checkingout | comforter, philospher, and life long shit (OPEN)

Entry tags:

comforter, philospher, and life long shit (OPEN)

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: June 6th
What: Welcome newbie. Oh, and the staff makes an appearance.

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 a warmly crackling fireplace, to your right is a lobby desk. straight ahead are three large sets of doors, though only one of them is open to the public. and outside the few (curtained, permanently dark) windows is the continually steady hiss of rain.

welcome to the hotel.

FRONT DESK.

he exits the staircase just like all of you have: wide eyed, a little overwhelmed, with a worried press to his lips. but unlike most of the current guests, he also exists the stairs with purpose. walks to the front desk and sets his suitcase at his feet so as to clear off the used coffee cup and straighten the pad of paper and pen on the sleek, worn wood. he even goes so far as to straighten the bell and "CUSTOMER SERVICE" plaque before bending behind the desk and unhitching the lock on his suitcase.

when next he rises, it's with a dark red bellhop hat on top of dark, messy curls. there's a matching jacket in hand, being shrugged on over what previously had been little more than a classy shirt. now it's apparent that it's some kind of uniform.

and what's a uniform without a shiny nametag to go with it? affixed upon his left breast by a pin, with a single word stamped on it:

"AUGUSTUS."

SCREENING ROOM.

on a tall pull-down screen, a silent version of metropolis 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 timey music.

along the curtained windows is another long table, with a large bowl full of bland, slightly stale potato chips. there are a lot of styrofoam cups and tiny plastic stirring sticks, but no giant hot water tumblers or powdered drink packets.

OTHER.

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

the door to the courtyard is unlocked.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( here is where characters can mingle with their first physical hotel representative: AUGUSTUS. you probably heard him trying to talk to you a while before, or heard his name tossed around.

he's a young bellhop with a very clipped, slight north indian accent and rather wild hair. he's also got bright eyes and the biggest grin for each and every hotel guest that comes his way. augustus is ready and more than excited to help in any way he can!

ooc | augustus is a hotel fave, and the last thing generous would tolerate is anyone hurting him. anyone who attempts to physically harm the staff, or kill him, will find themselves cripplingly nauseated and likely vomit or pass out from abdominal pain. if knocked unconscious, they will wake up in their rooms with a cool towel on their foreheads; augustus doesn't skimp on the service.

any questions, feel free to shoot

staffroom a pm. )

[Tim is still pretty upset about Coraline, and he's looking for answers, but there's only so much he can do on his own with the limited resources available. For now, he's going to check out the new people, and hope that maybe Coraline is with them. Who knows how long this dying and coming back thing takes? Phil said it was a couple of weeks for him, but is that the same for everyone?

...And then he sees the guy at the desk.

There's a guy. At the desk. And he looks like he works here.

Tim approaches with an almost suspicious look on his face.]

...Are you real?

[He's not actually reaching out to poke his arm to test his solidity, but it's pretty clear that he wants to.]

[Like the arrival days before, Zhaneel makes her way down toward the lobby to see who has appeared at the hotel. It's with a great degree of surprise that she sees someone standing behind the desk, her golden eyes widening slightly. She approaches cautiously, despite the boys seemingly welcoming appearance and attitude.]

H-hello... [She is tentative in her approach.]

I'm Zhaneel... Have you only just arrived?

[About damn time someone showed up to man the desk. He had hidden beneath it often to avoid detection the last few weeks. Now he supposed he couldn't, but this was as far better opportunity to utilize than sneak under the desk itself. For a minute, he even considered going to pack up his suitcase, but he was, at this point, willing to leave it behind.

If this didn't work out, it was one less thing to have to skulk away with. He was quieter on his feet when just on his own carrying some stuff. That didn't stop him from actually swaggering up to the desk and inclining his head, intent on playing nice for the moment.]

I'd like to check out. I can do that here, right?

