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

[deadlystar]

"So this is the result of trying to do something good." Gamora does know a bit of what that's like. She's never been in a state like the one he's in, but she has risked her life before. Recently, in fact, to save others. "If it was meant to kill you and it didn't, then you were stronger than it." That's what that means, right? He survived whatever the ordeal was.

"For your sake, you should try and heal quickly. We have no idea what this place is really like." A little smirk appears. "You could barely get into your own room." So yeah, getting better would be a good idea in case something more challenging than a door comes along.

[a_chipped_cup]

That was quite an image. In a way, she wonders if it will be the same way with Rumpel. Would he appear in a puff of smoke, coming to rescue her and whisking her away to Storybrooke. But that was a fairy tale (ironic considering.) That image had somehow sustained her in the years she was in Regina's tower. Unfortunately, it never came true. Reality was always more painful. She would have hope, but she wouldn't delude herself.

"I hope he does." Belle said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

She quickly checks her tag as well. "Let me help you get to your room then."

natasha romanoff, one closed, the rest are ota!

[vdova]

closed to steve rogers;

[ He'd found her first, which probably shouldn't have surprised her. Steve had a knack for sticking his nose into trouble, and while she was surprised to see him in this place, she was also a little selfish--it meant she wasn't alone here. Not that she couldn't deal with that, but... a friendly face was always nice to see. He's told her about Bucky, and she's offered to help, and now they're headed back towards her room from the lobby where he'd bumped into her. She's got something important to give him, and frankly, she wants the privacy to discuss this place and everything Steve knows about it. A debrief, if you will.

She unlocks the door, and everything is already put away. She's got the curtains open, even if the view is just the rain and the dark horizon beyond. There's a stuffed doll on her bed that looks like Sam in his Falcon gear, and a toy motorcycle sits on her nightstand next to the lamp. Natasha moves to the dresser (where a four pound jar of peanut butter sits) and pulls open the bottom drawer, pulling out two items, tossing them at Steve with a tiny smirk. He'll recognize the hat and glasses, more than likely. ] I brought you a gift.

main lobby

[ She's made her way to the main lobby sometime after gathering her wits and making her way to her room. Naturally, her first instinct is to explore her surroundings, find out what's going on and why. She paces the lobby slowly, taking in everything she can; there's no obvious exit, and after her second pass there aren't any not obvious exits either, and that has her on edge. Natasha's good at figuring out her surroundings, finding exits and ways to turn situations that aren't to her advantage around. She can't do it this time, and it's setting her on edge. Her body is tense, and at every noise, she turns and looks for the source, fingers clenched into a fist. She feels naked without some kind of weapon on her, even if she doesn't need them. ]

courtyard

[ The courtyard isn't inviting. The rain is pelting down but Natasha's made her way outside anyway, in a desperate attempt to find a way out. She's soaked to the skin, hair plastered to her face, but the walls are too high and too wet to scale. She finally makes her way to one of the swings and sits down, slowly moving herself back and forth with one foot. ]

No worries~

[magicsprice]

He nodded in response once to the first question. Her surprise had him curious, but judging from his experience with his son and the pirate, it was entirely possible she was from his future as well. Perhaps they could discuss that later, in one of their rooms. After the pesky matter with the pirate he didn't care to air anything else about his life in public where anyone might overhear it.

"Yes. Though I've yet to find any staff for it. Either they're invisible or they've decided to remain elsewhere and tend to things with magic here." Those were the only explanations he could really think of to explain away the lack of staff to keep this derelict building functioning. Not to mention how they kept people trapped here and how it the rain beyond the windows and doors never seemed to cease.

[overprotective_hunter]

"We are. No one's found a way out so far." But Alec hasn't given up hope that someone would find a way out or someone on the outside will find a way in.

As he speaks, Alec keeps an eye on the guest, wondering again if it's an illness or something else. "I don't think anyone knows who 'they' are. No one's seen them in awhile." Which really isn't as important at the moment compared to finding out what's wrong with their newest guest. If it's contagious...

Well,tact never was one of Alec's strong suits.

