all_inclusive | Entries tagged with zz: elsa

Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.

"No, we have to have the lanterns," Anna insists, stringing up several. They're all clumped together and not organized and she thinks Elsa could possibly have done a better job of this but she's not going to put planning a birthday party on Elsa. Not when she just wants to enjoy a day with her sister and her sister's...whatever. Legolas has the same birthday as Anna and she had been delighted to discover that; isn't that just the best thing ever, to share a birthday with a friend? Anna has never really had the occasion to have a big birthday party seeing as how Elsa has always been hiding so this is a celebration of Elsa as much as it's one for Legolas and Anna.

"I do not think we need this many decorations. The flowers themselves are lovely," Legolas says, not entirely certain about Anna's methods. "But if you think it will please your sister, I acquiesce." Legolas always uses big fancy words and Anna's not particularly shocked that he's being all formal about this. She wonders what he and Elsa really get up to when they sneak off to that door with the big cherry trees inside it. It has to be boring, the way they are. Oh well, hardly matters. Today is about celebrating - both she and Legolas and the fact that it's summer. Anna has always, always loved summer.

"Oh, come on. It's boring if we don't at least try to decorate the garden a little. What are we going to do, just go sit in a tree? Boring, Leggy. Totally boring." Legolas makes a face at the nickname and moves to hang up some more of the lanterns. "I am well over a thousand this day. I do not think I have celebrated the day of my birth in centuries. Why is it so important to you mortals?"

Anna screws up her face and thinks about that for a moment. "Well, I think it's because we don't get all that many birthdays. If I'm lucky, I'm going to get a hundred, maybe. I don't remember any of the ones before I was five and then...well, stuff, so then I didn't celebrate for a bunch of years. I'm working on a limited supply of birthdays and so I want to remember all of them. I guess when you're just going to have birthdays forever and ever and never die you probably don't care about them. Is it weird? Being around regular people?"

Legolas tilts his head in the way Anna has figured out means he's thinking about something and she sighs. Of course he's going to get all philosophical on her about how he's going to live forever and everything he loves is going to die and blah blah blah. It's sad, sure, but Anna thinks he should just live in the moment. This moment is a lot more fun than worrying about the future.

"Don't answer that. Come on, Elsa's going to be here soon."

[[OOC: It's Legolas and Anna's birthday. Tag one or both :)]]

concierge

A large sign placed prominently in the Nexus lobby reads:

The Nexus Hotel
proudly presents the
MARDI GRAS MASQUERADE BALL

Event Location
Nexus Dining Hall
8 PM - 2 AM

Masquerade dress recommended, but not required for all guests

The Dining Hall's central table and chairs had been removed to create a dance floor wide enough to accommodate fanciful masquerade costumes. On one end had been placed a long bar providing free drinks, and on the other a small chamber orchestra providing the music for dancing. The entire room was bedecked in gold bunting and twinkling candlelight, and masks were available for those guests who hadn't brought their own.

twicefrozen

Anna has had a whirlwind few weeks. The gates have been opened, there's been a coronation and a surprise engagement (sort of) and Elsa had created eternal winter and blanketed all of Arendelle in snow. There's been betrayal, romance, and a snow monster. And, of course, everything has worked out all right.

Elsa says they'll keep the gates open now permanently and her powers, so beautiful and so dangerous, seem to be in control. She can make it icy in the courtyard in summer so they can go skating and she can keep Olaf alive and well but nobody seems to be in danger. Most importantly - Elsa seems happy. It's been so long since she's seen her sister happy that Anna has almost forgotten how it feels and what it looks like but it's nice. For the first time in forever, Anna is truly content with the world and happy to be in it.

She's running through the castle like usual, flipping open the doors and all the windows to let in the warm summer sun. Elsa is...somewhere and Anna is determined she's going to get her out and about today. She's going to get Elsa to genuinely enjoy being around other people if it kills her.

She opens up a door she doesn't recognize and sees...well, that's not normal. There's a party! There's a bunch of hedges and it's chilly so maybe that means Elsa is out and about; she does tend to affect the temperature when she's around.

"Elsa? Are you giving a party and leaving me out? I'm your sister, you know you're supposed to tell me if there's any parties. I love parties! Elsa? Ellllsaaaaaaaaa..."

silverandcold

High up in the mountains of Yamagata Prefecture, there are stories of a woman who is strange, but singularly beautiful. Her hair, they say, is of such a pale color that it looks white. Her eyes are the blue of frozen water. Even in the coldest days of winter, it's said that she always wears only a summer yukata, as white as a funeral shroud.

