concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
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.
bequethen: (play with me)
[personal profile] bequethen
She's dead on her feet.

As time passes, that fact is becoming harder and harder to ignore. Running on pure adrenaline can only carry one as far as running on fumes; eventually, there's a limit, and then there's a crash. The not-even-two-hours of sleep she'd managed on the bus, wedged between Lydia and the window, aren't even close to what she'd need to recover from the whirlwind of the past twenty-four. There'd been the battle against the alpha pack, trying not to lose the bus, the race against time to stitch up Scott before he'd let himself bleed out completely, the entire night at the Glen Capri -

She's starving.

That is also becoming harder and harder to ignore, especially when the smells coming from the Bistro are so tempting. With the all-consuming anxiety that had been tearing away at her, food had been about the last thing on her mind, and now, it's hard to remember the last time she'd even eaten anything. Yesterday morning? Had it really been that long? It's a wonder she's still moving at all.

Unease is something that continues to linger somewhere in the background, behind fatigue and lightheadedness. It isn't surprising, given that, after everything that's just happened, she's found herself in a hotel, of all places. One that's strange in every way, even if it doesn't feel half as dingy or creepy as where she's just come from. There's still an impetus to move, to find people, to not waste time grabbing a bite. But she knows that, realistically, she can't be useful for much of anything without food, at least.

So, that's what leads her here: standing outside the restaurant, rummaging through her purse for some cash.

(Looks like nobody's told her the buffet is free yet.)
centrally: ((stiles your hale problem is alarming))
[personal profile] centrally
A hotel.

It's a lot nicer than the motel Scott was just at not long ago — and how recent is evidenced in the gasoline reek still coming off his hair and clothes, since the other shirt he packed for the field trip is probably ruined with blood — but it still raises his hackles (metaphorically) and makes him feel on edge. He actually pinched himself when he first found himself here, figuring it for a weird dream; last he knew, he was drifting off to sleep on the bus, head leaning against the window, headed for home. It'd been a relief to know that Derek's probably alive, despite the ramifications for the future with the alpha pack, and it'd been a relief to leave the Glen Capri and Coach's wolfsbane-filled whistle behind. Thank God for Lydia figuring that one out, and giving all of them — Scott included — an explanation for what was going on that night.

Scott keeps to the hallways, leaving the doors alone for now. He assumes they only lead to rooms where other people, who probably have nothing to do with supernatural weirdness and shouldn't be bothered, are staying, and he's more interested in finding any of his friends. Or management, who's bound to have answers. Hell, he'd even take Ethan or the mysterious darach, since the former might be willing to help and the latter would explain why he's stuck in a fancy hotel.

He finds himself outside of the hotel gift shop, peering through the glass with a frown. Maybe someone inside could tell him the fastest way back to Beacon Hills...? And maybe he could buy a chocolate bar or something at least while he's at it, because now that he thinks about it he's pretty hungry.
chaney: (pic#7872791)
[personal profile] chaney
While finding himself inexplicably lost in the bowels of an unfamiliar hotel is par for the course at this point in his life, Derek Hale still isn't ruling out the possibility that his uncle's responsible for this, somehow. Revenge of making him wear his dead sister's claws. Peter had been right behind him as he stepped out of his loft that morning, right on his heels — and then it was like his uncle hadn't been standing behind him at all. The door he came through led to some winter wonderland, not his loft in Northern California.

He can't say how, he can't say why — he can't even say that he's surprised, because he's honestly been waiting for that other shoe to drop. It's been far too quietly lately, and quiet, no matter how wanted and desired it was, never seemed to bode well for Beacon Hills. And this wasn't Beacon Hills.

At least, he didn't think it was...?

Derek tries another door. It's the sixth one he's tried on this floor, having found nothing particularly useful behind any of the doors on the floor below. Behind this one, he finds poker tables and slot machines. Vegas was at least recognizable, but it wasn't what he was looking for.

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

He shuts that door and carries on towards the next one.

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