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

[technologist]

What?

[ It's kind of an autopilot response, but both the 'bullocks' and the mention of dessert are unexpected, oddly casual in the face of such a bizarre situation. Fitz takes a second to catch up, brow furrowed in a vaguely critical look before he glances back to the table, awkwardly dodging eye contact. ]

Oh. Yeah, no luck on that, apparently. But they've got to have food somewhere, yeah? Unless this is just— temporary.

[ Or they've all been brought here to die. Or go Lord of the Flies. Those are terrible topics for conversation, though, so instead Fitz just looks back to James, expression hesitantly curious. ] You've just woken up?

[technologist]

[ For a moment, he doesn't seem particularly interested in the invitation. He remains a distance off, expression verging on judgmental; but then he glances back down towards the hallway before stepping into the room.

The critical look gives way to something more guarded, and he focuses on one of the unsearched cabinets rather than looking at Neal, absently opening the doors and digging around inside. ]

What do you think you'll find, anyway? I doubt there'll be any hidden doors.

[ Well. ] Not in the cupboards, anyway.

sorry for the delay!!

[technologist]

Yeah. [ The answer's quick, enthusiastic and a little guileless. Fitz steps forward and seems entirely intent on taking the toolkit from her, but about halfway through the gesture of raising his hand he catches himself up short, glance skipping back to meet hers. ]

Can I borrow it?

[ Manners. Or something. ]

[hacker]

Uh, Captain freaking America.

[ Which absolutely needs to be the first thing she mentions. She gestures towards the door like yeah that happened. Lobby is A+, do recommend. Beautiful things happen there. ]

Who, by the way, is just as smoking hot in real life. [ Realizing that's Not The Point, she clears her throat, dropping her chin a little and scratching the side of her head with a little tilt of it, clearing her throat. ] Which … We'll get back to later, when we aren't freaking out. And have found the rest of the team.

[ Most of the rest of it. Seeing Fitz summons up a wealth of unpleasant emotions, as she realizes that there's one team member who they have no reason to go search out. Trip. A pit grows in her stomach, as she realizes she has to be the one to break the news. The ease drains out of her, replaced by shakiness. Immediately, she recoils from the hug, dropping her hands uselessly to her sides and backing off. ]

Obviously.

[carjacked]

[ Snoop or don't snoop, Neal's not gonna judge him one way or the other. He gets that it's a precarious thing to do, probably illegal, definitely out of the ordinary, but hey. He's an out of the ordinary kind of guy, and he's not too worried about treading on the tender toes of kidnappers, so. ]

Keys, for starters.

[ He mutters absently, brow furrowing as he tugs a mouse trap out of one of the cabinets. Tosses it back in and wipes his hand on his shirt in disgust. ]

Maybe a map, brochure, pamphlet, something telling us where we are on the map. Any kinda paperwork.

[ He adds on after a beat, sighing when he scopes out the last of the upper cabinets with no results. He shuts it finally, then turns his eyes on Fitz. ]

Don't tell me you don't wanna know this kinda stuff too?

[technologist]

[ That's all logical. Clever, even, and Fitz casts him a curious look before looking away again. It takes him a second to mull over his answer, but it sounds more nonchalant than the previous stilted attempts. ]

Yeah. But they know what they're doing, don't they? Whatever that is. Some of the people they've brought here, it'd be sort of.

[ The sentence stops abruptly rather than trailing off, and there's a sense of irritation to the silence that follows; he shuts the door of the cabinet he's been digging through, straightening up. One hand lifts, fingers snapping together once, twice like he's trying to remember something just out of reach. ]

Difficult. To take.

[ Not him, personally. But he hadn't been alone before he showed up here, and some of the others he's run into hardly come off as harmless. ]

[hacker]

Great.

[ She clasps her hands over her tablet, moving it in front of her and shrugging her shoulders. Ok. She's on board. ]

Well, you can see if there's any more locks you wanna pick, but I'm gonna check out the screening room. If it's the only thing open, there has to be something there.

[sheriffing]

[Permission isn't his to give, but permission is what it sounds like. She zeroes in on that thought for a moment, eyes narrowing and her head tilted to ask the question that she won't put in words. It's not supposed to be either/or; her son should have both. He should have Killian in his life and he should have his father back.

