I USED TO DREAM THAT I WOULD MEET A PRINCE

[checkingin]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: May 7th
What: Feed me, Seymour

ARRIVAL.

you wake up when you hit the floor in a dark room, and the air is knocked out of your lungs. the carpet is threadbare, worn with use, kind of dusty. and you're not the first person to endure this crash landing. nor will you be the last.

once your vision rights itself, you can see the well-lit hallway through the doorjam straight ahead of you. not to say there’s monsters in the shadows, but something propels you towards that door and out into the bright hallway beyond.

and once outside your room, you can hear it: the steady thrum of rain outside.

MAIN LOBBY.

there's a staircase at the end of the lengthy hallway you tumble out of. grab your suitcase and follow the dull green exit signs on the ceiling until you reach the disappointingly bland stairs that lead you down to the ornate old fashion hotel lobby.

to your left is an richly crackling, rather excessively smoking fireplace, to your right is a lobby desk. straight ahead are three large sets of doors, all three of them thrown wide open and welcoming. and outside the few (curtained, permanently dark) windows is the continually steady hiss of rain. once you leave the hallway you wake up in, you won't be able to return.

welcome to the hotel.

FRONT DESK.

though there is a bell and a plaque designating the desk to be the main desk, the customer service desk, there are currently no staff members behind it. none shall answer your calls, either. there is, however, a pad of paper and a pen neatly aligned with the desk edge. you know. for notes.

terribly sorry for the inconvenience.

SCREENING ROOM.

on a long pull-down screen, a silent version of alice in wonderland will be playing on loop. at the back of the room, between the neat rows of fold out chairs, mounted on a wobbly table is the old-timey projector, and mounted on the walls are some rather old speakers that warble out "terrifying" old music.

along the curtained windows is another long table, with a large bowl of chipotle cheese popcorn corn and a large hot drink dispenser full of hot water, with a few cups and some old looking packages of apple cider mix.

DINING HALL.

is tragically, painfully empty.

OTHER.

the ballroom is currently open, and the grand doors unlocked.

there is no main door leading to the outside, good luck trying to find one.

the doors to the courtyard are unlocked.

ROOMS.

you've a room key with your assigned room number on it. all the new guest residences will be located on floors one and two. while there is an open elevator in the main lobby, and the buttons light up inside, the doors will not close. all in all, you'll be better off taking the stairs.

while they're the same stairs you undoubtedly came down to get to the lobby, the door to the endless hall everyone woke up in will not reappear between the main floor and the subsequent residential halls.

there are twenty rooms per floor. feel free to get to know your surroundings; or your neighbors as they trickle in around you.

EXISTING GUESTS.

are you dreaming of omlettes and regretting complaining about the constant pancakes and weak ass coffee yet?

Comments

[unpurify]

"We were trying to help, jackass." He stops, partly because he has to and partly because he's getting a sick, twisting sensation of vertigo boiling in his gut and partly because he's pissed. "Close the Gates of Hell, cut demons off from the rest of the world. Forever. And if it weren't for the angels, for Cas - "

Shit. No. He breaks off and keeps stumping determinedly upward. He's not about to blame Cas for whatever the hell that was with the angels, though Dean seemed ready and raring to. He's not clear on what went down - he just knows that instead of closing Hell down for business, permanently, humanity got the world's worst wake-up call in the form of falling angels, wings turned to fiery streaks in the sky.

Sam can't tell if he's shivering from the memory, or because of the fever, or because he's really damn cold. It doesn't really matter.

[bondedgryphon]

She bites the inside of her cheek, but then he's speaking and her eyes widen a touch before she nods. She understood retreating and the need for it. She understood needing to find your center in an unfamiliar place; she'd lived it after all.

"I understand," and she did. It even helped take away a bit of the sting, but it's still there in the back, the self-doubt.

[larker]

People trying to help always did more harm than good. Winchesters were always trying to help and screwing things up. It was in the laws of nature, and if they had avoided the apocalypse Gabriel can see it all too clearly. The natural order was revolting against the pair of them or something ridiculous like that; Gabriel can't be sure on it, he's not around to see it. A shame, he would have loved to be making all those Dick jokes.

