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[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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From grand galas to informal gatherings, parties of one sort or another were not an unusual occurrence at the Nexus Hotel. Today was no different, a low-key affair erected in the rotunda of the Italian gardens with the aspiration that tea sandwiches and mimosas would facilitate mingling of the hotel's ever-shifting population.

What was unusual, however, was the inclusion of a wayward, bipedal lizard courtesy of a door standing open on the hotel's facade. Green, spry, perhaps five feet long and roughly as tall as a man, this new guest featured a curved, hard plate across his (or her) forehead that was perhaps indicative of the stubborn nature lurking beneath -- Perhaps because the foliage was so tasty, this little dinosaur resisted all attempts by the staff to corral it back to its home. It would run away from ropes and outstretched arms, knocking over bottles of champagne and destroying the decor before settling several feet away to chomp on some accommodating flowers.

Sep. 14th, 2015 09:48 pm
leftwithmybones: (!switch stern)
[personal profile] leftwithmybones
It's a bit like hiding in plain sight, but hell, when McCoy had quickly realized that walking through a particular door switched around his anatomy, he'd gone through a few steps:

1) Freak out and doubt the possibilities (at least outside of something like a strange alien planet or a beaming issue gone wrong

2) Realize that the door stayed put and he could easily switch back to normal

and then, finally:

3) Figure out that Jim's here and by hiding out in this strange new body, he can actually figure out what Jim's been up to without getting in his face and demanding the answers

And so that's where he is right now, sipping on a drink in the lobby and keeping an eye out for Jim coming back from one of the wild, mad doors around here, getting himself into more stupid trouble. On a little piece of paper in front of him, McCoy's been writing down all the ways he's seen Jim turn up, as if from a mission, and he's getting ready to come back as himself and ream Jim a new one for getting himself into so much idiotic trouble, but that can come later.

Because right now, he's on the lookout for the next item on his list.
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[personal profile] leftwithmybones
Stardate 2257| San Francisco, California

"So I had to fight or I would have messed up this pretty face," he says, gesturing toward his bloody nose.

"Pretty sure fighting was gonna mess up your pretty face plenty, Jim," McCoy points out.

It's just another night at a Starfleet adjacent bar for Jim Kirk and Leonard McCoy.

Violence / PG-13

May. 30th, 2015 09:36 pm
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[personal profile] boldly_going
Jim has spent the last month or so investigating the various doors that make up this Nexus and he has yet to discover the rhyme or reason behind it. It seems like the Nexus is some sort of hub between universes, some sort of place where inter-dimensional travel is nothing more than walking through a door to a new destiny. It doesn't have the same impact as piloting a ship, of course, but it's not half bad.

Jim wants to know more. He thinks that there's enough doors out there to warrant further investigation on more than just an intellectual level. What if there are refugees who need a haven or resources they could harness to make the Nexus better? These things are the crux of his own five-year mission, the one he's temporarily detoured from, and he thinks he should continue it in whatever way he can.

As much as he likes to think he can do this on his own, Starfleet has taught him that teams are always a better option. Four heads are usually better than one and he thinks if they could organize teams of four to explore the doors, they could do recon and research and catalog the new worlds they encounter and put together a database of which worlds are safe and which are never to be explored alone.

He puts out an announcement on the hotel's network for those interested to meet him in the Smoking Room for a drink and sets up there, enjoying a nice glass of whiskey.

Apr. 6th, 2015 10:29 pm
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"Mr. Sulu, take us out."

Sulu confirms his order and Jim decides that as much as he likes the Captain's chair, he needs to spend some time in the Captain's quarters for a while. It's been a whirlwind over the last year or so - the revelation that a high-ranking Admiral in Starfleet is a traitor and the destruction of a large swath of San Francisco would qualify as eventful in anyone's book, even his. Still, it set the pace for something grander, something with a bit more ambition and Jim had jumped at the chance to take the Enterprise on an extended, five-year mission.

The chance to chart uncharted portions of the galaxy and expand the Federation's presence throughout known and unknown space? The chance to potentially make first contact with species that had recently acquired warp technology? Jim is neither scientist nor diplomat but he thinks the beauty of being captain is that he can be a little of both. He's still a wide-eyed little boy sometimes when it comes to Starfleet and he thinks it's fitting that he was born in space; there's no place else he feels at home. There's no place on Earth that feels like home to him but on a starship with the engine purring beneath him and his boots on the bridge? That's home.

It just feels right to be captain again and he's glad that his demotion was only a temporary one. He's glad to be in the chair again and he thinks this time, he's going to respect it the way he didn't before. Being captain means holding the lives of your crew in your hands and knowing that you have the power to determine their life or death based on your decisions. One wrong move could be detrimental not only to oneself but to everyone else on board. It's weighty and meaningful and something that Jim thinks he never truly understood until just recently. It's one thing to cheat the Kobayashi Maru just to say he beat the test. It's quite another to actually live it and he understands the point of the test now - and the point in it being a no-win scenario.

(He is never, ever going to admit that to Spock.)

He presses the button to enter his quarters and steps through the door once it automatically slides open. It's automatic to start dictating into his captain's log now and while it's not something that he'd ever thought about before, keeping a journal, it's nice to have a few minutes to unwind each day by putting his thoughts down. Maybe that's how captain's logs started out to begin with.

"Captain's log, star...wait a minute." His quarters just...aren't there. In their place is what looks like a hotel or a resort and the plush surroundings are utterly foreign after spending so much time amongst the utilitarian and spartan surroundings of the Enterprise. Federation starships are all sleek and modern, nothing like this. And certainly not in his captain's quarters.

"What...what the hell is this?"


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