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

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. ]

[pontificus]

[When he speaks, she seems almost surprised. Of course there are others in here, but she is not expecting an answer back. Turning from the screen to the boy who spoke, Lucrezia smiles pleasantly. They have not been properly introduced, but he seems to know more on the subject than she does, and she gladly would hear more on it.]

But is not taken with paints or charcoal. How does it resemble life so well? [She has seen art, some of the greatest in all of the world sitting in the halls of the Vatican, in her own home. She is living in the Renaissance, a time of great beauty and art. But this is unlike what she has ever seen.]

How marvelous it truly is.

[trepidations]

I... I think they're made with cameras and computers? I mean, I don't know how they really work. They use mirrors and... lenses and... yeah.

[ Woops, talking to a pretty, but old fashioned, woman was probably not the best tactic upon arrival. She looks as though she's walked right out of the Renaissance or the middle ages-- basically, like the Hogwarts ghosts. ]

It's just a... a flat copy of real life, I guess. Well. I mean that guy's wearing a lot of costumes? Er.

[pontificus]

[The words he speaks are just as foreign as the moving pictures themselves, and it comes across easily in the way she furrows her brows. She can tell he is trying, that there is still some gap in language and in culture. She has yet to exactly pick up on his nervousness, too taken with the topic at hand.]

Costumes. Is it a play then, a great work of fiction?

[That is all she connect, something to relate to her world. So then there is not some creature roaming about much like the moving picture is. It somehow captures the movements as if the play is unfolding before them. Lucrezia looks back at the screen a little, to try and see if she truly does understand it.]

[trepidations]

[ It's easy to forget that maybe, she really doesn't understand this stuff. It's like a wizard trying to understand Muggle devices. Sometimes, no matter how hard you explain, it doesn't work. ]

A play, yeah, sort of. It's just recorded, so it's not live, you know? A play you watch as it's happening, but this... well, it's a movie.

[ He finally gets up from his seat, sheepishly coming to stand beside her. ] And it uses light to put it on the screen. See? [ He holds his hand up enough to project a shadow on the viewing screen. ] So. It was... it was real at one point, but now it's... like a moving painting? [ Sorry, he's trying. ]

[pontificus]

Oh! [Her face alights with something akin to recognition. At the very least she understands what she is watching. How the images are getting there are entirely a different story, but she understands that the light is projecting onto the screen much how the sun shines on the courtyard on a summer's day.

Lucrezia extends a hand in front of the projector to see the shadow, and she manages a laugh.]

How marvelous.

[trepidations]

I mean, I don't know much more than that, we... we don't really use these where I'm from but I had to read about it in a book.

[ Muggle Studies. The bane of his very existence. ]

But yeah, the light puts the picture there. Er... like, you know. Light through windows -- shadows and all. Stained glass, maybe?

[ A shot in the dark, but maybe she'll understand that? ]

screening room also

[pajarita]

[she's probably not setting her priorities in order, but after the first discovery of the film looping, she stuck around to see if it would do it again. not that she knows how long 'no sferatu' lasts, but she feels like this is some clue. some hint. some karmic shout out to her like 'hey raven, this screening room is useless, dismantle everything'.

besides which, it's a quiet place to focus, without everyone ambling about and asking for other people. it's a quiet place, and she needs a quiet place to calm down. to tell herself that she'll get out of here. that clarke and bellamy have got things under wraps at the dropship, that finn will be fine without her there to try and bargain murphy over in his stead. it's a quiet place, so it does wonder for confronting how much of a hideous human being she is.

she expects people to come in, but she doesn't expect to be floored by the sight of one young woman coming in. except -- she's beautiful, and her dress is like something out of a fairy tale they used to read in the nursery when her mom still had money to take her to the nursery, and she's -- ] Princess?

[that's embarrassing. she shakes her head, clears her mind a little -- it's not clarke, but clarke's not the only princess is she? -- and then frowns. who doesn't expect movies in this day and age? she grew up in space with nothing, and they still had movie night on mecha station.]

Fair warning, it's a pretty creepy movie.

[pontificus]

[She is nearly taken aback at being addressed so, to be flattered that highly. Of course the power her family wields is quite greater than a princess. Her father makes and breaks kings with just the words of his mouth. To cross him could mean losing everything if he excommunicates someone, stripping them of their blessing and giving means for another to step in their place.

But her station is that of Lady, with the wedding to her husband the Lord of Pasaro. She smiles kindly at the other girl, not the first she's seen in such garb. It seems it is Lucrezia who sticks out more in her dress.]

It is just lady. Lady Lucrezia, [She offers a name with a regal curtsy. She turns her attention back to the film though, more impressed with the skill than the subject matter.]

We do not have-- movies back home. Only art hung upon walls. [She speaks as her eyes dance over the screen again, taken by the level of technology she's witnessing. It might be dated for Raven, but it is near magic for her.]

