sit yourself down, and meet the best inn keeper in town ( O P E N )

[checkingin]

Who: Everyone!
Where: The initial arrival rooms, the main lobby, all over the place.
When: February 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.

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 tall pull-down screen, a silent version of nosferatu 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 that looked like it once would have held popcorn. but is now unfortunately empty. same for the large hot drink dispensers labeled "hot chocolate" and "coffee".

OTHER.

the ballroom and breakfast hall are currently closed, grand doors locked.

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

the door to the courtyard is locked.

ROOMS.

you've a room key with your assigned room number on it. all the new guest residences will be located on floors one & 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'd 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.

Comments

ota

[hacker]

[ The earthquake must have knocked her out.

Skye pulls herself up onto her hands and knees in the hotel room, fingers pressing into thin, worn carpeting that smells musty and overused. She flinches away from it—not exactly turndown service, but SHIELD's not exactly in the business of affording that anymore, either. She muscles her way to her feet, sore all over.

It doesn't hit her right away. Her hands reach out to turn on the lamp. She succeeds, but a moment later, it flickers and the bulb explodes. She flinches away from the glass, and the ashtray rumbles on the end table. Skye lifts her hand to her face, pulling fluorescent bulb shards from her palm.

Through the darkness, she can see her hand trembling. For a moment, she's back in the temple. It's dark, completely dark, but slowly stone falls away from her face. She cracks through it, looks down, and Trip—

Trip.

A hanging photograph, some landscape, shudders off a creaking wall, clanging as it drops to the floor. She whips her head around, gets to her feet as the glass and the frame shatter.

As she makes her way down the hall, she's twitching, glancing uncertainly over her shoulder and hugging her arms around her chest like she's afraid to reach out for anything. She skips right over the suitcases, spotting a herd of people there, and beelines down to the main lobby for a breather. She'll go back for it later. ]

Hello?

[ Down in the lobby, Skye rings the bell on the desk five times in quick succession, leaning over the reception area to try and spot an employee. ]

Hello?!

[mygame]

[Five times? Really? That's the expression the Nogitsune tries for as it head back around to the front desk. Creepy empty hotel, creepy teenager front desk person, right? Damn shame the Nogitsune is trapped just as they are only having a good time with it.]

Yes, ma'am, the bell works. My name is Stiles. How can I help you? Something not right with your room?

[A hand reaches out to still the bell. It would be a great thing to steal later. A small smile and polite false interest fills its face while its dark eyes study her.]

Lucrezia | open

[pontificus]

( arrival )

[It's a strange feeling, to suddenly be on her stomach on the floor. The lights are too bright, even in the dimness of this room. It's unnatural, and even before she opens her eyes, finally sucking in enough air into her lungs, she knows something is off.

She stands, because she must. There is confusion writ on her face, something that begs too many questions but urges her forward. Where is she? She peers into the hall, just looking for now. Her head tilts, eyes careful to catch what she can. Lucrezia doesn't speak, but there's a fear in a her eyes. The unknown is daunting, and everything around her is too foreign to even have a name for.

Her hand reaches for the knob, pushing it open into the even brighter hall. For many she will look out of place. A girl of sixteen dressed in a fine white and gold dress. It clashes with the worn out fabrics, dull hues of the carpet that's faded or the wood that needed to be polished. She outshines most things, but here she is more outdated than the old paneling on the wall.

She is slow to walk, each step careful. She trusts nothing, sure she has fallen into some strange dream, but it persists and feels real, the way her hand slides against the wall as she walks or the sound her wooden heels make on the thin padded floor. Lucrezia makes to find someone, finally calling out.]

Hello. You there. Can you tell me where I am?

( screening room )

[The lighting is florescent. It shines bright like the sun, but it isn't real. She doesn't understand much in this place, wandering around from room to room to gain a feel for this new place. But electricity is still something she doesn't understand. One can merely flick a light on or off.

But what is even more strange is the flickering screen. She stands in the doorway, her shadow projecting into the room itself. This place is a myriad of things she cannot explain, but the screen is quite the holy grail of finds. She watches in dazed fascination. It is almost like a painting, but it moves.]

How peculiar, [She remarks, never intending to interrupt anyone's viewing pleasure. Though her appearance is like to already do so, shining that fake light into room.]

They are so life like. [What would Don da Vinci or Don Botticelli say at this? Her hand moves to touch the projection onto the screen, though she knows they are not actually there. She's just touching air. It amuses her though, to see something play out before her. There is no sound, but she decides she must see more.]

screening room

[trepidations]

[ Peter expected to be trapped in a prison, maybe, or a dungeon, but never a hotel, an inn. Each room, while not uncomfortable, definitely keeps him on edge, making him feel uneasy. New people arrive just like he has, and there's some chatter, but everything is tense, unsure.

Which is why, when he finds the screening room, he is grateful to hide in the dark for a few moments, catch his breath and try to make sense of things. He's not too familiar with muggle movies, but moving pictures? Sure, no problem. The woman that has made her way to the front though, is clearly way behind on the times, or a trick of his imagination. ]

It's a movie. [ Because he can't sit quietly, watching her marvel at the screen, wouldn't it be creepy? ] Well. Just... you know, a recording of real life. [ So maybe words aren't exactly his strong suit. ]

ota

[totheright]

((He doesn't open his eyes when he hits the carpet at first. Most of his waking self is convinced that Hikaru has just pushed him out of bed again, and he's too tired to get himself back into bed just to be kicked out again.

However, after a couple moments, he notices something wrong. The carpet... smells. His eyes flicker open as his fingers trace over the dull flooring, certainly not the gleaming hardwood he's used to, and he swallows in shock before sitting up, looking around himself.

When he spots the light of the outside through the keyhole, he doesn't hesitate for a second to open the door and step outside. He disregards the suitcase - it doesn't seem as important as stumbling down the hallway towards the stairs, heading down to the lobby. He can't help but wrinkle his nose at the disgusting stairs, making sure he stays far away from any exposed walls. First things first, he's never going to sleep shirtless ever again, if this sort of shit has a possibility of happening.

Once he's in the lobby, he'll stare around at the room, taking in as much detail as he can. For the first time, he begins to feel nervous, considering that none of the other Host Club members are here. Initially, he'd thought this was one of Tamaki's hare-brained schemes, but it was beginning to seem like that wasn't the case.

"Where...?" he breathes to himself, a crease appearing in his brow as he tries to figure out where the hell he could possibly be. The people staffing the front desk seem to be incompetent, so he'll start by looking out the windows, trying to identify some sort of landmarks past the sheet of rain that is covering the glass panes.))

sorry this took so long!!

[amplified]

( by the windows, he'll find a girl with strawberry blonde hair, mostly out of touch with the world as she, too, stares out. she's focused on the sound of the rain and the way it creates an air of static in her ears, but outwardly, it simply appears that she's spacing a little bit. she hears soft footsteps and registers them somewhere in the back of her mind, but she reacts to him slowly. her head turns and she regards him with a narrowing of her eyes and a slow, sweeping study of his person. she isn't sure he's real. she'll approach with skepticism, and caution. )

Who are you?

( open )

[skaikru]

( ARRIVAL. )

( she wakes at the sensation of falling; lands on her bruised, sore face with a strangled yelp because she half expects to land on a knife. but there's nothing in her hand, and clarke has an open palm to press against the carpet, to slide over the rug as she attempts to push herself up onto all fours and breathe.

there's tear tracks on her face, and blood (she can't see, but that she knows is there) under her finger nails. but the pain in her chest is alleviated, if only temporarily, by the pure, driving panic the darkness in the room around her inspires. she wishes she could say this was the first time within the last week she'd woken up some place different with no explanation, and no real windows. but at least this time, when clarke propels herself towards the door neatly outlined by the chink of light, it's not locked. there's no girl in a suit, no sign of her friends, and no handy-dandy sign to announce which mountain she'd made it to. stepping into the light feels like a slap in the face; the blow which comes a second later when clarke gears up to run and her ankle catches on a rectangle on the floor and face plants again.

it's picking herself up, again, this time in the light that she catches sight of her bloody hands. and all the memories — of earth? of home? — come crashing over her like a wave of despair. and clarke sits for several long minutes, vigorously wiping her hands on her pants in an attempt to get rid of the blood, legs tangled in her suitcase and quiet tears collecting under her chin. )

( LOBBY. )

( the stairs call to her as much as they do everyone else, and clarke arrives in the main lobby with the resounding thunk of her suitcase on the stairs to announce her arrival. and for a long moment she stands and stares. because for all the confusion and displacement, this is history that she would never see on the normal, radiation ravaged face of the earth that she'd crash landed on a month ago. and it's beautiful.

but clarke has things to do, has people to find, and one glance around the grand (run down, but have you seen what their shanty camp and clothing looked like? this was nice) entry way tells her that running is going to be useless. through the one door she can see at the other end of the room, she can see another wall, and if the other people milling about happen to be hostile, she's not going to get very far.

she's clogging the door. a few more dazed bodies push out, and clarke offers muttered apologies before pulling herself over to the large armchair. another cursory glance around shows that no one is visibly fiddling with their suitcase, and she takes it upon herself to be the first (the combination is the day her father died, the day she'd been dragged to confinement) and pulls out her tablet. it's eerily like the ones they'd learned from on board the ark, and she makes quick work in sending out A QUICK MESSAGE. )

