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[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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[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.
shifting_skin: (b01)
[personal profile] shifting_skin
She could not breathe.

She could not breathe.

The smell of ozone lingered in her nose as she tried, gasping against the taste of rust in her mouth. Mystique had, in her panic, bitten the inside of her cheek and while she could not remember when, could not think of anything but of the betrayal of her body, the taste of blood only served to keep her in that frantic state.

She had been walking down the hallway in the guise of a sharp-lined man, generic enough in coloring to go unnoticed in a crowd even where months and months within the hotel had offering nothing of evidence to a danger within its walls. She had stumbled, she was sure of it, and thrown out a hand to brace herself against the nearest wall as her body shifted, one shape trading for another without the least bit of her will behind it. That loss of control had been frightening enough, but to discover that no matter how she tried, she remained in the shape into which she'd been thrown.

It was very much like her own. That blonde form she had worn as her default for so much of her life. Yet it was different, just shades of it then as she was aware. Nothing of its shape, but her hair was darker and river straight, her skin lacking the warmth of the that golden tan.

Only after recognizing that she had lost her clothes along with that borrowed shape had she managed to get to her feet, fleeing directionless until she had found the laundry and stolen something to cover herself. She sat huddled at the bottom of a stairwell then, in a too large shirt and shorts that were inexplicably lettered with the word 'juicy.' She could not breathe. She could not stop shaking.

What had been done to her?
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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!]
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[personal profile] barton_me
It had been a couple of weeks since his birthday. God he was old.

Well, not really, he supposed; he was in peak physical condition. Being scrawny as a kid did that to you; after he hit puberty, all he wanted was to be big and strong. He got over it eventually, but he kept himself in the peak of health for the sake of his job and his own survival. But emotionally, he felt worn down, and it wasn't pleasant.

Natasha, for a woman who disliked something so acceptable as Christmas, had deemed his birthday worthy of celebration. That was one of the cute things about her, normally hidden underneath the very thick layer that was prowling seductress and living weapon, and he was grateful to have her around. He didn't see what was so important about a birthday and he had more or less grown out of it after he'd turned twenty-one and could legally drink. Even though it had been strange for him, he'd celebrated with her. It was the least he could do.

Forty-two years old. Good lord. He should be older, technically, since Natasha was in the future; did his age, right then in the hotel, even really matter? Things were getting mixed up, so he did his best to ignore it and just continue on as if nothing weird was happening. He'd worked out in the gym for a good hour before showering it off and then wandering outside. There was some sort of carnival going on, which he wasn't hugely interested in; but parts of the lawn were nice and chilly, and good to cool down in. Also good to cool down the piping hot pizza he'd ordered. He didn't work out to lose weight, so the idea of not eating terrible food only occurred to him when he considered heart health (and, to be frank, he never survived longer than a week on vegetables).

He sat on the edge of a part of the lawn that had a cool, chilly breeze on one side and a sultry heat on the other - it was pretty cool how strange the weather was here - and relaxed, enjoying the fact he got to lounge around beside an entire pizza and not feel like he ought to be doing something else. It was weird being jobless, but not unpleasant. It was also kind of nice to not have the pressure of the fate of the world hovering over his head; he just had to worry whether or not Natasha was glum, and as far as he knew she was in high spirits these days.
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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.
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.

Jun. 5th, 2014 12:00 pm
thelostprince: (051)
[personal profile] thelostprince
Loki had slept for days. His last year had not been very restful, but it had been operating the Tesseract - finally convincing it to open a doorway for him - that had truly taken it out of him. Once he had rid himself of Natasha and made sure his room was secure, he had gratefully fallen into bed and slept.

The quiet of his hotel room, so much more calming and closed in than the silence of deep space (which was not, really, silence; in reality there had been a low hum, at all times, imperceptible to his ears but filling up his head) made for a much better environment for sleep. For food, not so much. And as it could not be said that the Chitauri and their compatriots were restful folk, they were certainly not inclined to banquets either.

Loki usually ate often enough that food was mainly for pleasure - he did not crave sustenance quite so often as others, no doubt a trait easily handled by a member of a starving race - but now his body was ravaged, and while sleep had been the first step it certainly wasn't the last. He had bathed, changed out of his armour and into softer clothes which were still very reminiscent of Asgard, and after much deliberation secured the sceptre in a locked safe situated under his floorboards. Handy, how his quarters always supplied him with what he needed; hopefully, they wouldn't turn on him, at least not for the time he needed away. Only Natasha knew he had it, and if she wanted to tell others, that was her; he wouldn't help spread the word just yet with his own actions.

He would have gone to the Smoking Room, to see if Ruby was still around, but the bar didn't provide the amount of food Loki knew he would need to start recovering. So now he was at a table in the Bistro, with a bottle of wine, working on the first of what would undoubtedly be many courses. When hungry, he had an appetite that could rival Volstagg's, though each movement he made was calm, composed, almost sedate. Ravenous he was, in a hurry he was not. Everything was under control.

[Loki just experienced a yearlong canon jump, though slightly altered due to his interactions in the hotel affecting his character. He's a little unpredictable and sharp, but probably too tired to bite, so feel free to have dinner with him ;)]


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