"I know you don't want help and I get not wanting people to know you're having a problem but you are sick. If it's contagious, you need to get to the infirmary that's been set up. Even if it's not, you should probably have someone check you out before it gets worse. We don't exactly have access to hospitals here."

[unpurify]

He huffs a laugh, mirthless and bitter. "Operative word being 'try', there. It didn't work because I came here before it could." Or rather, because Dean managed to pull him from that tenuous brink, but he's not going into that here and now. No way in literal Hell.

Sam rakes a tired hand through his hair, pushing sweaty strands from his face.

"I'm with you there," he admits. "Getting out's definitely number one on my list of things to do. Number two being find out who did this, and ideally make them regret it." Never mind that Sam doesn't look like he could go two rounds with a wet paper towel, let alone take on some weirdly powerful entity capable of snatching people from all over, apparently, the universe.

[unpurify]

He hauls himself to his feet with way more effort than he remembers ever having to put behind the act, with too many long, aching limbs unraveling in counterpoint to the headache needling at his skull.

"Where you at, then?" he asks with an indicative jerk of his chin.

[unpurify]

"Woah, okay." He holds his free hand up, palm out, but the effect gets somewhat spoiled by the obvious tremor that accompanies the motion. "I mean, yeah, I'm sick, but it's - it's not really your typical flu, okay? It won't spread. It just, uh - needs some time to clear out."

So maybe the last statement is a bit of a hopeful shot in the dark on his part. So what? He just got here and if he could last like this for weeks as the trials persisted, then he can hang on for a few days more. For as long as it takes for Dean to find him.

[ukase]

Rumlow paused in continued back the way he had come for the staircase at the question, turning his head to regard the individual in question who had spoken. Tall, built, and with the kind of muscular hidden in the loose folds of clothing that he knew this guy wasn't a lay about. Beyond that, he didn't recognize the face. There were too many good people fighting for the right things after all that it was impossible to know them all. One just got signs of one another when the time was right.

"You don't look like hotel staff to me," he pointed out. Most hotel staff dressed like they actually had a job to do. "Are you going to give me a grand old tour, kiddo?"

[overprotective_hunter]

"Sorry. There's kids here and no doctors." Bad enough that they're starving. Alec doesn't really want to think about what would happen if an illness spread through the hotel. "I've been trying to protect them from as much of this as I can."

Knowing that it isn't the 'typical flu', Alec considers what else could it be but has the feeling if he asks, it'll cause problems when he only wants to help. "If you still want to know what's going on, I'll help with that. And warn you about the elevators. They usually stop working between floors."

[unpurify]

"And I'm telling you, I'll be fine," he says firmly. He probably would have looked more convincing if he hadn't wobbled faintly on his feet as he said it, but Sam grinds to a halt and looks at the guy unflinchingly. "I'm just gonna go to my room, keep to myself until it passes."

Assuming it will.

That's not a helpful train of thought right now.

"I'll take the stairs, if that means anything." The elevators looked entirely too rickety to be trustworthy, anyhow. "But I am. Taking the stairs, I mean. To my room." That is the plan.

[a_chipped_cup]

"It's not like any hotel I've heard about." She said, only knowing about Granny's Bed and Breakfast. "I woke up in a strange room with a suitcase. This place...it's so disconcerting." Her nerves are beginning to show. That optimism slipping away in the face of her confusion and fears.

"Can we go some place where I can sit down?" She asked, holding tightly to his arm. "They gave me a room. I haven't seen it yet."

[overprotective_hunter]

"And I was apologizing for overreacting." At least living with Jace meant he's used to people proclaiming they're fine even when they're barely able to drag themselves home.

Sighing, he wonders if their latest guest might be a Downworlder since this is how people used to act when he went to Downworlder places with Magnus. Usually they took one look at his Marks and assumed he was going to hurt them. Or maybe he's a mundane that really thinks someone is going to sneak up and murder him if he turns his back on them. "I'm not going to stalk you or anything. If you say you're okay, you're okay. If you have questions about the hotel, my name's Alec."

[deadlystar]

Gamora blinks, a little surprised by his words. "If it would kill you and you return to where you were before, won't you die?" That's how it sounds, anyway. She's sure she doesn't know nearly enough about what he's speaking of, but she can at least assume as much.

