concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.

Jun. 11th, 2016 03:33 am
aspeggysays: (to say)
[personal profile] aspeggysays
It had been a precision operation, and it had all gone to hell when the boat was late. They'd split up, Peggy and Dernier going back up the cliff to signal again, Barnes leading the rest of them up the beach, their footsteps covered by the sound of the surf and their dark clothing disappearing into the foggy gloom. Barnes thought there might be a way over the rocks, another possible escape route, just in case the boat never showed up at all.

It had been sheer bad luck that Peggy and Dernier had run into a patrol at the top of the cliff. They'd run, forced toward the enemy base by shouts and shots in the dark pines. It had been startlingly good luck that they'd spotted a sentry at the base taking an unauthorized leak and managed to sneak past, leaving the patrol to search and shout to no avail.

Dernier had taken a shot somewhere in the confusion, Peggy didn't know when because he'd kept silent about it until they'd found a little hidey-hole, and then collapsed.

She'd gritted her teeth and glared at him, fixed him up as best as a former nurse could with no medical supplies, and then left him behind. She needed something to fish the bullet out with, and better bandages. "Don't you dare die," she whispered in his ear before she left. He rolled her eyes at her. She thought it would have been more appropriate the other way around.

Somehow, when she opened a supply closet door and found the hotel on the other side, she wasn't surprised. She used one of the phones to get the staff to deliver what she needed -- she didn't want to risk wandering too far from the door she had to go back through -- and turned back to the doorway that led back to her home world.

Just as she was about to step through, she sensed someone walking up behind her as if they might intend to follow her through. Or maybe they were just curious about the door. Peggy didn't really have time to speculate.

"If you want to help save a life, come with me," Peggy said. "It will be dangerous."
71st_victor: (plot)
[personal profile] 71st_victor
She's starting to get twitchy.

Generally, it's not like Johanna ever goes for a very long drought without getting what she wants. She's secure in her body, aggressive, and back home, just famous enough that one look could get her into bed with any man she likes. Here, though, it's not as easy. She's not so easily recognized and when she's as aggressive as she usually is to get what she wants, it gets met with shyness or nerves or a general rebuff.

It's starting to make her twitchy and Johanna gets violent pretty quickly after. It means her axe is going to find something to get embedded in if she can't find someone to make her sweat and scream soon. If she can't do it horizontally, she's going for next best thing, which is why she's coming back from a ten mile run around the grounds, panting and glistening and feeling her heart racing. It's not exactly what she wants, but it's not a bad distraction for now.

Grabbing a towel, she wipes the sweat from her forehead as she spots a figure on the horizon, grinning a little wider. "Even better," she notes to herself, "the kind of distraction I could grow to like."

She licks her lips and runs the towel over her neck as she squints, trying to get a better view of who's approaching, but she already knows that it'll be better than running laps. Maybe today's the day she stops being so twitchy, after all. Her luck's got to start changing sometime.
regimes_fall: (01)
[personal profile] regimes_fall
November | A door that leads to a winter cabin

Every door at the Nexus was an unknown quantity, a potential bomb to be diffused, and it unnerved him a little how easily she could step over a threshold. Despite this, he hovered only a moment in the open doorway before stepping down himself.


Jan. 24th, 2016 01:10 pm
likepalegold: (see the light)
[personal profile] likepalegold
Once, New York had been his place of landing.

Not entirely home, because Jay Gatsby had yet to invent a home for himself without Daisy at his side and without Daisy Buchanan, no place could truly be home so much as a web of inviting glamorous aspects to draw her in. He's hard pressed to name a home for himself, but New York had come closest with its lights and the promise of a future. After the gunshot, Gatsby had given up on ever seeing it again.

That's before he arrived here at the Nexus and before the strangeness of the doors.

Now, he's standing in the midst of a snowstorm that's stripped the streets of New York City of most of its people, with Jay Gatsby standing in a nearly deserted Times Square that looks so much the same and yet as different as ever. There's no doubt in his mind that he's managed to find the future, but the sheer wondrous amazement at seeing the Collars ad lit up and glowing leaps beyond Gatsby's beliefs.