( someone's taken residence on the floor outside of a very locked room door. for all intense and purposes, he's being pretty casual about it, making a show of legs wide and sprawling, constantly either pretty intently tapping on his tablet, picking at his nails, or rubbing two mutilated breakfast utensils together in hopes of making a dantier lock picking set. sooner or later, when boredom overrules the inevitable frustration of getting nowhere, he'll take a stab at the doors in the basement again.

so really, eggsy's just set up shop. maybe he's tired of the armchairs or the pretty steady trickle of people in and out of the breakfast hall; maybe his room is finally feeling a little claustrophbic and his own floor a little too familiar. everyone needs a change of pace around here.

...but anyone paying any attention yesterday may have noted one eggsy unwin hammering on the door and demanding it opened. (shhhh, that was yesterday.)

now it's less like waiting for someone to come out, and a lot more like mourning. )

[ Charlie has noticed that some rooms are simply vacant, that Harry's sharp quips and texts stop coming, and that something definitely must be wrong. He'd heard the pounding on the doors (but really, he'd done his share of trying to beat down doors here) and hadn't thought twice.

It's when he's just roamed the halls, trying to avoid some of the new arrivals that he sees him -- sprawled out on the floor, like a man who has well given up. Stuffing hands into pockets, Charlie approaches with caution. He won't underestimate Eggsy. ]

Oi. [ He nudges one of Eggsy's feet with the toe of his shoe. ] Go and get yourself pissed, then? I'm wholly disappointed you didn't share.

You fucking wish. ( that he had found something alcoholic to down in order to drown his sorrows.

no, scratch that — ) I fucking wish. ( because drinking's a comfortable, familiar vice. it might take the edge off this emotional cluster fuck a lot more efficiently than sitting around the hall like some self imposed vigil. would be a sight more private, too; he could do that in his own room without having to worry about someone kicking the soles of his shoes.

eggsy draws up his leg and raises his chin towards charlie, a dare to mock his pity party further. he's sore from sitting on the floor like this for so long; hungry and tired, too. but not about to get up. instead he chews his words — visibly works his jaw and squints, then thunks his head back against the wood of the door and begrudgingly admits: )

Harry's not answerin',

[Living as she did just down the hall in 214, Cissie definitely noticed the banging and shouting yesterday, but... Well. She's more observant than she lets on, and she knows whose room that is, and even though she'd tried not to watch too many of the dreams, Eggsy's dream had been first. They hadn't known what they were watching yet.

Coming back from downstairs, Cissie spots Eggsy and it doesn't take much to make a decent guess as to what's going on. If the door's locked for a second day in a row... It seems like there are more people leaving lately.

That's probably supposed to be a good thing, so why does it not feel that way?

She doesn't even think about before she's crossing the hall and sitting next to him on the floor, folding her legs under her. She's been respecting people's privacy and trying not to mention the dreams she saw, but before she thinks about it, she's kind of admitting to seeing his.]

Who taught you the parkour?

[He was, by now, used to his own routine which involved a lot of moving around, a lot of hiding and a lot of listening. When he wasn't on the move skulking from one hiding spot to the next, he was doing what he could to keep fit but also avoid losing too much weight given he was down to one meal a day with no real way to horde at the present time.

Apparently there were new people, and when he had arrived, everyone had rushed there for popcorn. He could take that with him, since it wasn't oatmeal. Messy but he could still deal with it. So he moved to the screening room very early and found stale potato chips. It wasn't what he wanted to eat, but beggars couldn't be choosers, so he collected what he could and moved to get out of there and leave the area.

He had a few rounds of his own to do to keep his little hordes of things safe.]

[When Rumlow finished his rummaging of the screening room and headed for the door, he found someone standing, or rather, leaning in the door frame. Gamora was there holding a striped paper bag full of popcorn. As casual as her appearance might seem, she is clearly blocking his way out and probably for a reason.

Her fingers picked up each kernel, one at a time, then put them in her mouth to chew.]

This snack has very little taste, but I can't seem to stop eating it.

[There was something oddly addicting about it.]