( ROOMS. )

( and later — because it doesn't feel safe, not out here in the open; because she's been fiddling with the card that'd come with her suitcase and curiosity had overcome her; because she couldn't just sit still, and couldn't quite keep her eyes dry, and because there was still blood on her hands, and blood on her shirt — clarke trudges back up the stairs.

only she's distracted, her head is clouded, and she keeps thinking she sees familiar faces in the shadows. so, not quite all... together... — she tries a couple other peoples doors.

sorry other people; chances are she's probably in your way. )

arrival \o\

[greenies]

[ thomas has more or less gotten used to the fact that none of these people are his Gladers. without them, he's feeling incredibly lost and incredibly on edge, and he's spent his time in getting out of the darkness trying to arm himself, reaching for the small knife on his runners harness and holding it tight in his grip. before he has the chance to shank a shank, however, he spots a blonde girl starting to run and...promptly face planting.

that looks familiar.

though he squints out into the light (and tries to press past the feeling of unfamiliarity), thomas comes to the girl's side quickly, kneeling down to offer her a hand. he's all business mode now, too used to being kidnapped and thrown strange places. ]

Hey--you okay?

open;

[carjacked]

ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ

[ In an inconsequential room on an indescribable floor in an unknown motel room, a man falls from the ceiling with such force that it kicks up a cloud of dust around him. His back protests immediately at the abrupt stop, and he'd groan if he felt like he could breathe enough to do that. He struggles for a second, and inhales sharply when he finally manages to inhale again. Unfortunately, with that precious oxygen comes an influx of carpet dust, and it has him rolling over onto his side in a coughing fit, struggling onto his hands and knees with the force of his hacking. He scrambles to tug the hem of his shirt up, pulls it over his mouth so he can stop sucking in dust, and once that circle is broken, his coughing calms to quiet gasping.

Only then does Neal get a look around the room.

Sort of. It's too dark to see anything except for the strip of light outlining a door, and his eyes flicker around looking for shapes in the darkness, discomfort consumes him. The feeling of being watched, the feeling that there's something waiting for him in this room, something that'll pounce of he doesn't get out of it, has him moving with purpose and determination toward the door. He gropes blindly for the handle, and when he finds it he tugs.

Light pours into unprepared eyes, and he lifts a hand to block out the glaring bulbs until his eyes adjust. When they do, his brow furrows slowly into a perplexed sort of frown.

...Not to knock it before he's tried it or anything, but he's gotta say, heaven paints a pretty disappointing picture. That's what this is, right? He remembers dying, remembers that clear as day. Remembers saying his goodbyes, remember stuff going dark, the last streaks of light leaving his mind, and then wham. Back-first into the afterlife, which means this is either heaven, or it's a much crappier alternative and he really, really doesn't wanna go down that road.

There's a distinct lack of angels, though. No fluffy clouds or harps or... beer fountains or whatever. Just a seemingly endless hallway that stretches out in either direction, looking like just about every generic motel Neal's ever been to, and he's been to a lot. The only blemish on this otherwise empty scene is a suitcase at his feet, one he drops down to examine, knees jutting out on either side of it as he gropes for the nametag. Flips it over, frowns when he sees his own name in handwriting he doesn't recognize. Sure as hell ain't his handwriting, he can tell that much right now, and he's not so sure he's okay with whatever it is that's going on here.

He glances backward one last time, back toward the darkness of that room, and it seems to make his decision for him. He wraps a hand around the handle of the suitcase and moves forward with determination, navigating the halls toward the stairs. Time to figure out what the hell (hopefully not literally) is going on here. ]

ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴅᴇsᴋ

[ He's still got his suitcase in hand when he finds the front desk, and he doesn't hesitate to swing it up and thump it down onto the counter, breakables be damned. Whatever's in there isn't something he brought with him, he hasn't had the chance to look, and he's not all too concerned with the contents. He's more worried about answers, and so when he peers either direction beyond the desk and doesn't see a soul, annoyance streaks across his face. ]

Are you kidding- Hello?

[ He calls, frustration in his voice. There's no answer, so he brings his hand up to slap down onto the bell a couple times. ]

Seriously? Is this it?

[ He demands to no one in particular, which seems to be an answer in and of itself. He huffs incredulously, turning his back to the desk and streaking his hands through his hair. You'd think the afterlife would have some kinda welcoming party, or maybe like an instructional booklet or something. ]

ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ

[ After he accepts the inevitable lack of answers, after he runs into a few faces he never thought he'd see again, hours have passed and he's a little less freaked out by everything. He makes a detour up the stairs toward his room to get a good look through his briefcase. When he's as unpacked as he's going to get and his dreamcatcher's hanging somewhere he can see it from the bed, he goes exploring. Checks out the floor his bedroom's on first, then the one below it.

He searches the main lobby for an exit, tries pushing on windows and even picking locks that bizarrely don't seem to be pickable. He pokes around through cabinets, closets, basically anything and everything he can, just looking for any kind of answer. Feel free to run into him anywhere along the way.]

front desk

[sheriffing]

[That was one hell of a rude awakening. Emma's been wandering the halls ever since she landed in her room, overdressed for this place and rightfully pissed off about it. These things just happen to her and her family, whether she's trying to protect Regina from a wraith or excusing herself after a first date. It proves what she said before; that's there's always something to keep her from being able to enjoy herself. She's the savior all day every day, and in the moments when she tries to be anything else, she always ends up paying for it.

So here she is, in the middle of nowhere, looking for a door out or something she can break through. She's also keeping her eyes open, expecting that if this happened to her, it had to happen to some of the others, too. It's never just one of them, although if whoever is behind this was looking for the savior, maybe it's just her. Maybe this is some kind of trap, because Emma doesn't know what to think of it. She's been in some crappy hotels in her time, but they never made her feel as on-edge as this hellhole.

She's already tense when she rounds the corner, heels muffled against worn carpet as she heads for the front desk. Being close enough to hear him doesn't exactly help in making her acknowledge his presence, because she's heard Neal's voice plenty of times since he died. It's never real, so it doesn't matter. It's just a reminder, Emma thinks, that he's not as far as he feels most of the time. The world's different now that he's no longer in it; now that him being out there somewhere involves a broader definition of the word than like places Tallahassee, or Canada. She's had enough time to understand that she'll never stop missing him, and that hearing his voice is just a part of having to live without him.

Which means he's not there, no matter how much she wants him to be.

And when the desk does come into view, and she stops dead in her tracks to stare at the man leaning against it, the first thing Emma has to tell herself is that it isn't real. ...It just feels like it is, and that's a feeling she can't seem to shake this time.]


Neal?

raven "fucking stairs" reyes | ota

[pajarita]

(LOBBY)

[the decision to leave her suitcase right where she found it had come for various reasons and was, in her opinion, pretty wise. for one, there was just no way in hell she was dragging a suitcase up the drab looking staircase with her current situation re: walking. secondly, the contents of the suitcase itself, that astronaut suit? a poor joke that made her want to burn the whole contents instead. third, she did not trust getting presents, she did not trust the suitcase, she did not trust having to carry something that would slow her down even more than the brace on her left leg would. (a relief, that she'd been allowed to keep that, by whomever.)

instead, she stripped the contents of the suitcase that were of use to her -- the tablet, the note, the keycard -- and made her way up the stairs. she reached the conclusion that she prefered trekking in the woods to climbing stairs, at least the ground was softer than this faded...whatever it was.

once in the lobby, she took in her surroundings: the empty reception, the crackling fireplace, the strangers she didn't know and didn't trust enough to ask anything yet. the elevators.

that was a good idea, for one. she'd been given a key to a room. she could go to her "room" and check what was inside it for clues, maybe see if she could escape via the window, maybe find some discarded weapon. people always left shit behind hotels, or so she'd heard. clarke and finn had found art supplies inside a bunker, it wasn't that unlikely to find something up there. besides, sticking around in one place and asking just made her feel...angry. so the elevator it was.

or...not.] Fucking -- really?

(SCREENING ROOM)

[so after a few attempts, elevator was not it. climbing stairs could leave her vulnerable, so maybe it wasn't the best idea to try it out now. maybe later, maybe with someone else with her just in case. so the ground floor it was. between checking for doors (worrying: no doors that were of use, some locked doors) she ended up inside the screening room.]

...creepy... [can i get an amen?]

screening room ]

[engender]

[ while Derek faintly hears the music wafting out of one of the doors, he doesn't check it out right away. he runs into familiar faces, he questions new ones, and he generally gets a sense that nobody knows what's going on. but, eventually, between 'meet-cute's,' Derek lets his curiosity take over. the walk into the screening room is foreboding thanks to the bone-chilling over-the-top music. it really does set the scene.

he recognizes the movie as it plays on the screen.

there was a small movie theatre in New York in Greenwich Village that showed older silent movies. sometimes, comedies. ] It's Nosferatu.

