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

Entry tags:

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

[ Seeing Trip and May again is a good excuse to get out of Fitz's hotel room and back on her feet, but now that she's in the lobby, it's hard not to take her first look back out the courtyard where it all went down. Stepping out through the double doors, she's not surprised to notice that there's no evidence left behind of her altercation with Ward. No dent where his body collided with the pavement. No ripples from the vibrational waves that poured off of her.

It's like it never happened. Except it did, and the scars are on her body. Not the hotel's. She grinds her jaw, and she's only distracted from her reflection by the sound of boots slapping muddy concrete. She glances up to see Natasha sliding down the wall from an attempt at scaling it. Even matted and sopping wet, that red hair's identifiable for anyone who's —

Well, for anyone like Skye, who took it upon herself to sift through as many of the dumped SHIELD and HYDRA files as she could before she scoured key files from the net. ] Agent Romanoff?

[ Natasha's so bent on trying to get up the wall she doesn't realize someone's joined her outside until her name is called. Well, her name and title, anyway. Her fingers are trailing over the wall, trying to find something, anything, to use as a hand hold. When Skye sees her, she's thought she's found something up higher, and she's jumped up to try and grab it to no avail. She hears her name after she lands, and Natasha turns to face the source with confusion and then some recognition. Only a SHIELD agent would call her that, and the only SHIELD agents she knows are here are Coulson's. Natasha nods, reaching up to pull some of her soaked hair out of her face. ] Depends on who's asking.

Skye.

[ It's not that she expects the name to mean anything to her; it just seems like a good place to start. Daisy, her dad would say, but her dad's gone, and crazy, and responsible for everything wrong with her life right now (which should just be some teenage exaggeration, but really isn't). ]

I, uh. I'm with SHIELD.

[ She learned her lesson about dropping the Coulson bomb when she broke it to Cap prematurely and Fitz yelled, ok. ]

One of Coulson's? [ She's got two reasons she's asking. One, because she's genuinely curious. And two, well. If Coulson trusts her, then Natasha can trust her. ]

Yeah. [ Confusion furrows her brow and she hesitates a beat, slowly creeping through the question that follows, ] You ... don't seem surprised by that.

[ Natasha smiles a little at that. ] Well. A lot of things don't surprise me. Are you the hacktivist? Or the biochemist?

[ still slowly. still processing. ] Hacktivist ...

[ oh there are her wits, she found them. she rallies her disbelief into one quick, incredulous, ] You knew?

About Coulson? I was Level 7, of course I knew. [ Natasha's grin gets a little bigger, and she starts walking towards Skye, nodding towards the door, an indication they should probably get back inside before they catch pneumonia and die. ] The rest of you... well. May kept me informed, every now and then. I knew he had a team, and he picked up a hacktivist, and had three of our best and brightest. But not much more than that.

[ For a moment, there's brightness in her eyes, the kind rarely found anymore. Black Widow heard about her. Holy crap. Even if not by name, it's— Wow. Just wow. Remind her to thank May later.

This moment is dwarfed, though, by the number. Three. May's words, so not counting her. Not counting Coulson, either, since it's his team. Skye's stomach turns. Her gaze drops. ]

Two.

[ She corrects darkly. ]

Fitzsimmons, May, me, and Coulson. [ She turns to look at the spot in the courtyard where she'd flung him away with her power. The water patters against a flat, undamaged spot of concrete. ]

[ Natasha turns her gaze to follow Skye's, eyes narrowed. She doesn't understand what she's looking at, thought, and she turns back to Skye, stopping just a little ways away. ] Two?

You said May told you that Coulson's team had three of SHIELD's best and brightest. [ She turns to look back at Nat. ] One was never SHIELD.

[ Her face goes hard, and Natasha gestures towards the door again. ] Let's go inside. You can tell me more when we dry off.

There's not much to tell.

[ But she turns and starts inside, close at Natasha's right hand. ]

HYDRA had its coming out party, so did Ward. He was a traitor.

[ Ward, Ward... the name sounds familiar. Natasha vaguely recalls Fury mentioning someone by that name scoring the highest since she took the aptitude test. She nods, face blank, as she leads them both inside and towards the stairs. They're going to her room; Natasha's already done everything she can to make sure that it's not bugged. At least, not as bugged as it can be in a place like this. ] Was? Or is?

If there's a difference, you're gonna have to explain it to me.

[ Said with all the unwavering righteousness of someone who took that burn too personally. ]

[ Natasha looks over at her, unimpressed. ] Was he taken care of or is he still alive?

