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

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.

[dislocked]

[ She's a strange woman, a creature who moves silently, smooth as water, and luminous in the darkness. The silvery light seems to embrace her as its own, and Bucky doesn't move when she sits by him, taken completely by the screen and the events that unfold on it.

He's quiet for a few more moments, observing her, his eyes flickering to pointed ears and clear, piercing eyes. This woman is different, he decides, and he finally answers; ]

It's a movie. [ Bucky's neutral expression doesn't display his curiosity, but he tests her, wonders just what she's marveling about. The film, or the technology? ] Nosferatu.

[taurohtar]

[It doesn't seem to bother her that it takes him a while to answer her question, though when he does, her eyes finally cut away from the screen to look at him, searching his expression in the flickering light from the screen.]

...What is that? [She has no frame of reference for a movie, she has never even seen a projector before. It's clear Nosferatu is some kind of title, but she is not yet sure whether or not he is referring to what is happening on the screen, himself, or perhaps even her.] Nosferatu?

[dislocked]

[ Forgive him, he's rusty when it comes to conversation -- being a trained pet monkey toy assassin for HYDRA doesn't give him much occasion to be social.

But he has to be surprised, himself, because he's never met anyone who doesn't know, on a fundamental level, what this is. It's clear that she doesn't understand it, and he racks his brain for a moment. It's a welcome distraction, talking to her -- keeps him from dwelling. ]

A series of moving pictures that tell a story. [ A clumsy definition, at best. ] This story's name is Nosferatu. A creature that thrives on human blood.

[taurohtar]

[She listens intently to his explanation and nods, absorbing that information, but the frown on her face doesn't dissipate, for she is still missing key points she feels are vital for true understanding.]

But how do the pictures move?

[His elaboration on the creature the movie is about has her wrinkling her nose. He looks like a goblin, or a small, stunted orc, and she has spent far too much time killing those things to want to do anything more than continue. The woman swooning about on screen bears the full brunt of Tauriel's disapproving frown for a moment, before she turns back to the man at her side.]

Why don't they kill it, then, and burn its body?

[dislocked]

[ Oh.

Bucky thinks hard on that for a moment, then. ] It's an advanced invention. [ He knew how it worked, once upon a time; now, the specifics of it is burned out of his memory.

Bucky watches her reaction to the women, to the creature, the monster that terrorizes them, and he thinks that she's got the right idea over there. ] If that happened, the movie would be over in ten minutes.

[ He regards her, the back of his mind flickering with curiosity. ] I take it you're not from here.

[taurohtar]

Oh. [That makes sense, of course, but she's never seen anything like it before, and now she's curious about how it functions, and who it was that created it, and for what purpose. Surely not simply for entertainment...] I see. [She doesn't, really, but she decides to let the subject drop for the moment.

His eyes on her are a heavy weight she turns to acknowledge after another moment of frowning at the screen, and she doesn't look the slightest bit embarrassed or sheepish about her apparently ruthless tendencies.] It seems, by far, the simplest solution to me.

[Why wouldn't they kill and burn the creature? Nothing that feeds on blood like that should be suffered to live.]

I would have assumed none of us are from here, truthfully.

[dislocked]

[ That's the question of the century, isn't it? Why wouldn't they kill and burn the thing? She's a woman after his heart right there. But then again, no such things exist, so there's that. Can't go killing and burning every corpse they find.

He glances back at the screen, having taken her measure, gauging that she's at least seen war, or left more than a few bodies in her wake. She's ruthlessly practical, and hey, that's a good thing. ]

Seems like it. You're from?

[starspangled]

[They'd met earlier, in a darkened stairwell, Bucky stalking after him when he'd been the one to realize that Steve was there first. He's always been haunted by him one way or another, this boy that he couldn't bury long before he knew about the Winter Soldier.

But Steve knows now, and he knows Bucky's here. And this hotel isn't big enough to keep him from finding him. His search finally brings him to the screening room, the black and white film familiar to him too, in a place where nothing else is.

Except Bucky.

He leans in the doorway first, soon moves away from it to keep him from feeling trapped. Steve leans against the wall, eyes adjusting to the darkness and on the assassin more than they ever look at the movie.]

This movie used to scare the hell out of me.