[He was far too used to dealing with people who could move far swifter and far more silently than he could. He stopped when he caught sight of her though, pretending casualness when the last thing he wanted was to be caught out in the open like this. He had been lucky so far as well as putting all his skill to the limits to avoid detection.

He unfortunately still had to eat. He poked a little at the chips in the bowl he had taken.]

These chips don't look nearly as appetizing. That's called popcorn, if you don't know.

[He began to casually stroll towards the door to see what she would do. He couldn't know how much she knew, if anything about him beyond their first encounter.]

[Not everyone has this man's level of skill. Gamora knows that. She hasn't met many yet, in fact, who probably can, but she knows there are more residents of this hotel she has yet to meet directly.

When he casually moved in her direction, she watched him, but didn't make any motions. Gamora was the type of person who could stare death straight in the eyes and had done so many times in the past. He did not frighten her.]

Strange name.

[When he got close, she held out the popcorn between them.]

Have some.

[Well, she hadn't dropped the bowl and closed the distance to snap his neck, but he knew better as he closed on her range. However, he had been walking this kind of tight-rope for so many years that it was instinctual to have casualness in the face of potential death.

It wasn't as if he could be afraid. If he died, apparently he'd just come back. It might even be fun, and if that chip was still working like it was supposed to, it might even be pleasurable.]

I'm sure where you come from you have a few strange ones by our standards.

[He offered out the chip bowl to her as he reached to take a handful of popcorn.]

Those are potato chips. A bit stale, but it's not half bad in a pinch.

I'm sure you couldn't stomach half of them. Maybe more.

[At least she's able to eat the food here without being poisoned or worse. She reached to take a chip and chews on it. Yes, a bit stale, but not entirely bad. This stuff probably isn't particularly healthy for any of them, no matter the species.]

You'll find better sustenance where breakfast is being served. Why not eat there?

[He'll probably give her an evasive answer or something, but she suspects he doesn't want to show his face.]

Who knows. One never knows until they try.

[He was of the opinion that if it was between dying of starvation and dying of being poisoned by some food, both were horrible ways to go. No one enjoyed puking after all. He hadn't been poisoned here just yet, though he figured with the way that things were going that was a distinct possibility in the future.]

A few people around this place don't find my company pleasing, so I try to avoid the food flinging by just not being present.

[He shrugged and ate a bit more popcorn from his hand.]

[People found his company displeasing?]

Because you killed two people?

[A little direct, but he probably expected her to be. She holds out the bag again. More popcorn?]

[His eyebrows hitched almost to his hairline, and he gaped at her.]

Excuse me? That's a mighty pointed accusation.

[Then he had a dawning realization and shakily reached out for more popcorn. Internally, he was having a good chuckle.]

Shit, they're going this far... isolate me from my fellows and then tear me apart bit-by-bit. Shit. I should have seen it.

[She didn't doubt his ability to lie, but just because Coulson described him doesn't mean he's the killer. Gamora is just trying to discover more. Her mind isn't quite made up yet, though so far, based on those she's seen, few here would be as capable of killing as the two of them. Good thing the murderer wasn't described as green or she'd be in trouble.]

According to the murdered man, Coulson, the killer matches your description.

[He rubbed his face with the heel of his hand, shaking his head as if that might deny what she was saying. He looked around the room quickly before staring at Gamora, still shaking his head a little.]

I didn't! Coulson and I have had vast differences in opinion, but I didn't think he'd take it this far. What evidence does he have to put me at the scene?

He says he saw his killer and it was a man who resembled you. A man named Rumlow.

[Though this man gave her a different name, she's aware that in their line of work, aliases are common.]

Do you have any way of proving it wasn't you?

Are you sure he even died? He's a fabulous actor and excellent at his job. I have a lot of respect for Coulson outside of our differing ideals.

[He shook his head a little, his eyes flicking down to the floor as if he knew what the looked like. He had no way of proving he wasn't there; Coulson had no way of proving he was. It was his word against Coulson's which never held up in a court of one's peers. Just the way he planned it.]

