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

[hacker]

[ The earthquake must have knocked her out.

Skye pulls herself up onto her hands and knees in the hotel room, fingers pressing into thin, worn carpeting that smells musty and overused. She flinches away from it—not exactly turndown service, but SHIELD's not exactly in the business of affording that anymore, either. She muscles her way to her feet, sore all over.

It doesn't hit her right away. Her hands reach out to turn on the lamp. She succeeds, but a moment later, it flickers and the bulb explodes. She flinches away from the glass, and the ashtray rumbles on the end table. Skye lifts her hand to her face, pulling fluorescent bulb shards from her palm.

Through the darkness, she can see her hand trembling. For a moment, she's back in the temple. It's dark, completely dark, but slowly stone falls away from her face. She cracks through it, looks down, and Trip—

Trip.

A hanging photograph, some landscape, shudders off a creaking wall, clanging as it drops to the floor. She whips her head around, gets to her feet as the glass and the frame shatter.

As she makes her way down the hall, she's twitching, glancing uncertainly over her shoulder and hugging her arms around her chest like she's afraid to reach out for anything. She skips right over the suitcases, spotting a herd of people there, and beelines down to the main lobby for a breather. She'll go back for it later. ]

Hello?

[ Down in the lobby, Skye rings the bell on the desk five times in quick succession, leaning over the reception area to try and spot an employee. ]

Hello?!

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.]

ota

[totheright]

((He doesn't open his eyes when he hits the carpet at first. Most of his waking self is convinced that Hikaru has just pushed him out of bed again, and he's too tired to get himself back into bed just to be kicked out again.

However, after a couple moments, he notices something wrong. The carpet... smells. His eyes flicker open as his fingers trace over the dull flooring, certainly not the gleaming hardwood he's used to, and he swallows in shock before sitting up, looking around himself.

When he spots the light of the outside through the keyhole, he doesn't hesitate for a second to open the door and step outside. He disregards the suitcase - it doesn't seem as important as stumbling down the hallway towards the stairs, heading down to the lobby. He can't help but wrinkle his nose at the disgusting stairs, making sure he stays far away from any exposed walls. First things first, he's never going to sleep shirtless ever again, if this sort of shit has a possibility of happening.

Once he's in the lobby, he'll stare around at the room, taking in as much detail as he can. For the first time, he begins to feel nervous, considering that none of the other Host Club members are here. Initially, he'd thought this was one of Tamaki's hare-brained schemes, but it was beginning to seem like that wasn't the case.

"Where...?" he breathes to himself, a crease appearing in his brow as he tries to figure out where the hell he could possibly be. The people staffing the front desk seem to be incompetent, so he'll start by looking out the windows, trying to identify some sort of landmarks past the sheet of rain that is covering the glass panes.))

( open )

[skaikru]

( ARRIVAL. )

( she wakes at the sensation of falling; lands on her bruised, sore face with a strangled yelp because she half expects to land on a knife. but there's nothing in her hand, and clarke has an open palm to press against the carpet, to slide over the rug as she attempts to push herself up onto all fours and breathe.

there's tear tracks on her face, and blood (she can't see, but that she knows is there) under her finger nails. but the pain in her chest is alleviated, if only temporarily, by the pure, driving panic the darkness in the room around her inspires. she wishes she could say this was the first time within the last week she'd woken up some place different with no explanation, and no real windows. but at least this time, when clarke propels herself towards the door neatly outlined by the chink of light, it's not locked. there's no girl in a suit, no sign of her friends, and no handy-dandy sign to announce which mountain she'd made it to. stepping into the light feels like a slap in the face; the blow which comes a second later when clarke gears up to run and her ankle catches on a rectangle on the floor and face plants again.

it's picking herself up, again, this time in the light that she catches sight of her bloody hands. and all the memories — of earth? of home? — come crashing over her like a wave of despair. and clarke sits for several long minutes, vigorously wiping her hands on her pants in an attempt to get rid of the blood, legs tangled in her suitcase and quiet tears collecting under her chin. )

( LOBBY. )

( the stairs call to her as much as they do everyone else, and clarke arrives in the main lobby with the resounding thunk of her suitcase on the stairs to announce her arrival. and for a long moment she stands and stares. because for all the confusion and displacement, this is history that she would never see on the normal, radiation ravaged face of the earth that she'd crash landed on a month ago. and it's beautiful.

