tushanshu_logs | The Midnight Hotel January catch-all

Entry tags:

The Midnight Hotel January catch-all

Characters: Anyone, everyone.
Date: Month of January, 2016
Location: The Midnight Hotel
Situation: Catch-all post! Feel free to use this post for anything that happens within the Midnight Hotel over the month of January, using the subject header to label specific rooms or for specific people. Please also see the OOC note at the bottom.
Warnings/Rating: None thus far.

The Midnight Hotel was among the few buildings which showed no sign of having been damaged by the invasion six months ago. That followed, of course; the Hotel hadn't even been present. But either way it stood out, and many of the kedan knew by now that the building, so different from the architecture of the rest of the city, was a safe-haven. Too many mistook it as a Foreigner safe-haven alone, but not all; even now there was usually one or two kedan present.

Some of them were gang-members, ones with whom Anton had forged closer relationships before the Foreigners' year-long disappearance or simply those who chose to visit in defiance of the general public's opinion.

Anton had taken great pains to give the Foreigners structure and normalcy. While the means of payment were, in some cases, not much more than an illusion, he gave as much in the way of purpose as he could. As a result there were now many Foreigners on staff at the Hotel, though of course the rules were still in strict effect. Anton himself was readily available at most given moments if needed for assistance, questions or otherwise.

There was also an oddity in the lobby: a construction in one of the corners where a long bank of three public consoles was being built. The Metalworkers responsible for its construction were generally taciturn and more concerned with their work than with interactions, but they didn't seem worried about being observed or by the close proximity of the Foreigners.

[ooc: The Midnight Hotel's status page is available here, with the rules at the top and ongoing status at the bottom. PLEASE POST TO THE STATUS PAGE IF YOUR CHARACTER WOULD LIKE A ROOM. Anton will manufacture means of payment until Foreigners are able to properly offer recompense or choose to move out, so you can assume they're 'paying' in some method.

If you have a specific job for your character to do around the Hotel (eg working the kitchen, security, house chores) please also note that so I can keep track of Anton's casual staff.]

Threaded | Flat

Though she had her own room, Valdis was currently curled up in a corner of the hotel lobby, quietly watching people come and go and keeping a critical eye upon the Metalworkers in the corner opposite. She had not spent as much time among Zanru's people, it was difficult to wander around Stark Industries as a giant hound and, though it might already be known, she wasn't ready to reveal that she and the hound were one and the same. So she merely watched and listened, trying to glean any useful information from the snippets of conversation floating through the air.

Edited (Location) 2015-01-02 04:36 (UTC)

It would almost be easier, if it was just the old nightmares from the journey. And those had resurged, of course, as familiar as the shape of first aid was by now, dreams of being always too late, too unskilled, watching everyone she cared about die before her with all the healing artes in the world not enough. But save for the added cast members, nothing else had changed, and Raine could cope with those as she had then.

What was new was waking in the middle of the night with the sudden, certain panic that something vitally important was missing. It took her a week to realize that all the familiar pieces she'd been through in the Dreaming, positive and negative both, had taken her right back to those months of crossing two worlds in the effort to save both, when quarters were close and constant threats closer, and someone missing usually meant something had gone horribly wrong.

Adjusting when she'd first arrived in Keeliai had taken time, too, but she'd done so well enough eventually. But those had been more peaceful times. Now there were at least three weeks gone since they'd returned and Raine still woke grasping for a familiar mana signature nearby, anyone at all, something to tell her things were right in the world.

There was a very obvious solution, if she looked at those in the city she'd spent enough time with to learn the particular feel of their mana, and by her third week of interrupted and insufficient sleep, Raine was exhausted and frustrated enough to give in and ask. This time when her failure to find familiar mana woke her, certain that Colette had been kidnapped, that Mithos had done something to Genis, she simply breathed until her heart was back to a normal rate, and left her room at the Hotel in favor of finding Solomon's.

Outside his room Raine stopped, rested her forehead against the door, considering the wisdom again. Bakura still slept comatose within, as well, something that had stopped her making this short trip earlier. Even her efforts hadn't been able to do much for him. But even so-- if he woke, that could only be good, and if he did not, his was also among those mana signatures she was beginning to know well enough to pick out individually. It could only help. Raine sighed, softly, and lifted her hand to knock on the door.