It wasn't possible before, but it is now. If they bring him to the present with them, they're not breaking any rules. Everything that happened before his death would hold. They'd know about Zelena and be able to defeat her. As far as Emma is concerned, it's entirely possible and isn't the same thing as bringing back the dead.

They weren't even the ones to do it. That makes a difference.]

Don't, Neal.

[She crosses her arms over her chest defensively, tempted to point out all of the impossible things they've made possible since she found Storybrooke. It's not as crazy as he thinks it is, but if he doesn't believe that he's going to get out of this alive, then how is she going to convince him to go back with them? Giving in five minutes into reuniting with them isn't an option. This isn't about getting some of them home. They're all supposed to go back together and there's no telling her otherwise.]

You don't get to make us grieve for you a third time. We're not going back without you.

[Emma rushes the words out to keep from letting too much emotion show, but it's in the quiver of her voice while she's trying to make her demands. She might not be able to speak for Regina, but she can speak for Killian this time. He's not going back to the moment he died, and he's not getting left behind. Neal gave up his life to save them, the least they can do is help him get it back. They've traveled through time, this can't be as hard as he's making it out to be.

And this time, no one is going to hate them for doing it. That counts for something, right?]

We're not doing this again. If you're here, then it's possible. Besides, we already defeated Zelena. All of that's over now, all we have to do is find a way out and bring you with us.

[Easier said than done.]

[unforgives]

[emily laughs slightly, giving a small nod when the other girl responds to her somewhat offhanded comment about this place] Yeah, no kidding— either that or the plot of some really bad movie.

Did you just get here too? [now that she knows that most of the other people here have also been kidnapped, she turns up the charm trying to be as friendly as she can because when it comes down to it, she needs to make at least some friends]

[sheriffing]

We all do. [But even Emma Swan can acknowledge - ] I'm sure the resemblance doesn't help.

[That's the closest she'll come to apologizing for her face, sorry Kirk.] Working on something?

[carjacked]

Good luck with that.

[ Though the words themselves may have sounded dismissive from someone else, Neal says them with sincerity. ]

Lemme know if you get something good.

[ In the meantime, he's just going to start going through cabinets and closets. Starting with the one just a couple of feet down the hall. Evidently it's a good enough goodbye for him, because with a nod he goes to do just that. ]

[sheriffing]

You're stuck in a beaten down hotel with strangers from different worlds, and you think magic is a stretch here? [Alright, so Emma's been there - but not in a situation this far from normal.]

In my world, magic's a thing. But here, it's like it's...blocked. Probably because if we could use it, we could get out.

[carjacked]

[ A huff of a laugh comes out before he can help it. Difficult to take is right. ]

Try impossible.

[ He corrects, though he's in agreement. Regina was one thing, you don't just grab the evil (but less evil lately?) queen without some serious juice behind what you're doing. Whether it's technology or magic, either way it's powerful stuff because-]

I'm dead. Last thing I remember is dying, there's no way I should be here right now, but...

[ He shrugs a shoulder. ]

Whatever this place is, if it can do something like that, it's a lot bigger than most people prob'ly realize.

[ And with that little factoid dropped, he turns his attention downward to the cabinets below the counter. Most of them are empty, safe from a couple paperclips. He sets those on top of the desk, because you can do a hell of a lot more than you realize with paperclips. Picking locks, for starters. ]

[unforgives]

[emily doesn't notice emma approaching unfortunately but at leas her reflexes are pretty quick, so while she does stumble a bit when emma runs into her, she regains her balance soon enough]

Now that I can understand— [she gives a small smile, while dusting herself off a bit from the almost fall she had] I'm okay though, don't worry about it.

[carjacked]

Emma-

[ Her names spills out with the sound of protest behind it, because- no, believe it or not, he doesn't want them to grieve him again. Not again. Emma's done it enough, and it's part of the reason why he feels guilty for even dying in the first place. Back in Neverland, she made it clear how she felt about letting him back in just to lose him again, made it clear she couldn't. It's clear that every time he resurfaces in her life she comes a little closer to pushing out everything she feels for him entirely, because unlike her parents there's no...

