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

Dec. 21st, 2014 06:30 pm
65th_victor: (16;skepticons)
[personal profile] 65th_victor
Tristan seemed to be getting bigger by the day. And with every day that passed, he could see more and more of Annie in their son, something that never ceased to make him smile. It was still a wonder to listen to to Tristan laugh, or watch him wriggle around the on the ground, preparing himself to crawl, or the way he could now sit steadily on his own. Of course, it was also a stark relief that he had also decided to be ready to sleep throughout the night.

But even on those days when he had been up the entire evening trying to coax their son to stop crying, he couldn't take any moment for granted. Not when he knew that there was a story out there that said that he never got to do any of these things, that Annie raised Tristan essentially on her own.

One thing he knew he needed to do was teach Tristan how to swim. Admittedly, he was still a bit young for that, but Finnick had still packed their things and headed down to the pool for the day. Holding Tristan close, he walked carefully into the shallow end, smiling when Tristan laughed when his toes came in contact with the water.

Dec. 20th, 2014 09:51 pm
iheartmahogany: (golden hair!)
[personal profile] iheartmahogany
This hotel, once she had managed to find herself employment, was a suitable distraction from the events in Panem.

Or at least, she assumed they were occurring. Separated as she had been from everyone she knew, she had found it best to simply pack, and run, and stay here. Possibly forever. What little she had managed to bring, while scarce in her opinion, at least brought her some comfort. And so many others were here, people of Panem, though they all seemed to have different recollections, not that it mattered. Time travel did not mystify Effie so much as prove to be too frustrating and distanced to concern herself with. All she really cared about was that Peeta and Katniss were safe, that they were far from the Capitol, and that she could make herself useful here.

Here she was able to keep control, keep organized, and help run a small kingdom of information and frustratingly strange and changing architecture. It was diverting, though, and not just for the fact that something new might happen every day; the front desk was a rather lively place. Effie saw so many faces - some of which were greatly in need of makeovers, though in an attempt to be sympathetic, she did not mention it (especially if they were startled newcomers). And it was interesting watching the movements of the hotel at large. At the moment they were celebrating a hodgepodge of wintry holidays, and she quite liked how there was added glitter and pomp to the hotel as a result.

She could usually tell if someone was new by the way they looked at her - as if she was rather out of this world, which was both correct, and actually rather flattering. Some, of course, had no reaction to her at all, and that was fine too. Effie was starting to enjoy life on a more simple note, for while the hotel was luxurious to some, it was several steps down than what she was used to.

She sat behind the front desk, finishing up organizing the way the rooms were listed (they seemed to change and, at the same time, bafflingly not alter themselves at all; it was hard to keep track). She would be done soon, at which point she supposed it would be time for a drink, before a long regime of personal beauty care (her wigs, after all, did not style themselves).

Sep. 2nd, 2014 03:35 pm
65th_victor: (05;?)
[personal profile] 65th_victor
He'd been careful. He'd been really careful, because the last thing he wanted to do was go back into the arena.

But maybe he'd gotten complacent since the last door that had been special had been weeks ago, resulting in him being a girl for a couple of days. But since then, there'd been nothing. So maybe he hadn't been as diligent about watching where he was going, and maybe he'd been more than a little tired because Tristan hadn't slept well the night before and Finnick had been up with him for most of the night, trying to calm his son back down.

When Finnick did look up and found himself looking out into the jungle instead of into his room at the Nexus, he took a step back, his heart stuttering in his chest. Reflexively, he looked down: He was wearing the wetsuit he'd arrived at the hotel in.

He was back in the 75th Games.

"No, no," Finnick said out loud before he could stop himself. He turned around, desperately looking for the door that had led him in. He had to get back out. He couldn't be here. He couldn't be back here.

His brain suddenly snagged on a horrific thought: What if this wasn't a door at all? What if he had been sent back. It was something he couldn't even begin to fathom. It meant losing Annie and Tristan, and that was something he couldn't contend with.