It was becoming clear, by now, that avenues in and out of the city were still open--for the Foreigners, at least. Anton wasn't entirely surprised, but he was curious as to the processes now that Eva was dead. Could the Hotel wards be amended to take advantage of that opening? If so, did it mean Anton could return in the safety of the Hotel without losing his memories?

A hypothesis to pursue, though certainly not at the expense of Anton's current patrons, which left Anton to the task of assessing the Hotel for proper maintenance. There were several semi-mechanical systems in the kitchen which needed cleaning, and the wards themselves had been scrambled so many times lately that parts of the walls needed repair.

The wards were keeping up for the moment, given a few reroutes and leaving the lobby bathed in the glow of illuminated sections of scrolling script on the walls. That had occurred in the morning. But it was just after lunch that Anton was in the kitchen, elbow-deep in the fridge's half mundane, half magical mechanics. It was an old fridge, bought when fridges only just became domestic in use, but updated over the years with magic.

That might have been a mistake, in retrospect. Anton should have put more effort into maintaining the mechanics. The incinerator was going to be in similar condition--if not worse, after the tainted weapons Anton had destroyed in there.

His sleeping habits had never been regular, but having slept for quite some time (coma notwithstanding), Bakura was awake in the wee hours now. Letting himself out of the shared room quietly, he padded on sock feet down the hallway toward the kitchen. He'd woken up with the socks already on, which was bizarre and more than a little invasion of personal space, but they were warm and obviously meant for him, plus he didn't like his feet being cold.

On one hand, it was probably a good thing that some measure of his appetite had returned... on another, it seemed like just another thing to dredge up motivation for. The kitchen was empty when he got there, and it was far more spacious than any he'd used before. It's also surprisingly modern, but then it did match the rest of the Hotel's aesthetic in that regard. If he hadn't known where to look for sigils, it would have held its place in any modern locale.

It was a relief to have a little bit of space from people; Solomon's constant, hovering presence rubbed aches that were still raw, both magically and emotionally despite the necromancer's good intentions. There's a bowl of fruit on the island and stools to sit, so he does, although the fruit is merely rolled back and forth between his hands absently.

Red shirt. Mob of unkempt hair. Weird bright red rectangles on pants that attempt to say 'I am down to earth but unique' but actually say 'i spend huge amounts of money on designer labels that just add two extra strips of fabric.' That's probably the guy.

Yeah, its definitely the fashion that nails it down, and not the armor he's got strewn all around the common room, while he literally rewires a circuit board with a soldering iron. And what even is this attack on his clothes, nothing you wear besides your military tunic doesn't come from a personal designer. "Shut up brain," Sonja said. "I can be hypocritical if I want to be."

Sonja was hugging the corner, staring at Tony Stark as she worked out whether or not she would actually approach him. Apparently this kid had like, built a corporation here in the span of months? Like what even? It was easier to dislike him than admire him.

Okay just go up to him and say Hi, do you have a way to charge this phone? It's really easy. Normal people do it all the time. Do they really though? What if its an elaborate conspiracy whose aim is to make me feel like an outsider? What if no human interaction comes naturally, and we are merely pawns in a cosmic dictatorship, and everyone else receive electrical stimulation to interact, but don't for me? Like what even is that are you writing science fiction now. That is literally the silliest thing you've ever thought.

Sonja took a breath. Just do it. Just walk over and say- "Hi!"

Did you just say that out loud? You skipped the walking part. You just said hi while cowering behind the corner. Did he hear you? He's looking up! Abort! Abort!

Instead of running away, Sonja accidentally stumbled forward instead, into the room. "Hi!" Sonja said again, no less awkwardly. "You're Stark, right? The kid- I mean the guy with the suit and the- well obviously you have the suit, because its literally everywhere right now. Don't you have like a lab or...? I Just think that its kind of silly to do this in the middle of the common room-"

Edited 2015-01-04 01:41 (UTC)

[It had been a few days since Aya's visit to Stark Industries. And subsequent return to sign the contract and seal the arrangement between herself and its current owner.]

