concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
the_dawnster: (Dawn ♦ 40)
[personal profile] the_dawnster
It's been awhile since Dawn has been in the hotel. She's been home, living her life, growing up. She's had two birthdays since she was last here. She's fought a few big bad's and helped save the world at least two more times. That's the thing with apocalypses in her world, they always come in the plural rather than the singular. One ends and another begins. And you can never quite see them coming until you're smack dab in the middle of one. Sometimes evil is stealthy like that.

Thwarting the destruction of the world is what got her lost in an alternate dimension in the first place. Then, as she used her key power to punch her way between worlds, she unlocked the door to the hotel and can't seem to step back out of it.

Of course, her first order of business is to check for Buffy. Some things never change. Her attachment to her sister is one of those things. No matter how old she is, no matter how many years of college she completes, she'll always be Buffy's little sister. She's accepted that. She's grown to love that. Which is why she's sad to find that Buffy isn't here anymore. She remembers her time here from before. Buffy had been here then. Now Dawn's alone.

After a quick shower and change of clothes in the room that she used to share with her sister, she makes her way downstairs to the cafe to grab some food (she's starving, okay?) and then to the library where she used to work beforehand because books make almost all things better. Maybe she can get her job back. She does get her job back. Then she checks out a book.

She makes her way out into the gardens and sits in the grass. She opens her book and gets lost in another world.

Occasionally, one might find her concentrating very, very hard, trying to get her key power to work, trying to see a thinning of the veils between dimensions and punch her way through it. There are no portals here, not that she can see, not like what she could see in the other hell-ish dimensions. She's as stuck as anyone.

Yeah, reading is good.
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.

Jun. 22nd, 2016 08:11 pm
magicallystrange: (read it in a book once)
[personal profile] magicallystrange
In the end, it's Jonathan's mad attempt to bring himself closer to Arabella that foists him forward into a mad arrangement of lights, music, people! He knows that sanity lingers just out of mind and that he will have to capture it back, but once he travels once more on this strange road (through a door and not a mirror), he thinks that if he cannot bring himself to Arabella, perhaps he can bring the fairy folk to him.

Jonathan Strange will host a party so luxurious and wonderful that they have no choice but to attend.

He uses magic to deck the lobby of the hotel with shimmering lights and stars that hang upon the ceiling in constellations and patterns that cannot possibly exist. Food dots each corner, but if the eye were to catch it properly, it would be noted that it's slightly off. The drink, however, is exact in its sumptuous rich red tones and sparkling vivacious notes.

Best of all, there is the music.

Harps and lutes and violins accompany the piano and encourage those to dance. More than that, the spell that Jonathan weaves ensures that all who pass the lobby feel the need to mingle and dance, not allowing for anyone to dawdle.

Arabella will come to him now. He knows it. He must only wait.

And there will be a party to maintain until then.
aspecialkindofwoman: (choker)
[personal profile] aspecialkindofwoman
There are many descriptors that can be applied to Milady deWinter. Perhaps the most important is the term survivor.

She will always do what she needs to do to survive. She's not surprised that things turned out how they did. Not really. She has learned to expect the worst.

But here she is back in this place. This strange, modern place where she can, if she wants, be anything she wants to be. Milady supposes now is the time to figure that out. Surely, it's only a matter of time before Athos lives through what she has. Will he still want her?

Someone will. Surely.

She sits at the hotel bar, draining one glass of sharp, bitter alcohol and signalling for another, her skirt - the finest Parisian silk - covering the barstool, the curve of her shoulder gleaming in the low light.

May. 14th, 2016 07:49 pm
elektric: (calm)
[personal profile] elektric
If there's one thing they do well in strange parallel functions of the universe, it's milkshakes.

Elektra's taken to enjoying herself at the little restaurant at the end of the universe (not that she knows that's where she is, but it's a safe assumption) and it gives her a chance to get a feel for the lay of the land. It's odd, not being pushed towards an end goal and without a clear purpose in mind, but at the same time, it's daring and freeing and almost like she gets to start over.

That doesn't mean, of course, that all the old impulses are gone. She dreams about them and on the bad mornings, she finds herself a door that leads somewhere where she can exercise her demons, so to speak. She can't imagine that Matthew would approve, but it's hardly like the conquesting armies she'd joined had protested when more blood spilled for their cause.

And there's always the chocolate milkshakes to come back to. She's enjoying one now when she notices the dabs of dried blood on her palm, dipping her napkin into the water to dab it away when a shadow looms over her and alerts her of company she's known has been coming since they first started in her direction.

"Good," she says warmly, even though she knows it's not a waiter. She holds up her empty glass and gives her new friend a leonine smile. "I was just about ready for a refill."

Not again

May. 10th, 2016 05:31 pm
praiseandglory: (angry bordering on murderous)
[personal profile] praiseandglory
When Porthos stepped into their tent and found himself in a strange, yet familiar hallway, he knew exactly where he was. On either side of the hallway were doors - to rooms, suites, and many more strange places beside. The noises of the camp were gone, but the smell remained, on him, of gunpowder and blood, soot and grime. His usually elegant clothes had seen better days, his now longer hair was tied back and mostly hidden under a kerchief that might have once been white. His pistol was empty and he needed to clean his sword - Treville's sword.