And where, he wonders, does Daisy Buchanan end up in a world like this? Where do people like her and Tom sit? He can imagine Daisy on one of the sparkling posters advertising the city's golden girls in its fabled shows. Gatsby, though, Gatsby is just a remnant of a past that no one wants to go back to.

Shivering, he turns to look for a place to purchase something to keep him warm. "Excuse me," he calls out to someone standing by a door under an awning. "Where's the nearest department store I might find?"
concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
The annual Nexus New Year's Eve gala began at 8 in the evening. Too grand to be contained by the lobby or dining hall, the gardens at the front of the hotel were employed, with long strings of white lights forming a twinkling canopy from the front doors all the way to the hedge maze. The weather was temperate and calm, and the night perfectly clear.

Drinks were served at various bars set up throughout the gardens and lobby, with champagne cocktails being the specialty of the night. Wheeling through the crowd was a bartender with golden cart providing warm drinks on the go: Tom and Jerrys, rum punch, negus, and Irish coffee.

Crisply-dressed wait staff wove through the collected guests with an abundance of hors d'oeuvres for all different tastes. The Bistro remained open with a limited selection of items for those who were wanting something more substantial.

Above the front doors was hung a large, gold-rimmed clock counting down the last hours, minutes, and seconds of the current year.
birthrightblack: (to the side)
[personal profile] birthrightblack
Winsol has always been Jaenelle's favorite time of year and while she does not always spend as much time in the hotel as some, she usually tries to get back in time to celebrate part of the holiday with those she's come to be friends with here. It's a strange little place, a go-between not unlike Ebon Askavi or other places in her own world but strangely, none of her friends from home have ever been able to come through.

She guesses this is one of those things that are hers and hers alone. It wouldn't be the first and Jaenelle would be shocked if it were the last. To be what she is means to be singular and alone for the entirety of her life, for the good of others instead of herself. None of that mattered during Winsol, though, and Jaenelle intends to enjoy it.

Another holiday coincides with it here in the hotel, something called Christmas, and it seems to be a younger and tamer festival than she's used to. Still, some of the trappings are the same and unlike last year, Jaenelle has gotten a handle on the delicate touch needed to make the fairy lights twinkle and the boughs appear to drop snow of their own accord.

She's currently bewitching mistletoe to hop from door to door simply because it amuses her to see people try and avoid it but she can't quite get the spell right. It isn't exploding, which is progress, but it's hardly doing what she wants it to.

"Come on," she cajoles. "Please work?"
aspeggysays: (to say)
[personal profile] aspeggysays
From the nexus, it looked like an adequate setting for a rest cure. A big house, surrounded by a lot of land; sunny days, clear nights. A few more amenities than Merry Olde England, which she'd also considered for the purpose, but no shelling, no gunfire, and no planes flying overhead. Peggy stepped though the doorway with little hesitation.

"My dear Mr. Bennet," someone said from down the hallway, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."

Peggy flinched and froze, her thoughts immediately jumping to Steve. But the conversation continued, Steve was still dead, and Peggy was done jumping at shadows. She continued down the hall and settled into a chair in the parlor. That proved to be a mistake.

The room soon filled with young women, chattering about a Mr. Bingley. They took Peggy's presence without blinking, but oddly, insisted on calling her Lizzy. She did her best to fade into the background as the conversation circled endlessly around the question of marriage. It hit her on a raw spot, all the talk of marriage when the only man she'd ever thought about in that way was dead, but she had endured far worse. Her smile never cracked, her eyes remained dry. She found the door back to the nexus with some relief.

The next time the nexus threw her into Longbourn, they family was about to leave to attend a ball. Peggy had never been to a ball; she tagged along. She even danced a few times, but she didn't mind that it wasn't more. Afterwards, the cozy talk with Jane was a nice bonus. Peggy found she enjoyed a little sisterly gossip.