[ because, that matters ]

open as hell;

[gloriouscurse]

[arrival]

[Regina, as it turns out, can't even say goodbye to her soulmate for good without something happening. She huffs out a breath as the air is knocked out of her lungs when she hits the ground. All she can do is stare at the ceiling for a moment before slowly sitting up, bringing a hand to the back of her head. Either she's been knocked out, or Ingrid's magic at the town line did something no one expected - sent anyone who tried to go through it to different land. But she'd watched Marian and Roland step through; they'd been fine. Robin too, and she can still feel his fingertips dancing at the edge of her own. But then she was here, and she has no idea what happened. She hadn't stepped over the town line herself, as badly as she'd wanted to. No, she couldn't because there's Henry in Storybrooke.

But now she's here, and the thought of Henry spurs her into action, finally standing, disoriented and glancing around. She can't stay in this room, wherever the hell it is, and she opens the door, stumbling out into the hallway. And that's when she realizes, as she raises a hand to produce some kind of magical defense (against what she doesn't know), she finds that it's gone. She's powerless here, wherever here is, and that's more terrifying to her than anything else. Every time her magic has been stripped without her consent she's very nearly died.]

What in the hell is this? Henry, are you here?

[Her yell is loud and echos a bit, so she finds the stairs, barreling down, losing her breath until she reaches what appears to be the lobby of a hotel.]

[Main Lobby]

[She has a suitcase. Of course there's a suitcase, and now she isn't sure what's more bizarre. The fact that she's here at all, or that somehow a very odd selection of clothing choices (plus a stuffed crow?) are waiting on her. She's out of her element, not used to being the one cursed like this, exactly. The curse she can handle, but there's no green sister behind this one, Ingrid was dead, and she couldn't have pissed off someone between the spell of shattered sight being broken and saying goodbye to Robin. It seems there are a few people milling around, though no staff, and everyone seems about as confused as she is. Suitcase in hand, her ire is raising by the second. She has a room number, and a room key, but she's pissed.]

Has anyone bothered to try figuring out where we are, or are we supposed to mill around like idiots?

Main Lobby

[1_truth]

[ Upon hearing someone approach and still not one hundred percent sure what the hell is going on, Conan hops off the lobby desk in order to hide behind it, listening closely to see if he recognises anyone's voice but so far he hasn't found anyone even slightly familiar. He's not sure if he's relieved or concerned by that fact but with how his luck usually is he'll go with a little bit of both. Relieved that no one from the organisation seems to be milling about and slightly concerned he can't find Ran or Occhan. They had been in the same car as him, they should be around somewhere, right? ] [ He won't reveal himself until she speaks, hopping back up on the desk and perching himself like he belongs there as he sizes the woman up-(small scar on her lip-the way she's holding herself suggest anger (no duh) dark hair, dark eyes-clean dressed smartly-wealthy? Not only is she angry but she's important-he can tell just by how she holds herself-practical?) ] I tried to find the log book. [ He offers with a childlike chirp. ] But there doesn't seem to be one. I thought hotels usually kept track of the people coming and going... [ He looks back behind the desk holding off a moment before he 'innocently' delivers the next line. ] But there are some locked drawers back here! I couldn't find the key though, have you seen it?

ota~

[greenies]

arrival.
[ when thomas woke up, he thought for an incredibly brief second that he was back in the box in the glade, being sent back up for round two. would WICKED have the ability to just turn back time, make him start over because he shucked something up? obviously they weren't happy with what happened because

thomas got shot.

right.

coughing and gasping, he pushes himself up to his feet less than gracefully, immediately reaching up to grab at his shoulder, where the bandages from before still feel sort of fresh. whatever medicine they put in him was good, but wherever they put him--there's something off, because none of these people are gladers. ] Minho-- Newt? Teresa?

[ but with that horrendous feeling driving him forward, thomas figures they're just waiting outside; he digs around his runner's harness to yank off one of the ivy cutting knives and carefully holds it close to him as he edges outside, making his way into the bright light.

though he squints at it, the minute someone comes out at the same time as him, thomas is on them, whirling around and pointing the knife in their direction. it's not the most well done assault but hey. ] Who are you?! Are you with WICKED? Where are the others?!

main lobby.
[ having been at least semi calmed down, thomas has at least put his knife away. clearly this place is another trial, and the fact that he's been brought here alone makes sense; the berg that carried him off when he got shot was only for him, after all. he wonders bitterly if any of these people are cranks, how many of them are munies, and his heart aches for the rest of the gladers, still trapped back in the scorch.

but, he is still the same curious thomas that came up in the box ages ago, so he starts to explore the lobby. the room key can come later, and he tucks it carefully into the pocket of his pants before he starts. picking things up and checking them, looking for cameras.

he's onto you, WICKED.

(he mostly just looks a little like a dirty, blood-and-dust covered lunatic.) ]

[engender]

[ after yelling out names, Derek doesn't get far down the stairs before he sees what he thinks it's a familiar face. and while it's not a familiar face he wants to see, it means that this does at least involve the pack - even those that at one time were only honorary. (yes, Stiles is as much as pack as Derek is, he's accepted this, the human is useful if, annoying but he's also grown up considerably over the last few months. even Derek can see that. ]

Stiles? [ he says it to himself before stepping down into the lobby proper, heading right for him. yes, Thomas, he's talking to you. ] Stiles, is Scott here? [ even now, Scott's the alpha. he'll move into, is anyone else here. Braedan. Malia. it's then that he sees the dirt and the blood. ] What happened to you?

[ last thing he knows, everyone made it out of La Iglesia no worse for the wear. save for Peter and that's not something he needs to think about right now ]

open ]

[engender]

arrival ]

[ Like everyone else, Derek drops to the ground with a thud. Going from being completely into control to having the wind knocked out of him is disorienting. He tries to get up, managing to get himself on all fours. He can't hold back his wheezing as he gasps for air. He knows something is wrong before his eyes even open. ]

Brae --

[ A cough follows, as he uses something nearby to pull himself up, his breathing regulating. A quick scan of the room reveals nothing beyond the outline of the door a few feet away from him and the light beyond. He takes a second, he has to, trying to make sense of being around everyone, being at La Iglesia and then being here. Funny thing about random happenstance kidnapping.

Id doesn't make sense.

He knows Kate is in the wind, he knows Chris made that deal with the Calaveras family. He knows Scott made it out alive.

It's not the first time he's woken up kidnapped. Usually, it involves an electric fence. And he hasn't been stripped down.

His hand hovers over the doorknob before finally grabbing it. When it doesn't jolt in his hand, he yanks it open.

The door slams the wall with a thud, Derek's palm coming up to keep it propped open. Another second passes as he tries to see if he can hear anything. Footsteps. Voices. Anything. What's immediately disconcerting is that he should be able to hear something. Anything. Now, he has to find someone (Deaton comes to mind) because his evolution shouldn't come with a new set of powered down circumstances. He tries in vain to tap into his newfound form. Not many people can protect against a big black wolf. His eyes widen as his other hand braces himself up in the doorway. The truth sinks in. That's he's lost it before he's been able to master it.

Something is going on.

With another breath, he approaches the suitcase on the floor in front of his room, the door closing behind him. Crouching down, he sees that it's addressed to him and that it has a room number. That's when he hears the pitter patter of rain. ]

main lobby ]

[ Derek might be the only one that creeps down the hallway like someone's about to jump out at him and yell 'Surprise!' Or, the more likely scenario is that someone will prod him with a stun gun. The same goes with the stairs. Taking one foot at a time, he creeps down until the lobby comes into view.

He's not alone.

His guard doesn't drop but he lets himself relax a tad, if only because this means he needs to be there for other people. (For Braedan?) He clocks the fireplace, the front desk, and the three doors.

Picking up the pace, he races down the stairs to see if he can find any familiar faces. He's one of the only ones that doesn't carry his suitcase down. Fuck that noise. ]

Scott? Braedan? Chris?

his room ]

[ Once he makes the conscious decision to retrieve his suitcase, he props the door open to his room. He doesn't need any more unwelcome surprises and he can't hear who's coming up to find him. (Nor does he know if they are friend or foe.) He lifts his suitcase onto his bed, unzipping it slowly, unpacking everything one at a time, methodically. The meticulously packed clothing is his (underwear, really? Not that he's ungrateful, but someone had to have stolen his, he'd only packed one change of clothes).

He sets his leather jacket (also his) inside.

Underneath the shirts, he finds something that gleams. That something is the metal of the dog collar with a triskelion etched into the tag.

Funny.

It doesn't even need to be said that Derek's not amused.

Setting that aside, he holds the leather cap, side-eyeing that as well. This he doesn't hate as much as, not understand. Why? Not that any of this makes any sense at all...

Finally, with the door open for all the world to see, he finds the familiar gun, the sig sauer p2269mm. Shortly, he finds there's no magazine inside. He slams it shut again, bringing it down to his side.

This is clearly the perfect time to surprise him. ]

much later ]

[ Down in the lobby, he stands by the fire disapprovingly. He watches the flames consume one another with crossed arms. Recapping to himself, he realizes nobody is any immediate danger. There are a few familiar faces around - and one startlingly familiar one. There are people of all ages and creeds. The motel is locked from the inside. Everyone not only received their own clothing but something a little extra. So, their benefactor (it really is too soon to be using that kind of language) is too kind. Also, he's a creep. He padded through underwear drawers.

