concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
designerebel: (cinna § 73)
[personal profile] designerebel
[ OPTION ONE ]

Ask and you shall receive. It's been months ago that Cinna has requested an area to work in. The hotel has given him a space on the first floor near the cafe. Supplies have been gathered and the space redone to accommodate Cinna and his craft. That's right, there's officially a clothier's shop in the hotel. Cinna is indeed in his element.

Upon first entry to the shop it looks very unassuming and casual. There's the mixed aroma of freshly brewed tea and coffee as well as some pastries brought over from the cafe. The front half of the shop holds everyday clothes that seem to be the norm of what most of the people in the hotel wear, things like tees and sweaters and jeans and shorts. In the middle of the shop there's a round dark mahogany table with three high-backed plush armchairs around it. The armchairs are cushioned black with golden embellishments. Toward the back is where Cinna's influence shows through more prominently; clothing, both everyday and formal with unique and futuristic flares and touches. It's Couture at its finest. There are tall, large mirrors in the back as well as dressing rooms.

It should also be noted that as he has befriended both Milady and Aramis, there is attire befitting both men and women from their time period in Paris. Beautiful gowns and carefully stitched shirtsleeves and doublets. Cinna is always accommodating and will take special orders all day every day.

Outside of the space is a bracket with a swinging sign placard bearing the shop's name in an elegant golden script: Design by Cinna.

Cinna can almost always be found at the mahogany table in the center of the shop, sitting in one of the chairs with material draped over his lap and needle and thread in hand. He'll welcome anyone to his new shop. Please feel free to stop by!


[ OPTION TWO ]

Oftentimes Cinna can be found in the conservatory, sitting among the plant life and sketching new designs. It's peaceful in there. He'll greet and chit chat with most anyone who happens upon him.

However, one day he opens a door that he thinks goes to his hotel room but finds himself in the outdoors instead. The environment is boisterous and loud, crowds walking through fairways and strange music in the air. The sky is blue overhead, with the occasional cloud here and there. There are shops and tents and big contraptions with some kind of transport on them that has people screaming as they zip over rails.

Cinna, coming from Panem, has never seen anything like it. A man comes by and offers him a stick with a ball of pink cotton on top of it. What is it? He sees someone else with something similar eating the cotton. So he pinches some off and puts it in his mouth. The sugary sweetness surprisingly melts in his mouth.

Certainly, a place such as this can't be anything bad, right? Cinna is off to explore the amusement park.
separateworlds: (Default)
[personal profile] separateworlds
Sometime in the Fall | Hogsmeade

Even as Jane descended the wide stone steps to where Thor was waiting near the bottom, she was finding it difficult to believe that this was actually reality. Her romantic interaction had been limited almost entirely to a handful of study dates, and the idea that she, of all people, would be going on a bona fide date to Hogsmeade with Thor Odinson still seemed ludicrous.

Hogwarts AU | Forever Ongoing
incurablydishonest: (m: unimpressed)
[personal profile] incurablydishonest
NYE 2015 | The Nexus & Elsewhere

In retrospect, Jordan supposed that she and Erik both ought to have known well enough by that point that when the universe gives you such a clear signal to stay in, it's wise to take heed. Being themselves, however, and possessing an innate fondness for (and superiority over) large parties, they neatly made their own beds with a bit of soda water and a hair dryer.

a horizon of painful complications
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.

Ongoing

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?"
matt_murdock: (076)
[personal profile] matt_murdock
Winter of 1944 | A field hospital in France

He can't remember the last time he spoke to a pretty woman.

WWII AU | ONGOING
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 :)]
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.

Jul. 11th, 2015 09:58 am
theirlawyer: (consider: by dreadnought)
[personal profile] theirlawyer
Early March, near Paradise

Sam and Ainsley escape work for the beach and end up discussing work anyway, along with other personal things.

PG-13

Jul. 5th, 2015 02:27 pm
lordharry: (is this hell?)
[personal profile] lordharry
At first, Hal doesn't notice it.

How odd, truly, to imagine that something so monumental can be so easily ignored. And yet, Hal begins his day as he normally would, goes through his routines and habits. He sets up the dominoes and takes them down. He listens to his radio programs, does his exercises, and even pitches it to help clean in the kitchen, but even that does not take him aback. It is not until he is cleaning up and scrubbing his hands properly that he notices it.

It is the moment when he lifts his gaze in order to grasp for the paper towel that he sees it for the first time in over five hundred centuries. His reflection. Startled and taken aback, Hal stares for what must be nearly thirty minutes as he realizes that he's entirely forgotten what he looks like. Five hundred centuries without your own reflection will do that to a man. He prods and pokes at his face, marvelling at the way he's changed and takes another, longer moment to marvel at his hair, wanting to weep for how tidy and good Leo had kept it over the last fifty-five years.