[If Bucky doesn't remember that, it's probably because he didn't know it. Steve was too stubborn to admit he was afraid.]

[dislocked]

[ The barest hint of tension betrays Bucky's reaction to Steve's presence, but he doesn't move otherwise -- he'd sensed him in the doorway, instincts honed to a fine point; and it's fortunate that the other man seems to read him well, because he doesn't linger in the doorway long.

Suddenly, Bucky's attention is not on the silent movie anymore. He finds the words familiar, a tightening in his chest as he contemplates them, sifts through slipping sands to capture an emotion, a thought, anything. Yes. ]

I know. [ He does. He'd known it all along, Steve Rogers' truths written into his bones, beyond memory. Steve was afraid, and Bucky pretended not to notice to protect his ego; boys shouldn't be afraid of monsters, boys had to be fearless, to protect girls.

How wrong they were of this, too.

His words are caught in his throat for a few long moments, before he musters up a quiet; ] We never watched a horror movie again.

[starspangled]

You do?

[Steve sounds surprised, maybe a little more hopeful than he meant to. If Bucky knows, it can only be because he remembered something. There's a soft, amused huff when he goes on to say that they never watched another horror movie again. It's true, and Steve never knew why Bucky never wanted to watch another one. Until now.]

I wonder if they have any old cowboy flicks. Remember them? Or maybe something with Lana Turner. You were always a little sweet on her.

[dislocked]

[ The hopefulness in Steve's tone makes his heart ache in ways he thought were lost to him a long time ago; and he can't help but wonder if the man is searching for Bucky, the real Bucky, the dead Bucky inside of him. He's not that man anymore, no matter what it seems like, and he wonders if he's only setting Steve up for tragic disappointment.

Bucky tries to remember that, but he comes up blank, fingers clenching in his seat as the memory refuses to surface, smudged away into uncooperative silence. He doesn't remember who she is, or what he used to like; if he had any girlfriends before. Did he love any of them the way he loved Steve? How much did he love Steve? ]

Maybe. [ He says at length, but he's more tense, strained. ] Who was she?

[starspangled]

She was an actress.

[Steve moves, hesitant, and perches on the very edge of the seat at the end of the row. Everything about his posture says that he expects Bucky to bolt at any second. And he's not sure what he would do about it.]

She had great legs. You used to talk about them for days. I drew a picture of her for you once.

[And there's a bittersweet moment where it might as well have been a scene from the past playing up on that screen: It was a summer day, and there was a light breeze that kept fluttering the page of his sketchpad. Bucky's hair. Monochrome, just the way he remembers.]

[dislocked]

[ Even in the darkness, Bucky could almost taste the oncoming disappointment, the reminder that memories are unreliable, and so is the man who's lost so much of them. He glances at the exit, wonders how swiftly he can slip from him, from the conversation that they're having.

The words are tight in his chest, and he checks his desire to flee; Steve's tension is similarly felt, and perhaps they're more in tune with each other than they'd thought. ] I don't know that.

[ And maybe his words come out harder, more defensive than he intends for it to be, because he doesn't want to disappoint him. He's not the man Steve remembers; that man died in the snow, more than seventy years ago, and Bucky's not sure how to break it to him. His fingers flex, metal rubbing against metal. ]

...You look different.

[starspangled]

It's the uniform.

[Steve murmurs it, the softness of his voice now hinting at that disappointment, maybe in himself for expecting things to be easy when it would be the first time ever. But Steve also sees that Bucky's just as frustrated, and the last thing he wants to do is make it worse. He's distracted enough that he doesn't even realize what Bucky might really be getting at. You look different. Different from the last time he saw him, maybe. Different from the helicarrier. He's not Captain America right now, just Steve Rogers, and that's different.]

[dislocked]

No.

[ Not the uniform, not anything like that. Younger days: a boy he had to protect. Small. So very small. He glances at the exit again, wonders how quickly he can excuse himself, to spare them both the inevitable pain of this conversation. Just one hurting is enough, just Bucky's enough.

Maybe he can come back again and they can talk about other things. Maybe they don't have to talk about anything at all. But he wants to. He wants to know this man who haunts the recesses of his memory, his waking thoughts. ] You were smaller.

[ Did it hurt? ]

[hacker]

They could have at least given us IMAX, right?