The arena provided suitable distraction though: the sound of a cannon booming in the distance jolted Finnick back to the present. Door or home, he needed to stay alive. Weapon and water, Finnick thought, years of training fall back into place. The cornucopia was still in the middle of the arena, looking strangely deserted. He ran hastily across the beach and headed out into the water. He swam as fast as he could, reaching the cornucopia where a trident still sat, gleaming. He wrapped his hands around it -- just as he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, brandishing the trident in front of him.
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[personal profile] concierge
Outside of the Nexus Hotel, waiters and hotel staff had begun to set up the umbrellas and the tables in the middle of the day. Soon, it became clear that something was happening in the shadow of the Nexus. White tablecloths were draped on the tables and drinks and food were brought out with the help of several waiters and servers, staffing tables with hot and cold foods beside bartending stations. Summery drinks in bright, neon colors are laid out one by one and soon, the afternoon light casts a radiant look on the scene.

Music plays faintly in the background and a note at the front desk invites all the Nexus guests to head outside and join in on the summer party, which promises to continue going as long as there are people to stay and continue keeping the warm atmosphere rolling.

On the lawn, social games had been set out -- lawn bowling, croquet, and tables were set up with chairs for anyone who didn't quite have the will or the spirit to get into such games. Soon, a small number of people had begun to mill around, but as with all parties, there's always room for more.
shifting_skin: (02)
[personal profile] shifting_skin
The taste of ozone lay at the edge of her tongue, the faint pull of muscle and skin knitting too slowly back together at her calf keeping the rush of days just past firmly in mind.

Having found herself from one step to the next transported from the beginnings of a chase she had come to find familiar through the halls of one lush hotel and into an entirely different setting of one, Mystique had thought little of the consequences of her actions and pulled the door closed after her. One shape had melted smoothly into another at the sound of voices approaching, the skin she had worn as her only for so long one she pulled over herself then out of habit and without thought. Gone were the blue skin and red hair, the yellow-gold eyes lacking the human whites that people so preferred. Gone too was the shape of a lobbyist she had borrowed for the sake of a key and a room charged to an account that was not her own.

When a pair of strangers had rounded the corner, swept up in their own conversation and too busy to notice her as they passed, she stood the same blue-eyed blonde young woman she had lived as so long before.

The hotel had made little less a mystery after two days within its walls, an ear kept ever open for anything she might learn in overhearing the conversations of others. The others spoke easily of strange worlds beyond the doors studding the walls of the hallway. Those that served behind the desk had handed her a key to a room of her own with no question of how or why she had come to be there. She had moved through those days with little more than skimming the surface of everything around her, unsure of what to make of the collection of people who walked and lingered through the many bright-lit rooms, less sure of what to make of herself.

She had been drawn in her uncertainty to the massive library, the shelves heavy with books and comfortingly familiar in that same feel all libraries held within their walls of words and of knowledge and of quiet. She stood then fingering the edge of a book's cover on a shelf before her, a smile pulling at her lips as she considered the twisted sense of humor chance had had in her fingers catching over the gold lettering of its title.

The Metamorphosis, indeed.
sixsciencecredits: buckybear (012)
[personal profile] sixsciencecredits
The sharp edge of shock and white static thrum of continuous fear upon arriving at the Nexus hotel had begun to fade, mostly because Darcy was five shots of Patrón into her demise and moving fast. It had been a conscious choice when she realized that she was a long, long way from home with no way back to just get so drunk she didn't give a shit, and it was an official success. Darcy had long moved past complacency and, thanks to the Patrón, was now inching towards the level of boisterous that would have her table dancing, if she thought this place was of the sort of calibre that could handle a bitchin', interpretive rendition of "Disco Stick." Since it probably wasn't that sort of place and Darcy didn't care to be escorted out of the hotel and onto some planet she had no working concept of, she was keeping her ass still and settling for occasionally humming.

