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

Entry tags:

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

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.]

Edited 2015-02-02 10:25 (UTC)

[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?

[ The thing is, even if this was heaven, he's pretty much come to terms with the fact that there were some people he just wouldn't get to see. Heaven's for the dead, right? And no matter how bad he might've missed her, he's not selfish enough to wish her here.

Not that he's had a whole lot of time to process this whole thing- just those few minutes he'd been dying, just the hour or so he's had upon waking up here, but some things you just feel right off the bat. He felt dead, he felt resigned, and he felt like he'd let go of her for the very last time.

And then her voice tears through him, cuts through the room and erases any thought of bellhops or secretaries, and all he can do is look up with parting lips. ]

...Emma?

[ He breathes, disbelief on his face and in his hushed voice. It only lasts a second, and then he's striding away from the desk with purpose, headed toward her as quickly as he can to throw his arms around her. ]

[It takes a few extra moments for Emma to snap out of it; a few seconds of her trying to push past the shock while she reminds herself just to breathe, to move, to do something. This shouldn't be possible, it's not possible, but at least that thought propels her forwards to embrace him. She needs to touch him just to know he's really there, and her hold on him is immediately tighter than it has to be just for the sake of keeping him close.

It's not fair that this keeps happening - that they keep getting separated from their family, and they keep losing each other - but if this is going to be the thing that ends in them bringing Neal home, then for a few seconds, she's grateful for this.]

You're here. How are you here?

[Her question is soft and uncertain, filled with tears she's already fighting to keep back. He feels real enough to her, warm and solid and alive. Neal's alive. It goes against everything she knows, but it's better than what they got back home.

Neal deserves better, and Henry deserves better. If this is a second chance, Emma's going to take advantage of it. And maybe if he asks nicely, she'll let him out of the hold she has on him now.

Maybe, when she's ready. Definitely not yet.]

Are you okay?

[ Her arms wrap around him tight, and if there were was any doubt in Neal's mind about whether or not this is reality, they're erased in that moment. She's there, definitely there, tangible and warm in his arms, and he won't have a leg to stand on if he decided to judge the way she holds onto him for a little too long, because he's doing the same damn thing. All the money in the world couldn't get him to let go of her, not now. Not yet. ]

I don't know, I don't-

[ He shakes his head as best he can with his chin tucked against her shoulder, cheek brushing her hair. His grip tightens for a second before he finally pulls back, but he doesn't detach completely. Can't help the way his hands hover around her shoulders, the way he holds her there, holds her out to get a look at her like he's checking her for injuries, or changes, or-

He's just so damn happy to see her. ]

Are you- where's Henry, is Henry with you? Emma, how are you here?

[ Because if this is, you know, the afterlife- hell, even if it's not, what the hell's going on? ]

[If the injury check wasn't complete bullshit, he'd find that she's completely unharmed. Falling into a random hotel room isn't her idea of a good time, but it was harmless and surprisingly unprompted. Emma doesn't know who would do this, because it's not all bad, at least not right now. They've fought their way out of scarier places than a beat-up hotel. This is actually closer to what they're used to than the person pulling the strings could ever realize.

Or maybe they do realize it. There's no one popping up to reveal their insidious plans - that makes it hard for either of them to know for sure.]

...I got thrown into a room on the second floor. There are others here, but I haven't run into anyone from Storybrooke yet.

[He's the first, so what does that mean? She lifts her shoulders as if to point out that his guess is as good as hers. Guessing is just about all they can do right now. And yeah, Emma feels a little better when he doesn't entirely let go. If he's not going to, she doesn't have to. She doesn't want to, either, so her hands rest flat against his back and she stays close, looking Neal over to see that he's exactly the way she remembers him.

Pretty good for a dead guy.]

If Henry is here, we'll find him. We'll figure this out.