but clarke has things to do, has people to find, and one glance around the grand (run down, but have you seen what their shanty camp and clothing looked like? this was nice) entry way tells her that running is going to be useless. through the one door she can see at the other end of the room, she can see another wall, and if the other people milling about happen to be hostile, she's not going to get very far.

she's clogging the door. a few more dazed bodies push out, and clarke offers muttered apologies before pulling herself over to the large armchair. another cursory glance around shows that no one is visibly fiddling with their suitcase, and she takes it upon herself to be the first (the combination is the day her father died, the day she'd been dragged to confinement) and pulls out her tablet. it's eerily like the ones they'd learned from on board the ark, and she makes quick work in sending out A QUICK MESSAGE. )

( ROOMS. )

( and later — because it doesn't feel safe, not out here in the open; because she's been fiddling with the card that'd come with her suitcase and curiosity had overcome her; because she couldn't just sit still, and couldn't quite keep her eyes dry, and because there was still blood on her hands, and blood on her shirt — clarke trudges back up the stairs.

only she's distracted, her head is clouded, and she keeps thinking she sees familiar faces in the shadows. so, not quite all... together... — she tries a couple other peoples doors.

sorry other people; chances are she's probably in your way. )

open;

[carjacked]

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.]

raven "fucking stairs" reyes | ota

[pajarita]

(LOBBY)

[the decision to leave her suitcase right where she found it had come for various reasons and was, in her opinion, pretty wise. for one, there was just no way in hell she was dragging a suitcase up the drab looking staircase with her current situation re: walking. secondly, the contents of the suitcase itself, that astronaut suit? a poor joke that made her want to burn the whole contents instead. third, she did not trust getting presents, she did not trust the suitcase, she did not trust having to carry something that would slow her down even more than the brace on her left leg would. (a relief, that she'd been allowed to keep that, by whomever.)

instead, she stripped the contents of the suitcase that were of use to her -- the tablet, the note, the keycard -- and made her way up the stairs. she reached the conclusion that she prefered trekking in the woods to climbing stairs, at least the ground was softer than this faded...whatever it was.

once in the lobby, she took in her surroundings: the empty reception, the crackling fireplace, the strangers she didn't know and didn't trust enough to ask anything yet. the elevators.

that was a good idea, for one. she'd been given a key to a room. she could go to her "room" and check what was inside it for clues, maybe see if she could escape via the window, maybe find some discarded weapon. people always left shit behind hotels, or so she'd heard. clarke and finn had found art supplies inside a bunker, it wasn't that unlikely to find something up there. besides, sticking around in one place and asking just made her feel...angry. so the elevator it was.

or...not.] Fucking -- really?

(SCREENING ROOM)

[so after a few attempts, elevator was not it. climbing stairs could leave her vulnerable, so maybe it wasn't the best idea to try it out now. maybe later, maybe with someone else with her just in case. so the ground floor it was. between checking for doors (worrying: no doors that were of use, some locked doors) she ended up inside the screening room.]

...creepy... [can i get an amen?]

open as hell;

[gloriouscurse]

[arrival]

[Regina, as it turns out, can't even say goodbye to her soulmate for good without something happening. She huffs out a breath as the air is knocked out of her lungs when she hits the ground. All she can do is stare at the ceiling for a moment before slowly sitting up, bringing a hand to the back of her head. Either she's been knocked out, or Ingrid's magic at the town line did something no one expected - sent anyone who tried to go through it to different land. But she'd watched Marian and Roland step through; they'd been fine. Robin too, and she can still feel his fingertips dancing at the edge of her own. But then she was here, and she has no idea what happened. She hadn't stepped over the town line herself, as badly as she'd wanted to. No, she couldn't because there's Henry in Storybrooke.

But now she's here, and the thought of Henry spurs her into action, finally standing, disoriented and glancing around. She can't stay in this room, wherever the hell it is, and she opens the door, stumbling out into the hallway. And that's when she realizes, as she raises a hand to produce some kind of magical defense (against what she doesn't know), she finds that it's gone. She's powerless here, wherever here is, and that's more terrifying to her than anything else. Every time her magic has been stripped without her consent she's very nearly died.]

What in the hell is this? Henry, are you here?

[Her yell is loud and echos a bit, so she finds the stairs, barreling down, losing her breath until she reaches what appears to be the lobby of a hotel.]

