he saw her, stopped dead when he reached her, and fully expected her to stop as well.

[herotypical]

....Buffy.

He just called her -- she whirled on one heel. Her face? A mask of nonchalance.

"Sorry. Admiral. But who? Who are you asking for?"

[abidinglaw]

He isn't on his guard yet -- because, really, what reason does he have to expect her to be angry with him? Unless she's was in one of her moods, and if that was the case then there would be little use in treating her gently.

"Just this minute I am asking for Buffy the Slayer. Buffy the socialite shall have to wait. Oh, and I am certain that she can stand to put her fancy dress aside given current circumstances, don't you?"

[herotypical]

Oh. Bully for her. The Admiral's apparently drunk or mad or both. Better that he be both, she thought.

So: "Sorry. Me? I'm Annie. Ann-ie. Who is this Buffy you speak of, anyway?"

Palm on pistol.

April 2

[theoniongirl]

[Jilly had always been one to like flights of fancy and tales full of magic (a passion that had only been fueled by her arrival here), but she had to admit even she was a bit unsettled by this latest shift.

Not that anything particularly horrid had happened...and nothing to Archie or her, as far as she could tell. But everyone else-

Even her conversation with Horatio had been...well...odd.

There was no point in calling them on their confusion, of course. Shifts would play out as they would. But it made her uneasy the way her dearest friends kept looking at her with an odd hint of surprise in their eyes.

After speaking with Horatio, she decided to go out for a walk to clear her head and maybe see what else was amiss. Maybe there'd be a clue to what kind of shift they were dealing with this time.

And so, watcher Norrington might find her at any point around the village, dressed rather more formally than usual and looking just slightly pensive about the whole mess]

[abidinglaw]

[For much of the day, James had been attempting to convince people to see the world as he did. Some he had attempted to make remember through various means, others he had argued with. With Jilly he had no inclination to do either of these things. What he wanted, in fact, was for her to simply recognize him, not as Admiral Norrington but as James, the watcher, lately of Sunnydale.

By the time he had made eye contact and thus irrevocably committed himself to a conversation he had not quite figured out how he would go about determining whether Jilly was shifted or not. So it was that he was heard to say;]

Hoist the main sail.

[And then, very very soon afterward,]

No. I'm sorry, that was ridiculous.

[theoniongirl]

[It's quite ridiculous, and the surprise at the comment is immediately followed by a bright smile, laughter in her eyes] Well, I can't fault you too much. I quite enjoy a bit of ridiculousness now and again.

[if the dress wasn't clue enough, the sudden shift in accent might be]

[abidinglaw]

[She agrees with him? This takes him aback a little - his eyebrows raise in a look of pleased surprise. Of course, she seems quite unlike the Jilly who knows but he'll take this gladly over her thinking that he should be some sort of naval officer.]

Good for the heart.

[He says,]

In moderation.

[theoniongirl]

[and then she has to go and ruin it]

Of course, Admiral.

April 2nd

[truthin_bones]

[She honestly doesn't know why she hadn't stopped by the library sooner. The number of books found within are far more numerous than she imagined. And although tempted to search for her own novels after coming across a Jules Verne book, she resists.

Research, right now, is far more important.

Spotting Norrington not too far away, she walks over. Given the number of volumes on his table, he must have some idea as to the organization of this place. And Brennan is not one for wasting time.]

Excuse me, but would you happen to know where the historical texts are?

[abidinglaw]

[The temptation to imitate one Rupert Giles is difficult to resist. He gets as far as pushing a pair of non-existent glasses up onto the bridge of his nose before he decides that he is being ridiculous.]

These are all historical texts -- in their own way. Christian and Christiana are as much a window into seventeenth century England as they are the pitiful tools of a didactic allegory. If you are here to research the history of Luceti, then perhaps we might work together to that end. I have been searching for some hours, on and off, and I have yet to find the appropriate decimal.

[The fact that this library does not use the Dewy Decimal Classification does not stop him from acting aloof. Few things do.]

[truthin_bones]

I disagree. Vehemently. Religious dogma and mythology only serve as cultural insights. There is nothing factual in their texts.

[Eyebrows rise as she speaks and there's no mistaking the disagreement in her voice. But her voice softens slightly as she continues.]

However... I am willing to agree that the search would certainly go faster if we did work together. [She holds out a hand.] Doctor Temperance Brennan.

[abidinglaw]

James Norrington.

[The watcher takes her hand and shakes it. He smiles, too, and raises both of his eyebrows,]

I'm sorry, doctor of what?

[truthin_bones]

Forensic anthropology. I worked at the Jeffersonian Institute prior to my arrival here in Luceti.

[markofthewise]

In the library, Sokka was busy with his usual evening alchemical research. He'd lost none of his desire to use science to command magical like powers to alter the very construction of objects. Also it was flashy and cool. When Norrington goes by with another one of those dusty tomes, Sokka ends up sneezing.

"Maybe you should uh, take it easy on the dust aisle."

[abidinglaw]

The admiral raised an eyebrow, but when he set his armful of books down he did so with an excess of care. It was not a fact that he drew attention to. In fact, he did not even make much of the fact that he had come to a halt here, when before he had been sitting over there.

"It is rather like attempting turning on the telly and land upon the Guinness advert with the horses."

He said, non-sequitously.

[markofthewise]

Sokka had no idea what that meant. But over a year of Buffy made him selective about when he bothered to ask. This time, he decided to let it lie.

"Yeah. I have that problem all the time."

He eyed the books, trying to gather some idea of what the titles were. He didn't even realize books like that were in the library.

[abidinglaw]

One was called Demons Demons Demons. James was particularly proud of that one -- at once thrilled to find that the information contained within had been wrested from the shackles of the Internet, and horrified by its implications for his current task. What he had found amongst the library's holdings since his very first time setting foot inside spoke of an extreme relativism - if anything and everything ever could be found here, then the chances that he would locate the one paragraph relevant to his present issue at any given moment were infinitely slim. It was both the very paragon of libraries and the worst tool for research that he could possibly conceive of.

"I suppose you think yourself a road-side assistant or a travelling salesman. A sandwich artist, perhaps."

He was not insulting the boy -- not as such. He spoke in a disinterested manner as he slowly turned the pages in the book on the top of his pile and his eyes were on the page, not on Sokka. He had found a sum total of one person in Luceti who shared his vision of the world, and he had given up on the hope of finding any more. Now he mocked them, all but Willow, and in doing so he mocked his own woeful circumstances.