The Derek listening to the crackle of the fire doesn't resemble the Derek of the past month. He's not more relaxed, he's not more friendly. He's resumed his 24/7 scowl.

You know you guys from Beacon Hills missed it. ]

later / lobby

[64th]

[ Cashmere is pissed. spending 30 unsuccessful minutes trying to break a window and get the hell out of their creepy prison didn't do much to improve her mood. she's come around to the idea that this is not an arena, but it doesn't matter where they are. she's decided to actively dislike it. her room has been properly dismantled and put back together, which leaves the rest of the hotel to explore. she's changed into normal clothes in hopes of feeling a little more settled but so far, it's not working.

Derek's scowl is less off-putting than it probably should be. at least he's not full of shit and smiling as though everything is perfect. uninvited, she takes a seat in one of the armchairs and nods in greeting to Derek. ] How's your room? [ the sarcasm is evident in her voice.] Do you have a nice view?

Conan Edogawa | OTA

[1_truth]

{ Arrival } [ He's awake the moment he hits the ground-the falling registering in his nightmares and causing a jolt through his system. It takes seconds for his brain to catch up and piece together that he's not where he last fell asleep. He doesn't remember falling asleep as that seemed to be such a rare commodity as of late. He still had no idea who Rum was or what his objective was that had him on the move and until he knew that sleep had to come in shifts. Both because he just couldn't seem to sleep and also because he wanted to hear what was going on in the agency at all times. He'd remember trying to sleep and he doesn't which means something is amiss. He's not laying on anything soft-he's landed on a hard floor. He can't make out much of the room but does hear voices around somewhere-not at all familiar. ] [ He wriggles his arms and legs and comes to the conclusion he's not tied down, allowing him to sit up and press the button on his glasses to switch to night vision. It's not working. He presses the button again but the room remains dark and though Shinichi has never been one to believe in ghosts or monsters in the dark it is giving off a rather unpleasant vibe. Under any other circumstances he'd force himself to sit for a moment longer while he reminded himself that such things couldn't exist because then what would be the point of detective work? However, it's starting to look like he might have been kidnapped again and he needs to get to the bottom of this. ] [ He can still hear those voices just on the other side of the door and carefully gets to his feet, creeping as quietly as he can manage to the edge of the door staying perfectly still so he can listen and determine if the others are friend or foe. ] { Lobby } [ Kidnapping isn't seeming nearly as likely as dream. How else would a suitcase full of his things-things that he could easily use to escape end up here? They're not even things he'd brought with him on his last trip which would have made some since if it had being as the last thing he remembers of home was helping Hattori to solve that Kamaitachi murder case and vaguely getting into the car the next day to go home. This is definitely not the Inn he'd stayed in for that case-it was completely western in design and there were no indications that the Inn Keeper's young son was turning eight as there should have been. But if he wasn't there, where was he? ] [ He looks around the room and notes that if the keeper had been going for an eerie serial killer hotel vibe he'd certainly succeeded. Speaking of the inn Keeper-there doesn't seem to be one around that he can interrogate and/or make puppy eyes at to get answers. Left with no other choice, the small detective approaches the empty desk before jumping up and clambering onto of it to see if he can find a guest book-log book, maybe even an electric bill-just something that might tell him a little bit more about this place-like an address. ] [ He leans over to the other side and tries to pull one of the drawers open only find it locked the next one he tried was just flat out empty. He let's out a curse and closes it back up. What kind of Inn didn't keep track of their guest. Their should have been a Check In and Out book on the desk-or if not a book a computer. ] What Kind of Inn is this? [ He lets out a slightly exasperate sigh, still sitting atop the desk like it's a perfectly socially acceptable thing to do. ]

lobby

[64th]

The kind we're going to die in. [ isn't Cashmere helpful? she joins him at the desk, though she leans against it instead of sitting on it. who cares if he's a kid? or looks like a kid. for the record, she thinks he's a kid who is probably going to die in this weird Capitol constructed hotel. she doesn't know how or when, but her days were already numbered at home. she refuses to get her hopes up about this place. ]

Anything cool over there? [ doubtful. not much cool in her room either. ]

ota

[oceanborne]

( arrival )

[ The rescue failed.

It's the first thing Annie thinks, when she finds herself landing unceremoniously on the floor of a dark room. The rescue attempt by the rebels must have failed, and she's been seized and thrown back into her cell to wait for Snow's next move. Fighting to regain her breath, she wonders with detached curiosity how she's going to die -- because surely he'll have her killed. Thirteen tried to free her, for Finnick, and now the president will undoubtedly want to show them what a foolish mistake they made.

When she pushes herself up to sit, though, there's something under her hands that isn't the cold concrete of her cell. Carpet? And that pinprick of light... there were no holes in the door they locked her behind, no way for any light to get through the darkness. Annie creeps forward, intending only to put her eye to the hole and get a look at what lies beyond the door, but when her hand encounters the handle, it turns.

It turns, and she's free. She almost tumbles out the door, barefoot and bruised in the bed sheet that's all she has to wear (given to her by a well-meaning rescuer, she recalls, when he'd seen the state of the clothes she was in). The light is nearly blinding and she falls back against the closest wall, squinting at the rows upon rows of... ]

Suitcases? What is this?

( lobby )

[ What it is, she's decided, is an arena.

Something like that, anyway. Some new Capitol trick, punishment (for daring to escape) and entertainment (for those watching, as she's sure they undoubtedly are) all in one neat package.

After opening her own suitcase and putting on the plain clothes inside it --undershirt, boots, grey jumpsuit-- Annie makes her way down the stairs. There's a length of rope in her hands, another thing found in her suitcase, and her fingers fly through tying and untying an increasingly complicated series of knots. It isn't the best weapon, but even having something puts her mind slightly more at ease.

She keeps to the edges of the room when she reaches the lobby, finding an unoccupied corner where she can study the room and its occupants with wary, fearful glances. If this is an arena, she'll need to know the biggest threats. And she'll need allies. ]

(lobby)

[totheright]

((He notices the girl idly in between looking out different windows, trying to discern something out there aside from the fog. He continues to be unsuccessful, though, and in the midst of pouting about his failure, he notices that the girl is still in the same place she was before, a look of... well, he doesn't have the words for how she looks, but it definitely isn't happy. It's more on the other end of the spectrum, really.

So he does what he's been trained to do - approaches her and extends a hand.)) You alright there, princess?

ota!

[trepidations]

[ arrival ]

[ He remembers the force of magic against his chest, a spell from the tip of a death eater's wand sending him across a damp, decrepit room for his failed attempts to provide more secrets from the Order. When he hits the floor, his vision goes black and the air whooshes from his lungs. The floor is not the rickety, splintered wood he had envisioned, though, not cold and dank and dusty.

Instead, it's carpet. It's almost warm, if not miserably dark. He shoves himself up, crawling away from where his previous attacker might have been, but when he turns, he sees nothing but the too-bright outline of a door, in a too-small room. It's too quiet -- not the riotous meeting he had been at before, but a dark, silent room.

The hair at the back of his neck prickles and immediately, he reaches for his wand, fumbling inside pockets, shirtsleeves, any of the odd places he sometimes tucks it, but it's gone. Gone. ]

W-what? [ He scrambles to his feet, stumbling over something (a suitcase?), and reaches for the door, flinging it open, wincing immediately as he stumbles out into the corridor, blinded, lost, and still desperately looking for his wand. ]

H-hello?


[ lobby ]

[ He's wandless, trapped in some strange place that maybe he was sent to for punishment. Maybe he stumbled into a portkey? Maybe this is just the Shrieking Shack, a part he doesn't quite remember, maybe?

The contents of his suitcase weren't helpful -- he needed his wand, first and foremost, and someone here must have it. He could lose a lot of things, but that he always kept track of. Among clothes, chocolate frog cards, a chess set -- he also had a wire rat cage (though he's sure the lable said sanctuary) and rodent feed.

Whoever did this had a terrible, awful sense of humor. The place had terrifying decor -- it has the look and sounds of something in a muggle horror film, doesn't it? His hear is racing to fast, which doesn't help when, as he is backing up to look around the corridor, he practically falls over someone else, letting out a shriek of surprise.

He wasn't alone. ]

[totheright]

((Three things happen in quick succession. First, Kaoru lets out an incredibly unattractive yelp, a sound that he would later claim never came out of his mouth. Second, he registers that a boy a little older than him has crashed into him, which was the cause of said yelp-that-never-happened. And third?

He was dressed horribly.

Kaoru barely manages to stop himself from blurting out, "what are you wearing?!" Instead, he takes a breath and raises an eyebrow at the guy.)) Can't you watch where you're going?

