checkingout | I USED TO DREAM THAT I WOULD MEET A PRINCE

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I USED TO DREAM THAT I WOULD MEET A PRINCE

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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Capa was out on a very rare moment in the lobby. He didn't have the energy to do much of anything anymore, so hauling himself down the flights of stairs to the lobby was a task that he didn't want to undertake.

But he heard the new arrivals and he wanted to at least be a part of the show, so he carried himself down, thinking maybe going outside in the courtyard would be a good idea. The fire was on, at least, which gave his skin a nice warm feeling.

He was so intent on watching the fire that he didn't notice the woman walking. Her entire presence was so confident that he mistook her for a veteran of the hotel, rather than a newcomer. At least until he saw her suitcase. He finally raised his head and looked at her, giving her a nod of greeting. "Lost?" he asked, though he wasn't sure what help he could give her in this state.

She happened to be looking in the other direction just then, and she started. "Oh! Hello. Er, not lost exactly. Just trying to find my bearings." She took a step closer, noting with some concern that he didn't exactly look well.

He gave her an awkward smile, as his aim had not been to startle her in the slightest. But it quickly passed, as most things did. He didn't have the energy to focus on more than one thing at a time. "Did you just arrive from the dark room that suddenly doesn't exist anymore?"

"This happens a lot, I'm beginning to gather," she says, moving closer. "I—excuse me, but are you all right?" There's something about his face that she recognises, a hollowness beyond what is probably normally a lanky frame. The look of hunger. She's seen it before.

"A lot? I don't know. It's happened before, though," he explained. "And...yes. They've cut off our food supply." He shrugged. "I'm assuming that we'll get it back eventually, but, until then, we've been surviving off vitamins, leftover candy, and water. This...was not a good time for you to arrive."

"It sounds like the last thing this place needs right now is a sudden influx of newcomers," she said. She considered a moment, then put down her suitcase, opened it, and took out the tin of ginger nut biscuits that had somehow arrived with her (which, like her jar of instant coffee, was at least a foodstuff she made a regular habit of carrying with her, unlike the bag of frozen chicken nuggets that still bemused her). "Here, have one," she said, opening the tin. "Obviously I'll need to ration them but—you look like you could use one."

He stared at them, primal hunger flashing in his eyes. He wanted to rip them from her hands, but he restrained himself, holding out a shaking hand instead. "There's someone here who is...pregnant, I suppose. She might need something, if you come across her." He rubbed his forehead. "Thank you." A pause. "Who are you?"

She took a biscuit out of the tin and handed it to him before tucking the tin back into her bag, and nodded in acknowledgement of the comment about the pregnant woman (although the "I suppose" struck her as odd). "Una Persson," she said, offering him her hand. "Late of London, late twentieth century."

(Which was...the easiest way of putting it. Strictly speaking she'd been on the boat train from Paris to Calais, thence to the ferry and thence London by way of Dover, but that was unnecessary, she felt, to say nothing of the vagaries of Sir Seaton's usual London versus whatever this poor man might know.)

He was able to restrain himself long enough to wait until it was in her hand before stuffing the biscuit in his mouth. He looked up and nodded, chewing as she introduced herself and took her hand, though it was a while before he could answer. She seemed to at least be aware of what was going on, as she had included her time and place of origin, so he didn't have to be the one to tell her anything.

When he had swallowed what was in his mouth, he was able to speak to her again. "Robert Capa. Mid-twenty first century." He didn't include a place; he didn't think he needed to.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Capa," she said. A tiny, wry smile. "Would that the circumstances were better. How long have you been here?"

"It's Dr.," he corrected out of habit and then paused. "But Capa's just fine. It's what everyone else calls me." He coughed. "Two months, I think. Or around that much. It's difficult to keep track of the days."

"Pardon," she murmured, then nodded. "It seems like the kind of place where one day is going to blend in to the next. Particularly with the wonderfully cheery weather on display."

At the mention of the outside, he glanced to the door that led to the courtyard. "It doesn't change," he told her. "It's always raining and it's always cold." He rubbed the back of his neck, running his tongue along his teeth nervously. "That's...where I was going, actually."

"I haven't been out there yet," she says, following his look. "Mind if I join you?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Your...things will get wet," he told her, pointing to the suitcase.

"Give me a moment to put them away. I'm just on the first floor, won't take but a moment." Plus, her coat is in the suitcase, and it looks like she's going to need it.

"I'll wait here." He walked away, towards the fireplace, and sat down in one of the chairs to wait. Standing and talking had taken a lot of energy and he was still trying to taste the biscuit in his mouth. It didn't slack his hunger any, but the act of eating had soothed him mentally.

As promised, she didn't take long, retuning shortly wearing her trusty military overcoat (dark green with red facings at the cuffs and lapels) and also a little wool beret. Not exactly a rain hat, but it's the best she can do with what she has.

"All right. Shall we?"

He looked up at the sound of her voice and hauled himself out of the chair, slowly making his way to the door that led to the courtyard. "It's not much to look at," he warned her. "And it seems to upset some people, since it's closed off." He shrugged. He just liked seeing the sky...at least as far as he could.

He opened the door and shivered, but he wasn't wearing a jacket. The cold was the drug that was keeping him awake when he couldn't pull himself out of bed.

Una tugged at the lapels of her coat as she stepped outside, pulling it tighter around her. She looked up at the grey sky, blinking as the rain dripped into her eyes; she ducked her head after a moment and wiped her face.

"Has anyone ever managed to climb out?"

"No," he answered, walking out to the equipment and sitting down on the swing. It was badly rusted, but he could still swing in it. "I don't think it's possible, but I've never been much of a climber." He tilted his head back and parted his lips, catching a few raindrops.

"Nor I," she said. "Not without gear, anyway, and I seem to have left my kit at home."

She leaned carefully against the jungle gym, trying not to snag her coat on any of the bolts holding it together.

"So what did you do before you wound up here?" she asked. It seemed like the sort of subject of idle conversation she'd probably have a lot of for the foreseeable.

Capa laughed, leaning against the chains of the swing. He was already exhausted, but the rain and the cold was keeping him coherent. "I was a physicist on a mission to save the sun. I was in a spaceship with a device," he had learned not to use the word 'bomb,' "heading into the sun to try and restart it."

There was a startled silence before she responded.

"I have to say, that was not any kind of answer I was expecting," she said. "Restart it? That's—" what? "—ambitious," she finally managed.

"Desperate? Stupid? Necessary?" he corrected and nodded. "Yeah. It was all that. But my device went off and that's what mattered." The swing began to creak again as he moved in it.

"and my answer is rarely what people expect...and that's a good thing."

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