He swallows hard to push back the grief and that's when he realizes he's not suppressing the need for blood. He's not hungry. Whatever door he passed through this morning has done something to him because he has no thirst for blood, can see himself, and suddenly, he's struck with the need for something else.

Hurrying (but not so quickly that he doesn't properly finish with the towels), Hal makes it back to the buffet. He's quick to load up his plate, his cravings for food immense and desperate.

"Excuse me," he asks, lifting his gaze to the nearest person, "what are those sticks called? They're breaded and abhorrently fried, filled with cheese, and I'd very much like two dozen, possibly."

[Hal is temporarily without his vampire affliction and very, very hungry for cheese]
averygoodshot: (smiling at Porthos)
[personal profile] averygoodshot
Aramis had given the Queen his word: he would not go back to Paris. That he wants to is not in question. If he cannot go back (though if, he tells himself, he happens to stumble into the door to Paris, what could he possibly do but go through?), well, there is no saying he cannot still explore what the Nexus has to offer.

This is how he happens to find himself on a sun-drenched beach inhabited by scantily-clad women (and men, too, it seems) who seem to freely provide frothy, cold drinks. It's called, he learns when he asks, Risa. Where this Risa is? He has no idea. Progressively, he cares less and less.

Somewhere along the way, Aramis's heavy leather doublet is shed and he even takes off his boots, and after three of those frothy drinks, he ends up sprawled in a chaise, one foot in the sand, chin tilted up to the sun.

There may or may not be women hovering around. He doesn't touch, nor does he encourage but he does look (how can one not when there are mere scraps covering the most delicate bits?

This is quite a place he found his way to, isn't it? No adventure (at least not yet), but he raises his hand and another one of those frothy drinks appear. Indeed.

Apr. 21st, 2015 08:40 pm
temperamentalsteel: (Beaming)
[personal profile] temperamentalsteel
After weeks of hard missions and even harder conversations, d'Artagnan had been hesitant to go through anymore strange doors. Then he'd passed by one left slightly ajar and he'd heard music...smelled wonderful things, and curiosity had gotten the better of him. Luckily, going through the door had resulted in nothing but delight. It apparently passed through to something called an amusement park and d'Artagnan was amazed and definitely amused.

First had been the colorful spinning horses, then the wheel that went up into the sky, and then something insanely exhilarating called a roller coaster. D'Artagnan had ridden several of them more than once, only stopping when hunger sent him to the food stalls and toward something called a funnel cake.

And then, he had found something called the paintball range. Immediately, d'Artagnan was signing up for the next session.

[[He went through the amusement park door. Catch him at any point in his adventure!]]
morethanhuman: to fit right in (we're painted red)
[personal profile] morethanhuman
In the dark, Erik ran, the sounds of skittering and and an eerie humming echoing, ambient, in the air around him. They didn't wear metal, any of them, except the ones who carried knives— but they didn't need knives to hurt, to kill. He'd seen that firsthand.

He rounded a corner into a long gallery space, one entire wall made of glass, an arresting view of the city's grandeur and the vastness of the ocean that surrounded it. Even after weeks of this, living in the half-light of flares and sputtering neon, it still caught at him— he was under water, miles from the sun or a breath of fresh air. Like the vastness of space outside his window on the Proserpina, the ocean was endless, and he was stuck in this tomb of a city trying like hell to find his way out. Looking out over the city with fish swimming like flocks of birds between the skyscrapers, Erik spared a thought to wish he could have visited it in its heyday.

Those seconds of distraction cost him. A splicer dropped in front of him, startling a shout from him as he reeled back, jerking himself out of reach as it swiped at him with something— not metal, glass perhaps?— he felt the pull on his upper arm, then the burn as the pain set in. Almost too fast to track, another one skittered out from the shadows, and Erik could hear the hyena laugh that signaled another wasn't far off. Fuck. Where was the goddamned door, anyway? He'd been working for an eternity to make his way back here, and he was so close—

"Find a better hiding place, monster," the one in front of him hissed, its teeth bared in an insane grin, and Erik didn't waste another second before lashing out. A cloud of slender blades hovered by his left shoulder like a wizard's familiar; his left hand shot out and the blades flew, zipping through the air like hornets to pierce the splicer's flesh, burrowing in and through and out, only to twist midair and come back for more.

Ignoring the screams, Erik gestured with his other hand to the hulking splicer advancing on him from the right. Lightning arced from his palm, tracing a parabola between him and his attacker, the purple light illuminating his own fierce satisfaction at the sight of the splicer writhing in agony. The swarm of blades finished their bloody work just in time for Erik to turn, wild-eyed, as the third splicer dropped to the ground behind him. His pulse was racing, the taste of ozone in his mouth, and he threw both his hands out in front of him, metal and electricity flying free.