[ Skye speaks up from the doorway when she notices that she's not the only one who had the idea of going to the screening room. Pushing away from the entrance, she invites herself inside, gesturing up at the screen. ]

They. He. She. Whoever it is that brought us here, I'm personally thinking I'll fill out one of those comment cards. Nothing says "sorry we kidnapped you and shunted you into the worst containment facility ever" like hi-def.

[dislocked]

[ IMAX? What's IMAX?

The young woman who comes in seems entirely at ease with the entire thing, and Bucky cannot help but be aware of her presence. She presents little threat, and might not be out to kill him -- but one can't be too careful.

He's silent at her words, unable to help but muse on how half the things she says is incomprehensible to him; they didn't teach you how to deal with generation gaps in HYDRA, and this is starting to feel like some sort of chasm. The soldier contemplates her words, then. ]

I've had worse. [ He pauses. ] Who are you? [ Does she know him? Is she another one that he's forgotten? ]

[hacker]

Skye.

[ She doesn't recognize him, not in the dark, not at first glance. Bucky Barnes doesn't look like the illustrious museum portraits would lead gushing young girls to believe. Not anymore. Moving further into the room at what she takes as an invitation from him, she leans her arms over one of the chairs, shoulders hunching. Not quite comfortable enough to sit down. ]

Personally, I'm withholding judgment on "worse" until I find out whose fault this is. I still haven't found anyone with a clue what's going on. You?

[dislocked]

None.

[ Bucky admits, and it's frustrating; he'd always been good at this sort of thing. Intimidating, squeezing out pertinent information using whatever means necessary, but now he's as trapped as all of them. He doesn't get a good look at the girl -- and it's just as well that she doesn't recognize him; he's not the man in the museum portraits.

That man died a lifetime ago, the Winter Soldier is merely the ghost of what little that's left. ] You can sit, if you like.

[hacker]

[ After a beat, Skye gives a shrug of 'why not' and moves around the row of seats, dropping into the chair beside him. She immediately kicks her feet up on the back of the seat in front of her, spreading her elbows out on the armrests and leaning over, a cheeky look of amusement on her face as she notes, ] You'll offer me a chair, but not your name?

[ Raising one hand, she seems to accept it. ]

That's cool. I can dig the whole mysterious vibe. Beats the guy at the front desk: I couldn't tell you what vibe he was going for, but it was coming out total pod-person.

[dislocked]

[ Bucky almost smiles at her wit. She's quick, easygoing, and personable -- all traits that put his every sense on the alert. He hadn't survived this long by being careless; it's the one you least expect that will put a knife in your back.

He doesn't move a muscle as he contemplates her comment, and it's a few moments after that he responds. ] I hear he's brainwashed. [ And maybe, just maybe, he's testing her. ] Any chance of that?

[hacker]

I've heard of it happening before.

[ That much, she'll readily admit. Tilting her head to the side in thought. There's something distinctly agent-y about the way she sits, knees spread, shoulders loose. No one should be this comfortable after waking up kidnapped, and something about it is very deliberate. ]

Makes sense. They hole us up here, re-wire the staff to act all Stepford. It'd be a good plan, if it weren't appallingly evil.

[ With that little commentary made, she can't help but point out: ] I'll tell you one thing: if he is brainwashed, we're in even bigger trouble than we realize. That's not easy to do; it's the kind of thing you save for the people who are really worth it.

LMK IF THIS IS OKAY BABY ;-; I CAN ALWAYS CHANGE IT

[dislocked]

[ it's the kind of thing you save for the people who are really worth it.

Bucky tenses, the comment hitting far too close to home, chafing at still-raw nerves and sparking at impulses that are still so deeply ingrained, the violence that is barely restrained. And then it's too late, too late, because there's a world of noise in his mind, the anger that floods through, the hate for HYDRA, the memories and the things that they've made him do --

-- he moves faster than the eye can blink, swift and deadly, violent and strong, and in a clatter of plastic chairs he has Skye by the neck, cold metal digging into the skin of her throat. His eyes are almost black with anger, with rage, lips pulled back in a snarl that is entirely feral. ]

You're HYDRA.

[ You have three point seven seconds to convince him you're not, Agent. ]