[Main Lobby]

[She has a suitcase. Of course there's a suitcase, and now she isn't sure what's more bizarre. The fact that she's here at all, or that somehow a very odd selection of clothing choices (plus a stuffed crow?) are waiting on her. She's out of her element, not used to being the one cursed like this, exactly. The curse she can handle, but there's no green sister behind this one, Ingrid was dead, and she couldn't have pissed off someone between the spell of shattered sight being broken and saying goodbye to Robin. It seems there are a few people milling around, though no staff, and everyone seems about as confused as she is. Suitcase in hand, her ire is raising by the second. She has a room number, and a room key, but she's pissed.]

Has anyone bothered to try figuring out where we are, or are we supposed to mill around like idiots?

arrival \o\

[greenies]

[ thomas has more or less gotten used to the fact that none of these people are his Gladers. without them, he's feeling incredibly lost and incredibly on edge, and he's spent his time in getting out of the darkness trying to arm himself, reaching for the small knife on his runners harness and holding it tight in his grip. before he has the chance to shank a shank, however, he spots a blonde girl starting to run and...promptly face planting.

that looks familiar.

though he squints out into the light (and tries to press past the feeling of unfamiliarity), thomas comes to the girl's side quickly, kneeling down to offer her a hand. he's all business mode now, too used to being kidnapped and thrown strange places. ]

Hey--you okay?

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.) ]

open ]

[engender]

arrival ]

[ Like everyone else, Derek drops to the ground with a thud. Going from being completely into control to having the wind knocked out of him is disorienting. He tries to get up, managing to get himself on all fours. He can't hold back his wheezing as he gasps for air. He knows something is wrong before his eyes even open. ]

Brae --

[ A cough follows, as he uses something nearby to pull himself up, his breathing regulating. A quick scan of the room reveals nothing beyond the outline of the door a few feet away from him and the light beyond. He takes a second, he has to, trying to make sense of being around everyone, being at La Iglesia and then being here. Funny thing about random happenstance kidnapping.

Id doesn't make sense.

He knows Kate is in the wind, he knows Chris made that deal with the Calaveras family. He knows Scott made it out alive.

It's not the first time he's woken up kidnapped. Usually, it involves an electric fence. And he hasn't been stripped down.

His hand hovers over the doorknob before finally grabbing it. When it doesn't jolt in his hand, he yanks it open.

The door slams the wall with a thud, Derek's palm coming up to keep it propped open. Another second passes as he tries to see if he can hear anything. Footsteps. Voices. Anything. What's immediately disconcerting is that he should be able to hear something. Anything. Now, he has to find someone (Deaton comes to mind) because his evolution shouldn't come with a new set of powered down circumstances. He tries in vain to tap into his newfound form. Not many people can protect against a big black wolf. His eyes widen as his other hand braces himself up in the doorway. The truth sinks in. That's he's lost it before he's been able to master it.

Something is going on.

With another breath, he approaches the suitcase on the floor in front of his room, the door closing behind him. Crouching down, he sees that it's addressed to him and that it has a room number. That's when he hears the pitter patter of rain. ]

main lobby ]

[ Derek might be the only one that creeps down the hallway like someone's about to jump out at him and yell 'Surprise!' Or, the more likely scenario is that someone will prod him with a stun gun. The same goes with the stairs. Taking one foot at a time, he creeps down until the lobby comes into view.

He's not alone.

His guard doesn't drop but he lets himself relax a tad, if only because this means he needs to be there for other people. (For Braedan?) He clocks the fireplace, the front desk, and the three doors.

Picking up the pace, he races down the stairs to see if he can find any familiar faces. He's one of the only ones that doesn't carry his suitcase down. Fuck that noise. ]

Scott? Braedan? Chris?

his room ]

[ Once he makes the conscious decision to retrieve his suitcase, he props the door open to his room. He doesn't need any more unwelcome surprises and he can't hear who's coming up to find him. (Nor does he know if they are friend or foe.) He lifts his suitcase onto his bed, unzipping it slowly, unpacking everything one at a time, methodically. The meticulously packed clothing is his (underwear, really? Not that he's ungrateful, but someone had to have stolen his, he'd only packed one change of clothes).

He sets his leather jacket (also his) inside.

Underneath the shirts, he finds something that gleams. That something is the metal of the dog collar with a triskelion etched into the tag.

Funny.

It doesn't even need to be said that Derek's not amused.

Setting that aside, he holds the leather cap, side-eyeing that as well. This he doesn't hate as much as, not understand. Why? Not that any of this makes any sense at all...