She lowers the towel, having done all she can with it. What she needs is some dry cleaning. Too bad she hasn't seen any staff around, though she wouldn't trust them with her things, anyway.

"You're in no condition to fight. If we do find the ones responsible for putting us here, leave that to me." Don't underestimate green women, Sam. Gamora can more than hold her own.

[unpurify]

Well. Whoops. Sam blinks in alarm at the easy acquiescence, but he's not about to question it.

"Sam," he offers in turn. "Yeah, still working my head around the whole 'ontological mystery' you guys got going here. No way in, no way out, people just showing up." He shrugs, at a loss. "Sounds like a fun time."

E~xcellent

[ukase]

He was waiting for her knees to start shaking and her shoulders and back to bow forward, and there was definitely a part of him that would enjoy it, but most of him was just exasperated. The first person he meets in wherever he was, and she couldn't even have a stiff spine or mild grip on her life in the face of someone scrutinizing her behaviour. He had seen abused twelve-year-olds with more of a stiff upper lip. This possibly was his own personal Hell, if he believed in that sort of thing (he didn't).

The only possible bright spot in all of this was that she would probably give him any information that he asked for without too much thought. That would serve his advantage, even if he knew he would have to verify it all again with a different source. Of course, she seemed far too naturally cowed in his presence to have this all be an act. He was definitely willing to take what he could get.

"And yet you just said that you've been without? Breakfast suddenly stopped or what?" He set his hands on his hips and studied her again now that he was closer. All he could think was 'whipped'.

He met her gaze without even blinking, and he took his time digesting the news. No town. No leaving the premises. He frowned and looked up and down the hallway slowly, considering what little he knew. "So this is actually Hotel California or a creepy Disney haunted house then?"

[unpurify]

"Yeah," he mutters, glancing away, his jaw working silently. "But - y'know, Gates of Hell, and all that. Besides, I left behind way too much crap I still gotta fix." Falling angels, for one. Unless that one was Cas's fault. Either way, he can't leave Dean to shoulder that all on his own.

"I'll be fine," he insists wearily, fully aware that he currently looks the furthest thing from it. "Er, I will be, eventually. I'll get over it." Granted, he's not all the way certain of that, but if he's going to actually get anything figured out around here, he'll need to.

[magicsprice]

"On that we agree." This place was definitely unnerving he thought. It seemed designed to unsettle and to put a person on edge. He stroked the hand that held his arm to offer a little comfort.

"Yes. Just let me grab my cane and basket, then we can go find your room. We can sit down there."

Lobby

[ukase]

[He had explored his own suitcase contents and been accepting of the items that he had brought with him, though it was sorely lacking in certain weapons that he always carried with him on any mission. Even the little Swiss army knife that was his go-to for any mission as a civilian had the knife missing, which he knew was not his doing. He would never have such poor maintenance of his items.

Disgusted with that aspect, he had set off to get his bearings and with his diary and the stolen pen from the lobby, he set about getting a basic sketch of the place and see about the various rooms. There had been that hint of popcorn that he had seen in his earlier encounter and if there was a starvation scenario, he was perfectly fine hording food.

He looked up from adding notations of windows and doors at a British accent, raising a dark eyebrow. His gaze flicked once over the other man's appearance - basically a kid - and he went back to writing.]

If you want to feel like home, the courtyard doors are unlocked. That's only if you want to stand in the rain.

[a_chipped_cup]

She nodded, grabbing her suitcase as she checked over the number one more time. Before he could lean down to get the cane, she was already kneeling, offering it up to him. This wasn't something that she wanted him to over extend himself. Once everything was collected, she paused in front of the elevator, curiously looking at it.

"I'm apparently in room 218." Belle told him.

[cgrades]

[ He doesn't necessarily expect a reply, as he was more talking out loud, but the company is perhaps better than losing his mind on his own, right? Charlie eyes the man from his place near the fire, and is even more curiously eyeing the sketch. ]

Yes, well I think I've seen plenty enough rain in my lifetime to know I'm not fond of it. [ Getting wet and wandering around a place like this, no less with minimal belongings and food around? No, thank you. It sounded like a death trap. ]

Have you toured the whole building, then? [ There's a hint of skepticism in his otherwise polite tone. His brows are furrowed slightly, lips twisted slightly downward. What good would a map do? ] I'd much prefer to get out, myself.