No one is quite certain of who or what she is. Rumors abound that she is a ghost of a woman murdered in the snow or perhaps she is a yokai who takes the shape of a human woman. More practical minded people suggest a runaway woman from the west, while others ask how a young woman could endure such cold. No, others say, she is a princess from the moon, trapped on earth, like the stories of Kaguya-Hime.

No one knows for sure but whatever the legends, if someone happens to climb the mountain today, they will see a pale woman who seems unaffected by the cold.

[[Inspired by the tale of the Yuki-Onna. Either Elsa is, in fact, a runaway princess with ice powers OR if you prefer, make this a true AU and go with whatever iteration of the legend most interests you.]]

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.

armedagainstlove

There is no graveyard in this place and so Athos seeks out the closest approximation he can find. There is a garden here with a rotunda that reminds him of some of the palace architecture that they've stood guard at. In the right light, Athos can pretend it is still Paris. Were he as religious as Aramis, he would want a chapel, but Athos had stopped believing in God the day his wife had died.

Or, rather, the day he thought she'd died. The trouble with learning how to live again is that it's increasingly difficult to change five years' worth of thoughts in one's mind. Death is on his mind again, what with Marsac newly gone and with his passing brings Athos thoughts of twenty dead Musketeers in Savoy, a dead wife hanging from a tree, and graves with swords marking them in Paris.

He had taken to the Musketeers to give himself another life outside of the nobility, thinking that if he didn't have to stand at court with the rest, he could almost stand to bear it. Except now that Anne is still alive and he's learning that there are just as many politics in the garrison as there are in the court, he wonders if there's actually any difference.

There is one, though.

Standing in the midst of these beautiful gardens, Athos draws his sword from its sheath, he allows it to stand parallel to the ground, listening to the singing of the metal as it's drawn. There is honour in the cut of the sword and grace in wielding it, moreso when Athos half feels as if parts of him are falling away and rotting, much like he imagines Marsac had felt. What does a man do when his life spirals away from him?

Marsac turned traitor.

And Athos turned drunk.

He focuses on the tip of his sword, lunging forward to draw himself from his thoughts, piercing a nearby shrubbery and cutting a line from the tip of it to the ground, causing some poor gardener a heart attack, he's sure. Drawing his sword back, he slowly begins to unknot his kerchief to clean off the stray bits of grass, thinking perhaps he will continue and shape it in the form of something familiar to him. Eyeing it, it now comes to the task of choosing what shape will be.

of_mirkwood

It was difficult to determine his date of birth with the shift in calendar from Middle Earth to the Nexus and, furthermore, Legolas had been alive for so long that the years had all become something of a blur. Still, this was the time of year that he usually celebrated his birthday and it felt wrong to let the occasion go without even a passing mention.

Birthdays among elves were normally quiet affairs. Unlike the hobbits who loved to give lavish parties and bestow gifts upon their friends and families and unlike humans who lavished the celebrant with their own gifts, elves used their days of birth to reflect upon the world and how much had changed in it over the long years they had been alive. The older an elf was, the harder it was for he or she to remember what it was like when the world was young and the forced contemplation on a birthday was a good reminder.

When Legolas had left Middle-Earth, it was in the autumn of the world. The world was changing, swiftly, and the age of elves was ending to make way for the age of men. He had left the relative isolation of Mirkwood and embarked on a grand journey with the company of nine, only to get separated at Amon Hen and cast his lot with Gimli and Aragorn. They fought for Gondor and for all men, seeking to end Sauron's reign of terror, and Legolas did not know if they were yet successful - all hinged on the will and heart of a hobbit and his ability to bear the ring.

Not knowing the outcome of the war was something that disturbed him but Legolas had, as of yet, been unable to return to the battlefield. The few times he had made it into Middle-Earth, it was a younger Middle-Earth and the world seemed less troubled. The leaves shone with spring green and not the autumn he knew was the harbinger of war.

So today, he had decided to set up a target in the gardens and loose his arrows into it, wanting to hone his skills even if he could no longer go home and fight for his people and all the peoples of Middle Earth. When he heard the soft footsteps of someone behind him, he did not turn and, instead, merely spoke softly and evenly.