Cashmere | ota

[64th]

-arrival-
[ Cashmere feels the breath ripped from her lungs as she collides with the ground. years and worlds away, she can still hear her trainer's voice echo through her head, screaming for her to get up! faster, faster, faster! there should be water, shouldn't there? that though comes secondarily. she should have fallen in the water. while she tries to work out the water situation (or lack thereof) she's moving on instinct, groping the ground for her knife and not finding it. she's on her feet before she can catch her breath. disorientation edges on panic when she realizes she's alone. where is Gloss? she has to find Gloss.

her surroundings make no sense. she quickly concludes the arena has changed. abandoned building instead of jungle. it will probably change again. ice mountain? desert? swamp? the Capitol's biggest hits starring it's favorite victors. typical.

is there anything useful in the room? she turns once and then again, eyeing it appraisingly but it appears to be just that: a room. what does catch her interest in the light from the hall. she stops before opening the door, listening. the other tributes could be on the other side but there's no sounds of a fight. Cashmere takes a deep breath and then she yanks the door wide open only to find more emptiness. down the hall seems to be her only choice, where she finds the suitcases - sponsor gifts already? she grabs hers, looks for Gloss' but doesn't find it, and has no choice but to follow the sign and hopefully find her brother somewhere along the way. ]

-lobby-
[ still dressed in her arena unitard, Cashmere moves like she isn't sure if she's being hunted or she's doing the hunting. when she reaches the lobby, Cashmere freezes. there are other people but none of them are dressed like tributes and at a quick glance she doesn't recognize any of them. the room is a lot to take in at once. fireplace - possibly useful, but she'd need a stick or a torch or something. the doors also appear promising, but Cashmere goes for option three, approaching the nearest stranger from behind, dropping her suitcase, and grabbing them by both arms all in one swift motion. Cashmere's fast and strong, but she's expecting a fight so it won't be too hard to pull out of her grasp. after all, aren't they supposed to be putting on a good show? ] Where's Gloss? [ please excuse the crazy look in her eyes. ]

-later-
[ the door to her room is open. anyone who happens by will find her methodically investigating every inch of the room and suitcase. the sheets are yanked off the bed, anything that can be opened has been opened. and the tablet? she noticed the camera immediately and threw the sweater from her suitcase on top of it. the contents of her suitcase are spread all over the room and she's still dressed in her arena unitard. her adrenaline high has faded and Cashmere's a little more willing to make nice with anyone who stops by, but it would be in everyone's best interest if those stopping by knocked first. ]

later

[oceanborne]

...Cashmere?

[ Annie had only meant to peer into the doorway from as far across the hall as she could, at first. Just to make sure there's no danger there, so that she can pass by and continue on to the room labeled on her keycard. But one peek gets her a glimpse at that painfully familiar uniform, and there was only one female tribute in the Quell with hair that color.

Strange, though. Annie's fairly certain that the last time she saw Cashmere was when Johanna's axe took her life, and yet she's here. Here and alive and the first familiar face Annie has managed to find, which all but ensures that she's Annie's new favorite person. Annie creeps closer, pausing in the doorway to look from Cashmere to the wreck of her room and back up again. ]

Find anything interesting yet?

captain hook — ota

[villainously]

ARRIVAL.
[ he was supposed to wake the same place he fell asleep... waiting on the uncomfortable wooden bench of a picnic table near the docks. only when he opens his eyes he can already tell that something is wrong, because it's still dark and there's no sound of the ocean, and certainly no smell of it. no, he's inside somehow, and he has no clue how he got there. he doubts the crocodile has strung up another trick, so what on earth brought him here? the snow queen running around town probably has no business capturing pirates in cellars, and yet here he is.

his chest and lungs hurt a bit from the impact of landing, like he was dropped into the room like a toy thrown in a chest carelessly. he pushes himself up and tries to make sense of where he is. it seems modern (to him, but that doesn't say a lot) but it doesn't seem familiar. the darkness is oppressive in the little room he's awoken in but he can see light just under the door in front of him. he should have been more comfortable in the darkness, all villains should be, and yet he tried the handle to escape it anyway. not a terribly smart cage, considering the door is unlocked. the hallway is unremarkable, yet enticing compared to the dark and dank.

he walks straight into the suitcase in front of him, and eyes it warily. just because it wears his name doesn't make it trustworthy, yet he's not willing to muck around with it now. he reaches down to hook the handle and his hand thumps against the side instead. relearning how to function with two hands is harder than he imagined, but at least with the dangerous one occupied hopefully he'll manage to find his way out of whatever place he's found himself in.

only when he makes it down the stairs to see that he is far from the only one trapped, it might not be so easy to find an escape. people are shouting at the empty desk, milling through rooms, everyone seems aimless... and Hook, well, he has no idea where to start, but it's always wise to watch the group. maybe someone around knows more than he does. ]

LATER.
[ he can't quite decide if this is a waking nightmare or some kind of curse. it doesn't make sense, any of it; and he's a man from a magical world, who has seen all manner of curses and spells in his very long centuries. there's got to be a way out, there simply has to be. even Neverland had an escape route, it was just incredibly hard to find. or handed out by the little devil running the show, and so far? no little devils to speak of. if there's somebody responsible for this mess in their midst, they are intentionally keeping themselves from being known.

in all too many ways, it just doesn't seem real. death is the one thing magic cannot reverse, isn't it? surely Zelena had broken the rules of magic but it isn't — can't be — possible.

he doesn't know what to make of this place yet, but ironically he's more dangerous with two hands than he ever was with a hook. at the moment he's in his room, intent on keeping his distance from the rest. it's for the best. there's not likely answers in his room or in his suitcase. he'll be searching for them anyway.

and, well, his door isn't locked... chances are good someone might open it, either on accident or on purpose. ]

Regina saw you, bro

[gloriouscurse]

[Honestly, Regina hadn't been keen on talking to many people here. Neal was enough to make her question everything she thought she knew about the last memory she had in Storybrooke. But then she had to go and glimpse the one handed wonder out of the corner of her eye. Only he had two hands instead of a hook, and she decides maybe it might be worth talking to him. She follows him, not closely, just enough to see what room he disappears into, and she waits five minutes before knocking.]

I know you're in there, so if you'd be so kind as to open the door and help me figure out where the hell we are, I'd appreciate it.

[loyals]

MAIN LOBBY

[ After the last time Scott wound up in a creepy motel, he's not exactly keen on sticking around the arrival hallway. So, he's abandoned his luggage for the meantime, heading downstairs to the main lobby to maybe see if he can't find his friends. If he can't find familiar faces. Maybe even some answers.

Considering the fact that there doesn't seem to be any hotel staff around, nevermind that there's no front door, he's not sure how many answers he's going to and up finding.

Still, he goes looking. He tries to track a scent - literally any one - but his senses seem duller. Everything does. Not gone, like during the eclipse, and not like he was before the bite, but still... dampened. It adds to the frustration, but doesn't get him to stop searching. Maybe there are others just as lost as him, even people who might need help.

Trying the bell at the front desk just for the sake of trying, he waits there. And waits. And then abandons it, in the end, to search the rest of the floor. ]

Stiles? Kira? Lydia? [ Scott calls out for his pack, as he goes walking around, testing the locked doors and pulling at curtains, basically cautiously poking around. ] Liam? Derek? Malia?

Anybody? [ This place puts him on edge, makes him nervous as hell. ] Is there anyone that needs help? Or maybe knows where we are?

FIRST FLOOR (ROOMS 101 - 120)

[ Eventually, Scott makes his way back up to the first floor of rooms - after trying the elevator, yielding no results - and gets his luggage. The key in his hand is ominous, but he thinks maybe there might be an answer in here, somewhere. Either in room 116 or in his suitcase.

If someone catches his attention or stops him in the hallway on the way to his assigned room, he'll be more than happy to oblige. Especially if the person in question needs help, even if he doesn't have any information to give right at this moment.

When he gets to room 116, he doesn't shut the door. Just in case something happens in the hallway, or even further into the hotel. In case one of his pack shows up. The open invitation doesn't stop him from opening a suitcase - and he pretends the numbers to unlock it aren't the anniversary of Allison's death, another offense of the hotel's - so that he can go through it.

Clothes, some of his old summer reading, candy. Something for treating red eyes - funny - and something that looks like an iPad.

He sets everything on the bed and goes to open the other suitcase.

And, with a wordless shout of alarm, of panic, he slams it shut again on the remnants of a mask. ]

( NOTE that I'm going to be kind of slow with my boys for a little bit due to being in post-op recovery right now. My pain meds have me out cold for a couple hours every three to four hours, but I'll be around for tags when I'm awake! Just slow on my tablet. )

FIRST FLOOR (ROOMS 116 - 117)

[engender]

[ Senses dampened as well, Derek hears the footsteps of someone stop at the adjacent door. A neighbor. Gun (not loaded), in his hand, he brings it to his side, trying to concentrate on his dulled senses. The door opens - that he hears because his is opened. Actions are muffled. There might be the springs of his neighbor's bed. A few more seconds pass and he relaxes, making the decision to meet his illustrious neighbor.

He jumps at the shout, moving quickly from his room to the doorway of the next, gun at the ready. ] Are you - [ His gun up, he freezes -- hoping this isn't another Thomas. ]

Scott? [ It's bad manners to point a gun at someone - especially at his alpha. But his gun does remain at his side.

Please let this be Scott McCall and not another look-a-like. At least that would make some semblance of sense. ]

[arms]

ARRIVAL

[ Maybe his arrival could be more eventful. He could have gotten to his feet swinging, could've been fighting the second he hit the floor. But, despite his temper, Minho is slow moving. It's a combination of having just had the klunk beaten out of him, his face bruised, a black eye forming, his lip split, body sore from a beating and his burn scars both, and the fact that he's not stupid. Brash, yes. But not blatantly stupid.

