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~

[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 ]

[greenies]

[ thomas tenses the minute someone approaches him--he's on the highest of high alerts at the moment, just waiting for a WICKED scientist (or worse, a griever or a crank) to come out from around the corner and attack him. though he's holding his shoulder and sort of focusing off in the distance, he literally ignores the guy who comes to him until he's right there.

thomas stares at him like, of course, he's absolutely nuts. ] What?

[ what the hell is a stiles? ]

[engender]

[ give derek a second, because that is not the reaction he's expecting.

kate was able to turn the clock back on his age. for a brief second he fears stiles' memory has been taken. he wasn't inside the temple, and stiles seemed put together enough, but the question is, could the shock have worn off? could he have hit his head? despite everything righting itself, the others wouldn't have been nearly as calm.

derek lowers himself, tipping his head upward, hands coming to thomas' shoulders. ] Stiles?

[ look at him, stiles. look at him. ]

[greenies]

[ thomas immediately jerks back the minute derek reaches for him, way too fast for one flaily teenager he might be more familiar with. unaware of his unfortunate face compared to derek's friend/semi-packmate, he's mostly just left incredibly confused and a little freaked out. did they try to rename him? not this time, WICKED, not this time. ]

What the shuck is a stiles? [ for real this time. don't touch me, every single part of him seems to vibrate, and though he doesn't go for his knife, the possibility is definitely there. ] You've got me confused with something--someone else.

[ "stiles" must be a person, but thomas edison, the real leader, to be killed by group b, the final candidate, is not that person. ]

arrival because WHY NOT let's be knife buddies

[pajarita]

[at least another thing to be grateful for, aside from the brace: she's kept the contents of her pockets too. her knife, her tools, they're all there. of course, she realizes this in an unexpected way. the first instinct is to go to the door, once she can stand and nothing aches like hell anymore. she checks the other side through the keyhole, and then opens it.

timing has it someone else opens their door at the same time, and a knife comes out. and then raven's comes out too -- and there you have it: discovery. she's kept her blade, at least one weapon. if that's enough; she'd rather have a gun right now.]

Hey, cool it -- [yeah, that's exactly what you snap at people holding knives and looking rabid dangerous with. (then again, she's probably a mirrored reaction of his.)] What's wicked? Who's the others? Are you with the Mountain Men? [or the mountain boyz2men?]

knife buddies! 8D

[greenies]

[ thomas pretty much matches the girls wide eyed rabid stare for a second, looking her up and down and catching eyes with the blade. group b, he thinks, but she looks too old for that, like--like brenda, more than anything else. crank? WICKED scientist? he's had so many people threaten his life that he remembers nowadays that they're all starting to blur together like they were swiped too.

but, right. potential murder, strange kidnappers. same old song and dance. at least thomas isn't duct taped to a chair by a psycho zombie this time. (or literally being thrown into a sack.)

thomas stares her down, trying to catch up mentally with the questions before he asks, sounding curious and also still probably a little crazy. only one of those questions actually settles with him. ] --What the hell are Mountain Men?

ayy

[pajarita]

[if he expects her to balk -- he got it. it's only the fact that he doesn't know who the mountain men that makes her consider that they're not in mount weather, maybe; then, the worry: if it's not mount weather then where? if not the mountain men, then who? are there more factions of crazy psychotic scientists who survived apocalypse underground?]

What the hell is wicked?

[greenies]

[ short answer: yes

thomas (very very slowly) lowers his knife a little. ] You...have no idea. [ his face crinkles up in confusion--memory wipes are his first thought. ] What the shuck?

arrival

[trepidations]

[ Well. He doesn't expect to be nearly assaulted in the hallway, even when he's just arrive. Peter staggers backward, arms held up in the air after a momentary reach for a wand that wouldn't be there. ]

W-whoa! No, no... I mean... ah, wicked? Sorry, I... I'm just looking for my friends, too, okay?

[ Well. Friends. He hadn't left friends, but instead a group of irate death eaters. But his friends right about now would be nice. ] Who... who are you? [ The unsteadiness in his voice is enough to make him completely non-threatening. Story of his life. ]

[greenies]

[ well, this guy definitely doesn't seem threatening at all. thomas almost feels bad for pulling a knife on him. taking a minute to make his snap judgement, thomas steps back a little and tucks his knife back into his harness.

sorry peter. he's a little jumpy. ]

My name's Thomas. [ just in case-- ] The Real Leader. [ because that made people back off him before, who knows. thomas can't even trust the wobbly sad looking ones. ] Who are you?