[ It's not bullshit, and while he doesn't find any injuries, he is momentarily taken aback by the outfit she's got on. It's gorgeous, yeah, it's stunning, but it's definitely not what he's used to seeing on her. Which is... so not relevant to, you know, the whole falling from the ceiling weird magical hotel back from the dead thing, but it's something he can't help but notice.

Pretty good for a dead guy's nothing to freaking gorgeous for a chick who doesn't really do formal.

But again. You know. Not relevant. Bigger things to talk about.

Finally, like he's afraid too much contact will drive her away, his hands drop from her arms and he raises one to scratch at the back of his neck. ]

I have.

[ A beat, and he backpedals. ]

Not the way out thing, no, still no luck with that, but you're not the first familiar face runnin' around.

[ He nods his head toward the lobby vaguely. ]

Regina's here, too. Seems just as confused as we are.

[ ...and slightly angrier, but you know, it's not like she got to bump into the love of her life again right off the bat. ]

[ Killian Jones deserves a medal for having terrible timing. speak of familiar faces, apparently some force above is going to push them right into a moment that, perhaps if he'd had a bit of hindsight, was clearly made for two. the floaty pink, the high ponytail; he automatically recognizes Emma, seeing as she's dressed just as she was for their date the night before. that is definitely Emma, and well, the person she's quite close to matters little when it's automatically clear it isn't him.

considering he's a man that has happily played part in more than one affair in his life, the vehement anger that spurs up instantly is perhaps a little hypocritical. the fact that he didn't think Emma was that sort of person didn't occur, and it also didn't occur to him that she would probably only be that close to someone for a very good reason.

no, he got about as far as the emotion the sight inspired, sharp anger that was impossible to ignore. generally he battled through gut reactions, but ones involving Emma seemed impossible. it'd gotten the Knave nearly choked out at their dinner table, and that was with Emma watching. it was even worse when Emma wasn't nearby. he was too busy seeing red to see anything else until his left hand knotted in fabric to pull the interloper to a more respectable distance. ] Give the lady a little bit of space, won't y...

[ bit of a kettle calling the pot black situation right there, considering Hook enjoyed having his conversations with the savior from kissing distance, but the angry bark dies before he finishes it. he releases Neal almost immediately after he sees the familiar face, expression contorting from angry to confused to just a little bit broken. no, this can't be real, any of it. Baelfire is dead, he saw him go into the bloody ground. he sent him off to his death just as Emma had held him through it, it wasn't possible for him to be alive. ]

Baelfire... how... [ peaceful conversation ruined, sorry everybody, back to square one. ]

[Peaceful conversation has a way of getting ripped out from under them, it's just done so quickly that Emma barely has time to process it. One second she's given word that Regina is in the hotel with them (great), the next Neal's knocked back a few steps and Killian's voice registers just before he moves forward to show himself. Anger flashes in her eyes and she reaches for the pirate, but he catches his own mistake before she can demand he release him.] Killian, what the hell. [That makes four of them, probably all arriving in separate rooms, possibly not arriving in the same moment, either.

Although the two-handed captain seems to be from the same time and place she's from, which helps. They might not all be on the same page, but Neal being around so that they can catch him up with what's going on back in Storybrooke is a good thing. It's also, given the current situation, something that's going to have to wait. Their priority is going to have to be tracking down anyone from Storybrooke and searching for a way out. Once they manage that, then they can worry about the problems they left behind.

He's alive here. Emma's still questioning how it's possible, but Killian's anger and immediate confusion pull her away from that for the moment. Being around to witness way his expression shifts once he gets a look at Neal is at confirmation, at least. She's not seeing things if he's seeing them, too. Neal's here, alive, and a little more irritated than he was a few moments ago.] We don't know, but I'm not too worried about figuring it out.

[She doesn't need to know how he's alive, just that he is. Questioning this is only going to make them regret it, and Emma isn't willing to go there now. They just got him back, that's enough for now - more than, if they get to leave like this.]

What about you, are you alright?

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