She'd tried a door for the first time ever that day in search retail therapy and had actually found some boots to pair with her jeans that looked like they could fend off an alien invasion or whatever the fuck had been the catalyst behind landing her in the Nexus, though she assumed, as always, it was on either Jane or her boyfriend. Since she'd mustered the nerve to go shopping mostly because it was too abysmally pleasantly warm on the Nexus grounds for the clothes she'd been wearing in Norway, she'd felt she'd done enough for her day and could reward herself by basting in checked worry and booze. The hotel had given her a phone that worked as long as she wasn't trying to call anyone she needed to call, and the sheer level of frustration involved in being defeated by technology had been enough motivation to skip dinner and head straight for the drinking. She felt a little light-headed, but the blissful fog of approaching ignorance was definitely worth it.

She waved one of the waitresses over to order a sixth shot, and upon recognizing she had yet to truly speak to anyone she hadn't stopped to ask for help, Darcy turned sideways in her chair, fluffed her hair, and gave the room in general a slow look. She thought about smiling to make herself look welcoming, but since she'd be smiling at no one in particular and was no doubt drunk enough that all the muscles in her face wouldn't cooperate at the same time, she held off.
71st_victor: (deviating)
[personal profile] 71st_victor
april 20th, 2014 | the nexus

Johanna inhales sharply and stares down at her still male body, with the few perks it has, giving Finnick a displeased glare. "Maybe it's shy," she deadpans. "Performance anxiety with you around. It wouldn't be the first time someone failed to live up to expectations with you watching."

Johanna Mason wanders through a door that turns her into a man. At least she's handsome.

iheartmahogany: (golden hair!)
[personal profile] iheartmahogany
Effie could walk in anything, so long as she was wearing the proper wig - otherwise, her balance was thrown completely off. But that was how she liked it; everything had its proper place, from train schedules to mealtimes to even the weight proportions of her dresses which, in some instances, were so large they practically engulfed her.

That's why she liked to keep her skirts above the calves, so that her shoes may never be missed by anyone who might be looking (and she expected many to do so). Even now her feet, tipped in five-inch high monstrosities that made her clip along as if she had hooves, were in full display. The rest of her dress curled in generous lines around her but, like her golden wig, was rigid and composed. In fact, the only real movement was Effie's face and hands, but that was fine; she was a very animated creature, always had been, and it worked well on camera, she liked to think.

Her main concern just then, though, was the fact she had gotten lost on her way from the restroom. There were always places to watch the Games and she usually had a front seat, but though they were soon to start, her real concern was to find Haymitch. Peeta and Katniss were going to need sponsors again, and it was her duty to make sure the right people were spoken to - though, to his credit, Haymitch had gotten a bit better in the charm department as of last year.

The largest Capitol buildings could turn anyone around, and Effie had no idea where she was. She recognized absolutely nothing, and even her sense of direction seemed off. The result was that Effie, while composed, was beginning to get anxious. She hated being late, anywhere, and she had places to be not just for decorum, but for her Victors! In fact, she was so distracted with concern, one could forgive her for missing the fact she was technically not in the Capitol anymore - nowhere near it at all, in fact.

Mar. 20th, 2014 06:06 pm
withbread: (Bread baker)
[personal profile] withbread
Peeta's first couple of days here had been rough, but he'd begun to settle in. He'd begun to accept and hope that what Finnick, Johanna, Annie and Katniss had said about being safe from the Capitol here were true. He'd done a good deal of exploring and if this place is everything it seems, then he's grateful to be here. He's grateful that Katniss is here. He's been looking for a door back to District 12 as well, with the intent to check on Prim for Katniss. So far, all he's found is a door back to the arena and that's somewhere he definitely doesn't want to go.

After doing a little bit of settling, one of the first things he'd done was to apply for a job in the kitchen as a baker. Baking had always been a way for him to cope with his emotions, and that hasn't changed here. It helps calm him, helps settle him and makes him feel like he's got a purpose.