[No love had been lost between them...and, in fact, Aya carried a strong aura of displeasure whenever she continued to think about Zanru and the snide woman's persistent accusations regarding Aya's attitude and intentions...but the deal had been struck, and Aya had regained employment in the ideal location for technological access. Somewhat.]

[She was nothing if not curious, however, and when a significant measure of time had passed and she had not heard word from Tony, she decided to see him out in person. The Hotel was where most of the Foreigners had gathered. Aya had not, as she saw little reason to remain in one location for long when neither sleep nor food was an issue. But she was familiar with its location, and arrived with little incident.]

[A quick scan around the room allowed her to locate his signature.]

Hello, Tony.

Iroh had spent a lot of time in the hotel, and now he was considering asking for a temporary job.

But first he was making a pot of tea in the kitchen. It's a sample of his craft, really. And if he drinks it, it's because he has to make sure it tastes all right.

Tony's ongoing campaign to ignore Solomon's existence is being slightly undermined by the fact that Solomon now lives literally down the hall. And it doesn't look like that's going to be changing any time in the immediate future.

It's exhausting, trying to constantly avoid and/or ignore someone who shares such a relatively small space. Tony has come to the very mature and adult conclusion that he ought to, like, work things out with the necromancer, or something. (Not apologize. He doesn't need to apologize, because there's nothing for him to apologize for. If anything, Sol should be apologizing to him— AHEM. ANYWAY.)

To that end, he finds himself knocking on the necromancer's door (and sort of hoping that Solomon doesn't answer).

After getting his affairs settled with Anton, Callaghan had become if not quite a regular to the hotel than at least a frequent visitor. Whether it be to work on the equipment or for a somewhat more recreational visit, it may not be what he considers his home here but it is, at least, a welcome and even homely place to pass the time.

Especially when frustrated with Keelai at large.

If nothing else, the common area makes a comfortable place to work on notes and drafts. The microbots themselves are kept absent, for the most part, stored and secured elsewhere; forcing himself to be less reliant on them may also be frustrating at times, but it also gives him a somewhat welcome distraction from the events immediately prior to arrival.

Edited 2015-01-06 04:02 (UTC)

Once upon a time, about sixty years ago or so - before Skulduggery was talked into buying the Bentley he now treasures - he'd woken up on a Christmas morning to discover a small model of a Bentley sitting on his coffee table. It didn't take a detective to know it was a present from one of the surviving Dead Men, most likely Ghastly Bespoke, but not a one of them admitted to being the guilty party. The following year, it happened again - another small car model, sitting innocently on a different table in the living room.

Every year, there was another one, uninterrupted even after Skulduggery finally bought the car. This year was apparently not going to be an exception, thanks to the presence of a Dead Man in Keeliai.

The miniature wooden Bentley Skulduggery left on a corner of the reception desk, mainly because he didn't have a place of his own in which to display it. The Santa hat he'd found it inside, however, was quick to find its way onto one of the empty room key hooks, and if Anton didn't bring it up while Skulduggery went about the few daily Hotel chores he'd picked up, then neither was he.

Once Skulduggery had filled her in on the basics, and China had come to a better understanding of the situation in which she found herself, among other things, he'd shown her the way to the Midnight Hotel. She'd known of the place before, of course; it was her business to know things, and the Hotel's policies on neutrality were ones she could respect, keeping much the same herself. Not to mention that the proprietor was one of the Dead Men, and had made use of the sigils that were her domain in its construction.

Despite all that, however, China never had visited the Hotel, nor had she properly met Anton Shudder. Now she found both necessary.

The first evening she had missed Shudder somehow, handled the initial taking up of a room with one of his employees-- another Foreigner. She preferred it that way, honestly: her magic was returning, but slowly. Too slowly. It wasn't until the next morning, when China awoke, that she reached for the tattoos at the hinges of her jaw and they responded. Healing her lingering fractures and bruises hurt. It was, however, a sight better than healing bullet wounds.