[magicsprice]

He smiled a bit at that news. "Just beside my room then." He gestured with the cane toward the stairs. "The elevator doesn't work, we'll need to take those to the second floor." He was glad they were going to sit down there for awhile. He had recovered from the descent as sat in the lobby, prior to meeting her. He suspected that by time they had climbed the stairs and made it to her room he'd be in need of another break. Which was another disconcerting thing, as it gave him further proof than he had gained already that the magic of his curse was just as weakened as the power and ability of his magic. No doubt his fasting the last week hadn't helped him any.

[a_chipped_cup]

"That's a bit lucky." She said, moving towards the stairs with him. There was a moment of hesitation for her as she considered how far they had to go. His ankle seemed to return to its former pain and difficulties. Climbing two flights might be a bit much for him. Without a word, she linked her arm through his, encouraging him to lean on her.

"Are the rooms nice?" Belle asked, wanting to find something nice here, aside from Rumpel, that is.

[magicsprice]

Gold acknowledged the offer, but for now he refrained from taking her up on it as they headed up the stairs. "They're decent." He'd describe them, but it felt like a waste of breath since they were headed to them currently.

By the time they'd reached the second floor hallway, he was partially leaning on her despite his desire not to over burden her. He should likely have them both eat one of the eggs from his basket once they made it to Belle's room. He could then also explain the current food shortage to her.

melinda may ( ota )

[busdriver]

( FRONT DESK )

[The tag on her suitcase is the only real pointer she's got, so her initial pass through the main lobby is a short one. Given that she's also balancing a cake, she's too encumbered to look around much. Running on the faulty assumption that she'd be able to, she briefly considered making two trips, but that first hallway after arrival didn't feel like the wisest place to leave anything behind. She's got instincts. It felt off.

She heads to her assigned room and leaves her belongings there, only staying long enough to test that the lock combination on the suitcase is the date she thinks it is. She's bemused, mostly. Her last memory was of surrender: a calculated surrender with full knowledge of the conditions to expect. She was prepared for a nondescript holding cell, prepared for isolation punctuated by a standard set of questions. This is something else. This isn't anyone's version of SHIELD.

Her second visit to the main lobby, empty-handed, involves more comprehensive scrutiny. If everyone around her looked like they belonged, she'd adjust accordingly and try to blend in. There's no need. Some of the people descending the stairs seem lost and unsure; not everyone, but enough that she's less motivated to conceal her own confusion.

The front desk is unattended. May observes the notepad, then rings the bell. She leans into the counter and folds her arms on top, looking left and right in a transparent search for something that might be just out of sight. There's no impatience in her body language. Her anxiety is a quiet and invisible thing, a knot tightening in her stomach. A minute ticks by, at her estimate, with no answer to the bell.]

Service is terrible.

[The predictable line isn't aimed at anyone in particular. If she thought she'd get a response, she might not have said anything.]

( SCREENING ROOM )

[During her earlier exploration, she found something appointed like a dining hall, with nothing edible there to speak of. In the first place, she'd been more interested in the cutlery than food, and in that respect it was still a bit of a disappointment. It definitely wasn't the right place to unburden herself of a triple-layer chocolate cake. The screening room, on the other hand, seems ideal.

May spends a few seconds standing to one side of the long table, one hand under a cake tray and the other carefully repositioning a few cups. Once she's cleared space for it, she deposits the cake there and steps back, mindful of some unhurried movement in her peripheral vision. She's aware of people trickling in and out, seeming for the most part more interested in the popcorn than the silent film.]

Who wants cake?

[Her tone's skeptical, for any number of reasons. She hasn't cut into it herself, so she can't vouch for the taste, and—having not been around to know the circumstances that might compel them—she isn't sure who'd take her up on the offer. There's no question in her mind that she ought to share. It's only hers by virtue of erstwhile proximity to a suitcase with her name on it, so she can't claim to feel a real sense of entitlement.]