concierge: (Default)
[personal profile] concierge
Any entries earlier than this were pre-reboot.
theraptorwhisperer: (leather; close)
[personal profile] theraptorwhisperer
12 July 2015 | Isla Nublar/Nexus Hotel

Owen comes from a firefight to something a hell of a lot calmer - but it doesn't make any more sense. Sarah tries to break the news of the hotel to him.

IN PROGRESS | ALL AGES
debt_unpaid: (lost my direction and i lost my home)
[personal profile] debt_unpaid
Jaime sat staring into the flames long after they'd consumed Cersei's letter. Outside, fat flakes drifted silently down, coating Riverrun in a fine dusting of white, and he sat there watching the fire burn itself out until the distant sounding of the bell from the sept roused him. The empty feeling in the pit of his stomach must mean he was hungry, he decided— time to call for some food, and plan his next move.

Going to the door, he made an abortive gesture at the handle with his right hand before remembering and reaching with his left instead. But as he yanked it open, the snap of irritation dissolved as he discovered the cool stone and blue tapestries of the Tullys' halls were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he found himself looking at a smooth, cream-colored wall, and a floor covered with a strange and hideous carpet. The room was bright, but as he stepped through he could see no windows to let in the sun; the light seemed, incredibly, to be coming from the ceiling, yet there were no torches in evidence.

Stunned by curiosity, Jaime found himself through the door before he'd considered the wisdom of it, turning down the hall and following where it led, concern gnawing at his insides with greater intensity as he walked. Suddenly the hallway opened up into a grand entrance hall, where he stood thunderstruck at the sight of a bright summer sun pouring through the windows.

Wherever he was, it was far from the wintry bluster of Riverrun— which meant someone owed him an explanation, now.

[Find the Kingslayer in the gallery, foyer, arboretum, or wandering the first floor of the hotel. Please read his profile for info on his exit point, appearance, etc.]

Oct. 17th, 2014 09:19 pm
knowthyexits: (keep your head down: by ?)
[personal profile] knowthyexits
There are three cameras installed so far in the walls of the hotel and Sarah is working on the fourth. She doesn't trust this place, doesn't think it makes any sense. It's filled with doors to worlds she doesn't know and that means there could be threats lurking everywhere. The cameras will give Sarah a feed to as much as she can get her hands on. She can track the comings and goings of people in and out of these doors and it's enough to give her an edge.

That or she's just setting herself up for more frustration.

She slides the baseball cap off her hair, tucking it under again as she looks left and right, setting up the ladder in the corner close to the library. Dressed as a maintenance woman, she's managed to make herself look like she's got legitimate work in the eyes of the guests, when really she's trying to find more out. Two weeks ago, going through this door had taken her into a world where some part of her had split off and given her an animal companion that felt incredibly familiar. Today, it's just a library. Slowly ascending the ladder, she gets to work untangling some of the hotel's wiring and starting to do some of her own.

If this has any hint of Skynet in it, she'll find out.

She finishes with the camera installation when a wave of dizziness hits. Vertigo, combined with old nausea she's never really shaken from her treatments, and she's much too high suddenly to be dealing with this. Crawling down from off the ladder, Sarah takes in several deep breaths, counting the cameras left in her hand. Two to go and she'll have decent coverage on this level.

Left and right, she looks, then picks up the ladder and tries to keep her head down to avoid looking too suspicious as she carries a ladder through the halls of a hotel, trying to make it seem like she fits in.
only_hope: (beard; looking away)
[personal profile] only_hope
Obi-Wan had never thought about having children of his own. As a Jedi, it was rare that one had a relationship sanctioned by the Temple that then resulted in offspring and he had always been far too busy dealing with Anakin as a padawan to ever seriously consider having his own children. Besides, there had always been the matter of meeting someone to have said children with and between the strict guidelines of the code and his own full schedule, it simply wasn't feasible.

And now he had a child - sort of. Anakin had left behind two children and while the daughter was tucked away on Alderaan, they'd hidden the son on Tatooine with Anakin's stepbrother. But Owen and Beru had to make a trip to Anchorhead to buy parts for their farm and had asked (told, really) Obi-Wan to mind the infant. And so he was.

He had left a door open so that he could go back and forth between his hut on Tatooine and the Nexus but he didn't dare bring the boy through. If he did and then the door wouldn't let him back through, Owen and Beru would be beside themselves. While Obi-Wan was a reluctant guardian, they were not, and he felt they would worry just like any parents might when faced with a missing child.

For the past half hour or so, the child had been crying incessantly and Obi-Wan had done everything he could do to soothe it. No amount of walking or pleading or cajoling seemed to satisfy the baby and he didn't seem to be hungry or wet. At a loss of what to do, he started singing an old song he'd heard on some planet with Qui-Gon long ago when he was barely out of the creche. He never liked to sing with an audience but he guessed that Luke wasn't going to remember it anyway.

[[OOC: The door between Obi-Wan's hut and the Nexus is open so feel free to pop in.]]
knowthyexits: (judgment from above: by ?)
[personal profile] knowthyexits
Something about this place scratches at Sarah's insides, like a rusty shiv that's digging at her and trying to get inside her mind, try to make her doubt her surroundings. Four days ago, she'd been on an inescapable island, struggling to cope with the losses that always plagued her life, and in the middle of recovery from her cancer.

Now, she's standing outside a gift shop, numb and motionless, like she's stood every day since she got here. Her attention is on all the metal around her in the form of cameras, in the form of computers, and other electronics that might seem simple to others, but immensely dangerous to her. The cell phone that had been hers, apparently, has been broken apart, pieced together, and hidden in one of the stray guest rooms.

Even the staff here don't seem right, like something is off. It could be her paranoia speaking for her, but there's something about things here that set her heart racing faster and make her doubt that she's made a trade to something better. She cracks her knuckles again and takes a steadying breath, sliding into her seat in the lobby while digging out her notebook. She's been people watching since she got here, taking notes in cryptic shorthand to try and see who's in control and who might know something.

She needs to get back to John and she's heard whispers that it's possible, here. It's nothing more than snippets of conversations about 'going home', but it's enough to keep Sarah interested, enough to keep her from being too bold and making a move. If she's going to get home to John for the first time in over three years, she has to do this right.

Her eyes are intent and steady on the next person who walks in the front door and it's in pursuit of answers that Sarah loses focus as to how long she's been staring, unblinking, unflinching, and unerringly steady. It's the sort of thing that gets you noticed and she jerks her gaze away (too late), hoping that staring too long won't cost her too much.

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