Three splicers lay dead at his feet. His arm throbbing, blood seeping through his sweater, Erik reoriented himself and headed toward the bathysphere station. The door wasn't far— he'd be home before he knew it... as long as there were no more nasty surprises.


[Find him in Rapture during or after the splicers attack, or once he's come back through the door. He's singed and filthy and bleeding from a long cut on his left bicep. He's injected himself with the Electro Bolt plasmid, which gives him the ability to electrically charge or shock things at will. For those who see him regularly, he's been stuck in Rapture for over a month.]
phrynefisher: (012)
[personal profile] phrynefisher
How it was that the wind, salt-sharp and quick as a whip as it swept around her did not tear the hat, broad-brimmed and worn, from her head, only philosophers and quantum physicists might be able to say.

Perhaps the rumors of her being a witch were true after all. Certainly she had never done anything to hush up the whispers of exactly that when she had heard them. (She had, in fact, laughed hard enough to nearly upset her glass when she'd first overheard someone informing their friend that the captain of the Thetis was some kind of sea witch). Rumors abounded around any woman who walked in the world of men, she had expected nothing less. Whether she was witch, fallen noblewoman, madwoman or whore, every man had his favorite story to tell of the woman who would dare to captain a pirate ship.

Phryne turned her head from the warmth of the sun to smile at her crew. "The wind is with us!" she called from her perch, standing as she was high up among the topmast sails. She took little note of the precariousness of her position, leaning far out from the safety of the solid wooden braces, kept safe only by the hand she kept wrapped around a rope nearby. "Prepare yourselves, we shall be on them by sunset!"

The Thetis was crewed by a mixture of sailors and strays, a strange combination of men and (shockingly) several women who came from all corners of the world. They were known for nothing more than for their captain's love of hunting slavers as they attempted to return to Europe newly heavy with profit, of the chaos they wreaked in taverns they frequented and the promise that all would share equally in the spoils they tore from merchants' hands before the goods could be traded for new stocks of slaves. What the crew made of their captain was up to each on their own, but were to Phryne more family than those she'd known by blood.

She all but danced down the rigging and masts until she stood on deck once more, eyes returning to the shape on the far horizon as she spoke to the figure nearest her, "Copper and cloth, you think?" Her lips curved, gaze turning to the one she spoke to, "Or might we hope for rum enough to refill our stock?"
dayswithoutincident: (pic#8133078)
[personal profile] dayswithoutincident
DECEMBERISH 2014 | JURASSIC PARK

If he's going to be stuck somewhere, at least it's a place equipped to handle monsters.

ONGOING
ourselvesalone: (puzzling)
[personal profile] ourselvesalone
He returns to the Nexus, his mind whirling with the events that have just happened. He clutches two ornate jars tightly in his arms, trying to breathe out evenly and convince himself that he is no longer being chased for thieving several organs of the man he's just helped to mummify. Of course he'd known that the doors lead to other places, of course, and yet he hadn't expected to step through his bedroom door and find himself in the very land possessing the gods and goddesses that they, apparently, are entertaining in the present day via Miss Ives.

Hidden goddesses, ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs on vampire bodies, and yet the only thing Victor had cared about had been the fact that he was being handed the opportunity to take part in the ritual. Yes, they had snapped at him at first in a language Victor hadn't understood, but medical skills speak louder than words. They had allowed him in and his careful, precise cuts had earned him awe, along with some respect.

Basking in that, Victor had immediately set his mind on something else. The heart and the lungs. The jars filled with the organs sit ready to join the preserved body in the afterlife, but Victor had quietly excused himself from the procedure and that was when it turned to an escape.

He'd found the nearest hall, slamming one door after the next in search of his escape back to the Nexus. Unfortunately, he has always lacked the luck and grace that his brothers and sisters possess and his fellow carvers soon notice that integral parts of their task are missing. The shouts of a chase are unmistakable, but it is with some determination that Victor continues on, only thinking of the fresh, viable nature of the organs he now clasps. With luck, perhaps he can use them on his subject. With luck, he will turn his Creature's attention elsewhere.

By the sixth attempt, a way back had finally been found and Victor had stumbled through, now standing here with his back to the thick wood, head tipped upwards as he draws in the breaths he has always struggled with. It is no surprise that he is in the library. He always finds himself in the library when he arrives here, as if the reminiscence to Sir Malcolm's is a joke he must endure every time.

"Ice," he demands instantly, of whomever is near. "I need ice."