I... no. I didn't kill anyone. I've just been avoiding confrontation as much as possible because of this very thing. God, I'm such an idiot. I should have followed around someone all the time so there was a witness that I wasn't anywhere close to them.

[Gamora can't help but think he makes a good point. Though he seems like the type that shouldn't be trusted, plenty of people would say the same thing about her.]

If you two are enemies, I suppose it's possible this is a ruse.

[Coulson is definitely the more trustworthy looking party in this situation. That doesn't mean the man isn't lying though or isn't deceptive.]

[He saw an opening, and he was going to take it. He had nothing to lose but his life to her hands, and really, apparently dead didn't work here. Now if only there was a witness...]

We have a differing ideals; I don't consider him my enemy. The opposite is clearly not true if he's telling everyone that I'm running around hurting people.

[He rubbed the back of his head with a hand.]

Besides, what benefit does it get me when we can't leave? Everyone would hunt me, which means we aren't finding a solution to who brought us here and why. I never lose sight of the mission end, Gamora.

[He does seem the type that is focused on the mission, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of doing something illogical just to get at his enemies. Gamora has met plenty of unstable killers in her time.]

I think this requires more information.

[So at least he doesn't have to worry about her killing him. Yet. She doesn't know Coulson any better than she knows this man, so for her, they are almost equally weighed. The thing working against Bones is that Gamora knows he's capable of the killings that took place, and from the looks of the people here, not everyone could do something like that.]

[A lot of people in this place where capable of bad things to bad and good people. It was all a matter of self-control, never raging out emotions and leaving evidence behind. Of course, when had that ever stopped people in the Middle Ages burning people for witchcraft anyway?]

That's on you. If there's evidence against me, I won't be happy and I bet it will be planted.

[It very well could be, but this is a difficult situation. Whether he's telling the truth or lying might be impossible to determine.]

I'll look into it.

[She offers him the remainder of the popcorn before she departs.]

[He inclined his head and took the popcorn off her hands because she had offered. Seemed like things were getting interesting. He watched her slip off, admiring her skill before he eased away and moved off himself.]

A: Movies
[Kara has been in hiding. Mostly because of the dream, somewhat because of Rumlow's antics. She knows some how this is going to fall back on Ward and her, just knows it. Though, she hides more because of that dream. The one that outed her. People spoke to her, but she tried to ignore them, for the most part. She didn't know what to do with some of them.]

[Worse, she couldn't hide her face as easy if people knew she could. And her mask wasn't always working.]

[The movie playing at the moment was one of her favorite silent films. She had made it down, realizing new people were here again. It was time to see if she knew any of them. Any at all. But not seeing anyone just yet she ducked off into the movie. She's not sitting in a chair or anything, but in a far corner, curled up, large gray sweater on and over her head, trying to hide for the most part. She watches the very long film, but as it repeats, she might have ended up napping there on the floor.]

B: Elsewhere
[She doesn't come out often. She steps outside into the court yard for fresh air and some water on her face. She goes to get food when there is food, and hordes a bit of it in her and Wards room. She feels sick, or has felt sick the past week or so. She doesn't tell anyone about it, especially not Grant. He would worry or fuss. So today? She decided she needed air. Sun would be helpful, as she felt like she was getting soft with out the warmth, but she would do with walking the grounds.]

[Well, not grounds. She can't reach those, but everything else. The scar faced woman kept herself small, hidden when she could, and trying to ignore people. She doesn't want trouble. She wants to be left alone and not apart of SHIELD or HYDRA. Or more... she wants to be apart of Grant's world, so what ever he wanted she did.]

[Feel like talking to a strange woman? She might be eating in the dining hall. Or exploring the ball room again for anything. maybe the lobby, watching the bellhop and wondering what the hell was going on there... or simply the hotel hall ways. Like a creeper.]

Edited 2015-06-09 06:14 (UTC)

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comforter, philospher, and life long shit (OPEN)

FRONT DESK

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PARKED OUTSIDE ROOM 210

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Screening Room

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Screening Room + Elsewhere | ota