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[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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
morethanhuman: you're the only thing i ever want anymore (wanna believe in everything you believe)
[personal profile] morethanhuman
Mid-July 2014 | The Smoking Room

He was startled to remember how new this still was to Charles. The genuine curiosity in Charles's thoughts had hooked him like a fish, the sudden bright flash of his interest bursting in Erik's mind, irresistible. Charles forgetting to be distant made him forget for a brief instant as well, and he was halfway to asking if Charles wanted company before he remembered that even if he did, he wasn't going to want theirs.

But he hadn't asked Erik to leave yet either.


Erik and a powered-up, genderswapped Jordan find Charles drinking alone, and Jordan uses her new empathy powers to nudge them toward civility.

Nearly complete.
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[personal profile] concierge
Throughout the day on the 14th, the Nexus staff deliver single roses and accompanying notes to designated hotel guests in celebration of the Valentine's Day holiday. For some, the gesture will be a foregone conclusion; for others, it will be a surprise. For some, they might only guess at who sent them the gift in the first place.


[Comments with deliveries will follow are done. You may reply to yours with a reaction if you like!]
armedagainstlove: (steady)
[personal profile] armedagainstlove
At times, Athos does wonder whether this odd inn has a sense of malice in its humour or whether it simply can see into his heart to know precisely how to strike him. There have been blessings in Porthos and d'Artagnan's presence to reassure him that he has not gone mad, but there is the continued presence of the doors. If it is not bright lights or screaming children, it is giving d'Artagnan false memories or it is wreaking havoc on him and has for hours.

If he didn't know better, he'd say that this suits him terribly. He'd met a woman in a similar situation to Athos' current predicament, but she seemed to have endured them longer.

This morning, Athos had awoken from his brief respite from home (needing the time after nearly causing a coup in France given a new heir, found) and upon leaving his room to have breakfast, something had changed. It had been as if the ice covering his heart had infected all other parts of him, sending a strange frisson of fear through him. And, more worryingly, since that moment, everything he's touched has turned to ice.

Currently, staring at red wine that's frozen over, he's beginning to see the trouble.

Anne might laugh at him, if she could see him now. That coy, sharp, steady laughter that he had found charming once, but now saw it for what it was -- vindictive and cutting. She might say that it's about time his body caught up with his cold heart, able to put his wife to death so easily, but it had been unavoidable. How could Athos have done anything else? Perhaps this is his punishment, then.

"Sangdieu," he spits out a frustrated curse when he reaches for a grape and freezes that over, too. Chewing it stubbornly, he abandons his table in a hurry and hopes that no one has seen the fuss he's made, for Athos needs to find himself somewhere warm to counteract the continuous ice his hands seem keen to produce.
incurablydishonest: (m: unimpressed)
[personal profile] incurablydishonest
Early September | The Nexus

How many times had Jordan, as a girl, marveled at what it must be like to be a man? The very idea of it had fairly made her head swim, a seeming endless parade of raucous freedoms that were always just out of her grasp for having the audacity to be born female. It had chafed, and eventually she had learned well enough how to turn that friction into a more creative means for grasping freedom, but never was she foolish enough to think it would ever be the same. There was nothing about her gentle or sweet, and yet still she was the gentler sex, placed neatly within a box from which a lifelong battle would never extract her.

Or so she had believed. The hotel, apparently, had other ideas about these things.

"Miss Baker, may I say your suit looks very fetching."
morethanhuman: cus all the silver girls gave us black dreams (leave the silver city)
[personal profile] morethanhuman
mid-February | the Nexus, Room 26

"So," he said as he turned back, forcing a lighthearted tone. "Am I pathetic enough for full intoxication, or shall I only be allowed a giddy buzz?"

The vulnerability in Erik's voice, his expression, was a keen reminder of the tender places within her that she had been trying for so long to forget. Somehow, despite her most concerted efforts, they never quite seemed to harden like she hoped.