"It is impossible to startle an elf, even one who is far from home. Careful that you do not wander into the path of the arrow, please?"

hylianqueen

May 18 | Nexus Hotel

The princess of Hyrule meets the Queen of Arendelle.

In Progress | All Audiences

morethanhuman

Saturday night had been the one night of the week that everyone in the mansion had taken off from training, some (Raven) because they insisted on a few hours dedicated to nothing but enjoying themselves, others (Charles) because with no one else around, there was nothing else to do but relax.

He wasn't surprised to find that most of the hotel's residents shared Raven's view of how a weekend ought to be spent. There was rarely one that passed without some sort of party cropping up in the Smoking Room, people crowding the billiards tables or setting up a film in the basement movie theater. It was nearly impossible to leave his room on a Saturday night without walking through a poker game or Mario Kart tournament.

Things on the Proserpina had been different. There, Erik had never lacked for solitude— a virtue of the enormous space they'd occupied, no doubt— and he couldn't decide whether he liked this better or not.

Tonight he'd found himself restless, spurred to wander by some impulse he had no interest in analyzing. He was in a rare mood, to be actively seeking company, but he'd spent too much time alone these past few weeks, and he was tired of it. There was music coming from the Smoking Room, but he headed instead for the library, where he could hear the sounds of laughter and people talking over one another.

The scene that greeted Erik there made his eyebrows shoot up, a dry little laugh surprised out of his throat. On the floor was a white square of plastic, blanket-sized, covered in rows of colored dots. Several people were contorted on top of it— and truthfully he couldn't be certain how many people there were, their bodies were so tangled together.

Everyone still seemed to be clothed, he noted in relief, otherwise this might have been incredibly awkward.

"Right foot, red!" someone called, and the confusing tangle of limbs shifted in tandem as everyone struggled to do as they were told.

Leaning against the doorjamb, he crossed his arms over his chest, smirking. "So this is what people do for fun around here?" he asked of no one in particular.

That, of course, was when someone laughed, someone else's foot slipped, and the whole mess of bodies came crashing to the ground. Erik's grin widened; he looked smugger than ever, but simply shrugged and said, "Oops."

[Twister was invented in 1966, so Erik's never seen it before! Be part of the unfortunate people trying to play, or join him in enjoying a little schadenfreude.]

silverandcold

She must have been distracted, going through the wrong door when she'd meant to go back to her room. This door has led to somewhere else entirely. For all its cool air, it's not her hotel room and it's definitely not her ice palace back in Arendelle. Instead, there's a long expanse of white ice all around her. Looking around, Elsa realizes that not only is she in a small booth, her clothes have also changed. While it still has the blues and glitter of her normal dress, it leaves her bare and vulnerable.

There's no way she's staying here! Elsa spins around only to see the door she entered is locked and she's being called to the ice to perform.

Only now does Elsa realize how many figures are up in the stands. All of them are staring down at her and her stomach drops out as she feels the pressure tightening in her chest.

Conceal. Don't feel. Conceal. Don't feel.

She's never felt so uncertain of herself on the ice as the music starts to play.

captain_rogers

There was a second - just a second there in the midst of shaking his head in an attempt to lose some of the sand that had been whipped up into his face by the harsh wind of a Kansas summer - where Steve stood entirely unaware of the shift of the world around him. In expecting the change in temperature, the shelter from the wind and the dust, he had not immediately thought that he walked through the door not of the run down diner just west of Ellis but into another world entirely.

Busy with the task of clearing his eyes of that sudden burst of sand and grit, the door slipped from his hand to close heavily behind him.

He did not think immediately of its consequences, not as he allowed the pleasant drag of a long ride to settle into the shrug of his shoulders and the feel of his back and arms as he shifted the helmet he carried under one arm. The long weeks on the road had not so much bred an easiness in him as it allowed him room to breathe, to think, to be able to look at the world as had been built around his sleeping body as being anything other than a discomfort or intrusion. It had not, unfortunately, kept him from understanding, as he gave one last rub of a hand over his eyes to open them and blink at the surroundings he found himself in, that he was not in the diner he'd spotted just off the road.