Finally, with the door open for all the world to see, he finds the familiar gun, the sig sauer p2269mm. Shortly, he finds there's no magazine inside. He slams it shut again, bringing it down to his side.

This is clearly the perfect time to surprise him. ]

much later ]

[ Down in the lobby, he stands by the fire disapprovingly. He watches the flames consume one another with crossed arms. Recapping to himself, he realizes nobody is any immediate danger. There are a few familiar faces around - and one startlingly familiar one. There are people of all ages and creeds. The motel is locked from the inside. Everyone not only received their own clothing but something a little extra. So, their benefactor (it really is too soon to be using that kind of language) is too kind. Also, he's a creep. He padded through underwear drawers.

The Derek listening to the crackle of the fire doesn't resemble the Derek of the past month. He's not more relaxed, he's not more friendly. He's resumed his 24/7 scowl.

You know you guys from Beacon Hills missed it. ]

[engender]

[ while Derek hasn't resigned himself to his fate yet, he's at least accepted the circumstances enough to retrieve the suitcase with his name on it and inspect his room. especially with what he's heard others may have gotten. following the stairs back up, it's not hard to find the suitcase left behind, it's right up ahead, but there does seem to be a blonde girl (are her hands bloody?) fiddling with what he thinks is his door - or, at least the door in front of his suitcase ]

I'd ask if you're okay, but that's not a fair question for any of us right now. [ the answer is all too obvious. ] Are you bleeding?

[ it seems less insulting then 'is that your blood' he knows from experience, he should be able to smell her blood, even her frantic fear. maybe nervousness. but this is just derek reading her body language.

they can get back to this being probably his room after he decides she's fit for - well - for being anywhere ]

[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 ]

screening room ]

[engender]

[ while Derek faintly hears the music wafting out of one of the doors, he doesn't check it out right away. he runs into familiar faces, he questions new ones, and he generally gets a sense that nobody knows what's going on. but, eventually, between 'meet-cute's,' Derek lets his curiosity take over. the walk into the screening room is foreboding thanks to the bone-chilling over-the-top music. it really does set the scene.

he recognizes the movie as it plays on the screen.

there was a small movie theatre in New York in Greenwich Village that showed older silent movies. sometimes, comedies. ] It's Nosferatu.

[ because, that matters ]

Conan Edogawa | OTA

[1_truth]

{ Arrival } [ He's awake the moment he hits the ground-the falling registering in his nightmares and causing a jolt through his system. It takes seconds for his brain to catch up and piece together that he's not where he last fell asleep. He doesn't remember falling asleep as that seemed to be such a rare commodity as of late. He still had no idea who Rum was or what his objective was that had him on the move and until he knew that sleep had to come in shifts. Both because he just couldn't seem to sleep and also because he wanted to hear what was going on in the agency at all times. He'd remember trying to sleep and he doesn't which means something is amiss. He's not laying on anything soft-he's landed on a hard floor. He can't make out much of the room but does hear voices around somewhere-not at all familiar. ] [ He wriggles his arms and legs and comes to the conclusion he's not tied down, allowing him to sit up and press the button on his glasses to switch to night vision. It's not working. He presses the button again but the room remains dark and though Shinichi has never been one to believe in ghosts or monsters in the dark it is giving off a rather unpleasant vibe. Under any other circumstances he'd force himself to sit for a moment longer while he reminded himself that such things couldn't exist because then what would be the point of detective work? However, it's starting to look like he might have been kidnapped again and he needs to get to the bottom of this. ] [ He can still hear those voices just on the other side of the door and carefully gets to his feet, creeping as quietly as he can manage to the edge of the door staying perfectly still so he can listen and determine if the others are friend or foe. ] { Lobby } [ Kidnapping isn't seeming nearly as likely as dream. How else would a suitcase full of his things-things that he could easily use to escape end up here? They're not even things he'd brought with him on his last trip which would have made some since if it had being as the last thing he remembers of home was helping Hattori to solve that Kamaitachi murder case and vaguely getting into the car the next day to go home. This is definitely not the Inn he'd stayed in for that case-it was completely western in design and there were no indications that the Inn Keeper's young son was turning eight as there should have been. But if he wasn't there, where was he? ] [ He looks around the room and notes that if the keeper had been going for an eerie serial killer hotel vibe he'd certainly succeeded. Speaking of the inn Keeper-there doesn't seem to be one around that he can interrogate and/or make puppy eyes at to get answers. Left with no other choice, the small detective approaches the empty desk before jumping up and clambering onto of it to see if he can find a guest book-log book, maybe even an electric bill-just something that might tell him a little bit more about this place-like an address. ] [ He leans over to the other side and tries to pull one of the drawers open only find it locked the next one he tried was just flat out empty. He let's out a curse and closes it back up. What kind of Inn didn't keep track of their guest. Their should have been a Check In and Out book on the desk-or if not a book a computer. ] What Kind of Inn is this? [ He lets out a slightly exasperate sigh, still sitting atop the desk like it's a perfectly socially acceptable thing to do. ]

