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[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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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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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.

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).
roartonrisen: (sick to the gills)
[personal profile] roartonrisen
It's so quiet, when he stands out here staring into the oblivion of space. If he still had a heartbeat, if he were still alive and his heart could race against his chest, it'd be all Kieren could hear. One moment, he'd been at the surgery and now he's ... here. Wherever here is supposed to be.

Cut for major S2x06 spoilers for In The Flesh )

The sound of footsteps draws him from his thoughts, because if the front desk had reacted the way she had, Kieren's senses are all on alert, not sure where he is, and definitely not sure how they react to PDS sufferers. The last thing he needs is to have made it through today only to find himself at the end of a sharp stick or a gun. Pre-emptively, he holds up his hands, trying to control the situation. "I come in peace?" he ventures warily, not sure if that's bound to help him or get him even more scorn.

Kieren currently looks as he does in the image here. Kieren is technically a zombie, so there is some information in this link regarding his appearance.
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Anyone who passed the billiards room in the evening was treated to the sound of light laughter, billiard balls being struck with firm confidence, and the clatter of glasses and plates. The notice had been posted only that day for the tournament, but all were welcome to join in and play, while free drinks and small morsels of food were passed around for the enjoyment of all. The two billiard tables were rarely empty, even though the prize wasn't much to speak of, but pride was always a great motivator in people's ambitions and the ability to say you'd won was always on the line.

The billiards tournament was casual and many were lingering around, watching as the players took their turns. Waiters circulated the room with their trays, and every once in a while, new competitors were welcomed into the informal billiards competition that had begun only a few hours earlier.

Everyone was welcome, though some people would be leaving the event with a loss on their backs. It was lucky, then, that there was alcohol, food, and good company to help dull the defeats.
trulyoracular: (shades and shirtless)
[personal profile] trulyoracular
Behind the bar and dispensing drinks in little more than a loose tank top, Olaf feels like he's found his calling in life.

(Never mind that this isn't actually him working so much as he'd ducked behind the bar to steal his own drink, accidentally served someone else a drink, and that had been two hours ago)

Olaf's pretty sure that he could do bartending on a regular basis. After all, he knows his liquor, he's had endless amounts of experience listening to people's problems, and being an oracle means that he not only usually has a solution, but most of the time, it's pretty sure the right one! True, 'most of the time' for Olaf depends on the sun in the sky and a lot of other factors, but he's pretty sure that he's having a good day today.

He serves up a screwdriver, a sex on the beach, listens to a hotel guest mourn her ill luck with men, and drinks a beer all before he notices that there's someone new having approached the bar. True, he's not actually the bartender or anything, but given that Olaf pretty much fills his days with a hazy miasma of slacking off and generally not giving a damn, he thinks that playing at bartending for the day can't hurt.

Of course, if this gets him banned from the bar, that could have some severe ramifications down the line.

"What can I get you?" he asks cheerfully and hopes the answer isn't 'your arse out of here, now'.

Jul. 12th, 2014 07:48 pm
namesgiven: (03;groundhog)
[personal profile] namesgiven
The humid air of the greenhouse was not what Vanessa was expecting to greet her. She paused just inside the threshold, hand still poised on the door. She kept expecting the rush of cold air and falling snow to hit her, but the scene in front of her was unwavering.

Fear mounted inside of her momentarily. A greenhouse -- a place that seemed pivotal now in the recounting of what had happened in the last few weeks. But this certainly wasn't the greenhouse she had been to previously. It was smaller for one, and while she expected the atmosphere to be tinged with malevolence, it wasn't. It was simply unfamiliar. Every inch of it. So much so that it was actually a curiosity. She let her hand leave the door and she continued on inside, ignoring how the heated and damp air made the collar of her dress stick uncomfortably to her skin.

This was London. That was the first thing the flowers told her, even though they were all from places far off. They whispered that they were not only from London, but this place was not home, was not London. There were flowers and plants she had never seen before and were quite unlike anything she had seen before. She paused at the sight of each one, letting her mind fixate only momentarily, fingers brushing the air near where leaves were.

No, this wasn't home, but that didn't explain how she had come to be here or how she had arrived.

Vanessa glanced up and around for another moment, and then, disregarding that she was in public, pulled out her worn pack of tarot cards. In such a strange moment, this action seemed allowed. She began to shuffle them slowly and then place them on a wider ledge, close enough that they nearly brushed the dirt.


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