Ears perk at the mention of Cas, but with the mood Sam is in Gabriel knows that he won't get much info out of the hunter. Best to store it away for future gossip times and to just ask it when the other isn't prepared. Getting the details about the gates of Hell is more than Gabriel has expected already.

"You can't go screwing it up like that, kid. You close the gates of Hell then Heaven messes up. It's a balancing act and when you close Hell off completely it tilts and go crazy. Or something, can't say I'm an expert on that one. That's above even my paygrade." Gabriel squints when Sam shivers, reaching out and giving Sam a small, light shove in the middle of his back. "Don't go freaking out on me. I'm not nice enough to make sure you get through it. I'll leave you on the floor and go back to my own room."

[magicsprice]

Gold had left his room to offer the candy he'd had remaining to those in need of it, and thus was in the lobby when the influx of new arrivals had begun to trickle in. He watched quietly from where he sat in a chair; the basket of foil and plastic eggs resting to the side of his legs, his hands folded over the golden handle of his cane resting in front of him.

His interest was casual for the most part, he knew none of the people who'd come down so far. If not for the fact he was staying out to give people a chance to accept the offer of food, he might have considered leaving the lobby to investigate the screening room and other parts of the hotel. See if anything had changed in the last few weeks since he'd secluded himself in his room.

His bored gaze sharpened into actual interest when he caught sight of a certain face and he stood up as he realized just what he was seeing in front of him. Leaving the basket behind for the moment--he'd retrieve it later, he made his way toward her and reached out to rest a hand gently on one arm to gain her attention.

"Belle?"

[unpurify]

He flashes her a smile, wary and askew, and nods his gratitude one last time before recovering his suitcase and starting for the stairs. He gives the elevator a dubious look before - nope, just gonna skirt right past that one. Not taking his chances.

Sam moves slowly, inevitably for the staircase, at first unaware that he's being watched.

[unpurify]

The fact that they're not on the same floor is probably the best news Sam's gotten all day. His shoulders creep to his ears at the archangel's touch, both alarmed and unnerved. The whole easygoing composure is nothing new, but the fever's either made Sam crankier or lowered his tolerance for bullshit. Or both.

"We didn't know it would end the way it did," he mutters. The resentment fades to accommodate the defeated slope of regret in his shoulders as they slump again.

He nearly trips over the final step and looking down the long, cheerless hall where his room is evidently located isn't doing miracles for the building pressure in his temples, but he made it. Look, Ma, no fainting.

"So glad we're stuck in the same building." The words were probably meant to have some kind of loaded sting, but they just come out as exhausted and wrung out as Sam feels. "Have I mentioned that?"

[larker]

Gabriel rolls his eyes and huffs quietly. He really shouldn't be feeling bad for Sam, the guy was an idiot just like his idiot brother. But at the end of it all the pair of them were simply trying to save the world from whatever, and at the same time they did try to stick it to the system and that's something Gabriel can get behind.

"You two never do know how it ends, and you still go ahead and do it anyway. Don't feel bad on that though, better to do that instead of doing nothing. Or something. Not enough Oprah to give advice like this." Gabriel peers down the hallway, noting how exactly the same it looks as his own. Cookie cutter hotels, they were such grand things. At least the decor was a dull color and not the bright garish colors that seemed to happen when Gabriel was left to think up the hotel walls.

The being stuck comment comes across as flat, almost as if the hunter is trying too hard to have something that could be considered normal. Well, if the kid wanted to be making comments like that, Gabriel would be happy to oblige, slipping back into his devil-may-care attitude with complete ease.

"Oh, say it again Sammy, you know I love it when you get all sarcastic like that."

[unpurify]

He sets the suitcase down again so he can lean against the wall for a breather, but one eye cracks open to stare at the archangel in mingled confusion and disbelief. It's the same oddly reassuring, 'humans are flawed' sentiment he broke out when going toe-to-toe with Lucifer, thrown down with the same casual lack of fanfare that makes it sound almost sincere.