Feb. 19th, 2015 08:30 pm
notgivingyourmoneyback: Harvey Specter smiling and wearing a tux ([pos] tux)
[personal profile] notgivingyourmoneyback
September 9, 2014 | Starting in room Human/Non-Human then moving on to Prom Night

Dawn stumbles into a room that's supposed to give one superpowers and Harvey manages to find her there. They get bored in that room, so Dawn cajoles Harvey into taking her to the prom since she never got to go in high school.

PG-13 | Snark and Harvey's language.

In The Sun

Feb. 1st, 2015 06:02 pm
regimes_fall: (097)
[personal profile] regimes_fall
Late January | Some Beach Somewhere

Joan made sure to get every patch of skin on Natasha's back covered, if only so she wouldn't have to feel too guilty afterwards if she ended up with peeling lobster-coloured skin. Just like people, they turned red after they had been thoroughly cooked.

Girltalk and boozing and baking in the sun will ensue|Ongoing
the_dawnster: (Dawn ♦ 85)
[personal profile] the_dawnster
[ OPTION ONE - library ]

It wasn't so much work as it was one of her favorite past times. Some might think it boring that Dawn had actually sought out a job in the library. Librarians were notoriously boring, weren't they? Luckily, Dawn had never known that stigma when she was younger; but she had known one Rupert Giles. Not only was a he pseudo father figure, but he was also one of the coolest, bravest, strongest and smartest people she had ever known... and he was a librarian. Even when he wasn't a librarian he was definitely one with the books.

Dawn had always liked to read, something she had often chided her older sister over. Buffy had never been big on reading. But even more than cracking open a good YA fantasy novel, Dawn had gotten her penchant for ancient texts and the like from Giles. At this point, she might as well be a professional creepy ancient text transcriber. No really, that should be a profession. But since it wasn't, she was glad that when she had inquired at the library after work, they had hired her.

She's in the massive room almost every day whether she's working or not. Sometimes she's filing books away or reorganizing them. Sometimes she's sitting on the floor tucked in a corner with a book on her lap. Sometimes, when she's come across one of those creepy ancient texts, she loses herself in transcribing it. Like Alice down the rabbit hole, she has to tear herself away in order to come back out into reality again.



[ OPTION TWO - beach door ]

If anyone was good at finding a warm beach, it was a California girl. The Beach Boys even wrote a song about it! So did Katy Perry. So have lots of people. It's like a beach radar full of sunshine, warmth and sandy ocean goodness that Dawn would have to really fight to resist. In this case, she would leave the actual fighting to her older sister. Buffy was the Chosen One, after all. She who makes sacrifices for the betterment of mankind.

So Dawn dons her swimsuit, a cute bright yellow two-piece that was magically in her closet when she had hurried back to get clothes for warm weather once she had found the door. Over it she wore a sheer brown sundress and on her feet were some yellow flip flops. She grabbed a bag with everything one could possibly need for the beach in it; towel, sunscreen, sunglasses, bottles of water, etc. Last, but not least, she found a big floppy brimmed hat and a book and off she went.

On the beach, she found the perfect spot in a reclinable chair under an umbrella. Dawn made herself comfortable and cracked open her book.



[ OPTION THREE - human/non-human door ]

Dawn often walked through the hallways when she was bored, opening random doors and peeking inside. If it wasn't immediately evident what was inside a room, she might venture in a few steps. Her curiosity always got the better of her when she didn't know something, it seemed. Giles would have said that knowledge was power. Or maybe one of her professor's at Berkeley said that. Or maybe that phrase was from one of Xander's cheesy combat movies he liked so much. In any case, Dawn's quest for knowledge often got her into trouble.

Such was the case when she opened one door and found a forest. It was actually a pretty forest, scenic and perfect with the sunlight from above peeking through ancient tree tops that towered majestically above everything. Squirrels scampered up tree trunks. Birds fluttered from branch to branch singing songs that echoed throughout the forest. There was the sound of running water in the distance, a lake maybe, a waterfall... it was serene, but curious.

Taking a few steps in, she could just make out the mountainous area and the waterfall through some of the overgrowth. Waterfalls were a rare enough sight that she lingered long enough to hear the door shut behind her. She turned, twisting and pulling on the door to no avail. It was stuck. She turned back around, somehow taking up more space than she previously had. Imagine her surprise and her horror when she found that she had been transformed into something all too familiar to her.

"Oh come on, universe! Rinse and repeat? Really?" She screams, one hoof kicking at the door to no effect. She waits a very long time for someone else to come through the door. And when they don't, Dawn goes over toward the sound of the waterfall, muttering under her breath. Eventually that door had to unlock. In the meantime: waterfall.



ooc: Feel free to do one or more options. I don't mind multiple threads. :)

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