[pajarita]

[art hung upon walls sounds frustratingly like what clarke said the mountain men did, though she knows by now this doesn't look or act like mount weather. and for a moment, this person becomes just weirdly crazy, dressed like it's the 1600s or...something. (her knowledge of old timey garments is so so reduced.)

she squints at her a little.] And -- what home is that?

[pontificus]

Why, fair Roma, [She answers with a genuine smile. She is yet too young to know the level of corruption and how truly jaded and screwed the city is as a result. But it is the city she grew up in, far away from the filth and the lower class. What she knows is fine marble, pretty dresses, and beautiful art.]

And you? You do not seem of the Italian families to me. Nor any kingdom I can put a finger on. [Lucrezia tries to place her. Perhaps from the Kingdom of Portugal and the Algraves. She is not fair of skin, but then her dress is nothing she truly knows. Even beyond what a peasant or street urchin would wear.]

[pajarita]

[rome? rome rome? jesus, how does that add up at all? with the apocalypse here and past, there's no way the survivors got the time and materials and skills to build a boat and cross the ocean again (and take their crazies with). unless they did, and maybe europeans are more efficient than they were in the ark.

it's still -- weird. weird.]

I'm not of one. [she thinks. no, likely not; mama reyes stuck to mecha station and mecha station was mostly brazil.] I'm from the Ark? [does that ring a bell?]

[pontificus]

[It seems equally strange to not call a place a home, to not have a city or at least a kingdom to claim to.]

Who do you swear to? [It comes out with a tilt of her head. Does she have a lord or a king? Surely, she must at least follow the Pope of Rome. The entirety of the Western world in her time did. Kings would indeed lose their kingdom if they did not follow him.]

The Ark of Noah's? [For it is the only ark she knows of. How even more perplexing and making even less sense than what she is barely able to grasp out of this conversation as it is.]

[pajarita]

Usually, I just swear at...everyone. [no discrimination there. kanyeshrug.gif

and there's a little bit of a surprised 'are you for real' smile.] No, not Noah's Ark. Most of us were people.

Arrival!

[jarnsida]

( If she is more outdated than the panelling upon the walls, then he is surely comparable to an ancient foundation which has long since crumbled to a pile of dust. The manner of his arrival is equally jarring, for the air has been smacked clean out of his lungs, leaving him on all fours upon the floor, chest heaving as he fights to regain the oxygen he has lost. And on top of that, the sheer bulk of him colliding with the used, unkempt carpeting kicks up more than enough dust to make him sneeze. Loudly.

He gains his feet quickly, turning around swiftly in confusion. Where are his weapons? His parents, little brothers and stepmother? Any sign of his village is gone, as not even the blood of King Horik or his people can be found. Björn has surely been knocked unconscious without having realized it, or taken hostage by remnants of Horik's forces. Who else would be behind it? Where else would he be? How else would he be here and not with his family, where he belongs?

Eyes narrowing, Björn releases a low growl. No. He trusts nothing, either. This is no realm of the Gods. Not even Hel. All the questions he has seem unanswerable, and yet he knows one thing: whomever has brought him here will pay.

Such is his goal as he shoves forward at the door, and then kicks it open. Who cares about knobs when one is irate? Not Björn. However, the sting of his ire lessens when he takes in the hall, and all the other confused souls within. I am not the only one. It could be one of Loki's tricks. He shouldn't trust anything. Yet the confusion in the eyes of one woman in particular strikes him as terribly real, and he finds himself moved to help her, to take on the role of protector where she has none to champion her. Moving forward, he bows to her simply, and smiles at her when she addresses him.

Right away, he is impressed: she speaks the tongue of his people. Or so he interprets it to his ears, anyway. ) I'm afraid I can't, lady. But I can help you.

Perhaps together we can discover where we are, and who has brought us here. They will pay for this.

[pontificus]

[He is not what she is expecting. His dress and demeanor is intimidating, the anger radiating from him. But she can imagine his reaction being something akin to how Cesare would feel, being trapped in such a place. This man does not have her brother's grace, though the way he addresses her is civil and gallant.

His look is northern, but not from a place she could pinpoint offhand. His clothes speak of cold though, something Lucrezia does not know from the warmth of Italy. Her demeanor eases when he seems to offer his aid.]

Would I have the name of my protector then? [She eyes him, knowing he cannot be too much older than her.] Perhaps we can find them together.

[jarnsida]

( He'd not been born to high status, and it is rather obvious. Though his upbringing has provided him with no grace, but his manners are still fine-enough, thanks to his mother. For which he thanks Thor, Odin, and maybe even his lucky stars as he sets his anger aside long enough to smile at this highborn lady who would give him the time of day.

His father may be King now, but it is all very much something to which he will need to become accustomed. )

Björn, my lady. Björn Ironside. ( A year or two at most likely separate them. ) And yours?

I would like that. Here. ( He holds out his arm, like he's learned a proper gentleman ought to do. )

[pontificus]

[It is his manners that endear him to her, that regardless of his apparent class, that he is offering to help. Lucrezia cannot help the smile then, and she takes the proffered arm that he extends to her. She tucks it to her chest as she begins to walk.]