[trepidations]

[ Well, he's definitely feeling better once the knife is put away and he lets out a breath he had not known he was holding. ]

You're the leader of this place? [ Sorry if he sort of gapes, because he's expecting to find death eaters or some other of Voldemort's allies. The Real Leader just sounds like something Prongs called himself after too many games of exploding snap and pints of fire whisky. ]

I'm... I'm Peter Pettigrew. If you're the leader then... why are we here?

[greenies]

I have no idea. [ thomas says so, frankly, because he really doesn't have any idea. wherever WICKED kidnapped him to this time, he's got no clue. slowly, he takes a step back and lowers his shoulders, intense, semi-terrifying posture falling back into a more normal register. ] And I'm not really the leader of this place--it's complicated.

[ he was just the leader back home. ] Where did you come from, Peter?

lobby

[pontificus]

[She, too, is looking for more, but with the advancements she's unaccustomed to, Lucrezia dawdles more than others. Everything is new, from the writing utensils no longer dipped in ink to the flickering lights above them. She is unsure what she is looking for, but each few steps seems to have her taken with something else. She is adapting, or at least trying to, but it all seems so strange.

She takes her suitcase, feeling strange to have something packed for her, and it is not the ornate chests she is used to.]

Have you found yours? [Perhaps she shouldn't care, but everyone seems almost as lost and vacant as she does. No one is familiar to her, and while his look should frighten her, he seems more a poor boy than someone deranged. Rome is filled enough with the dregs, the bishops and cardinals squandering and laundering money for themselves. But that does not mean she is so ungracious.]

[greenies]

[ thomas glances up as a girl comes to talk to him, and he's momentarily startled by her appearance. she looks like something out of a painting--thomas doesn't even remember paintings, and he knows that much. she's very pretty, too, and his cheeks flush a little before he cocks his head downwards. his suitcase is over by his feet, and though thomas had taken a second to poke through it, he'd stopped after a few minutes, because there was something in there that shouldn't be in there.

he holds the bloodied doll in his hands, and curls his palms around it as she addresses him, looking up and looking far more vulnerable than he intends to. ] Yeah. Figures they'd at least set me up with supplies, this time.

[pontificus]

[She is expecting the same confusion she has, the same that every person she has come across has. Everyone thus far seems to be just as clueless, wandering the halls in search for something that no one is seemingly able to find. But when Thomas speaks, it is with a little more certainty, and Lucrezia has to pause. She isn't sure if he is speaking from experience or what it is.]

'They', [She repeats, cocking her head to the side.] You know our captors?

main!!

[arms]

[ After waking up feeling like absolute klunk, Minho is less than thrilled about wherever he's woken up. Everything is... It's like the base WICKED brought them to, has a similar feel to the dorms but with more freedom. There aren't any guards, and the doors seem locked simply by virtue of privacy rather than containment.

Rubbing tenderly at the fresh burn scar around his neck, he tries not to touch his face. Like he didn't have enough problems after getting set on fire and struck by lightning, but whatever, he ignores the blood on his sterile white clothes and does what he does best - explore.

Which leads to him catching sight of a familiar face, from the top of the stairs. Relief washes over him, because he hasn't seen Thomas in weeks. Gotta wonder why he's still in those clothes, but later. ]

Hey, greenie! You look like a shucking crank that rolled in slop. Quit spooking people. [ This does not stop him from jogging over towards him, though, heading right down the stairs. He does it stiffly, though, the beating Lincoln gave him taking its toll. ]

[greenies]

[ by now, thomas has poked through the entirety of the lobby, and he's starting to get frustrated. is this supposed to be like the schoolhouse they used to be trapped in? another holding pen before a trial begins? thomas hates it, hates being a sitting duck, but most of all, he really hates being thrown places with no answers. at least rat man was honest about where they were going, if not why they were doing it. he's worried for minho and newt, worried for teresa (always worried for teresa) but--

he doesn't have much time to worry, it seems.

thomas's head snaps up at the familiar voice, and the relief hits him like a punch to the gut--he's officially never been more glad to hear minho's sarcastic klunk. ] Minho!