She came back a few more times after that -- to talk to Jane, she told herself. To encourage Lydia in her little rebellions against the social limits. To run interference for Mary when she wanted to play the piano. Just to get a good night's rest. It was half way between the rest cure she'd been looking for and picking at a scab. The talk of marriage, the constricted choices reminiscent of the childhood she'd fled at the first opportunity -- but the sisterly chats, the quiet nights... and the knowledge that whatever troubles any of these people had, none of them were going to die. It was more than she knew about anyone back in the War.

And then, today happened. Peggy arrived, and as usual, no one noticed that she'd been away. "Have some fish, Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said, so Peggy did. It came as a complete surprise to her when Mr. Collins, the family guest, asked to speak with her.

Five minutes later, she found herself breathing harder than usual, her voice a low growl as she threatened to gut Mr. Collins with a fish fork if he didn't learn to listen to what a woman was actually saying instead of only to what he expected to hear. She was not going to put up with this.

She stalked out without looking back, trusting Mr. Collins to come up with some explanation for the rest of the family. He didn't seem like the type who'd admit that a woman had frightened him.

Peggy took a seat in the garden, feeling pleased with herself, and just a tiny bit guilty as well. Good thing she hadn't done that to any of the more annoying men at home. But when she heard someone approaching, she turned to greet them with the dangerous smile of a woman who had just let loose, and was willing to do it again. "I think the next step in this situation is Meryton. Steal a uniform. Find a war. Want to come with me?"

[The only thing I'm taking from the miniseries "Lost in Austen" is the basic concept. Peggy knows who she is, but none of the NPCs do, they think she's Lizzy Bennet and react to her as Lizzy Bennet, don't notice any discrepancies, etc. Replace any and all Austen characters in the same way (don't feel like you have to follow the Austen plot, either), arrive as as an era-appropriate version of your character (no Austen double required), or simply have them show up as themselves, no door changes (though for the sake of not getting stuck on details, let's just say that the NPCs aren't going to freak out about them not belonging or anything, these are some really accommodating NPCs!) Just please be clear about what choice you're going for, and feel free to drop me a line if it gets complicated :)]
burn_with_us: (woods; winter)
[personal profile] burn_with_us
Just as she had last year, Katniss had taken on the task of planning a feast to give thanks for all the people who had come through the doors from Panem. There's a little crew of them now, slightly smaller than last year, but there's one important addition to that group - Cinna. Her heart is just a little lighter knowing that he's here and knowing that everyone in this place is happy and safe and well-fed is something to be thankful for.

She'd spent the wee hours of the morning hunting in one of the forests beyond the doors and came back with two wild turkeys. Cleaning and dressing them had taken most of the early morning hours and by late afternoon, she'd managed to have them roasted and golden brown. There's other things, too, cooked in the restaurant's kitchen and maybe while not as expertly done as Peeta would have, it's passable. Katniss has learned a few things in the past two years.

There's enough food for her invited guests and, should someone decide to crash the party, enough for a few uninvited guests. It's the way Katniss prefers it. She thinks part of the beauty of giving thanks for what they have is sharing it with anyone who happens along.

When everyone is gathered, she taps her glass lightly and makes an impromptu (and awkward) speech.

"So, I'm thankful you're all here. I'm thankful another year has passed and we're safe and sound and well-fed. Please enjoy."

With that, she slinks back into her seat.
aguacateatlaw: (002)
[personal profile] aguacateatlaw
Foggy had presumed that this particular hallucination was simply the result of too little sleep and too much stress so after repeatedly trying to put the whole thing to bed for the past several days, he resigned himself to the fact that either A) he had actually gone insane, which would affect his ability to practice law to some great extent or B) The Nexus was a real place, removed from New York and Hell's Kitchen and anything familiar.

Foggy had never particularly been enamored of insanity as a legal construct but contemplating it as an actual medical condition was a hell of a lot more frightening. He decided the cure for said insanity was going to be to drink, a lot, and had taken himself down to the Smoking Room to do that exact thing. It wasn't his usual place, no, but since that was currently unavailable to him, he needed to take advantage of the next best thing.