He's in the kitchen today working on loaves of bread (because a place like this uses an astounding amount of bread). He's got a chef's jacket on that covers the bandage on his arm, a wound still raw from when his tracker was dug out. In general, he looks content verging on happy. If he can hold everything together here, if he can keep Katniss and this isn't some game, he's hopeful for what this place could mean to him.
themadgirl: (Default)
[personal profile] themadgirl

For Finnick and Annie, there have always been obstacles to happiness.

001 | 002 | 003 | 004 | 005 | 006
votecrowley: (a drink before smiting)
[personal profile] votecrowley
For the first time since he'd died and gone to Hell (for real, not any of those blunders that came after) no one was actively attempting to separate Crowley's head from his shoulders, and he really appreciated that. Being a demon was a dangerous existence, and it became even more so when your chosen occupation involved stepping on a lot of other demons to maintain it. It was true that as King of Hell he had more protection than most, but the amount of enemies went up exponentially with that promotion. That is to say, everyone was an enemy, and even if your employees didn't have the smarts or the guts or even the desire for the job they still got treasonous little ideas swimming around in their heads from time to time, and it was a requirement to crack them open if that was the case.

And now he had Abaddon, who was not only immortal, but incredibly irritating. He'd almost like her if it weren't for the fact she was gunning after his job, and his life.

He was aware of other universes and other worlds, not that he ever intended to go to any of them - he was fine in the one he was in, more or less. Besides, from what he understood you had to be all-powerful, like Death, or have some sort of key, like the one to Oz, to get to any one of the millions of fancy little spots in the universe worth going to. But this hotel presented itself to him, almost like a gift. Once he had ascertained that this was, truly, some sort of pocket universe existing beyond his own realm, and not some incredibly elaborate trap to kill him (so elaborate he would in fact be pretty flattered at all of that effort) he did the first thing any respectable demon would do: he looked for the bar.

Sitting at the counter and armed with three fingers of scotch (not Craig; that's the only reason he knew he had not stumbled accidentally into a deserted, angel-less Heaven (though that would also have been nice, and endlessly amusing, because)) Crowley turned to the nearest living, breathing, upright creation, which presumably was also equipped with a brain and the faculties for speech. "And how long have you been here, then?" he asked, bluntly. He could be a very charming, subtle creature when he wanted to, but that usually wasn't as fun.

Mar. 3rd, 2014 08:53 pm
withbread: (The fuck?)
[personal profile] withbread
When Peeta's entire world exploded, he expected many things, mostly that he'd die, but he hadn't expected to find himself in a hotel. His ears are still ringing from the explosion, he's riddled with scrapes and he's not wearing a whole lot as the skin tight suit has mostly been eaten away by acidic smoke. He's also got patches of greenish-grey scattered across his skin from some medicine they'd all used to treat bug bites and help with sunburn.

He gets to his feet, still reeling from both the explosion and the scenery change. He's got a tight grip on a sword. "Katniss!" he screams at the top of his lungs, but whether it's because he's still somewhat deaf from the ringing in his ears or because he could care less what sort of attention he attracts is unclear.

So sorry for the half naked boy wandering from room to room, dragging his sword and yelling for Katniss at the top of his lungs. Do be careful approaching him.

Feb. 23rd, 2014 10:38 pm
freezedout: (sorry)
[personal profile] freezedout
When he'd walked through the door, the sound of a bell nearly deafened Isaac's ears.

When he steps through the door, everything hits him like a rushing tidal wave. He doesn't recognize everything at first, but slowly things start to come to him. That's the jungle gym and there's the hopscotch and he doesn't know why he's worried about some old hotel because it's recess. The door behind Isaac hangs open as his small feet send him running into the schoolyard playground, his lanky limbs bringing him further than the other kids with every step.

It's only when he gets to the middle of the yard that he realizes he doesn't see anyone he knows and Isaac starts to feel a tiny pit in his stomach that feels a lot like being scared. He wants Camden to come and play with him, but Camden has his own older friends and doesn't have time for a six-year-old like Isaac.