He shakes his head, dismissing the line of thought entirely. He had time to accept his death. He had time back in the enchanted forrest, he had time while he was searching for his father, he had time in those last few moments in her arms. Everything in him says he should be dead right now, and it's not that he doesn't want to live. It's not that he doesn't want to come back with them, to be in Emma's life, to be Henry's father, it's just-

He just doesn't think it's possible, and he thinks fighting for it is only gonna bring Emma more pain. If fighting for her, if fighting for life means putting Emma through the ringer again when they inevitably find out it's impossible, he doesn't want to do it.

He's just so sick of disappointing her. He's so sick of being a disappointment.

But he's still so damn happy to see her, and there's a selfish part of him that desperately wants to believe that it's possible. A selfish part of him wants to think that this is just the climactic struggle toward his happy ending, because where he's from people who try hard enough eventually earn that.

So the protest dies on his lips before he can start an argument, and he bites his tongue. ]

Alright.

[ He says finally, quietly, hands coming up in surrender. ]

Okay. But first we need to focus on where we are. Find out who took us, figure out how this is possible, and then how to get you back. Then we'll see about... raising the dead or whatever, alright?

[technologist]

[ uM.

Fitz had already stopped rummaging around, but now he freezes, going still enough for the reaction to be obvious. His gaze fixes on Neal, too, staring at him like he's trying to get a read on that — decide if it's an awful joke, or an exaggeration. Or literal.

People coming back from the dead isn't exactly a foreign concept. Fitz qualifies, himself, in a very technical sense. But then there's cases like Coulson, miracles (atrocities) of science and something else. ]

How long?

[ In the end, that's all he asks. His tone's curious, but direct in a way that makes it feel a little impersonal. Like this is a project, not a conversation with a stranger. ]

[carjacked]

[ Woops sorry is that a weird conversation to have with a stranger? Neal doesn't seem all that bothered by it, frankly, though he does pause to shoot Fitz a wary look at the question. Eyes flicker over his form in scrutiny, trying to decipher the reason behind the question.

It's a weird one, frankly, not what, how, you're kidding right, why, but how long? In the end, apparently, he decides there can't be any harm in answering, so after a brief hesitation he says: ]

Not sure.

[ Because it's true. How do you keep track once you're dead or whatever, right? He shrugs a shoulder, dropping his eyes down to the drawers again with a little less enthusiasm. ]

Feels like a couple minutes, but some people from back home-

[ Lips twitch, brow furrows. ]

Seems like it's been at least a couple months for them. Prob'ly longer.

hello!

[pajarita]

[there's a flicker of something -- amusement maybe.] Go ahead.

[a+ on manners at the last minute; she probably would've just taken the thing.]

[skaikru]

( the blood is fresh. a majority of it comes off her hands with relative ease, but it's still under her nails and all over her sleeve and where she'd touched her shirt before he'd offered her the rag. it was a lucky thing the carpet was a relatively deep red, but the faintest smear of blood is visible regardless, setting in the carpet and staining the fibers. she'd held finn while he'd bled out, waited until it was far too late for any grounder healer to save him, until he was unconscious and couldn't feel the comfort she'd tried to pass to him in his final moments. she can still feel him, and taking in just how saturated her clothes are isn't helping. are they still wearable? on the ground when you've got no spares, yes. she'll still wear them, but every smudge and stain is going to remind her of what she'd just done. forever.

clarke's so deeply engrossed in her head, in her own misery, that she visibly snaps out of it when he speaks to her; jerks her head up and stares at the boy — boy, teenager, young enough to be one of the 100, but not one of her people — with wide eyes and parted lips. she stares at him for a long while, processing. but eventually pulls her mouth together and presses them into a thin, white line, as if sinking her teeth into her lip would help with the composure she's really not feeling right now. )

Yeah. Yeah, I can stand.

( what she'd really like to do is sit here and wallow for a little bit, maybe go back into the dark room and find a dark wash room. but she hasn't got time for that, not when she has things to do, things to figure out, and people to find. so this is clarke scrambling to her feet and cautiously putting a few more inches of space between herself and the boy who'd offered her the rag. which, oh — is now ruined. )

...do you want this back?