[ as he pushes back up to his feet and hurries to meet him, thomas pauses. minho looks like a mess, like his face was beaten in, and the minute he gets down the stairs, thomas puts his hands on both of his shoulders to stop him so he can look him over. the relief sinks to horror, almost immediately. ] I'm the one that looks like a crank? What'd they do to you?

[arms]

Oh, this? [ Minho tongues at the split in his lip, bringing a hand up to touch below an eye. He's healed a bit - it's been a week since he's seen any of his friends, seen Thomas, but only a couple days since the beating - but he does know that he looks like he's been through a ringer with a griever. ] Yeah, wish I could say "you should see the other guy."

[ His hand drops to Thomas' shoulder - the good one - before his other comes around to cup his upper arm gently, careful not to disturb his gunshot wound. He's not sure what WICKED did, how healed he is. It doesn't stop him from rubbing his thumb up and down, though, just barely. The relief he feels is obvious enough in that small gesture. ] What about you? It looks like they threw you back into the Scorch.

[ Minho it's Thomas, you're not going to be able to distract him on this one. ]

lobby.

[amplified]

( after she studies him for a few minutes, silently watching from by the window, she determines that there's something distinctly not stiles about this guy. but he's... just enough of a stiles that she doesn't hesitate to approach him. he is, at the very least, not all that dangerous at first glance. maybe it's just stiles on a bad day. a really, really bad day. it worries her, and she can't help the instinct to try to help him. lydia walks up to him and places a hand on his arm. )

Stiles?

[greenies]

[ he pulls his arm back when the girl touches him, almost immediately, half out of reflex and half out of instinct. thomas has a hard time trusting people touching him, especially random strangers calling him by different names. he stares at her for a second, brows furrowing together, before he shakes his head. ]

Sorry. What the shuck's a Stiles?

[amplified]

( lydia's hand withdraws about as quickly as the stilesalike's arm does. clearly she's made a terrible mistake, though she's not sure how. she could have sworn... he's the spitting image. bloodier. and maybe a little more like he's been hitting the gym. but... lydia shakes her head, pressing her lips into a firm line and averting eye contact. )

A friend. I could've sworn -- you look just like him. Sorry. ( she looks him over, and her lips turn downward. ) ... Are you hurt?

[mygame]

[While the Nogitsune is a patient creature, capable of waiting things out, it had left the lobby to snoop around elsewhere. Upon its return, its head tilts in curiosity. Well, well. It hadn't thought finding Stiles would be so easy. Far be it from a fox to pass up the easy target for a harder one.]

Imagine meeting you here.

[The smile it wears is an empty of warmth or friendship, a mask it wears like all the rest. Had one of those who knew Stiles been watching the Nogitsune walk into the room, they would have known right away what it was. Stiles never moved with the lazy alleycat gait that it did. Stiles' eyes were a warm brown, not black voids.]

'Not expecting' is something of an understatement.

[greenies]

[ the way this guy walks, the way he moves, thomas immediately thinks crank. as soon as the guy--who claims to know him--starts to approach him, thomas reaches into his harness and pulls out his knife, clutching skilled fingers around the handle tightly. unlike the nogitsune's former host, he'll meet a challenge in the boy who matches him--he's a little less than useless. ]

Get back. [ he says, clear as day, trying to remember. the guy--he looks just like him. just like him. is it possible for WICKED to make clones? they would, if they could. what if there are clones of all the boys who died out there somewhere, wandering around, infected by the flare and going mad?

though his head is spinning, thomas keeps his ground. ] Why do you look like me?

[mygame]

[How odd. It has to spend a few seconds wondering if this is the result of some sort of mental trauma or a facet of this place that it hadn't considered. Surely this is Stiles, isn't it? Even no longer being 'them' instead of 'him' and 'it', the Nogitsune is sure of it. Instead, it pastes its polite smile back on its face and steps behind the front desk instead of towards Thomas.]

I do apologize, Sir. I thought you were one of our staff. My name is Stiles. Is there something I can help you with?

[The distress of the entire hotel is something the Nogitsune has come to love as much as it could be said to 'love' anything, but this one, this person, is especially interesting.]