Carefully, and with a small grimace, he gets to his feet. He exits through the door - careful not to trip on the suitcase there - and he heads into the hallway, squinting through the change in light.

This is almost like the base they'd been brought to, dorms tucked away, but it isn't at the same time. Not unless WICKED decided to open a... a hotel, he thinks. Logically, he knows what one is. He's never been to one, not that he knows of, but he can recognize what one is. The tacky, musty carpet, the furnishing, the design of the hallway with all of its doors.

The suitcase at his feet.

Gently rubbing at the tender skin of his throat, where the still scarring burn peeks out of the slightly bloodied collar of his otherwise sterile white shirt, Minho tongues carefully at the split in his lip before he sets off. He brings the suitcase with him, partially because he wants to investigate it, but partially because it wouldn't make a poor bludgeon if someone or something attacked him. If one paid close enough attention, they'd be able to see his bloody grip tighten every now and then on the handle, like he's prepared to swing it.

But he won't unless provoked, which a simple approach while he heads to room 102 won't result in. ]

MAIN LOBBY

[ Eventually, Minho can be found downstairs. Having left the suitcase behind in "his" room, and deciding not to change his clothes - everything hurts far too much, he'd rather not provoke further injury - he figures it's time to do what he does best. Exploration and investigation is all second nature to him at this point, and he has a feeling it would be smart to familiarize himself with as much of the hotel layout as he possibly can.

Which, turns out to be about jack squat. ]

What the hell? [ There's literally no door. There are locked doors - which he bangs on and tries to force open alike - but nothing that can be considered a main entryway. One door, he thinks, leads outside. But that's neither unlocked nor an exit, it seems like.

The screening room draws his attention for all of a minute before Minho goes elsewhere, the front desk drawing his attention first now that he's not poking around his room or suitcase. He rings the bell, once, just for the sake of ringing it. But when no one comes, he starts to look around the work station. Trying to open doors and drawers, shuffling through what he can.

Which isn't a lot, as is made obvious by his muttered slang and complaints. He can't even force the locks. ]

Swear to god, Rat Man, if you're behind this, too... [ That one isn't muttered, as he straightens up with a wince. Well, time to find the others in this rainy, locked coop. ]

SCREENING ROOM

[ Seriously, he takes one look in here and goes "nope." You can try to grab him, though. ]

( AND here is my other dumb boy. Thanks for being patient with me! )

main lobby

[trepidations]

[ Peter, too, has been searching for a way out, trying any window and door he comes across, but nothing seems to give. The entry way, where the desk is stationed as though someone just got up and walked away from work one day and never returned, is where a door out should be. This is the logical step, of course.

He doesn't seem as vocal, however, as someone else does about it. ] Yeah, I've... I've looked, there are no doors out. Just rooms, and others that are locked, but, well. Definitely not out.

[ And maybe it's the cry of rat man that gets his attention, whether intentional or not. Very funny, hotel. He runs a hand through his hair nervously, keeping his distance from most of these strangers. ]

{ ota }

[driven]

↣ MAIN LOBBY

[ she drags her suitcase all the way down the - not really sure why it's as heavy as it is, but equally not interested in the idea of taking time to root through it yet - and leaves it in front of the front desk. no one is there, sure, but that doesn't stop allison from frantically ringing the bell, checking every direction she can. she doesn't have time for this - the oni are going to kill stiles, kira's mom is going to kill stiles, and is lydia is being held by the nogitsune? she's not safe. she needs to get there, and get there fast, and while she doesn't know how the hell she ended up in this hotel on her own, she doesn't have time to care. ]

Hello? Hello! [ the way she frantically bangs at the bell isn't helping anyone, and after a moment she eventually just lifts herself up over the desk, searching behind it for anything she can find. a phone, a key, anything. because she's already looked around for a door, already checked every window, and she couldn't find a single way out. once she made sure there was nothing down here that could help her, she was going to head back out - maybe find a kitchen, an air duct, anything.

her heart was still racing with the pre-altercation jitters, but without anywhere to put that energy, it just burns under her skin. she didn't know where scott, isaac, kira, anyone was. they were all supposed to go in together, and now she was in this hotel and she didn't know how. she needed to get back to her friends, she needed to save her best friend, and she was wasting time.

with a slam of the bottom drawer of the desk, she stands a bit abruptly, cursing under her breath. she doesn't notice the other people in the lobby quite yet, but she will soon enough. maybe they can help? ]

↣ HALLWAY FLOOR ONE

[ she has a key, and she doesn't know where the key is or why. she reads a number - one nineteen - and when she is tired of wandering around the main hall she figures why not. the only problem is that even after she gets into her room, checks under the floor and all the corners, she doesn't find anything. no phone dial, no wifi, none of her knives or the bow she'd been carrying or anything. the longer allison spends in the room, the more frustrated she becomes, and while she grabs whatever the phone-thing is supposed to be, she decides not to bother with it yet.

her father is still missing, she still can't explain how she got here, and no matter where she turns or what she does, she can't shake the creeping feeling down the back of her neck. she knows enough to know that's bad, that's her gut telling her to be on guard, but she doesn't know how to explain it just yet. so instead of hanging around her room, which was a surefire way to drive her absolutely stir-crazy, she ventures back out into the hallway.

maybe she could find someone else who knew something. maybe there would actually be a hotel attendant cleaning out one of the rooms. she sees people wandering around just as lost as she is, and that doesn't help, but it's a start. ]

Hey! [ she doesn't run, but her walk is a little faster than normal as she moves to catch up with whoever has their back to her, making their way down the hall. allison doesn't have an issue with asking for directions, or in this case asking what the hell is going on, and maybe if she asks enough people something will come of it. ]

Hallway »

[algidity]

[ Isaac was about as confused as everyone else - if not more so. One moment he'd been in the jail feeling the pull of the full moon and an oncoming panic attack and the next he'd been literally dropped in this place with no one in sight at first...

He had every intention of trying to find Scott or Derek when he heard a somewhat familiar voice call out. The curly haired teen turns to look at who was calling out to presumably him? Or perhaps she'd seen someone else? Either way, it was Isaac who was turning around to answer her. ]

Uh? Yeah?

[ There's no recognition on his face, and hardly a reaction as he fumbles with the key between his hands, trying and failing to make sense of the situation. But he... knows her... Or at least of her... They go to the same school, he's seen her before. She was one of Lydia's newer friends... he thinks. ]

I'm sorry, I don't know what's going on...

[kirking]

(arrival)

[Well.

He wishes this was the weirdest hangover he's ever woken up from but it's really not. Wake in a strange place in a room he doesn't recognize? Check. Been there, done that. Hadn't done it in a while and he didn't remember drinking last night but then if he remembered it, maybe he wouldn't be here in the first place.

Actually a strange hangover because his head isn't pounding, it's just fuzzy and his side hurts like he dropped ten feet on it and okay. Enough of this, getting up off the floor and going to figure out where he is and where the Enterprise is and listen to Bones complain about his life choices and other things.

Good. Great plan. Go team go.

Kirk groans as he pushes himself up, patting down his pants pockets once he's up. At least he's got his communicator. Pressing the heel of his free hand to his eye and wandering towards the door at the same time, he flips it open. It doesn't chirp back like it usually does, but that doesn't register to him immediately.]

Scotty. [Nothing. Have an eyeroll, chief engineer that isn't here. Anyone who sees him on the second floor right now will see a man in a gold shirt that clashes with his blond hair talking to himself basically.] Mister Scott. Spock? Sulu? For God's sake, come in. Get me out of here. Beam me up. Let's go.

(lobby/other)

[Turns out-- his communicator is totally fucked. So he actually is stranded in an old hotel. Kirk assumes he can't have gotten that far from the crew and focuses his attempts at getting out of this place.

So you know. Rattling door knobs and trying to force open windows and they are all locked and this is awful and confusing and help.]

[1_truth]

I already tried that, it doesn't work-the windows won't open.

[ Conan might have stood back and watched the other struggle with the window for a moment. This certainly answered his earlier question of if he was just too weak to open the window on his own or if it really just wouldn't open. He feels a little better, at least. ]

But it's raining anyway. Even if you did get out you'd probably catch a cold. [ He offers with a small shrug. ] Have you seen a Japanese girl about seventeen with brown hair and blue eyes?

[taurohtar]

( ARRIVAL )

[One moment, Tauriel is traipsing through the marshes, the darkness oppressive, clouds overhead blocking the light of even the most persistent star, and then the next, there is the peculiar sensation of falling, and then she lands flat on her face on something hard and dry. For a brief, irrational moment, she feels like she has sunk into the bog — but if this were the bog, why is it so dry, so quiet, so hard — but then her senses return to her and she becomes aware of her surroundings.

This is no bog. This is a room, somewhere; there is carpet under her cheek, and she can see light spilling in from across the room.