[villainously]

[ he's certainly noticed all the locked doors and areas blocked off for construction himself. he's not sure what they mean, just that a very confusing attempt to pick their locks showed there was nothing to pick. he wasn't sure if they were new locks and he'd just never encountered them, or if something a bit more ominous was underfoot. a magic lock might not be capable of being picked, not even for a pirate who had never had a problem getting through a lock before. there's got to be something beyond it, the answer might be just waiting beyond reach, and he's never let a locked door stop him before.

maybe that's not something to be overly proud of.

she doesn't need to be strong for him. Hook is, relatively, on level footing. or at least, compared to the man suddenly risen from the dead and the queen stripped of her magic. he had his hand to worry about, but the last thing he wanted was to put an additional weight on Emma's shoulders. she was the savior, she always brought responsibility on her shoulders whether it was deserved or not. it was one of many things he loved about her, but it was also exhausting to watch her on occasion. she rarely had time to be herself, to do what she wanted. Emma was always fighting, always protecting, always... so if he could offer her even a moment of sanctuary, then he'd give it.

he steps aside so she can enter, not particularly flummoxed by the fact a small tornado had ripped through his room. he'd put it back together (more or less) once he had a spare moment. he was surprisingly orderly when given the opportunity, the navy taught lessons one didn't easily forget. the lamp was a goner, but he'd really been hoping to get through that window. perhaps it seemed foolish to tear apart the space that was supposed to be his, but to him it would have been foolish not to. he didn't trust anything about this place, and he wouldn't let himself be surprised by something hidden in his room.

he was used to Neverland, a place rife with traps and a very cruel demon calling the shots. this place didn't seem so different, just no Pan. ]

Is Baelfire... [ Hook stalled out, not knowing exactly what he wanted to ask. all right? well, he wasn't dead anymore, so that was better than he'd been in Storybrooke. that didn't mean things were much easier for him. nevermind, moving on. ] I should have found you, but I didn't find anything new.

[ however foolishly, he had hoped to find some good news to bring back to her. all he'd learned was they were even more stuck than originally thought. ]

[dislocked]

[ A Silvan elf. Bucky doesn't have the most remote idea as to what it possibly means, but he accepts that; quietly filing it away. A Silvan elf from another world, whatever it may be. He's aware of her curious once-over, but she's so starkly different from anything he's ever known that he doesn't see it as a threat.

And besides, here they are, talking about humans and non-humans like it's just another day in a strange hotel. ]

More or less.

[ He affirms, even if he doesn't really remember what it means to feel like one. ] How did you end up here?

[dislocked]

[ Bucky's silent for a long moment, not knowing what to think about that. It's strange, when the memories that stick to him are fragmented but powerful enough to break through the programming. Steve asks questions he doesn't know answers to, and he's not sure whether he should be angry at Steve or himself.

Steve Rogers, his oldest friend -- the man he couldn't let die when it came right down to it. Bucky will end up disappointing him, over and over again, in a hundred thousand little ways. But he still squares his shoulders, meets his eyes. They're both afraid and hurting, and he's not sure if there are right answers to anything. ]

I'm not the man you remember.

[totheright]

((Shruuuuug.)) The more money, the better, right? That makes sense.

Except he obviously made some mistakes, like with you. Sloppy work.

xDDDD

[driven]

[ she presses her lips into a thin line at his answer, not liking this situation more and you. she'd assume finding out that someone else was here with her would be better, but it's causing more questions than giving answers.

allison looks back and derek is looking at her, catching her eyes, and she knows there's nothing off about the interaction itself but for whatever reason, her stomach tenses. is she missing something?

but it doesn't matter, because he's giving her scott's room number - right down from her's - and she nods. ] Did you run into him upstairs? How long have you been here?

[ her head is already a few steps ahead when his question comes, and it pulls her a little off-guard. is she okay? ] Yeah. [ she hopes she doesn't sound as surprised as she feels. derek, why do you care. ] Are you?

[engender]

[ he's acting the same again, not letting on that something might be different - or wrong ]

A few hours. His room is right next to mine.

[ the if she ever needs anything is implied but he'd never - outright say that to her. ] I'm fine. You should go see Scott.