When she had recovered herself from that, some time later, and made of her appearance the best she could given the absence of her closet and the damage Scorn had inflicted, China descended to the lobby in search of Shudder, picking the front desk first as the most immediately likely place to find him. It was only polite to introduce herself to her host, after all.

Her sleep was some of the best she had experienced since her Aunt Lysa's death. Dreams entered her mind, showing her a Winterfell as it once was. Robb was there, smiling and laughing as he threw snowballs at Bran and Arya. The younger boy was running, showing all the skill and flexibility he had possessed before he had fallen from the tower. And Arya was giving as good as she got, grinning from ear to ear.

Sansa couldn't find it within her to chide the small girl. Not anymore. She was a child - they were all children. Why had she always tried to grow up too fast? Bending down, she scooped up a ball of snow in her palm and decided to join the fray.

Except her siblings were running further and further away. How could she catch them? Her legs felt like lead and the snowball had vanished from her hand. The wind picked up and suddenly she found her perspective altered drastically. Instead of standing in the snow, she was looking down into a valley that was hundreds of feet below her. There was snow there too and unforgiving sharp rocks.

"You kissed him!"

She tried to scream but her voice wouldn't make a sound. Then she was falling. Down, down down, her mind completely blank with inescapable panic. As the rocks seemed to rise up to greet her, eager to rend her body into bits and pieces, she found her voice at last.

Her scream tore through the air and she found herself sitting up in her bed in the hotel. Tears were coursing down her cheeks and her heart was pounding painfully, but all she could think about was air. She needed to breathe. She needed to know she was alive.

Scrambling for her door, she hauled it open and ran out into the hallway.

Edited 2015-01-08 08:07 (UTC)

Although Raine didn't come in every night, it had become a regular enough occurrence that Solomon wasn't surprised by the knock on the door or the fact it was Raine behind he. The first thing she might notice, if Bakura hadn't already told her he had left the Hotel, was that Solomon was alone in the room.

"This is becoming quite the regular occurrence," he said lightly, though not in any way that indicated him minded, stepping away so she could enter. It was earlier than had been her wont in the past--perhaps that meant Bakura had told her, if she felt comfortable enough to risk it.

Her frustration had been building since she had awakened from the Dreaming. Her emotions had been fluctuating, most she had come to identify, but there was one or two that made no sense and it was infuriating. One she could connect, or so she believed, to the light mage, for she had finally realized that the sensation was very similar to the unknown emotion she had felt through the forced empathy.

So she found her way to the mage's door and now hovered outside it, contemplating whether or not she should knock, after all, they hadn't exactly parted on the most friendly of terms.

Edited (title) 2015-01-14 03:19 (UTC)

Gene: (Backdated to mid-Dec, soon after Skulduggery reappears)

Solomon had mentioned Gene might be in a bit of trouble after the battle beneath the shell, a fact which didn't surprise Skulduggery in the least. Amelia had disappeared months before, but in her place had come a young man called Tony Stark - and Raine would certainly have made sure nothing was blown up in the interim, which was why Skulduggery was equally unsurprised that Keeliai wasn't in ruins and no other mysterious deaths by drowning had occurred.

A funny thing about hotels, he'd noticed; stay in the lobby long enough, and practically everyone living in the immediate area would pass through sooner or later.

Raine: (Backdated to around Christmas-time)

The above fact unfortunately never held true around Christmas. Skulduggery had already received all of the gifts he believed - he hoped - he would receive, which meant all that was left was the Christmas greetings he generally tried hard to avoid. It occurred to him, however, as he was going about his daily business, that he hadn't spoken to Raine since returning to Keeliai. No doubt she knew he was back, given the nature of her relationship with Solomon, but Skulduggery could already hear Valkyrie's voice buzzing at the side of his skull right around where his ear would have been; You didn't talk to a good friend on Christmas? What is wrong with you?

Room Eleven on the third floor, Anton said. Skulduggery waited until an hour when he was fairly sure everyone would have returned to their rooms, then went upstairs and knocked.

Threaded | Flat

Lobby: OTA

closed to Solomon | his room, in the middle of the night | fairly early Jan

BACKDATE: 16th December 2015; CLOSED to Callaghan

closed to Anton;

closed to Tony;

closed to Tony Stark