"You aren't pathetic, darling," she replied at length, lifting her eyes to Erik and then pushing restlessly from her seat. "I very much doubt if you've been pathetic for an entire minute together in your life."

After his disastrous altercation with Charles, Erik calls on Jordan to do her duty as his best and only friend, and join him in drowning his sorrows.

COMPLETE

Jan. 30th, 2014 07:13 pm
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[personal profile] three_two_one
Felicity was sitting in one of the sort of comfortable chairs in the Smoking Room, which thankfully didn't have anyone actually smoking in it, messing with her new phone and trying really hard to not look like a junkie getting a fix. Even though, yeah, she totally was. The computer graveyard she was given the month before was great, and the laptop she'd been able to make worked better than her greatest expectations.

But this was tech. Working tech that connected with a network. It was the first time she'd felt comfortable here since the day she and Ichabod had stumbled into the same hallway.

She still wasn't sure if anyone would see her post on the really weird paper, but since the phones had been handed out, she'd seen more than one person staring at theirs like it was about to punch them in the face or something. Because her parents still thought remote controls were the pinnacle of tech, she was used to the look.

If no one did, that was fine, too. She was perfectly happy to sit here and play...and figure out how to improve it.


Gathering post. Tag Felicity, tag in a top level to commiserate with others. Anyone else wanting to lend a hand tutoring the tech-unfriendly is welcome to tag in their services. Questions - hit Felicity's Dropbox
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[personal profile] concierge
A large, decorative sign situated prominantly in the lobby reads:

The Nexus Hotel
proudly presents its
ANNUAL NEW YEARS EVE PARTY

Event Location
Nexus Premises
6 PM - ?

1920's themed dress recommended, but not required for all guests


The sumptuous theme of elegance that typically surrounds the Nexus Hotel is out in full force on the evening of the 31st. With efficiency and very little said, a group had entered and snapped white tablecloths on long tables in the main lobby of the hotel, turning side-rooms into similar displays of elegance. Then came the food, followed by the alcohol, and the guests were quick to follow.

Drinks were on the lawn, in the hotel, making their way into the hands of party-goers who wore shining, shimmering, jewelled gowns of all eras, but only those from the 1920’s hung on a rack in the luggage room where hotel guests entered to check in and found themselves amidst a welcoming committee like none before.

In the skies between the hotel and the stars, fireworks shot off in hourly intervals, sparkling and accompanied by a great bang that the music from the band does its’ best to drown out (to no avail). And under those shimmering lights, the party for New Years Eve roared. It was not the only party, though, as a door had been propped open that led directly to the shining lights of Las Vegas, the gleaming neon of the strip beckoning any guests daring enough to try their hand at games of chance and luck.

Nov. 18th, 2013 01:35 pm
morethanhuman: it's a revolution i suppose (raise my flags don my clothes)
[personal profile] morethanhuman
The past few nights, Erik had been sleeping like the dead. )

It was still barely seven when he started on his second cup of terrible replicator coffee and texted Rogers. Where should I meet you? Intending to start walking toward the lift while he waited for an answer, he grabbed a sweater and headed out the door.

After a year and change on board the station, and especially in light of the last two weeks, Erik thought himself impervious to surprises. And yet, when he stepped through his doorway into a lush conservatory instead of the familiar metal and fluorescent hallway, he couldn't deny he was surprised. He hadn't been aware of the transporter engaging the way it had in the past; was this a trick of the station's? And if not, who else could it be, and what did they want with him?

As if in response to his silent question, there was movement behind one of the ferns, and Erik realized he wasn't alone in the room.
incurablydishonest: (stunned)
[personal profile] incurablydishonest
1 NOV 2013 | NEXUS LAWN

Dressed for swimming and wet, in the sun he looked dipped in gold, the spectre of Venus risen from an invisible sea. Jordan flicked ash into the neatly-trimmed hedges and stepped forward.

"Well, this is a surprise," she drawled, head tilted with polite curiosity but voice stitched up with tightly-controlled bitterness. "I've never met a ghost before."

G; Ongoing

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