a gent of good intent who's content to be ( OPEN )

[checkingin]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: March 3rd
What: Welcome, newbies.

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. 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.

terribly sorry for the inconvenience.

SCREENING ROOM.

on a long pull-down screen, a silent version of the phantom carriage 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 popcorn and a large hot drink dispenser full of hot water, but without any tea or hot chocolate packets around.

OTHER.

the ballroom is currently closed, and the grand doors locked.

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

the doors to the courtyard and breakfast hall are unlocked, but looks like you've missed the morning meal. sucks for you.

ROOMS.

you've a room key with your assigned room number on it. all the new guest residences will be located on floors three and four. 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.

it's late when the newcomers arrive, there's a good chance you'd been about to go to sleep (or just waking up, who knows, your mom's not here to tell you when to go to bed or get up). but if you're paying attention, you might hear the hustle and bustle in the lobby below; or maybe you're just drawn there because your gut told you to go join the commotion. whatever the case may be, go mingle!

Comments

[lifewithoutrest]

The lady appreciates that he doesn't protest, though if he had, she would have respected his wishes. She doesn't doubt that he's capable, but it eases her mind to know it will be taken care of properly.

"Fortunately, they were kind enough to pack some in mine." Even as she answers, she reaches out with a gentle hand, meaning to take a closer look if he'll allow it.

Once she's satisfied, light fingers move to hover at his elbow, and she nods in the direction of her room. "Come on. Let's get you sorted."

[youcantransform]

He lets her check the wound. He can't remember how it happened; there was too much happening, too fast, and he was very literally not in his right mind.

"Thank you."

He follows her like a lost lamb, alertness veiled in barely-repressed fretting. This has the makings of an obvious trap, of course, but what is this entire bloody place if not precisely that? The difference between the frying pan and the fire is only how long one takes to cook.

[lifewithoutrest]

She nods, giving a faint hum of acknowledgement, but is otherwise quiet as she leads him into her room, leaving the door open behind them. He's free to go anytime he likes, and she wants that to be clear. It's in her best interest to keep her patient at ease.

"Please. Sit."

Helen has been here a month now, but one could hardly tell it. She's done little to change the room's appearance. In fact, the only thing that seems out of place is the suitcase that sets neatly in a corner. Once it's opened, he might catch glimpses of its contents. Mostly clothing, much of it sensible, but there's also a heavy journal, old and well-worn. He may catch the edge of a photo sticking out from between its pages. But then she has the small medical kit in hand and the suitcase is closed again, once more in its place.

"Forgive my manners. I should have introduced myself." She glances up from gathering what she needs, giving him a warm smile. "Helen Magnus."

[youcantransform]

"Only if you'll forgive mine, Ms Magnus." He summons up a faint smile to return to her. "Harry Hart."

He does as he's bid, taking a seat. That she leaves the door open is noteworthy; already she's giving the impression of someone for whom this is a conscious decision intended to reassure, rather than an instance of carelessness.

"You're a doctor?"

[lifewithoutrest]

She bows her head with a small smile. "Of course. It's a pleasure."

There's a soft, "May I?" as she turns her attention once more to the task at hand, giving him just time enough to object before she gently starts cleaning the wound, answering his question as she does.

"A surgeon." At least, that's where it started. "I assure you, you're in perfectly capable hands." Her tone hasn't changed, but her eyes glint with quiet amusement, a good sign she doesn't actually think he's questioning her ability.

[youcantransform]

"I never doubted it for a moment." An equal lightness of tone.

Her touch is expert. It's a clean enough wound, shallow and glancing; she might encounter a couple of small splinters, but nothing more serious. The bruising around it, and elsewhere on his face and neck, is only barely starting to rise; whatever happened to him obviously happened less than an hour ago.

"I apologise for wasting your supplies," he murmurs, glancing at her medical kit. "This doesn't seem like the kind of place where first-aid supplies are readily available."

It's not exactly intoned as a question but it's an open-ended remark.

[lifewithoutrest]

Helen works carefully, her touch firm but gentle. She's clearly done this a time or two or a hundred. Ashley had constantly came home with scrapes and bruises, never taking as much caution as she would have liked. Of course she hadn't been the only one.

Redirecting her thoughts before they have a chance to continue down that path, she shakes her head slightly. "Please. An apology isn't necessary." But her eyes darken with worry, betraying her concern over their current situation, even if her smile doesn't waver.

When answering his question, though, her expression becomes a little more serious, the undercurrent of anger well masked but not completely hidden to anyone listening very closely. "We're certainly not equipped to handle anything large-scale. I do believe that's rather the point."

After the incident with the heating, she's inclined to believe whoever has brought them here wants to see them struggle to survive. Perhaps wants to see them die.

"Still, I've dealt with worse." The reassuring smile is probably for his benefit. It also might simply be reflex. There's nothing to suggest, however, that she's being anything less than perfectly sincere.

[youcantransform]

"I don't doubt it."

Her anger is noticed but not acknowledged; he rolls around what she's said thoughtfully.

"...'Rather the point'. What do you mean by that?"

Again, he doesn't make suggestions, doesn't ask a yes or no question that could be easily knocked back. He's already running a number of hypotheses, some more fanciful than others, and he'd like to benefit from her experience in sorting the likelihoods from the nonsense.

[lifewithoutrest]

"I believe the intention is to make survival difficult." Note she doesn't say impossible. Thus far, they've been provided with what they need to survive, so long as they learn to adapt to their routines. She has no real reason to believe that will change, but she also isn't entirely willing to assume it won't.

She's frustrated. This isn't the first time she's been held captive, but it is unlike anything she's experienced. And she hates feeling helpless. Not that she'll ever admit to feeling anything of the sort. She's accustomed to being the one in control, the one with the answers. It's rare she finds herself so out of her depth.

But those feelings aren't likely to be obvious to anyone who doesn't know her well. What does come across clearly is her irritation at being held against her will and at the mercy of some unknown force who knows far too much about her. She's never been one to sit on her hands waiting for something to happen, and that's exactly what she feels she's doing.

"There was some trouble with the heating last month, long enough for it to be a concern." Really, that's putting it lightly. It had been freezing. "The fireplace remained burning. For two weeks, it was the only real source of warmth."

And yes, she does believe the intent must have been to draw them all into one place, but she can't figure out why. No attack was made, nothing further had happened to those who gathered there. It makes very little sense.

[youcantransform]

Harry has been held captive for weeks at a time. He's been tortured, starved, neglected, interrogated - and he always had a good idea of why. He knew what his captors wanted, even if it was just his pain, the vengeance of a drawn-out death.

The idea of being here to be - experimented upon - sets his teeth on edge. To his own internal clock, it's been hours (not even that) since the last such experiment cost over fifty people their lives.

He, too, is not a person who easily tolerates a loss of control. The coiling anger, the frustration, even the fear - he keeps it suppressed, tightly sealed beneath the surface of a furrowed brow.

"And so another month might bring another...difficulty," he suggests, reluctantly. The brief tremor in his voice both is and isn't his own.

[lifewithoutrest]

She finishes cleaning the cut on his cheek, then closes the medical kit and sets it aside, giving herself a moment before she answers. "I expect so, yes."

Of course, she can only guess at their motivations. She won't pretend to have any real idea of what they'll be asked to face next. But if they know about her, about her work... They shouldn't be underestimated.

"That's going to be tender." It isn't that she hasn't noticed the bruising until now, just that she's chosen not to comment on it, but now that she's finished tending to the most obvious injury, she wants to be certain he won't be needing further assistance. "Anything else I should know about?"

[youcantransform]

"I don't believe so."

There's a shallow stab wound in his shoulder, but that, he'll take care of himself. Given the condition and finer qualities of his suit, it'd be hard to spot even if it was being actively sought out.

Sensing the consultation is over, he gets to his feet. Not as smoothly as he could have managed if his heart was fully in it.

"...Thank you, Dr Magnus."

[lifewithoutrest]

As he stands, a gentle hand reaches out to rest lightly on his arm, a gesture meant to convey comfort or reassurance. "Of course. You'll know where to find me, if you require my services again."

[youcantransform]

Harry smiles and ducks his head in a deferential gesture.

"Hopefully, the next time we see each other it'll simply be a social call."