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

Entry tags:

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

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Aye, that was the impression I got." Whoever was responsible for them landing here, they knew each and every person in their collection. Enough for a sly joke that in most cases, seemed intended to unsettle or upset.

"There was a boy speculating we might all be watched, but there's no proof of that yet." Hook only barely understood what cameras were, he thought it was more likely they were being surveilled by magic.

Harry's gaze flicks upward reflexively, but he hasn't spotted any cameras inside and none reveal themselves here. Not that that necessarily means anything. Even he's fallen foul of the miniaturization of surveillance technology.

Still, he tends to operate on the assumption that he's constantly observed, even in his own home. A Kingsman surrenders any right to privacy quite early in his career.

"Presumably we were being watched beforehand," he says slowly, thoughtfully. "Why would they stop now?"

The thick air, already oppressive, feels like a crushing weight.

Is it the atmosphere that's crushing, or the situation they're in, and the conversation reminding of how little they know? For Hook, it's fairly hard to say why he feels so heavy. Could be a mix of all of it, really.

"They seem to pull pranks intent on reaction, so if I had to wager, I'd bet we were being watched. I'm just not presently sure how." Or what to do about the speciation. It was unnerving to walk not knowing what was private, if anything. No sense of security whatsoever in the wretched hotel thus far.

The idea of someone simply not knowing that the place might be studded with hidden cameras gives him pause, but by now he's had a word with Capa and he's primed for what might best be described as temporal oddities. The way the man's dressed is certainly a touch anachronistic from his own perspective.

"It wouldn't be at all difficult, I'm afraid. Where are you from, Mr. Jones, if you don't mind my asking?"

To be sure, he's dressed a little ridiculously, even by modern standards. Hook was willing to give up his heavy duster for date night, but he couldn't quite get away from leather. He could be far worse as appearance goes, his suitcase is armed with his older things that downright scream 17th century pirate (which is why he's been trying to avoid them).

The question is. . . well, complicated. Some of those from Storybrooke are open about what and who they are, Hook isn't. And really, he doesn't entirely remember where he was born, though that's more revealing than he cares to share. "I was in Maine, before I was here." Close enough.

That narrows it down very little, and there's a specificity to the answer which is suspect - Harry was in Kentucky before he was here but it's not in the least bit where he's from - but ultimately a gentlemen permits others the right to discretion. He only encourages people to talk about themselves when they obviously want to.

"Lovely place, by all accounts. I've never had the opportunity to visit. You seem not to have adopted the accent," he adds with a hint of a wry smile.

Yes, it's a bit dodgy an answer. It's true, he doesn't have the same accent anyone he met in Maine, but the fact was the Enchanted Forest was a terrible hodgepodge of accents, to Hook it's not that odd that he doesn't sound the same as everyone else in Maine.

He may sound English, but he isn't actually. Well. . . as far as he knows.

"Well, I hadn't been there long enough to pick it up," he finished lamely. Pretty much confirmation that wasn't where he was from, he just didn't have an answer that he felt like sharing.

"Probably set in stone by now," Harry says agreeably.

He eyes the play set he first observed the man trying to dismantle. It looks rather unloved. Unused, at the very least.

"There's no children here, then?"

Unloved is right. He's not sure that anyone has used it in some time, much longer than they've been locked out of the courtyard.

"There's a boy of ten, I'm told, but other than that the rest seem to be teenagers." He pauses in his work and frowns, noting, "This has been unused longer than I've been here. The courtyard was locked, until now." How long did this place exist empty?

"And no-one's mentioned that they opened it themselves?" Harry hums thoughtfully. "So our hosts are slowly expanding the environment."

He's already encountered a few locked doors. Maybe that won't be a permanent arrangement.

"I don't know if they could have, we've tried the whole month." The locks couldn't be picked, there wasn't any internal mechanisms that made it possible. It was a confounding condition. "This isn't the only way they ghost around unseen. They fix up rooms and stock tables and deliver bloody odd gifts on occasion, whether doors or open or locked."

That piques his interest. He's already encountered his captors' sense of humour by way of the extras left to him in his suitcase, but...

"What sort of 'odd gifts'?"

"I didn't get any," he's just heard of it in passing, but people have been pretty open about their gifts from the hosts. . . or, well, perhaps they're not from their hosts, but where else would these things come from? Nobody can leave.

Supposedly.

"People were handed out flowers that seemed personally intended." Cashmere had gotten white roses, something she had a personal connection to. Baelfire had gotten forget-me-nots, the meaning was rather obvious just in the name. "Some got other things, like stuffed bears."

Flowers and teddy bears. He thinks briefly of Valentine's Day and wonders what month it's supposed to be; if they're even adherent to a calendar he'd recognise. His tablet isn't giving anything up in that regard.

"They do seem intent on giving us reminders that they know us, don't they?"

It'd been early spring, late winter, when he got ported into this place. The weather in the courtyard doesn't offer a whole lot to the season, either.

"Aye. Know who we are, and what we've done or what we're coming from." An unsettling idea, to be sure. "It seems to be mostly a rouse to get people riled, and it does seem to work well on some around."

"I can only be grateful I've led an uninteresting life."

(Ha. Ha. Ha.)

He glances up at the wet grey sky from under the shield of his umbrella.

"I suppose if we've been dragged here from all corners of space and time, a little light surveillance is no trouble at all."

"If they're watching us for something, it'd be nice to know what." If it really was just to get a rise out of the people they kept in captivity, or if their hosts were actively searching for something. The worst part of their situation was their absolute ignorance as to. . . well, anything. So far they had no answers, only questions.

"It would. Though it might take time. As they continue to change the place to gauge our responses to it, they reveal more about their intentions."

At least their treatment doesn't seem to have been actively hostile, at least not beyond the hostility adherent to kidnapping and forced captivity in limited quarters.

"We can't be trapped forever." He just refuses to allow it to happen, especially because Emma in particular needs to get back to her son. Baelfire too. He's suffered through being trapped for centuries, he doesn't have that long this time. A month feels too long as it is. "They'll show their game eventually, they have to."

If it truly is a new Neverland, whoever is pulling the strings will show up sooner or later.

"They do."

He doesn't say it - no need to be overly bleak - but how long eventually will prove to take, he can't even imagine. He's weathered captivity before but he at least had some idea of the why, if not the who and where.

"...I'm going to escape the cold, I think. Pleased to have made your acquaintance, Mr Jones."

That does make it the most frustrating form of captivity Hook has ever experienced. Hook has been captured on more than one occasion, its just that he usually has some idea of why, or who. Anything at all. This time around? Nothing, and it was actually a bit disturbing.

He was from an existence where villains painted their motivations in bold strokes. What was he supposed to make of this place where there were no answers, only more questions?

He nods at his company. He suspects he should go inside, too. . . but he won't. He'll keep trying to get this swing if it kills him. "Likewise, Harry. Hope you don't mind skipping the formalities."

"Not at all. Best of luck in your endeavour."

An economical nod toward the swing, and then he turns, heading back inside.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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

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