The battlefield was now miles and years away, for all that it was also, somehow, right on the other side of a door. And, in his current mood, that made his blood boil as surely as Spanish insults.

"Not again!" he yelled, and punched the nearest wall with a gloved hand. He winced at the pain, but there was a dent in the wall now, and that felt slightly better.
farmboyjedi: (Default)
[personal profile] farmboyjedi
I gather it might be a good idea to introduce myself since I'm new here. I am Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. I'm still rather overwhelmed and a little confused by this place, but it's good to meet the others who are here. Hopefully we'll get along all right.
aguacateatlaw: (004)
[personal profile] aguacateatlaw
Foggy had come to the hotel a handful of times over the last few months but this particular stint was problematic because he was stuck. While he liked the free mini-vacations, being away from his work and his clients for this long was a little grating and he was starting to get stir crazy.

There wasn't much need for an attorney in the hotel, considering there weren't many people with legal troubles and, well, he was only familiar with the law in the US and particularly in New York but there was always room for another cook. Foggy was actually a decent cook because he'd paid attention when his mom made things and then had a streak in college when he wanted to impress a girl and watched any and everything he could find on the Food Network. The girl hadn't worked out but the recipes had stuck around which is why he found himself in the hotel kitchen taking over for a suddenly sick chef.

He had always had a soft spot for Mexican food and while his spin on it probably wasn't as good as it could be, he put a lot of heart into it. It wasn't hard to whip up quesadillas, a nice cheese dip and some homemade salsas and guacamole and Foggy was in a really good mood once everything started heating up on the grill and putting a pleasant, comforting aroma in the air. It was like home in more ways than one and he was hoping that Matt would be around to enjoy.

Once he'd finished up cooking, he went back out into the dining room proper for two purposes: one, to eat his creation and two, to take additional orders.

"Anyone want any of these delicious quesadillas? I've also got a tamale recipe if you ask me really, really nicely."

As long as they didn't do it in Spanish. He might be able to cook from the menu but he still didn't speak the language more than a few things here and there.

Damn his decision to take Punjabi.
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.
theprodigaldoctor: (pissy)
[personal profile] theprodigaldoctor
July / The Nexus

"I nearly died," he says. "But I got better, only it sort of made me look at life differently. Then, I turned up here." He shrugs, not sure how to explain this best. "I felt like everything in my life had been for nothing. So I started to sleep with anyone I could, just to feel something. I made a big mistake at home and..." He sighs. "She was a nun. Until I got to her," he explains, a pain in his eyes. "I don't think I can do this twice in a row; make someone break their vows for me, twice, especially if this ends badly."

Things start to get more serious when things like 'vow-breaking' gets brought up and Chase shares that it wouldn't be his first time dragging someone away from their promise.

pg-13

Feb. 28th, 2016 09:49 am
armedagainstlove: (pick an argument)
[personal profile] armedagainstlove
June, The Nexus

One remaining glove is all Athos has in France to track down Anne, but luckily for the both of them, they know a hotel where they might discuss the future and their relationship.

some mature content
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."
mlle_belle: (curious: by ?)
[personal profile] mlle_belle
JULY | THE NEXUS LIBRARY

It's not a normal every-day thing to meet someone with the same name as you and a history that gets very close, but neither Belle are used to being normal.

no warnings apply

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.

Sep. 6th, 2015 02:05 pm
quantum_meruit: (bored)
[personal profile] quantum_meruit
The days keep passing without much meaning. Laurel knows that it's not as if she can actually escape the way she'd like, but lounging around the hotel had gotten old two months ago and time keeps creeping on. No matter what she tries, she can't get back home. She can go anywhere else in the world -- Paris, a spaceship, and even back in time -- but getting back to school is apparently too much to ask.

Then again, given the events back home, maybe that's for the best. The problem is that she's warring with boredom. She could go explore the doors, but it seems like a bad idea in case she gets stuck and has no way back. She's not sure she wants to ask Connor to become her exploration buddy, seeing as it would feel a lot like imposing.

That's what'd led her to try and look locally. It's been a while since she had a job for money's sake, though. Usually, her family just pays for what she needs. This time, it's not about the money, though, so much as the need to occupy her time. Of course, her actual skill-set isn't really coming in handy. It's not like they really need a counsel at the hotel and if they did, she's pretty sure her law student experience is going to get her the job.

Which is why Laurel's taken to lingering at the front desk today, pestering the concierge throughout the last few hours when he's free. "What about something like a personal shopper? Only for the doors?" she suggests, but the concierge gives her a confused look, which is becoming par for the course when it comes to the strange things.

"What about waitressing?"

Laurel gives a quiet scoff. "I'm pretty sure people don't want me for a waitress. I'd be terrible." Maybe the bar, though? Pouring drinks couldn't be that hard. She sighs and leans back against the desk, staring out at people wandering in and out of the hotel, wishing that one of them could help her. "I just need a job," she says, frustrated. "And it'd be nice if I didn't completely suck at it," she adds, because spending her time constantly hating the work doesn't really solve her problems either.

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."

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