Main Lobby

[1_truth]

[ Upon hearing someone approach and still not one hundred percent sure what the hell is going on, Conan hops off the lobby desk in order to hide behind it, listening closely to see if he recognises anyone's voice but so far he hasn't found anyone even slightly familiar. He's not sure if he's relieved or concerned by that fact but with how his luck usually is he'll go with a little bit of both. Relieved that no one from the organisation seems to be milling about and slightly concerned he can't find Ran or Occhan. They had been in the same car as him, they should be around somewhere, right? ] [ He won't reveal himself until she speaks, hopping back up on the desk and perching himself like he belongs there as he sizes the woman up-(small scar on her lip-the way she's holding herself suggest anger (no duh) dark hair, dark eyes-clean dressed smartly-wealthy? Not only is she angry but she's important-he can tell just by how she holds herself-practical?) ] I tried to find the log book. [ He offers with a childlike chirp. ] But there doesn't seem to be one. I thought hotels usually kept track of the people coming and going... [ He looks back behind the desk holding off a moment before he 'innocently' delivers the next line. ] But there are some locked drawers back here! I couldn't find the key though, have you seen it?

[pajarita]

[the fact that she's holding one hand in the pocket of her red bomber jacket has nothing to do with wanting to appear nonchalant and everything to do with how she's been rubbing the hilt of her wicked-sharp blade for the past five minutes as a mechanism to take away the edge of growing anxiety. little, small details.

she doesn't bring it out right away, though it's tempting to lash out; she's not blind, however, she has noticed a lot of the people ambling about are in the same situation, trying to get out or get answers.

she gives the guy sideglance, then a longer one (because he fine) to make sure there's no threat. not that she can make sure, to be fair -- she just doesn't know what kind of guests this hotel harbours so far.

on the screen, the pasty looking guy looms over someone and raven scrunches up her nose.]

It can be yesferatu for all I care - still creepy.

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?]

ota

[oceanborne]

( arrival )

[ The rescue failed.

It's the first thing Annie thinks, when she finds herself landing unceremoniously on the floor of a dark room. The rescue attempt by the rebels must have failed, and she's been seized and thrown back into her cell to wait for Snow's next move. Fighting to regain her breath, she wonders with detached curiosity how she's going to die -- because surely he'll have her killed. Thirteen tried to free her, for Finnick, and now the president will undoubtedly want to show them what a foolish mistake they made.

When she pushes herself up to sit, though, there's something under her hands that isn't the cold concrete of her cell. Carpet? And that pinprick of light... there were no holes in the door they locked her behind, no way for any light to get through the darkness. Annie creeps forward, intending only to put her eye to the hole and get a look at what lies beyond the door, but when her hand encounters the handle, it turns.

It turns, and she's free. She almost tumbles out the door, barefoot and bruised in the bed sheet that's all she has to wear (given to her by a well-meaning rescuer, she recalls, when he'd seen the state of the clothes she was in). The light is nearly blinding and she falls back against the closest wall, squinting at the rows upon rows of... ]

Suitcases? What is this?

( lobby )

[ What it is, she's decided, is an arena.

Something like that, anyway. Some new Capitol trick, punishment (for daring to escape) and entertainment (for those watching, as she's sure they undoubtedly are) all in one neat package.

After opening her own suitcase and putting on the plain clothes inside it --undershirt, boots, grey jumpsuit-- Annie makes her way down the stairs. There's a length of rope in her hands, another thing found in her suitcase, and her fingers fly through tying and untying an increasingly complicated series of knots. It isn't the best weapon, but even having something puts her mind slightly more at ease.