[ The shock on her face says everything and nothing at once. She looks blindsided by the straightforwardness of it, like it might just choke her, and somehow she wasn't on that page at all.

Was. Past tense, like maybe he isn't anymore. Like maybe all those promises amounted to something. But Natasha isn't talking about any absolution here. There's no coming back from HYDRA; she knew it from the moment she found Koenig's body. What Fitz struggled to accept, Skye readily had.

Yet she's never felt more monstrous than standing in that courtyard.

Her gaze drops; for a moment, she struggles for words. Sounds come from her throat, she blinks hard, trying to collect herself. Finally, she shoves them out, voice thick with emotion that she wishes she could shut off as easily as May. ] He's alive.

[ And the Black Widow, naturally, views that as a failure. Why shouldn't she? Skye tried to put him down in San Juan. Failed when she got Mike to bring him back the first time, on the Bus. Why was she mired in moral conflict over a few cracked ribs now? Because of the trap she'd laid? Because of what that kind of vengeance, not justice, makes of her? ]

He's here.

[ True, he shouldn't be alive. But the emotion in Skye's voice isn't lost on her, and Natasha doesn't turn on Skye like Skye's probably expecting her to do. She hears Skye say he's here, and she'll get to that, that's incredibly important information that she needs to relay to Steve as soon as possible.

But. But. Ward isn't here in front of her right at that moment (and it's thinking of this that Natasha realizes where else she's heard that name, and it's hardly a flattering character trait for him). Skye, on the other hand, is, and there's some kind of tether there. She doesn't slow her pace down. She's soaking wet and her jeans are starting to chafe. Her voice is soft, when she speaks. ] You two were close?

[ She phrases it like a question, but Natasha already knows the answer. Skye's reaction has already spelled it out for her. Natasha's not asking to be cruel, but she needs more details. She needs to know everything Skye can tell her about Ward. ]

[ Silence gives Skye time to put real thought into her answer. For a moment, she thinks of Ireland. Talking about the well, about Thomas and Christian. She thinks about battleship and training sessions and Ward coming into the med pod after Quinn put two in her stomach.

I am not a good man, Skye.

She should have heard him. It might well be the only honest thing he'd ever said. ]

No.

[ She settles on shaking her head. Whoever she knew, that straight-laced SHIELD agent who needed to learn to laugh, who always wanted to play quarterback, who didn't know how to bromance his way through a security guard? That wasn't Grant Ward. That guy didn't exist. ]

I just thought we were.

[ It's a relenting admission—but none of it was real. People don't love like that. ]

[ That tells Natasha more than Skye probably realizes. Natasha's room isn't far, and they arrive quickly during their conversation. She unlocks the door and ushers Skye in first, shutting and locking the door behind her. ]

Has he tried anything since he arrived here?

[ She asks the question as she ducks into the bathroom to grab a pair of towels, one of which she tosses to Skye when she steps out. ]

No.

[ That one comes out reluctant, like she's wobbling on the edge of completing the sentence. Her eyes flick up towards the ceiling, trying to stomp down her lingering sentiments of guilt. She won't let herself feel guilty for not caring about what happened to him; she won't. He sure as hell didn't care what happened to them when he turned to Garrett.

And yet, wrapping the towel around her hair, she does find herself finishing the sentence. ]

Just me.

[ She's tried plenty. The first time she saw him, and ripped his stitches. Out in the courtyard. Even baiting him into threatening her on the network, so people saw what he really was. ]

You attacked him? [ That's—surprising. Natasha bends over and flips her hair down, rubbing the towel through it, in part to hide her expression of contemplation. Skye attacked him, but didn't finish the job. ] With or without provocation?

Both.

[ A simple shrug, like she doesn't want to make a thing of it. ]

I mean, he said he was trying to help, but. [ But she can't believe it. ] Guess we're even.

I guess you are. [ Natasha flips her hair back up and smirks a bit. She keeps the towel around her shoulders. ] You're right not to trust him. You're also right to be upset about the fact you can't trust him.

[ That draws some of her defensiveness out like a sieve, disarming her. She pulls the towel down over her head like a hood, settling it around her shoulders, on top of her damp hair. What she really needs is to get out of her shirt and wring it out, but not mid-conversation.

Not mid-this conversation. ]

It's like sometimes, I look at him, and ... I believe it. All the bullshit he feeds us about making amends, promising not to lie again. But mostly, it just makes me wonder what his end game is. Like he must be trying to get something out of us.

courtyard

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject