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

[ukase]

Arrival & Main Lobby

He had a suitcase. He was in a place he had never seen before. Nothing was like he remembered unless hospitals or Hell were creepy hotels now. There was no obvious door to walk out of.

Brock Rumlow walked forward with more casualness than he felt, swaggering confidently as he slowly moved down the hallway to the main lobby. The compulsion had stopped after he had gone a certain distance, but that didn't fill him with any level of confidence. In fact, this was almost creepy and eerie enough to drive him to searching his bag for a weapon, but he refused to succumb to any old desperation until he had a handle of the situation.

That meant acting like this was all according to plan as he walked himself into the main lobby, his suitcase being dragged along in his left hand. He stopped at the main desk, noted the distinct lack of staff and leaned over to search for any sign that any of this might bridge on normal any time soon. There was nothing, but he noted the paper and pen and how it was positioned.

He swiped the pen and then moved to continue on his way.

Rooms

The key that he had was the only direction on just where he was apparently supposed to go, and he took the stairs to the first floor of rooms. His eyes shifted to each one, noting that there were twenty on a floor, but there was no particular indication on which were occupied, if any at all. He walked slowly and quietly, listening for sounds of occupation as he passed by each door that was not his own.

He found the door that was his own based on the numbers, and he found no particular relevance to the number. The key fit into lock and he turned the knob to throw the door gently open and stood in the hallway looking in.

Assessing the situation. Glancing around the hallway. Gripping the handle of his suitcase. Thinking this was a very odd Hell. Or just a creepy Disneyland.

Finally, he eased into the room to find it empty of possible roommates, clean and dressed up exactly as he would expect a hotel to be. The rain beat against the window, setting the tone for how his arrival had gone. The place was still better than some he had stayed in, since there were no mouse droppings, dead insects or blood stains anywhere. It was comfortable even if he had voluntarily decided to come here, but he hadn't and he was warily curious of what in the hell was going on.

It was, thankfully, easier to concentrate on this confusing turn of events than his loses. Those he would have to deal with later. Much, much later when he wanted to get angry.

Rooms!

[bondedgryphon]

Zhaneel tried mostly to keep her head low since arriving at the hotel, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone she might not want to. The last was particularly easy, as the gryphon turned human knew no one here. It wasn't an altogether fair arrangement, as she knew there were quite a few residents at the hotel that new one another from outside the confines of their prison, but the idea of life being fair had never been one that Zhaneel had wasted much time on. Life wasn't fair and the quicker that was accepted, the quicker everyone could move on and focus on surviving.

There had been the murmur of new arrivals in the hotel once again, but there was more to her interest than that alone. In fact, since her own arrival two months prior, Zhaneel was counting on something to arrive with the people... and she wasn't disappointed. In the screening room, along the back near the speakers and door, was a table set up with popcorn and drink packets. She never had either before arriving here, but with the lack of food they'd been suffering, anything was better than nothing. She grabs the drink packets first, not thinking about the sharing aspect... she is, at that moment, most concerned about herself and those she's befriended. She would share if asked, after all.

Then she's upending the popcorn bowl into the front of her tunic, held like a cloth basket to catch and carry as much as she can. She eats a piece of two, making a face at the flavor, but knows she can offer trade if someone else is interested. If not, she'll be happy with what she's managed to gather.

She's outside of her room, fumbling with her key and the door lock, while Brock is in his room just two doors down. She freezes at the sound of someone else moving around and glances toward his doorway, key resting against the lock without pushing in. She adjusts the grip on her tunic, so she doesn't spill popcorn or the drink packets.

"Hello? Is someone there?" [Come say hi, Brock!!]

arrival; main lobby

[unpurify]

Sam startles awake to the rattle of rain and the panicked rasp of his own breathing. The press of dry, oppressive dark over his eyes is enough to send him searching desperately through his pockets for a lighter, a phone, anything to illuminate his location, but there's nothing but dust and lint.

He scrambles to put together a linear timeline - the trials, the abandoned church, and then - then -

Then, nothing.

That's not on Sam's list of favorite things to wake up to. He doesn't have a list, really, but if he did, this wouldn't be on it.

He wobbles unsteadily upright as his eyes adjust to the room's grainy, shadowed interior. He can make out wallpaper, something innocuously normal that manages to be both disarming and utterly creepy. Sam shakes his head once, a brisk jerk of his chin that does very little other than nearly cause him to lose his balance, and then he manages it anyway when he promptly trips over something rectangular and clunky directly in front of him. His whole somatosensory system feels as horrifically overheated and unsteady and just plain fucked as it did outside, by the church, but even trembling fingers can pick out the general make and build of a suitcase.

It feels like it's his, and it feels right to drag it along.

With the unraveling of unsteady limbs and his face buried in his elbow to unsuccessfully muffle the choking cough, Sam hauls the suitcase toward the faint slice of light he glimpses ahead.

The light, it turns out, belongs to a hallway.

No, wait. Scratch that.

It belongs to a hotel hallway. Sam grimaces. That just makes it so much worse. He hefts the suitcase doggedly on, knuckles blanching on the handle in a too-tight grip whose meaning he's too exhausted to examine. He's tired, he's still sick, and the last thing he can remember is Dean hunched over him while the sky rained fire and spilled trails of dying light to earth. He doesn't get how he goes from that to hotel, but okay. Right now, he just needs to - to get to a someplace isolated, get someplace where he can think.

Maybe then he can figure out what the hell is going on.

captain hook — ota

[villainously]

ＳＣＲＥＥＮＩＮＧ ＲＯＯＭ.

( he's not really one for moving picture shows. and they're never really that spectacular in this dreadful place anyway. no, he beelined for the screening room because he has a feeling that there will be a certain appearance along with their new visitors, and well. he's calling dibs. he and Emma ran short on food a few days ago. popcorn isn't going to do her very much, but he's taking it anyway.

you can try and stop him. but it's likely not suggested. plus side, Emma will probably make him share once he gets it to her.

the apple cider packets, though, he leaves those alone for some other opportunistic soul. evil places and apples? yeah, doesn't mix. he's holding the bowl to his chest, distracted slightly by the movie with a look of disgust. they did not capture Wonderland well.)

ＣＯＵＲＴＹＡＲＤ.

( it's not exactly nice out in the courtyard, but the pirate still finds himself out here a great deal. it's drizzling and likely bad for his bandaged wrist to get it damp, he doesn't care. he needs to get out on occasion and this is the absolute only option he has. he avoids the swings like the plague, mostly just stares upwards like an answer might appear...

it never does. )

ＬＯＢＢＹ.

( generally he doesn't linger to talk to the strays, but the fire smoking has his attention. it's been out for some time and it is throwing off a great deal of smoke. keeping a door open to the courtyard doesn't seem to be helping too much. he's staring at it with a bit of a frown set on his face, but if someone wanted to talk, ask questions to a man who has been a great deal longer...

well. maybe he'll talk back. )

[ukase]

He had begun the slow soft circuit around the room that he was apparently assigned, finding it lacking in anything interesting or even useful. His shifted his feet one in front of the other to test the floor boards for any sound that they might make, was examining the furniture for any sign that he was here for a specific purpose. It was just an old hotel room. Seriously, his Smartphone wasn't even working.

Rumlow eased away from the middle of the room at a sound of metal in the hallway, prowling silently forward until the voice called out. It was a woman's voice, one he didn't recognize as any member of his team or close associates. He stepped forward as he leaned against the door frame of his room and peered out into the hallway at the young woman who looking damn well ridiculous with her shirt hiked up enough to hold... was that popcorn?

What a joke.

"You doing a private picture show in your room or something? Or am I suddenly in one of those strange camps with a bunch of horders?"

arrival; main lobby

[bondedgryphon]

Zhaneel had taken her time in walking down to the lobby, as she still had moments of disorientation while moving around on two feet. She had made remarkable progress in getting around, however she made no attempts at anything that might send her sprawling in an awkward heap. She's come down to the lobby because the past two months had proven, rather on schedule, that there would likely be new arrivals today and every time she hoped for a familiar face to no avail. She kept hoping that this would change, however, so she checked in the lobby at least once daily.

She gave pause as she hits the final stairwell, looking down into the lobby from about halfway down, golden eyes skimming the room. Sure enough, there are new, unfamiliar faces gathered amongst those she's met or at least seen before.

Sam, however, is the one that really catches her eye and her brows knit in concern. She pads barefoot down the steps, holding tightly to the railing to keep from tripping as she makes her way toward him. He looks like he's been through hell (again... HAH) and she's hardly going to let him stumble around without offering.

She reaches out a tentative hand and touches his elbow, concern coloring her voice. "Are you alright?" She looks him over, noting the death grip he's got on his suitcase. "Come... sit..." She gestures toward one of the plush lobby chairs nearby, then... "Here... I will carry that for you..." While one hand rests on his elbow still, she reaches for his suitcase handle with the other.

[unpurify]

He jerks automatically at the unexpected touch - it would really help if the room stood still while he was walking, because then he might feel like he's moving in an actual straight line. Unless he is, and his perception's just - unbelievably fucked.

That's actually looking even more likely.

Sam stares numbly at the other person, eyes unfocused and squinting, before he actually registers she's talking to him. Oh. Oh.

"Uh," he says, ever so eloquent. Blink. Harder blink. God damn but his vision is difficult to control right now, though whether that's the waking-up-in-a-dark-room thing, the still-sick-from-the-trials thing, or some mix of the two - or, no, yeah, it's probably the mix. Just his Winchester luck.

"Thanks." The suitcase drags unresistingly from his grip, as he's kind of lacking the necessary muscular coordination to hold onto anything right now, and he follows the woman and sinks into the proffered chair automatically. He braces two fingers on his temple, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to arrange the disorder of his thoughts into something halfway coherent.

"Do you know where we are?" he asks at last, eyes drifting until they finally remember to settle on the dominant subject. "I just woke up, um - "

[larker]

If there's one thing in the universe that Gabriel hates, it's being bored. Right now he's way beyond bored. The hotel had pulled the archangel into it's rooms months ago, and very little has changed since then. A few people have managed to go missing, and Gabriel supposes the exploding easter eggs were a thing, but apart from that? Nada. Nothing.

Then there's the problem of his powers, or lack thereof. Waking up after being shanked in the hotel was one thing, but finding most of his own powers were gone was something else completely. The telekinesis was there and his strength and speed were still more than an average human, but that was it. No illusions or pocket dimensions for this archangel, just a room with four walls and a door.

There had been the small hope something would happen, though that had been dismissed after the first month. Gabriel had introduced himself as Loki on the network and no-one had batted an eyelid. There had been a funny look from one guy but that was it. Some kid had questions on immortality but for the most part no-one cared, and for someone who had been keen on keeping out of sight from the higher ups, that chafed a little. There wasn't anything Gabriel could do to back it up though and so his days were spent lounging around in his room or the lobby, watching people trying to figure out the monopoly board that was still missing pieces.

Gabriel is busy chilling out on a chair in the lobby when Sam just about trundles by, apparently holding onto a suitcase for dear life. And the first thing Gabriel even does is move away and out of sight, peering around the corner at the tall male as he tries to get his bearings. Last thing Gabriel wants is a Winchester on his ass, even if it is the more amicable giant of a hunter. The idea of a Winchester turning up, or someone worse, has long since faded and so seeing Sam is definitely a shocker. And then Gabriel actually looks, taking note of just how terrible Sam was looking. Clammy and pale wasn't how the Winchester had looked the last time he'd seen the kid, and that was with Lucifer running around at the time. What was all that sickly look all about? Gabriel knows people turn up from different points in time, has seen people getting confused over that with their friends and comrades. Just where was Sam from? He looked older but then that could just be his imagination right? Not having all the answers to hand was a ball ache, and Gabriel just settles for watching Sam as the other continues to walk.

[unpurify]

So far, walking is really not working out for him. He's aching, still, even if the sensation akin of having live embers in his bloodstream has apparently faded, and the disorientation of not having any clear idea how he went from an abandoned church to this weird, anachronistically inconsistent hotel is just - it's just really not helping. He stops every few paces, bracing a hand against the wallpapered walls until the pulsing headache dulls significantly enough for him to feel up to moving forward another few agonizing steps.

Just another glamorous day in the life of Sam Winchester. He's got a room key, and unless he's reading it severely wrong, it has a little 112 emblazoned on it.

Which is just - really creepy. And weird. And wrong?

Maybe he'll figure it out when his brain doesn't feel like it's being fucking autoclaved.

[bondedgryphon]

She's uncertain if she's actually heard anyone and has shifted to work her key into the door again when Brock appears in the hallway. She starts, jerking her hand from the door and with it the popcorn goes flying. She makes a sound in the back of her throat, golden eyes wide as she scrabbled to regain purchase on her tunic. In the end she loses about half the popcorn and looks down at it, scattered about the carpeted floor of the hallway.

Zhaneel sighs softly, lifting her gaze to look over the unfamiliar figure leaning in the doorway. There is a carelessness in the way she holds herself and bares more than a reasonable amount of skin... a carelessness that speaks not of someone using their body, but of someone who just doesn't realize they might be doing so.

"No I'm... You're..." She flushes, finally managing to unlock her door and push it open. "There hasn't been food... in nearly a month..." She continues speaking as she steps into her room. "There was breakfast every day for a time... it seems the only meal this place provided, but even that stopped." She upends the remaining popcorn into a bowl she's taken from breakfast, dropping the drink packets next to the remaining foodstuffs she'd hoarded. She steps back out into her own doorway, "When new people arrive there is sometimes popcorn in the film room." She gestures at the popcorn scattered on the floor, tucking her waist length hair out of her eyes and behind her ear.

She pauses and looks at Brock again, eyes hopeful. "Did you see anything in the banquet hall? There wasn't anything this morning, but maybe...?"

[ukase]

His expression turned from curious laziness to eye-rolling exasperation at her antics, and by his measure, that was a waste of good popcorn all over the threadbare carpets. He released a sigh as if trying to regain patience for this entire situation, but really, he could give about two shits at what the hell she was doing with a shirt full of popcorn like some kid in a candy store. Her dry cleaning bill much have been impressive if she couldn't even dig up a bowl like the rest of the world.

"No food, huh?" He glanced up and down the hallway, but it appeared to be deserted at this point in time. "So you're busy throwing what little you've managed to acquire all over the floor? That doesn't seem like an intelligent way to utilize your resources, chickadee."

At least he was a little bit more aware of the situation and how he was going to have to keep close what was in his bag, not that he was expecting food. If he had packed it, maybe some rations and a bottle or two of water. He didn't remember packing any bag for a mission like this though, especially a mission where he had no idea what the objectives were in the first place. No food was something to go off of, though between the two of them, this really didn't seem like creepy fat camp.

"Nope, it was empty," he replied though he was now seriously considering going for popcorn to have a small supply of. It wasn't much, but it was something. Better to be prepared for the worst and live through the best.

[bondedgryphon]

When he jerks at her touch, she falls still and her pulse lurches in her neck. She swallows tightly, letting him make the next move and not wishing to rush him. It's clear he's been through something horrible and come out rather on the bad end of it, but she'll still help if he'll let her. He seems barely concious of her being next to him, his gait unsteady and stilted, but when he releases the suitcase to her she offers him a smile of encouragement.

"Very good... come..." He's not stringing together complete sentences, but she knows well the condition she was in when she arrived, so she's not making any judgments or presumptions. Instead, she steers him toward the chair, grateful he comes along without much of a fuss. She shakes her head at his thanks, smile not quite reaching her eyes. "It's fine. There is no need to thank me."

She sets the suitcase down in the floor next to the chair and drops down to kneel next to him, looking him over in concern. Her smile slips away altogether as he looks to be in pain... or confused... she's not entirely certain, but he looks miserable. "We don't know for certain... It is an inn... ahh... A hotel... But we do not know where we are for certain and it seems like we are all from different places and times." She grimaces at her own words.
"I know how that must sound, but there are several dozen of us here in this building and the general consensus is that this place bridges several worlds... I don't know how or why... And I don't know why we're here." A beat, an then echoed softly and genuinely. "I'm sorry I don't know more."

She falls silent, looking uncomfortable and fidgets before meeting his gaze again. "What is your name?"

Loving your Brock! <3

[bondedgryphon]

Zhaneel is no stranger to being judged and flushes at the look the stranger shoots her and her stumbling manner. It's a flush of embarrassment that colors her neck and cheeks at the admonishment and drops her gaze from his face to the floor. She looks over the scattered popcorn and is already dropping to her knees to gather up what she's spilled before he finishes speaking.

"I hardly meant to drop it," she murmurs through her curtain of hair, not looking up at him. It doesn't take too long to gather the spill from the floor and she pushes back to her feet, hand braced against the wall. He's right... stupid bird... She hadn't expected the remark, not for it to sting as much as it had. It was just like being back in Urtho's army... constantly dressed down and made to feel about six sizes smaller than she was. Living in the Sixth Wing had been hell, but it was a hell she'd lived everyday and sadly come to expect. Why should she have expected any different here? The self-doubt and self-loathing hit her hard and fast and when she speaks next, she never looks up at him, focusing on a section of carpet between them instead.

"There is water in abundance, but no food beyond what people saved from their meals..." Some had candy and some had other goodies stashed away, it didn't matter so much where the food had come from... just that it was limited.

[unpurify]

"Sam," he says, nodding slowly. 'Hotel' he got pretty much immediately. It's not so much the what as the why that concerns him. He catches the rest of her words in a belated blur, and he looks at her unsteadily and repeats, equally unsteadily, "uh - worlds."

God, his ears are ringing. Maybe that's - no, apparently that's music, drifting ghostlike from some other distant room. Well, this place has the old-school-Hollywood aesthetic fucking nailed, he'll give it that.

"So you're saying, we just - " He makes a vague, circular hand gesture, frowning as he tries to parse everything. " - wake up here, and there's a lot of us, and - worlds?"

A tiny note of desperation enters his voice and he looks at her in helpless confusion.

But he's so mild right now!

[ukase]

Brock couldn't help but be completely unimpressed with this woman, though he didn't deny that she may, at some point, have usefulness. He wasn't entirely interested in burning the first bridge that he had come across, but it was rather difficult not shaking his head and taking her down a few more pegs when he smelled weakness. He had self-control, and he gripped it to keep from going too far, though he had no problem seeing the redness spread across her flesh.

"We hardly mean a lot of things, which means it's better if you just don't," he drawled as he shut the door to his room and tucked the key into his pocket. He swaggered closer, hands resting in his pockets and looked around the floor to make certain she hadn't missed a piece. That would be just plain wasteful.

"And are their meals, or are we on our own to fend for ourselves?" He would have brought money, but did he have the correct currency? "Where's the nearest town?"

[bondedgryphon]

She offers him a smile as he replies with his name, "It's good to meet you, Sam... barring the circumstances... I'm Zhaneel."

And then he's taking in everything that she's said, but she's managed to fumble it up somehow, as he's clearly getting upset. She shifts next to the chair, still kneeling, but reaching a hand to gently lay it stop his.

"Shhhh, kitling, it's alright..." Her tone is soothing and the diminutive isn't meant to emasculate, just comfort. Zhaneel hasn't often been on this end of things and the last thing she wants to do is make things worse. "There are likely others here that could explain it better than I have. The last thing I wish to do is upset you." No, seriously. She can't handle disappointing someone so clearly distressed.

"That is the general explanation of it... I know how bizarre it sounds, but there are none from the place I come from... and arriving here was far more of a shock in far many ways than I might have ever imagined. We simply wake here," she gestures around the room. "Each of us with a case of belongings like yours." She taps the suitcase. "We've each been given a room.."

She squeezes his hand gently, golden eyes looking up and searching his face. "But you're not alone. There are others here and perhaps amongst them will be someone you know?"

[unpurify]

God, what is even going on.

A room, and a suitcase, and a hotel, and he feels like shit and probably looks it, and this isn't even the weirdest or worst thing to happen to him but Sam is just not equipped to deal with this right now.

"So you're saying this is, it's common?" The way she's talking, it certainly sounds like it.

The gentle haptic pressure around his hand is somewhat anchoring, almost normalizing, helping him cleave through the fog of surrealism that's blanketed this whole, disastrous scenario. At least he can dismiss fever dreams right off the bat. Those tend to be way less incomprehensible, and Sam can't believe he actually has established a metric for that.

"Do you, uh, you know who put us here?" he asks, sharpening up slightly. "Any idea at all? Or if there's an exit, or anything?"

He kind of doubts there's an easy answer to either count. That would just be too simple.

Which is one of the many things I love! Zhaneel is going to be triggered so bad!! XD

[bondedgryphon]

She doesn't need to be in his head to pick up on the general feel of disgust being directed her way and it does nothing for her confidence. She never looks back up as he moves into the hall and walks toward her, knuckles going white as she grips the edge of her tunic.

She felt for the world as if she was standing before Winterheart, her Wing captain, and was being corrected for flying her circuit too slowly. Not just corrected, but corrected publically for all the Wing to see. She feels him looming over her, even though they are close in height, and shrinks into herself physically and mentally. Any moment she's expecting the shouting, or a swift cuff and the pain that followed. She doesn't even know this man, but the pattern is too easy to fall back into.

"They... they served us breakfast while food was being provided... it was the only meal, but there was more than enough to feed you for the course of the day if you took some to eat later."

It's the last question that finally brings her gaze up, though she looks loathe to answer. She swallows, throat suddenly dry. "There... there is no town that we know of..." Her hands shake slightly where they grip her tunic, "None have been able to leave the hotel... All ways are barred or unable to pass..." Nope. She hadn't wanted to be the bearer of that news. She didn't know this man from any other stranger, but the air of authority and danger was unmistakeable.

[bondedgryphon]

Zhaneel feels like she is doing an absolutely terrible job of this and it's just pressing the point that she should stay in her room and leave everyone alone. "I wouldn't say that it's common, or I think there would be a good deal more of us than there are." It's a sad excuse, but she's flying off the seat of her pants and trying her best. "This is the fourth time it's happened, as if on schedule, though the number of people that arrive each time varies."

She keeps her hand in his, hoping it helps him focus a little bit better and when his questions focus a little more she takes comfort that maybe it is actually helping him. And then she grimaces because, no Sam, of course it can't be that easy.

"There has been no sign of those responsible..." Her brows knit. "No are there exits. There are doors and windows that will not open to the outside, and though there is a courtyard, it is walked off as well." She swallows and shakes her head. "Some vanish as readily as they appeared, no warning, but there is no hint of why."

[unpurify]

Sam slumps back into the chair, disheartened but not ready to immediately admit defeat. That's just enough cryptic bullshit to feel right up his alley. He'll have to give the hotel a once-over of his own, figure out the how's and why's.

Maybe not right now, though. He's frankly a little too lightheaded for anything more strenuous than walking, which is just great, really, it's fantastic is what it is.

"Okay." His forehead wrinkles as he tries, once again, to formulate an actual timeline. "So like - creepy hotel. People get pulled in, no idea why, and there's no way out." He leans back to rest his head on the chair's back, breathing out a gusty sigh. "Sounds familiar."

[larker]

Step, step, stop. Step, step, stop. Whatever was ailing the tall Winchester was definitely something serious enough. Even Gabriel knows that most of the time the brothers would stay on their feet and make sure the coast was clear before letting their weariness and hurts show. It was hunter 101 really; don't let your enemy see you at your weakest. This was completely out there and Gabriel folds his arms and gives it some more thought, idly watching as Sam seems to brace himself against the wall.

Should he even say something? At the end of the day all Sam had to do was look at the network and he'd see things Gabriel had said previously. Considering what a bookworm Sam is there's little chance the guy will just not check either. Dammit, this sucked, the element of surprise was not on Gabriel's side for once. Unless he just said something now. It'd be a short surprise but it would still mean he had the upper hand. At least the future seems a bit more entertaining; Winchesters had a habit of screwing things up and Gabriel's looking forwards to seeing how Sam messes up the hotel's own routine.

Right, definitely time to make a move, and Gabriel sneaks up behind the hunter before peering around him to look at the key with as much casual gusto as he can manage. He'd look over Sam's shoulder if the other wasn't such a dammed giant.

"Oh hey. Is that a 112 or a 211 upside down?"

[bondedgryphon]

She watches as he sits back in the chair, digesting everything she's told him so far. She raises a brow as he talks to himself, however, and blinks.

"Sounds familiar? Have you been through something like this before?" Because she wouldn't wish that on anyone. This place is not her idea of a good time. In fact, she should explain a little more about some of the more fun things they're dealing with now.

"I... I should warn you..." She shifts, settling her weight back onto her heels as her hand drops from his, arms encircling her knees. "They feed us once a day... or they did. There was a banquet for breakfast everyday and you could take food away to last you until the next morning. Eggs, bread, fruit, bacon and the like... But..." Her gaze goes distant, not focused so much on Sam as the memory of what was gone. She blinks and looks up at him again.

"But that stopped without warning several weeks ago..." She swallows around the knot of hunger in her stomach that she's suddenly aware of again. "There is a constant source of water, but we've had only what some of us thought to save to eat..."

[unpurify]

It's a slow, painful process, not helped by the fact that oh god there are stairs. Sam looks at them in mildly perplexed defeat. This is going to suck so much.

He jumps when someone speaks up right behind him.

At least Sam's reflexes haven't suffered too much, because he spins around immediately and nearly overbalances and catches himself on the wall and he barely stays on his feet and god he looks like shit and he swipes the hair from his eyes and he stares at the guy facing him and the momentum of his thoughts abruptly slows.

Gabe's dead. They saw it, the charred outline of wings burned into the rug of a ratty hotel not unlike the one Sam's found himself just now.

He grasps for any kind of adequate response, but comes up short and simply stares at him, vague and dazed.

"What the hell," he rasps.

[unpurify]

"Kinda," he says wryly, but he's choosing to leave it at that. Somehow he doubts the revelation of by the way, he hunts the creepy shit that hides in the dark would go over very well at all.

He doesn't like the sound of there not being any food, but then again, he doesn't think he's likely to keep anything down himself. Still, people can't really survive on water alone.

"That doesn't sound good," he mutters dubiously. Focusing on her has just gotten atypically difficult, and he redoubles his efforts. "And we don't know who this 'they' is?"

[larker]

Yup. Still got it. That kind of surprise is exactly what the doctor ordered. It's the first time since arriving that Gabriel has even managed to get the jump on someone and so he can't help the smug, satisfied grin on his face as he watches Sam spin around. Said grin freezes in place when he sees the hunter almost losing his balance and for a brief second Gabriel wonders if he's about to get flattened. What a shitty way to go that would be! Gabriel puts a hand out almost as if to ward Sam off, ready to counter the guy if he does keel over. Thankfully luck is at least on his side.

"Too easy, I'm obliged by this point to say no, not quiet Hell. Hell would probably be way more entertaining than this place, Sammich." There's a pause as Gabriel looks Sam up and down, taking in just how wrecked the other looks. "And I should be asking you that. What the hell have you been doing to wind up looking like that? I've seen better looking wnedigoes."