How did she get here? Where is here? She does not understand. Her throat, dry from too many long days with nothing to drink, is unable to form even the smallest of sounds, and so she does not bother attempting to cry out for help. Who knows what kind of help such an action would elicit, in any case? No, far better to struggle painfully to her feet, her head swimming for a terrible moment, and to cautiously head for the doorway. Surely something better awaits her out there.

Nothing better awaits her out there, actually, and while Tauriel nearly trips over what appears to be a trunk of some kind, a handle attached to one side, there is nothing else in the corridor that gives her any hint as to where she might be. The trunk is useless as well, only containing her clothes, a book, and... There is a small, light plaster statue rolled up in one of her chemises, something she might not have noticed had she not been rummaging around through her clothes to find what else has been mysteriously provided for her. It is a dwarf, she thinks, reclining with a pipe in hand, a jaunty red cap perched on his head. It looks nothing like any dwarf she has ever known, and yet looking at it has a lump forming in her throat, a lump she cannot swallow for her body is too dry even to produce tears. Blinking burning eyes, she wraps the dwarf back up in her shirt and tucks it away.

Struggling to her feet once more, she picks up the trunk, and only then notices the number attached to the handle. Since there is nothing else for her to do, she goes in search of it.]

( ROOMS )

[This is such a strange building. Tauriel is not wholly ignorant of inns and what they look like, but this looks like no inn she has ever seen in all her six centuries. The walls are so straight and so flat, no deviation to be seen. Had she been at home, it might not have been so surprising, but Tauriel is not used to seeing such precision in the works of Men. And yet, for all its sharp angles and clean lines, the whole place seems...old. Forgotten, somehow.

It takes her quite some time to figure out that the number on her trunk is the number to a room, a room with her name on it, as if she is expected.

This whole experience is unsettling, but oh, that bed... It has been so long since Tauriel had a bed to lie on, she is almost tempted simply to throw herself on it and sleep the deep sleep of mortals. Her training overrides her weak will, however, and she immediately sets instead to exploring this room of hers, searching for any places an ambush might occur.]

[hacker]

[ Skye bumps into her on the way out of her own room, suitcase already deposited. Moving with haste through the hall, she throws her hands up and side-steps out of the way, flattening herself towards the wall to let Tauriel past. Slowing down demands she really take a look at who she's dealing with, and her brow furrows. ]

Whoa, Ren Faire. [ Some amusement enters her gaze at how out-of-place Tauriel looks like that, and Skye's hands drop to her sides. ]

[wickedlyable]

rooms.

((Johanna isn't much for socializing. Especially not in this situation. After stumbling across the suitcase, she heads to the room number on it immediately, opening the door and looking around inside curiously. The tablet immediately gets thrown under the bed - she's not dumb, god - and it takes a moment before she opens the suitcase.

She'd been more curious about the place than angry initially. Upon seeing what's inside her case, her blood boils. That dress... In a quick motion, she pushes the suitcase off the bed with a guttural yell, watching as the few clothes spill out over the floor.

It's him. He's sent her here. He's got something planned; and he thinks she'd be fooled? Thinks that she'd assume she could escape?)) I'm not stupid, Snow. ((She mutters to herself, and at the same moment, she realizes that this room could be monitored.

Anyone passing by in the hallway will hear loud swearing, coupled with suspicious thumps that sound like someone is moving the furniture around in the rooms. In her fury, she's not quite remembered to close the door fully, so anyone could walk right in - if they wanted to.))

main lobby.

((After a few hours, she's calmed down enough to come down to the main lobby. She's tied the ratty sheet around her torso, and it covers enough. Whatever. In the situation, she can't bring herself to care overmuch about how she appears - after all, she's bruised and battered, and her hair is more than half-gone. There wasn't much vanity in Johanna to start with, and now, what concern she did have with her appearance was gone.

Scanning the lobby as she enters takes only a few moments. Plenty of idiots clustered around at the main desk, the front door, the windows. No one's coming to save you, she thinks, rolling her eyes, but she doesn't vocalize her thoughts just yet. For all that she's brutally honest, she knows when not to make enemies. She needs to play friendly until she can figure out more about this place.

Her thoughts on the other people stuck here, however, are suddenly interrupted by a glimpse she catches out of the corner of her eye. She blurts out, without a moment's thought--)) Don't try to open the window, you complete moron.

((Ah, playing friendly. It was a nice dream while it lasted.))

rooms

[64th]

[ after tearing apart her own room, Cashmere's grown curious about the rest of the hotel. she's finally changed out of her unitard, swapping it for the distinctly District One clothing from her suitcase. so far she doesn't recognize anyone but Annie, but she's good with faces and names so she's made a few passes through both halls trying to memorize who goes where. the shouting and general uproar from Johanna's room draws her attention because obviously someone has gone totally insane and that's worth noting.

no - not just anyone. the voice is familiar. Cashmere thinks no way and gives the door a careless shove. it swings into the wall with a thud. ]

You have got to be fucking kidding me. [ if it wasn't for the voice and her own familiarity with how Johanna carries herself, she'd never recognize the woman in front of her. ] You look like shit.

[larker]

Front Desk

[Gabriel has had enough of dingy hotels and motels for several lifetimes, and the idea that he's woken up in one isn't funny even to him. The last thing he remembered getting the wrong end of the blade from Lucifer and then landing on his face in a dark room. So much for some kind of angelic afterlife, catching a break doesn't seem on the cards. A quick look around in the lobby is in order, Gabriel shoving hands in his pockets as he casually saunters around and looking at ease to the rest of the world.

Alternative reality? Real or created? As someone who spent most of his time creating little pockets of his own realities Gabriel is very impressed. Even he can't tell what's going on here really and that alone is disturbing enough. The archangel can hear the rain outside and feel the warmth from the fireplace as he walks past, and the whole thing is feeling more real than it ought to for a fake place.

Well, there was only one way to figure this shit out. Gabriel strolls on over to the front desk, leaning against it with a grin as he presses the bell not once, not twice, but constantly with two second intervals. Ding, ding, ding...]

Hello? Anyone? I wanna make a complaint, you left the mints off my pillows...

[1_truth]

[ Conan's easily missed as he's sitting behind the front desk and trying to get one of the drawers open in his obsessive hunt for the hotel log book. There had to be something, didn't there? Hotel's name-past guests-something he can use. However it's seeming more and more like the log book isn't here. And where was the staff? It struck him as odd but also fortuitous as it allowed him to do a little bit of sneaking around. ]

[ The sound of foot steps cause him to freeze his mind working fast to identify them (male-casual. dress shoes always had a different sound and female footfalls tended to be lighter-depending on the weight of the woman) They're coming closer. They can't possible know he's here he has moved since-oh. ]

[ The insistent dinging just gets an irritated sigh before Conan hops up, arms catching on the desk so he can dangle off the other side. ]

You've seen your room? I haven't gotten that far. [ He climbs the rest of the way up onto the desk to get a better look at the other, all the while keeping an innocent look on his face. ]

[mygame]

Front Desk

[It isn't often that the Nogitsune finds itself glut with food. One or two people, yes, especially if it has managed to make a move in whatever game it was playing. But this? It can't remember the last time it was summoned to something like this. But was it summoned? The box that had held it should have stopped such a thing. An accidental release maybe? Did the wolves find themselves in need of it? Had Stiles done something to make it return?]

[These weren't thoughts that the Nogitsune ponders on for long. No matter what brought it, it was here. Even if it didn't know where here was precisely. These weren't important questions to it. Few things are on the whole. Fear and strife presses in on it from all sides, wisps of it lingering in the air. Each breath in fed it better. Just why so many people were off-kilter and frightened is about the only question that stays with the creature.]

[Stiles had watched enough movies that it can proceed without much concern. After all, it is a predator, isn't it?]

[When it reaches the front desk, it leaps up onto it for a better look. Others had been here, not that the Nogitsune's sense of smell is sharp enough to define a specific who. Curiosity drives it to poke around, sort through what other vandals (or perhaps fellow prisoners it wonders) have before it. A pen and one of the service bells are pocketed before it settles down behind the desk.]

[As if it belongs there. What? This could be fun for it. Welcome to Hotel Nogitsune. Where all directions, advice and explanations were given out by a fox that was out to cause chaos.]


In Your Room, Inspecting Your Stuff

[So, the other places were dull, nothing much to find there. That left the other rooms such as where it had began this adventure.]

[It starts on the first floor, trying doors to see if they open and then wandering in. Thoughts of danger don't really enter its mind. Knowing the layout of its new den is more important. Soon enough, the Nogitsune is sure that it will need boltholes to flee to. Places to hide. Humans took offense so easily. A few tricks, a game or three and what? They were ready to revolt. Humans.]

[Wolves too, while it is at giving out dark thoughts.]

[Spotting a new door cracked open, the Nogitsune nudges it and peeks in. Occupied or empty, something is better than the empty hall.]

[Besides, they might have something interesting to steal.]

in his room? really? tsk tsk what will he do with you?

[larker]

[Gabriel is checking out his room when he gets an unexpected, unannounced visitor. The room seemed normal enough though someone had the foresight to try and be funny, leaving ten copies of the bible around the room in random places. The archangel isn't sure if he's amused by that one or not, hands on his hips and head tilted as mulls over the predicament that he's now in.