'Sincere' is not the first thing that comes to Sam's head when he thinks of Gabriel.

Still, he thinks wryly, if he's stuck in a shady-as-fuck hotel with no way out, at least he has a vaguely familiar face trapped here with him. It's not his first choice of company, sure, but as long as he doesn't swing back to his routine of dicking around, the most they'll have to get on each other's cases about is whatever apparent philosophical disagreement Gabriel has to people trying to close the literal Gates of Hell.

"You're still kind of a dick." Not all that creative, but Sam's too tired to think of anything else. "Just don't pull anymore infinite Tuesdays, and we'll be good."

[larker]

Still kind of a dick? No more infinite Tuesdays? Gabriel is already wrinkling his nose at that. It's nice to have a familiar face, and maybe a bit of sentiment slipped, but that's all Sam will get. It's a given that Gabriel will go back to being an asshole at any given moment and he's already heading that way as is.

"No more Mystery Spot? No deal. I'll do what I want, thanks, I don't need you to preach to me what I can and can't do." And just for good measure that will be graced with the most unimpressed look, one that promises Gabriel shall do what he wants and when he wants. "Just because you beat the system doesn't mean you have any kind of authority. You should be glad I didn't just push you down the stairs when you were busy having cold sweats over cold calling at Hell's door."

[unpurify]

A derisive, darkly amused sound escapes Sam as he pushes away from the wall, collecting his suitcase.

"Yeah, I've really missed this," he tosses the words halfheartedly over his shoulder, still leaning heavily on the wall as he makes his inching, pathetic progress down the hall. There's no way he can keep up with Gabriel's familiar conversational jabs, that flow of cut and riposte, not when he looks and feels practically dead on his feet. "I've missed the casually destructive banter, you know. Really puts everything into perspective."

[a_chipped_cup]

She urges him to sit down, worried he's about to collapse to the floor. "Here, just take a second to get your bearings." This has been a shock, probably even worse because he's sick. She might not know him, but it doesn't stop her from feeling his forehead for a fever. "You're awfully warm. Maybe I should get you some water?"

Belle nods, "Yes. It's a bit of a nasty shock, isn't it? My name's Belle."

[a_chipped_cup]

She feels a hand on her arm, flinching instinctively until she hears the familiar voice and senses his warmth. Her head turns slowly, amazed that he is here. It seemed so impossible, so unlikely, but here he is. Her Rumpel. Free from Zelena, outside of Storybrooke, and in this strange, frightening place.

Belle gives a small gasp, already beginning to cry as she gently touches his cheek, pressing her forehead to him. Her arms hesitant and trembling as they come around him, almost afraid that he will disappear in the embrace. She's shaking, crying silently, and completely happy. In a place like that, it was a marvel she could feel this way, but seeing him brings her comfort and reassurance. She was safe with him.

"Rumpel." She murmurs, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I knew I'd see you again."

[unpurify]

"I'll be okay." Though it's doubtful that any amount of manfully insisting on that obvious lie will make it seem remotely true. He sinks to the ground regardless, sliding against the nearest wall. His legs are trembling a little too hard to maintain his weight just now. "Not really your, uh, typical fever. I'll live."

After all, he wasn't supposed to.

"Sam." He winces at how hoarsely it comes out. "I, uh, don't remember how I got here, but that seems to be the story everybody's telling."

[a_chipped_cup]

"It's not magic, is it?" It's going to be an odd question and one that she should probably be a bit careful in asking. Not everyone would believe the things that she could tell them. But his words sound familiar to the things the rest of them would say in Storybrooke.

"It is. I don't even remember falling asleep or falling." But it's not the first time she's lost her memories in relation to something strange.

"What do you remember last?"

[unpurify]

"It, uh - " He stares at her, squinting for a minute. What. She asks it so frankly that Sam can't help but wonder, vaguely, if he's sunk into a dream state of some kind. Wouldn't be the first time. He can't and doesn't bother to hide his surprise when he continues. "Yeah, actually. I mean, wasn't really meant to end like this, but I think it's - it should be temporary."