It really had to be stress. He was carrying as many secrets as a parish priest the week before Easter and there was a reason he'd never been interested in being a priest. While being an attorney meant carrying a number of secrets, there were ways to divulge those secrets through discovery and arguments and to purge one's self of that burden. Hell, as an attorney, he could confess to his priest and be covered both ethically and legally. But being a priest, or, apparently, Matt Murdock's best friend, meant carrying secrets he couldn't tell to anyone. It meant carrying things he'd never share with another soul.

"Keep 'em coming. Just leave the bottle, actually," Foggy said, plunking some cash down on the bar in front of him. "Might as well just finish it, at this point."
afeastofstarlight: (contemplate)
[personal profile] afeastofstarlight
She had found a door, finally, which made her heart sing, her blood stir in her veins. However high the ceilings may be in her room, however expansive the hotel grounds, they were still too contained, small. She was used to endless horizons and unknown territory, and the hotel was somewhat suffocating in that regard.

But this, here. A small door that she had seemed to just notice (or had it appeared once her longing became strong enough?) down the hall from her quarters, which she had to duck slightly in order to walk through. It had been carved from apple wood, with designs of flowers and fruit curling around the door handle. Once through, aware of the fickle nature of the Nexus, she had propped the door open with a large rock.

She had appeared out of the side of a rocky hillside, a natural formation which in her own land would have been used as some sort of watchtower or signal top. All around Tauriel was spring. Flowers were beginning to grow through the damp grass, and the air smelt fresh and warm. After a few trips through the door Tauriel felt comfortable enough to visit it often, with only her daggers and no other weapon.

This time, it was night. She found a spot on the boulders she could comfortably half sit, half lay upon, and she looked up at a glowing profusion of stars she did not recognize. She ached at their familiarity all the same, though; them and the heavy moon hanging low in the sky. There was more than enough starlight and moonlight to see by and, humming a soft melody to herself, she began to slowly braid her hair.
designerebel: (cinna § 65)
[personal profile] designerebel
For the first few days Cinna stays in his room. He's suffered a loss so great that it's painful beyond the telling of it. Who can speak those words? Cinna cannot, in spite of his usual eloquence. He's had to relive his own demise right up to his death. In a sense, it leaves him numb. But a man like Cinna cannot stay that way forever. He has to feel. He has to exist. He is not an ungrateful man when he is given something so great that it's very near inexplicable. He should be dead. His life, this life in The Nexus, is a miraculous thing - the impossible made possible. He will not squander the gift that has been given to him.

He dresses well in spite of the ache in his bruised muscles as he does so. Cinna doesn't like looking anything but well put together. By his fourth day the wounds on his body have scabbed over. The bruises have turned deep purple and yellow. He doesn't try to cover them up with makeup. There is no sense in that and he knows they'll be gone soon enough. He does don some of his token golden eyeliner. It makes him feel more human. It makes him feel more like himself, tiny gold lines outlined and embellished in black that serve him as well as the greatest suit of armor ever made. He is alive. He exists. He is a fighter in his own right even without conventional weapons. He is Cinna.

He understands The Nexus somewhat in thanks to his time in another very different place although similar in mechanics. Also, in thanks to the kindness of a man he is still indebted to who had helped him understand what was happening when he'd only first arrived a few days ago. He understands that it is a hub of some sort. He also understands that he cannot go home. That is a fate of his own design that he doesn't want to live through again.

It is now, four days later, that he decides to get out and explore this, The Nexus, as Aramis had called it. He can be found anywhere really, moving with an elegance and grace that is intrinsic to him, looking in rooms and shops, outside and inside. Not only does he want to become acquainted with his new home, but he's in search of food and the familiarity of a needle and thread in his hands if he can find it. That's all he needs, really. For now.
averygoodshot: (Fem Aramis)
[personal profile] averygoodshot
Aramis keenly remembers teasing Porthos when he had stepped through the door and become a woman. He had teased d'Artagnan and even Athos.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen. He had not intended to do anything, really. He spent a good deal of his time praying, a good deal of time trying to atone for his sins.