There were, for one, no green vinyl booths that had looked shabby even through a dusty window. No checkered flooring. No beleaguered heavy-set woman with a red-painted scowl or scuffed from the road customers. All this was obvious for the fact that he stood on the polished wooden floor of a grand lobby that put everything but Stark Towers to shame.

of_mirkwood

It called to him now. Never before standing upon the decks of an ancient ship had the sea called to Legolas the way it called him now and there was little he could do but heed it. The armies of Gondor and Rohan camped now along the great field called Pelennor, preparing for a final stand against Sauron, and while his head should have been in strategy, instead it was lost at sea. This was madness.

Legolas understood now why the Elves had flocked from Middle Earth in droves. No longer were they tethered to this land and concerned with the perils of it. No longer did the matters of Men and Dwarves and Halflings cross their minds on a regular basis. Instead, it was Valinor and her white ships that called them and they answered it, marching without cease into the west.

Legolas knew there were many things left to be done before he could join them. He had made a pact with the company of the Ring and intended to keep it, intended to see Aragorn, son of Arathorn, installed as king of all Men. Sauron's grip in the east was too strong yet to give in to temptation and he tried to use that to guard his mind and serve as focus for the days to come. Still, as it had never been difficult before now, it was a strange shift in the way he thought and it almost seemed he was dreaming awake.

He pushed open the flap of his tent, intending to take in the night air on this eve of battle. Elves did not need to sleep in the traditional sense of Men and Dwarves and Legolas had already had his fill of rest this evening. Tonight, he sought the stars and their company and thought to commune with those long past. But as he stepped through the opening in the tent, a curious thing happened - there were no stars above him.

Instead, he was in a hall of some sort, closed in and carpeted without view of the night sky. There was a doorway there too, plain and unassuming, and Legolas wondered how this was possible. Was this some Elven magic or was it something older, something of wizards who trod the earth long before Elves came to prominence. Was this something of Numenor, now twisted to do Sauron's will? He knew not.

With a hand at the hilt of his knife, he turned his head a bit, listening for any signs of danger. Hearing nothing obvious, he pressed on, trying to make sense of this mad, new world.

[[Find an Elf wandering the halls at night!]]

three_two_one

Felicity was sitting in one of the sort of comfortable chairs in the Smoking Room, which thankfully didn't have anyone actually smoking in it, messing with her new phone and trying really hard to not look like a junkie getting a fix. Even though, yeah, she totally was. The computer graveyard she was given the month before was great, and the laptop she'd been able to make worked better than her greatest expectations.

But this was tech. Working tech that connected with a network. It was the first time she'd felt comfortable here since the day she and Ichabod had stumbled into the same hallway.

She still wasn't sure if anyone would see her post on the really weird paper, but since the phones had been handed out, she'd seen more than one person staring at theirs like it was about to punch them in the face or something. Because her parents still thought remote controls were the pinnacle of tech, she was used to the look.

If no one did, that was fine, too. She was perfectly happy to sit here and play...and figure out how to improve it.

Gathering post. Tag Felicity, tag in a top level to commiserate with others. Anyone else wanting to lend a hand tutoring the tech-unfriendly is welcome to tag in their services. Questions - hit Felicity's Dropbox

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.]]

silverandcold

Anna's missing. She didn't come down from the mountain.

And now she's trapped here, bringing more snow and fear rushing down on Arendelle. Worries swirl through her, fast and dense, like the unrelenting storm outside. If she stays here much longer, Elsa knows that the storm will only get worse. There's no thawing it; she doesn't know how. All she's ever known how to do with her powers is clamp down on them, praying they don't burst free.

All her fear and worry manifest around her, turning the floor and walls icy and brittle. The cuffs, with their cold iron take longer to break apart but everything succumbs to ice eventually.

The manacles broken, Elsa breaks through the wall and runs across the icy fjord. She can't thaw the storm, but she can take it somewhere else and pray that it follows her instead of spreading.

But there's no ice beneath her feet. There's a thick red carpet and a door swinging behind her. It's an unfamiliar hallway and, already, Elsa's fear is sending ice out across the floor beneath her. Someone's approaching and she fears it.

"S-Stay back!" Elsa cries. "I can't make it stop!"

All Inclusive

Reboot Marker

today is a perfect day with you

Gathering: Masquerade Ball

the first time in forever

Beware the frozen heart

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have you both completely lost your minds?

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the princess and the queen

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Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore

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Beware the frozen heart

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