Despite how quietly the Nogitsune nudges the door, Gabriel still hears it, eyes flicking over briefly to the entrance of his room and spotting someone looking in. A visitor already. They sure didn't look like staff and Gabriel knows not to be expecting any kind of room service from that one. Instead of just saying hello or extending the hand of friendship, Gabriel merely picks up one of the bibles and giving the being a big grin.]

Hello friend, you're just in time for the sale of the century. Pristine first edition King James bible and all yours for nine hundred and ninety nine, ninety nine. You look like a religious fella and I refuse to let you leave without one of these babies.

bucky barnes | open

[dislocked]

SCREENING ROOM

[ Bucky can be found here a lot later, having conducted his own prying, choosing to avoid others as he studies his new surroundings and adjusts, adapts, and watches the collective confusion of the newcomers. He comes to a few truths: that they are rabbits in a trap, and not one amongst them seems likely to have the answer. That Steve Rogers is here, and this hotel is too small for them both.

He'd locked the door to his hotel room, had set up an easy giveaway in case it'd been broken into, and he wanders the corridors before slipping into the screening room and staying, his attention caught by the silent movie -- this was already old in his youth, but this music is familiar, piercing, and he stands quietly by the coffee dispenser, unable to not be drawn to the words on the screen, the overacting of actors who've long turned to dust.

Bucky distantly remembers younger days, simpler days that weren't easy; and a smaller, scrappier blond boy with blood on his teeth and mud between his fingers. Back then, monsters were creations of the silver screen, brought to life only through collective imagination and the lenses of a camera, and identified through the crescendo of an eerie orchestra.

They know better, now.

He takes a seat, right at the back. ]

[taurohtar]

[After having scoped out her room, leaving no corner unexplored, Tauriel had started to venture back through the inn — hotel, she overheard one of the other people say; this is a hotel, whatever that means — in an attempt to discover what, exactly was going on. She has been leery of interacting too much with the others, and it seems most of them are leery of her as well. Nobody has made eye contact with her, and something has been preventing her from reaching out and attempting to speak to them, so they scuttle around her and leave her alone.

Her lonely rambling has lead her down a corridor as empty and eerie as any of the others, and it is only when she is wandering down this new hallway that she begins to hear music. Intrigued, she follows the noise, eventually finding a large room with multiple seats arranged inside, some kind of sheet hung across one end with strange, moving pictures projected onto it. She has never seen such things before, and for a moment she stands stock still, utterly amazed.

What wizardry is this?

She is so distracted by the moving pictures that she doesn't yet notice that the music comes from no discernible place, but eventually she will realize there is no orchestra to be seen. For the moment, however, she slowly moves to sit herself down in one of the chairs right at the rear, an empty seat between her and a man who looks, vaguely, like a Ranger she once knew.]

What is this? [Her voice is barely above a whisper as she leans closer to speak to him, still mesmerized by the display in front of them.] I have never seen such strange things in all my life.

lydia "why is this my life???" martin ; open!

[amplified]

( ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ - ʜᴀʟʟᴡᴀʏ )

( one minute, she was leaned over a bestiary, ready to do research. the next? well...

the way she wakes up to a distinct lack of air is nothing short of unpleasant. her eyes snap open, she turns her head from side to side, taking in her surroundings... and she fights the urge to let out a scream. it's dark and dank and it reminds her of that hole in the wall they stayed in when they followed scott and stiles. it's beyond creepy; it sends a chill deep down into her bones and she can feel that something is very, very wrong.

she pushes herself to her feet, squinting at the way the light shimmers under the door, spilling into the blackened room and highlighting only the parts that make it seem more horrifying. she remains as calm as she possibly can, and although her pulse is a flutter in her chest, she manages to keep her breathing even. bad dream. it's just another bad dream. maybe something's coming. maybe she fell asleep, and she just doesn't remember...

lydia's hand grips the door and pulls it open as she whips her head back to look over her shoulder one last time. once outside, she scrunches her face as her eyes adjust to the brightness. she isn't the only one here, which a quick glance is more than enough to demonstrate. she starts to call out and walk toward someone - anyone - when her knee catches the top handle of the luggage, and she kneels down to inspect it. it has her name, and a key with a room number on it. she looks back at the door she just came from, but it's not the room she's meant to be in. okay then.

unsure as she is, she's compelled to grab the suitcase and get the hell out of this hallway. she heads for the stairs, giving glances to those she passes one her way - hopelessly seeking out her friends, she supposes. perhaps it's you that she approaches first, because your hair matches someone she knows. )

Deputy Parrish -- Stiles -- Scott?

( ᴍᴀɪɴ ʟᴏʙʙʏ )

( after making a meager attempt to find familiarity in the too-creepy hallway, she finds herself downstairs in a lobby. it's not that highly populated yet, and she can see that everyone else seems just as disoriented as she does. the first thing she thinks is that this is all some cosmic joke. the second? that this is a hallucination. and that third - the worst case scenario - there's been a mass kidnapping, or something equally horrible, that's stranded herself and all of these people in this weird location straight out of a horror movie.

she marches right up to the desk and rings the bell several times before giving up on someone actually being there. lydia's eyes sweep over the room again, hoping maybe to catch a glance of her friends, but then... her eyes narrow and her lips purse and she seems to completely zone out. the rain outside... it's deafening. she doesn't know why. she's done so much better, made so much progress with her abilites as a banshee - so why is the patter of water on glass so loud?

as if in a trance, she wanders toward one of the windows. her suitcase sits by the desk, temporarily abandoned, and she reaches out to place her hand on one of the curtains. this is likely how she'll be found - it might take a couple attempts at speaking to pry her attention away from the rain that drowns out all other sound for her. )

( ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴜɴᴅʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ + ғɪʀsᴛ ғʟᴏᴏʀ ʜᴀʟʟᴡᴀʏ )

( conceding is not something she does lightly, but at some point, she simply... does. she figures she may as well find the room she's meant for, and acquaint herself with her surroundings. she's not happy about it, but if she's going to explore and try to figure out what's going on, she's going to need to stop having a heavy suitcase full of god knows what first. she gets to her her room and enters without incident, then props the door open - just in case there's the chance to talk to other people about all of this. she hefts her suitcase onto the bed and begins to unpack and put away her things, hoping there might be something useful of hers she can use for all of this.

come on in. you don't even have to knock. )

lobby!!

[loyals]

[ Having found Derek and... and Allison, Scott sets out to find the rest of his pack. They've got TTY be here, somewhere, unless whoever brought them here just picked and plucked them with no rhyme or reason. Especially with Allison alive again, and someone that looks like but isn't Stiles.

It's when he heads back to the lobby that he finds, first, an abandoned suitcase. Mainstream media has him conditioned to approach it slowly, until he sees the familiar name on the tag.

He picks it up without hesitation, head whipping around to seek out its owner.

And when he spots her just standing there, hand pressed to the curtain, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he wordlessly approaches and reaches out.

And this is how they can be found: Scott holding her suitcase in one hand, Lydia's free hand in the other, waiting for her to come back. Patient but protective, shooting anyone unfamiliar that approaches them looks of warning. ]

ota

[withbread]

[ Peeta is launched into wakefulness, a harsh sound coming from his throat that's more scream than anything, but one might be able to make out the name 'Katniss" in his scream. It doesn't take much provocation to shove him to his feet (stumbling ever so slightly on the artificial limb) and out the door. This has got to be another arena, another one of Snow's games. With that in mind he stoops, grabbing up the suitcase. As weapons go, it's not great but it's something. He doesn't bother to figure out if there are clothes in his suitcase (and he really should). The quarter quell uniform he's wearing is more acid burned than anything, torn, shredded and scarcely covering things that ought to be covered. He has welts on him from mutant mosquitos and acid burns dot his skin. He's also got the remanants of some sort of green-gray ointment smeared into his skin. The bridge of his nose and cheeks are sunburnt and his hair...well, let's not talk about his hair. It's gone from beyond bedhead to something...not good.

He lurches down the stairs toward the main lobby, occasionally screaming Katniss' name like it's something ripped from his bones. He will frantically pull at doors, opening them, screaming Katniss' name then moving onto the next thing. Rinse and repeat. ]

later;

[ Once he's found Katniss he'll calm down a little. He's still going to be suspicious as all fuck, but at least he's changed clothes and is doing some exploring, talking a little to people and figuring out what's going on. ]

later

[64th]

[ yeah, she saw him earlier, on one of her rounds around the hotel while look for Gloss. yanking on the doors, screaming like he'd last strand of sanity - she'd wondered if she looked that crazy and decided she wanted nothing to do with him.

but she's brought down her crazy a few dozen notches, and from the looks of it so has he. Annie Cresta, Johanna Mason, and Peeta Mellark. it's a weird mix of company and she's going to try to make allies where she can since Johanna will probably figuratively and literally stab her in the back the minute she finds a knife. Cashmere finds him while she's wandering the halls, still trying to find any sign of her brother. ]

You clean up nice, Twelve. [ she's ditched the quell uniform too, but she'd only been in the arena 10, maybe 15 minutes. so she's still looking less roughed up than him. ] What's your name again? [ she knows his name but is going to act like he's not the center of Panem's attention. she might not be very good at making friends. ]