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

[cytotoxic]

[ Clarke had started out as a random, beat-up girl in a hospital gown, too. The accidentally pointed remark earns a bitter smile, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought — or suspicion — but he lets it go.

Besides, the comment about dimensions kind of takes priority. ]

It makes a hell of a lot more sense than being in another dimension. Look— [ Cage pauses, rethinking whatever vaguely patronizing label he was about to follow that up with. ] Someone here has to know something. Do we even know what state we're in?

[wickedlyable]

((She raises her hands in the universal gesture of surrender, giving him a shrug.)) I'm not the expert on this place. I've been here a month. All I know is that wherever you're from, I doubt we're there. And there's no way to figure out where we really are, because there's no way to get out.

[cytotoxic]

[ Cage gives the room at large a considering once-over as he replies, his previous bemusement edged with irritation — barely there, maybe even a little good-humored. ]

There's always a way out, sweetheart.

[ So much for rethinking the patronizing part. But if he can get his people out of an underground bunker, there's no way a hotel's going to be a challenge. ]

Where are you from?

[wickedlyable]

((She's been dealing with patronizing ever since she was first a tribute. The pet name doesn't even make her flinch as it once did.)) District 7. Panem. Have you heard of it?

[cytotoxic]

[ He gives it some serious thought, but of course there's nothing. ]

Never. Is it in— [ A pause, because if the dimension thing isn't a joke, then these next questions might be completely irrelevant. Oh well, worth trying. ] North America? Europe? [ And another beat, tone wry when he continues: ] Earth?

[wickedlyable]

It used to be North America, I think. But that was a long time ago, and I wasn’t really one to pay attention in history class.

((The stare she gives him is level, eyebrows raised, sarcasm at the ready on her lips.)) But, you know, we’re probably from the same world. Just haven’t ever bumped into each other. That makes sense.

[cytotoxic]

[ The sarcasm's easy to read, but he doesn't seem put off by it — to the contrary, his curiosity's sparked. ]

Used to be. What happened to it?

[wickedlyable]

I don't know. ((Her response is terse, expression blank.)) I didn't get the most glamorous education.

Why do you care?

[cytotoxic]

The past tense. It's the same for me — nuclear war wiped the country out about a hundred years ago.

[ Unlike her, he doesn't seem to mind sharing the details, stating it evenly. ]

[wickedlyable]

Fun times. ((She crosses her arms over her chest, chin lifting slightly.)) Definitely doesn't mean we're from the same place.