Instead, this is what happens.

Much as his friends had, he has hitched his clothing tighter so that it may not fall down, and has fashioned something of a harness for ... well, for his new developments, as it were. He knows he could seek out Constance or even, if he was desperate, Milady, but he is not that desperate. He simply makes do and tells himself that God has a reason for everything.

He has always appreciated women and so maybe this is to test that? Who knows. Aramis does not question, at least not much. He is aware, though, that he looks a little foolish, his hair tied up, his clothing, baggy on him as a man, is like a series of large sacks on him, his boots far too big as he makes his way down the hallways. He smiles, though, not having a hat to tip, as he greets people. He knows he's not the only one who's suffered thusly. That's something anyway.
speedy_queen: (Default)
[personal profile] speedy_queen
Thea hasn't been spending that much time in the hotel lately. She's been mostly back home, suiting up, and nothing seems to be getting done. No matter what she does, the ghosts keep coming and she hasn't been able to eradicate the threats creeping on her city and her life. It's keeping her awake all day and all night.

The only thing that ever seems to ease it is getting high and under Oliver's thumb and being treating as the junior member of the team doesn't mean she gets a lot of chances to be able to fuck off and just get away from it. That's changing today. She can go back through to the hotel and score something from Olaf and just blank out for a little while.

When she goes through the door, she heads straight to the bar. Olaf is usually around and if not, she can get drunk on her way to oblivion.

"Keep 'em coming. I've got plenty to pay for it."

Sep. 14th, 2015 09:48 pm
leftwithmybones: (!switch stern)
[personal profile] leftwithmybones
It's a bit like hiding in plain sight, but hell, when McCoy had quickly realized that walking through a particular door switched around his anatomy, he'd gone through a few steps:

1) Freak out and doubt the possibilities (at least outside of something like a strange alien planet or a beaming issue gone wrong

2) Realize that the door stayed put and he could easily switch back to normal

and then, finally:

3) Figure out that Jim's here and by hiding out in this strange new body, he can actually figure out what Jim's been up to without getting in his face and demanding the answers

And so that's where he is right now, sipping on a drink in the lobby and keeping an eye out for Jim coming back from one of the wild, mad doors around here, getting himself into more stupid trouble. On a little piece of paper in front of him, McCoy's been writing down all the ways he's seen Jim turn up, as if from a mission, and he's getting ready to come back as himself and ream Jim a new one for getting himself into so much idiotic trouble, but that can come later.

Because right now, he's on the lookout for the next item on his list.

Aug. 20th, 2015 03:44 am
apetrocchi: (16ish)
[personal profile] apetrocchi
Angelica had attended eight different schools in the last six years, and learned magic, ballet, invisibility, diplomacy, flying, strategy, lock-picking, and the pursuit of excellence, among other things. These were all interesting skills that she was sure would come in useful, but she would trade everything she'd learned for the sense that she'd somehow lost along the way.

The sense that there was somewhere that she belonged.

The door to Casa Petrocchi swung shut behind her, and Angelica drew a deep breath, trying not to cry. They'd given her room to her tiny cousin Isidora. They'd told her she could sleep in the guest room.

She, Angelica Petrocchi, sleep in the guest room at Casa Petrocchi?

She couldn't possibly do that. She'd rather go beg for a room at Casa Montana.

Turning back, Angelica opened the door again, only to find Casa Petrocchi gone, replaced by a generic hotel room. Maybe it was her hotel room, she knew she'd been assigned one. Maybe the hotel was trying to tell her something, just like her family was. You can't go home again?

Standing in the hallway, staring at that room, Angelica choked back a sob.
almightythor: (wtf)
[personal profile] almightythor
There were many strange doors within the Nexus and while Thor had become a bit more cautious about just pushing through, sometimes he forgot that very important detail. Today was one of those days. He had decided after a long morning of puttering around that he wished to explore and with Mjolnir in hand, set out to a door he had never touched before.