Cautiously, Isaac finds his way to the play area and sits down, hoping that maybe he can find someone to play with. After all, it can't be that hard, can it?

[Recess gathering post in the elementary school door! All ages, grades 1-8 welcome, whether they remember who they are or not]

Feb. 16th, 2014 03:37 pm
65th_victor: (Default)
[personal profile] 65th_victor
February 1 | Felicity's room

Felicity and Finnick discuss the tracker that was in Finnick's arm.

PG rating probably
likepalegold: (see the light)
[personal profile] likepalegold
If he pays careful enough attention standing at this door, in this exact spot, Gatsby can hear the music drifting on the wind over the bay, like someone has left their record player on and the tune has been shared out to the world. Gatsby stands on the threshold of this world, knowing that he cannot go back without being stopped in one moment of time. If he walks through that door, it will be that late summer day with the leaves falling into the pool.

And the phone will sit there and not ring. It will torment him with its silence and its all-encompassing ability to surround him as though the cloak of the reaper. Silence had come after the fall, though. One big bang and then there had been the Nexus Hotel.

It seems cruel that there should be a door here that leads back to New York and West Egg, because it means that somewhere out there in that wide world is Daisy Buchanan and she never loved him as much as he'd always wanted her to, because here he is and there she is, and there's the largest valley of ashes and death separating him that Gatsby can ever picture.

He's been struggling to find purpose. He's debated throwing one or two more parties, but he wonders what the point of it all would be? Money? What's the need for money? Esteem? Tom had proven that no matter how far you'd climbed, there were always more rungs being held out of your reach.

So what happens when your life has been laid out with your own auspicious dreams and those dreams had been shattered? What step comes next?

Gatsby inhales the cool autumn breeze in the air and closes the door in front of him carefully and cautiously, as though he can control what lies behind it with a simple thought. He raps on the wood of the door when it's closed, once, twice, and a third time. He has his hand on the knob, ready to see what awaits when he can feel someone else's presence lingering nearby. "Where do you think it will lead?" he asks. "Now that you're here."

Feb. 3rd, 2014 07:48 pm
71st_victor: (plot)
[personal profile] 71st_victor
It had taken her a long time to find it, but once she has it in her possession, they'll have to pry it from her cold dead hands to get her to give up the small, but functional axe she'd found on the grounds in a shed. It's probably the remnant of some old gardener, but in her hands, it could be the difference between life and death.

She wishes there were tall trees around, the kind of soaring redwoods that adorned Seven. She'd learned to wield the sharp edge of her blade on thick trees standing hundreds of times the size of her. Meek, weak, and a little mousy, Johanna had learned that everything can fall if you apply enough pressure and cut them down at the right angle. Everyone falls and everyone bleeds.

Johanna hefts up the axe and makes her way outside, careful not to appear too overtly threatening. There are strangers roaming here and she needs to maintain the facade in case she has to play them. The axe has to be hidden where she can find it and she needs to seem like the little girl who frightfully entered the Hunger Games. She makes her way to the English Gardens, settling cross-legged on the ground as she starts to dig a hole in the ground. It's nowhere near six feet deep, but it makes her think of the grave she'd basically dug for herself by joining the rebellion.

Once she gets three feet down, she gets the axe in there, covering it up quickly and dragging over several blue bell flowers to mark the spot in a circle. She wipes the sweat from her face, smearing her cheeks with dirt like a hasty camouflage.

She's going to keep protecting herself, no matter the cost.

Johanna catches movement in the corner of her eye and she softens her posture and her expression, careful not to look too aggressive. She draws her hand over the soil and keeps the shadow in her peripheral vision, always wary. "Did you come to look at the flowers?" she asks quietly, head down, eyes averted.

Meek, weak, and murderous if given the chance.
themadgirl: (006)
[personal profile] themadgirl
1 February 2014 | The Nexus

The Mad Girl walks out of the Capitol and into Finnick's arms, but this is no perfectly scripted reunion.

In Progress ; Spoilers for Mockingjay


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