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

Nov. 17th, 2014 09:02 pm
tobearwitness: (002)
[personal profile] tobearwitness
Ichabod has experienced his fair share of adversity over the years - wounds, fatigue, illness. He has never experienced a cold of this magnitude, though, and he just doesn't know what to do to shake it. He has ensconced himself in the library for the time being, dozing between doses of tea and soup, and there are any number of books scattered around him.

He is simultaneously trying to research demonology while correcting a so-called history of the Revolutionary War (Paul Revere was not the hero of the entire revolution and Franklin was, for the most part, an insurmountable ass) and neither is going well. It's as if his entire brain is fuzzy and thoughts are slow and dull. He doesn't do well when his keen intellect has been blunted and he hopes that the sickness passes soon.

First and foremost, he wants to be cared for and cossetted. It is times like these that Ichabod misses his wife the most. Katrina, for all her power and glory as a witch, had been his wife first and had been very good at making him feel better even when it seemed all the world was crashing down around his ears. What he wouldn't give to have Katrina caring for him now, to have Katrina making him tea and soup and tending to him while he relaxed.

He would simply have to make do with cooling tea and a slightly-scratchy blanket in a library for the time being.
burdenofproof: vertigo (Lady Lufer 1)
[personal profile] burdenofproof
The sensation of the shift had so abrupt he might’ve compared it to falling, though instead of tipping forward or backward, the whole of him had suddenly downsized into something that was wholly other than what he had been. He’d stared from his new proximity for a good long while at the pants that had slid from his new, slimmer hips to pile up at the floor, at small feet that no longer filled the shoes he’d been wearing. At the hem of a shirt that now reached past his knees and the collar which had dropped down over one newly feminine shoulder.

Luther had been in the hotel long enough to know that this had started happening to others, though he’d never fully considered what might happen were he to transform from male to female with no preparation. It was wholly disorienting, not just the shift in body parts but the sheer shrinking of his size, which had to have been diminished by half in all directions. There was logic still beating about his head somewhere, though for all it told him that he simply had to seek out someone he knew in a request for help for clothes for this new body, he was left to gather up his pants, toss them back in his room, and make his way down to the café in bare feet and the shirt which he supposed covered him well enough to pass as some sort of dress or muumuu.

He wanted a sandwich, so he got one and sat down in a corner table with legs that crossed at the knee far more naturally than he’d ever been able to manage before. Focusing on his food gave him something to do other than marvel at his new breasts, and he very methodically began to wolf it down in a state of borderline but tightly contained panic
lordharry: (you taste wonderful)
[personal profile] lordharry
August 10th | Aboard the newly emancipated SS Yorke

Not all doors are safe. Hal takes a tumble into a pirate's world of robbery and crime, but with it comes a return to the monster lurking inside him. Ichabod is unfortunate enough to meet that thing.

PG-13 for violence
lordharry: (is this hell?)
[personal profile] lordharry
Throughout his long, varied life, Hal has seen many attempts at connection and while he bears the traits of a leader, he has also gone through long periods of his life in which he had struggled not to accept any attention at all. Now, in an odd hotel that he lingers in to grasp control, he finds himself organizing a small soirée of like-minded beings, of whom he has invited using the phone system as well as a very politely worded typed up note posted at the Front Desk which announces:

Supernatural and supernaturally sympathetic people:

Please bring your experiences to a support and conversation group. Snacks will be provided. The discussion will revolve not only around common afflictions, but a key purpose of the evening intends to assuage us all that there are no surprises to us lurking behind the doors, whether ghost, werewolf, vampire, or other.

Hal had procured the library for the evening, setting chairs in a loose circle as he tries to avoid it becoming too reminiscent of a circle in which people ought to confess their sins and their addictions. Not everyone who might come is an addict like him (or perhaps that's not the right word as homicidal murderer of thousands isn't quite in the same neighbourhood as addict). True to his word, there are snacks -- small triangle sandwiches and bitter black coffee served alongside punch.

Most importantly, there is a hush to this room that Hal feels secure in. If they are to group here together, creatures of the night, at least it will be done in privacy and solace.
tobearwitness: (002)
[personal profile] tobearwitness
Ichabod has always been plagued with an insatiable curiosity and in his quest to return to Sleepy Hollow as quickly as possible, he has often stumbled through doorways that lead to fantastic places. He tends to stick to the hotel as much as possible in the vain hopes that somehow Lieutenant Mills will find a way to contact him on his new mobile telephone (no such luck) but today he has taken a chance on a door that seems to have an excessive amount of cheering followed by periods of intense silence.

Beyond the door lies something he has not seen since his last trip to Scotland some years ago. There are two teams of men in brightly-colored garb calling plays and sweeping furiously as a granite stone whirls down the ice. It's a game of Scottish extraction called curling, one that he had been graciously allowed to play once among a group in Kilsyth long ago. It's always been an elegant game to him, full of strategy and tedium, and it seems he's wandered out near the players bench instead of into the stands with the adoring public.

There's another team there, one set to play after this current match is done and judging from their uniforms and accents, they seem to be American, possibly. It seems so strange that the Americans would be playing a Scottish game but who is he to judge? He, too, has chosen America as his country of residence so perhaps it isn't so strange as it might seem on the surface.

"You're the third," the captain tells him and Ichabod racks his brain for the rules of this particular game. He thinks he has a handle on it from that game so long ago but hopefully modern conventions haven't changed this one overly much; he isn't sure what could be complicated about something so simple and elegant as curling but the modern world has a tendency to confuse even the simplest of things.

"Right, yes. The vice-skip, then?" he asks, looking for clarification. Somehow, some way, he's become a member of the American curling team. May God have mercy.

[Either play with Ichabod or join him after the game while he's still decked out in Team USA gear.]

Dec. 23rd, 2013 08:43 pm
tobearwitness: (005)
[personal profile] tobearwitness
Ichabod has never been particularly enamored of Christmas, which seems to be a larger-scaled affair in the hotel than he had ever experienced in his own Sleepy Hollow of two centuries prior. There were decorations aplenty, including the very German tradition of erecting a large fir tree in the midst of one's home and decorating it with little tokens and trifles. Ichabod thought this served only to get sap all over one's floors but it seems to have stuck with the people of the modern era, judging by the tree currently taking up residence in the entry hall.

A trip outside to see the gardens provides a bit of a respite from all the frippery of Christmas decorations and after a lengthy walk and a good amount of fresh air, Ichabod feels he is prepared enough to endure the onslaught once again. One of the things he recognizes upon entering is mistletoe, that bane of pretty housemaids everywhere, and he stifles a chuckle. He is not be getting caught unawares beneath it, vile weed, and pities anyone who does.

He supposes that he would be less melancholy if he had someone to indulge him in these holiday traditions, be that his beloved Katrina or even the company of Lieutenant Mills but the hotel provides no such company for him. He only knows Miss Smoak, charming girl that she is, and it is hard to feel festive and full of good cheer when he's so alone.

Still, he has enough coin to purchase a drink and he does, a thick dark ale that is the closest approximation to beer from back in his own era. It's not quite the same, but it will suffice, and hopefully it will bring warmth to his limbs and lightness to his heart.

[[Find Ichabod at the bar, being surly about Christmas.]]

Nov. 11th, 2013 05:55 am
tobearwitness: (002)
[personal profile] tobearwitness
November 9th, 2013 | Nexus Hotel

Ichabod and Felicity stumble from the same door and don't understand how it happened.

In Progress; All Ages


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