She keeps to the edges of the room when she reaches the lobby, finding an unoccupied corner where she can study the room and its occupants with wary, fearful glances. If this is an arena, she'll need to know the biggest threats. And she'll need allies. ]

[engender]

[ raven has all the subtlety of a rock, but she can look all she wants. it comes off as both flattering and understanding - people should be wary of one another here. if whomever did this has the power to take down and capture werewolves, everyone should be on their guard. ]

The music doesn't help. [ derek's sure the music is doing all the work. he doesn't remember nosferatu ever being scary in the traditional sense, but he knows when it came out, it was. horror has come a long way since then. most monsters resemble men, too, the fact that nosferatu's face is gnarled and pasty, it makes it easier to separate himself from it. ] Has this been on the whole time?

(lobby)

[totheright]

((He notices the girl idly in between looking out different windows, trying to discern something out there aside from the fog. He continues to be unsuccessful, though, and in the midst of pouting about his failure, he notices that the girl is still in the same place she was before, a look of... well, he doesn't have the words for how she looks, but it definitely isn't happy. It's more on the other end of the spectrum, really.

So he does what he's been trained to do - approaches her and extends a hand.)) You alright there, princess?

ota!

[trepidations]

[ arrival ]

[ He remembers the force of magic against his chest, a spell from the tip of a death eater's wand sending him across a damp, decrepit room for his failed attempts to provide more secrets from the Order. When he hits the floor, his vision goes black and the air whooshes from his lungs. The floor is not the rickety, splintered wood he had envisioned, though, not cold and dank and dusty.

Instead, it's carpet. It's almost warm, if not miserably dark. He shoves himself up, crawling away from where his previous attacker might have been, but when he turns, he sees nothing but the too-bright outline of a door, in a too-small room. It's too quiet -- not the riotous meeting he had been at before, but a dark, silent room.

The hair at the back of his neck prickles and immediately, he reaches for his wand, fumbling inside pockets, shirtsleeves, any of the odd places he sometimes tucks it, but it's gone. Gone. ]

W-what? [ He scrambles to his feet, stumbling over something (a suitcase?), and reaches for the door, flinging it open, wincing immediately as he stumbles out into the corridor, blinded, lost, and still desperately looking for his wand. ]

H-hello?


[ lobby ]

[ He's wandless, trapped in some strange place that maybe he was sent to for punishment. Maybe he stumbled into a portkey? Maybe this is just the Shrieking Shack, a part he doesn't quite remember, maybe?

The contents of his suitcase weren't helpful -- he needed his wand, first and foremost, and someone here must have it. He could lose a lot of things, but that he always kept track of. Among clothes, chocolate frog cards, a chess set -- he also had a wire rat cage (though he's sure the lable said sanctuary) and rodent feed.

Whoever did this had a terrible, awful sense of humor. The place had terrifying decor -- it has the look and sounds of something in a muggle horror film, doesn't it? His hear is racing to fast, which doesn't help when, as he is backing up to look around the corridor, he practically falls over someone else, letting out a shriek of surprise.

He wasn't alone. ]

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. ]

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. ]

[carjacked]

[ Arguably, there might not be a whole hell of a lot of difference between the way he'd been yelling around the check-in desk and the way she's yelling now, and yet hers still somehow manages to catch a lot more attention than his. It's not the words but rather the voice that has him turning, though, a furrow of disbelief etched into his brow and lips parted. If this is the afterlife, what the hell is Regina doing here? She can't be dead, no, no way, Neal refuses to believe that his son could lose two out of three parents in such a short span.

She's throwing a wrench into his gears, short circuiting the part of him that had been convinced he knew what this was.

He shoves away from the desk with determination, leaves his briefcase behind in favor of weaving through the people milling around them. ]

Kinda harsh way to make friends.

[ He comments dryly when he's close enough to catch her attention, shoves his hands deep into his coat pockets. It's not the best preface to hey I don't know if you knew I probably died but I'm apparently not dead, but, you know. Bigger issues at hand or whatever, right? ]

Re: Main Lobby

[gloriouscurse]

[Sizing him up, Regina decides he poses no threat at all. So, she crosses her arms over her chest, taking a step forward.]

I just got here, I haven't had time to find anything yet. And if I had any magic here, a lock wouldn't be a problem.

[Just for the hell of it, she has to try again, and she gets a few purple sparks that give her hope, but they fizzle out as quickly as they appeared.]

Dammit!

[And now, just because she's angry, she's looking through things, trying to find that stupid key.]