Lucrezia Borgia. It is a pleasure, Björn Ironside. [It is not entirely easy to get her mouth to make such a noise, but she mimics him as best as she can. Walking arm and arm with him, she must crane her head to look up at him. He has a great size difference on him, but it makes her feel safe in a way. He is truly noble, and it is not hard to be attracted in someway to that. Especially the amount of attention he is giving her. Lucrezia soaks it in.]

Is it a correct speculation to guess you are from the north?

[jarnsida]

( Oh no. There is no possible way that he'll be able to pronounce her name, as pretty as it sounds. The syllables roll off her tongue like music, and he has no hope in Hel of echoing that. Björn ducks his head, acutely aware of the height difference between them, and leads her into a room full of tables and chairs. Not a single bench in sight.

But he is admittedly not as focused on that yet as he perhaps ought to be. ) The pleasure is mine, my lady.

( Because there is a perceptive girl on his arm, and he is too busy turning to her with an amused half-smile. He nods once, eyes alight with curiosity. )

It is. My father is King of the Danes. ( He tilts his head, considering. ) And where might you be from?

[pontificus]

[The attention he gives her is the kind she thrives off of, knowing full well why, and being all the more flattered for it. The way he addresses her has her nose crinkling, giving her a look as if she is on the edge of laughing. Lucrezia's cheeks are naturally rosy as her attention stays equally focused on him. She feels a surge of pride when he confirms that he is from the north.]

Then you are a prince. You must forgive my rudeness then, [She dips low in a curtsy with her hand gentle on his.] Your Highness.

[When he asks, she straightens again and tucks back a lock of hair.] Rome, in the south. My father is the Holy Roman Pope of the Catholic Church.

arrival

[taurohtar]

[After Tauriel settled her things in the room that has somehow been designated as hers, Tauriel had set off to explore, to try and find out what was going on, what had brought her here, where here was. She is not so unused to magic to write that out of the equation, but it has been a very long time since she spent any time with the wizards who passed through her forest, and even Gandalf hadn't been able to whisk her away from her post to deposit her somewhere else.

(Thinking of magic stronger than his unsettles her greatly, and so she tries not to think about it at all.)

There are people blundering out of doorways the same way she did just a few hours ago, but Tauriel avoids most of them, just as they seem intent to avoid her. In fact, she has almost made it safely away from the milling inhabitants of this strange place when someone calls out to her, a high, clear voice belonging to a young girl stopping her in her tracks. When she turns, long-ingrained habit has her bowing to the girl that had spoken to her, the girl's fine dress and delicate manners instantly marking her as someone high-born, perhaps a Lord's daughter, perhaps even a princess. Tauriel, well-used to royalty and those of noble birth, cannot help but duck her head respectfully to her as she bends slightly at the waist.]

My lady, I cannot. [Her hand settles at her hip, fruitlessly searching for the pommel of her dagger upon which to rest, and eventually she settles them both at her sides, standing with the stiff sort of posture of a soldier at attention.] My apologies. I find myself quite lost. I would that I could be of greater assistance. [It doesn't hurt to be kind to the lost human girl, for she looks as confused as Tauriel feels, and she has learned long ago that to be in the good graces of the rich and powerful is far better than the alternative.]

[pontificus]

[While having a woman act in this nature around her is not entirely what she is used to, her actions remind her much of how Micheletto acts around Cesare. It is jarring, but there is also a safety in it. This woman respects her position without knowing it entirely, and with that level of respect, in turn Lucrezia can relax minutely.

It is her kindness and her genuineness that shines through, and living a very sheltered life where people did just cater to her, she is not yet jaded enough to question why Tauriel seems eager to assist her. Lucrezia can use it, and so she gives her a graceful nod of her head, thankful for the offer.]

You are more than you may know. Instead perhaps we can venture together to see if there is some escape.

[taurohtar]

[Ah, finally, social interactions Tauriel is familiar with. The girl's bearing, the acknowledging bow of her head, even the cadence of her speech, is familiar enough to her to finally have her relax a portion, some of the stiffness leaving her shoulders as she smiles a little.]

That would be an excellent discovery, should we make it.

[Abruptly, she realizes she does not know who this girl is. Based on her interaction with other people in this inn — hotel, it is a hotel — she has a sinking feeling she is not from Middle Earth, but even so, Tauriel feels she must ask.]

I am Tauriel of the Greenwood, my lady. Might I inquire to whom I am speaking?

[pontificus]

Lady Lucrezia. [She holds off on her husband's name, not out of deceit, but she still does not know the loyalties of this place. The tall woman's name means nothing to her, and the place is foreign, but it is her demeanor which makes Lucrezia comfortable.]

Tis a pleasure, Tauriel of the Greenwood. Come, let us see what we can make of this place.

[To her it is foreign, but a guard beside her has her shoulders relaxing at least, knowing there is at least some protection. She advances down the hall in hopes of finding something, some answer to give them some idea of this strange place.]