It seemed normal at first. It was a nondescript door that led to a nondescript place but after stepping over the threshold, Mjolnir became too heavy to wield. He had never experienced that except when he had been deemed unworthy but he had done nothing this time, nothing to render himself incapable of being a good man and a fine warrior.

Still, there was something irrevocably different and it was something that Thor could not fathom. He would have to leave the hammer behind? He had never been without it, save those weeks with Jane when he was unworthy of wielding it and now, it seemed, that had happened once again.

Beaten down, he trod back into the hotel. He did not want to be somewhere vulnerable, not without Mjolnir, and did not want anyone to know of his shame. Instead, he went to the bar to have a pint of ale and was surprised when the human ale seemed to affect him in a way it never had before. He had never been drunk before in the hotel and now, it seemed, he was well on his way there.

"I'll have another," he slurred, waving his tankard toward a server. "You'll bring me one more?"
at_your_side: (072)
[personal profile] at_your_side
There was a strangeness to the moment as the world slipped from one second to the next. As if the ground beneath her feet no longer echoed with not just her footsteps but the footsteps of all the others crossing that same scarred, wooden floor. The sensation that accompanied it was dizzying, the world seeming to spin madly for a moment as she reached out for balance and found the handle of a door rather than the wall she had meant to catch hold of.

The handle turned on an accident of her wrist, the stability reached for then lost as she stumbled where she had been so steady only heartbeats before.

Perhaps there was something to not just pants but the weight of a sword sheathed at her hip and the heaviness of a gun held in her opposite hand. Perhaps that was reason enough for her finding her balance sooner than she might have while wearing the acres of fabric that came with the court gown she had worn for too long a stretch of days, as there was no hem to trip over as she left the comforting background noise of the voices of her friends speaking for the sudden silence of a hallway in a place she had not expected to find herself in again so soon.

Constance blinked slowly as she straightened, her fingers still tight on the grip of her borrowed pistol. The memory of the Musketeers plans had her turning immediately to look for the door she had come through but found, to her consternation, only smooth, unblemished wall at her back. "Oh," she said, too surprised to be eloquent as she stood staring. "Oh, no."
burn_with_us: (quiver)
[personal profile] burn_with_us
Katniss still misses him every day. If asked two, three years ago when this whole journey of hers started how she felt about Peeta Mellark, she probably wouldn't have had an answer but now Katniss thinks that some way, some how, she might have loved him. She thinks that she is never going to have the chance to know that, now, since he's locked up in the Capitol and she's here - away from anything and everything dangerous.

She still goes back, though, to tempt fate and while she goes with her quiver on her back and her bow in her hand, Katniss doesn't think that's exactly going to be enough to stop a Capitol hovercraft if they really want to take her. She hasn't seen them, though. Any time she goes back to 12, she only sees meadows and ponds and trees and she never sees anything remotely resembling the Capitol's ominous presence.

Today, she sees two deer in the woods and bags them, deciding to bring them back. She's learned how to cook and her boss in the restaurant doesn't seem to mind when she brings back game to share; she guesses he just likes having someone show up to wait tables on a more or less regular basis and Katniss is fairly reliable.

She drags them through the door and pauses, wondering about her wisdom in trying to bring both of these back through without cleaning them first. Oh well. She's never been overly concerned with what other people think. When someone stares at her, she stares right back.

"You want to help me with this or do you just want to look?"

Jul. 24th, 2015 05:05 pm
aspeggysays: (private)
[personal profile] aspeggysays
Early 1944 (Depths of Winter) | Northernmost Hydra facility
Peggy's Home Universe

"It was a routine mission," Agent Carter reported. She was the only one who'd seen everything, but the fellows had seen a lot of it. They stood in two ragged rows behind her, and she could feel their attention, and their support. It hardly warmed her, considering what had happened.

Character death | PG-13


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