God, he hopes so. Fuzzy as his thought process is, Sam can still vaguely recognize that Gates of Hell and falling angels are not really the ideal buzzwords to start off with when meeting someone new.

"I was outside," he admits. That part's completely true. "Abandoned church, with my brother. Next thing I know - " He breaks off with a shrug and a meaningful lift of his eyebrows. Skip right over the Heaven and Hell bits, at least for now.

Gamora | OTA - prose or brackets!

[deadlystar]

Lobby - OTA

As Gamora walked through the lobby, it was with a dazed look on her face. What the HELL was going on. Where was she? How did she get here? Why is she compelled to carry this STUPID suitcase with her? She doesn't even know what's in it, but it can't be anything of hers. She doesn't own much, and her weapons are gone. The lack of weapons is definitely bothering her quite a lot. Still, even without a blade, she's more than capable of ending anyone that dares threaten her.

This place was weird, and dusty, and really unpleasant. Not to mention if it were a hotel, it would be one of the worst ones in the galaxy. "Peter? Rocket? Drax? Groot?" .... "Hello?" Gamora really didn't like the initial silence. Where were her friends? Were they alright? If they're not, she's gonna bust some heads.

Courtyard - OTA

It was raining outside, but that didn't stop Gamora from going outdoors when she had the chance. She was only able to get as far as a courtyard though, which was not really an escape from the hotel. Everything was so dark, and how in the hell could the weather be so foggy yet rainy at the same time? She couldn't see a single star. There was no knowing where in the universe she might even be, which bothered her far more than the angry look on her face might indicate.

Rain or not, she was out there, walking along the sides of the yard, looking for any means of escape. The walls of the building surrounded them, but if she could somehow scale one of those walls, she could make it on to the roof and then find a way to get down the other side. Gamora is still baffled by the fact that the inside had NO exit door at all. This might be the only way.

Her fingers clawed at the brick, looking for a way to gain a grip, but the rain didn't make it any easier. If there were windows facing the courtyard, she might get up from one ledge to another. She was quite agile and could leap much higher than a human. Maybe there would be something up there to grab on to. Seeing no other way to go about it, she backed up, then took a running start for the wall. When she was in range, she leaped at it, running up with the toes of her boots. She got higher than most ever would, but with nothing to grab hold of, she half slid, half fell down the length of the wall and hit the wet ground.

"Ah.. ow..."

Okay, not her best plan, but dammit, she has to try something.

Hallway 1st Floor - Locked to Sam

This is turning into a really miserable day. She's lost. She's mad. She's WET thanks to being out in the courtyard, and she's got mud all over her. Maybe she should just go back to her room and try to think this through. Gamora figured this had to be a prison of some kind. What else would explain the total lack of escape? If it were a prison, it could belong to any number of people who would want to see her punished for her past deeds. Still, if she was here, her friends must be looking for her. They wouldn't allow her to remain here. They were a family. A team. She would do the same for them after what they'd been through together.

"Ugh, this is horrible."

She was muttering to herself rather than anyone else. She'll just head down the hall toward the stairs and see if she can locate the room she was given. A little rest might set her straight. Though it appears someone else is in the hall as well. Sam will be regarded with caution at first. As far as Gamora was concerned, everyone here was suspicious.

Hallway 1st Floor

[unpurify]

Sam curses under his breath as he fails to slide the keycard into the corresponding slot for what has to be the third time. His hands are shaking too hard, the deceptively simple task made impossible as a result.

He shuts his eyes and leans against the door, glaring at the mocking 112 inlaid into it. He's tired. He's disoriented. He's dizzy and still feels like he's been spiritually drained, physically hollowed, and emotionally eviscerated. He want to sleep for some thirty-six goddamned hours.

The sound of approaching footsteps doesn't improve his mood in the slightest. The last thing he needs is for someone to witness some pale, sweating guy's pitifully poor muscular coordination in attempting to put his damn key into its damn slot.

He glances up, jaw set, and -

Oh.

Well.

He's not sure how to address people who happen to be green, is the thing.

[magicsprice]

He dropped the cane so he could wrap an arm around her to return the embrace, and still have a free hand to lift up to wipe away her tears. "Don't cry, sweetheart. It's alright."

Once her head rests against his shoulder, he wraps the other arm around her and is content to offer what comfort and solace she desires. No matter that this a rather busy and public place, the only thing that actually mattered in this moment was Belle.

"You're always right when it comes to that it would appear." He replied, voice holding a mix of humor and sorrow.

[a_chipped_cup]

She nodded, surprised that he actually experienced magic. Whether or not this is serendipity isn't clear. She's at least grateful there is somewhere here that might understand where her thoughts drift to. Not everyone believed magic, but he did, and that was comforting.

"Maybe it's fate you're here instead?" It was the only bright side that she could think of. It's better than maybe not being around. "It's not where you meant to be, but it's maybe where you need to be?" She offered to him.

"That sounds nice." She said. "You were at least with family."

[unpurify]

He blinks at her in incomprehension for a minute. It's too optimistic a notion for him to just grasp at and hold like the end-all, be-all. His 'fate' or 'choice' or whatever - well, he was pretty sure it was to slam shut the Gates of Hell and die in the process, with Hellfire in his blood and a needle in his vein.

"I wish," he says ruefully, and he sort of means it. He wishes he could trust that it's why he's here, but it's just - it's too random for him to believe it. "What about you?"

[a_chipped_cup]

She tightened her hold, unable to stop her tears. The joy and relief at seeing him again intensified her emotions. There was only the two of them, as far as she was concerned. She forgot everyone else, the rest of the hotel, or even where they were. There was just this. Holding him and breathing in his familiar smell.

Belle nuzzled against his, wetting his jacket. "I always have faith when it comes to you." She whispered to him, pressing a kiss to his ear and temple.

"How long have you been here?"

[a_chipped_cup]

She gives him a smile, even as he looks at her with disbelief. He might not have much faith, but maybe she could lend him a bit of hers? A stranger that needs a bit of kindness in his life. She loves offering a bit of light to those who seem a bit lost.

"I was going home. There was a witch, a woman who was trying to curse our town. She was finally defeated and I was going home to rest and find my love. He was held captive and we were going to be reunited. Then I came here."

[unpurify]

That - woah. Sam feels like he's missing a world of context here and he's not wrong, though apparently Belle could handle herself when up against a witch, and he knows from experience that that is some serious dark mojo. He looks at her with an increased, impressed respect, his eyebrows lifting.

"Witch, huh?" He shakes his head, his expression folding into something distant and regretful. "I'm - sorry. I guess even after all that, you're still - you still can't be with them."

Fate, yeah. Some real nice, understanding fate. That just sounds like an exercise in unbelievable frustration.

[deadlystar]

When Sam turns his head to look at her she stops moving, like a deer in the forest. Although she could toss a mighty glare at him if she wanted to, she can't help but see that he's ill or perhaps injured. Yeah, it's pretty pitiful looking, Sam. Especially when even an alien can tell.

"Are you alright? What's wrong with you?" It's not exactly... sympathetic. Her tone has more hints of caution than concern. Gamora looks him up and down, trying to assess for herself what the problem is, but he doesn't appear to be bleeding or anything. He better not have some kind of Terran plague.

[unpurify]

What's wrong with him. He almost feels like laughing, dark and bitter and morbidly amused, because the answers to that question could fill a damn book. And it's directed at him so bluntly by someone who is freaking green. And he thought everything felt surreal before.

"Oh, y'know." He shrugs, head thumping back against the door with a dull, decisive clunk. "Just a little green."

Is he delirious? He actually found that hilarious, so he might be. All Sam can manage is a mildly amused snort as he closes his eyes again and tries not to feel violently sick or pass out.

"Could ask you the same," he continues diplomatically. "I've never met anyone who's literally green."