strangetrip | [GP/EP] Check-in Day

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[GP/EP] Check-in Day

The woodwinds in her collection were for noodling mostly, and the violin was for memory of her family, but when Curnen really wanted to play she turned again and again to her guitar. This would probably always be her best instrument. It was the first of the month, she’d been here over a year, and it was probably a check-in day. So she sat on the lawn with her instrument in her lap, sending out a subtle magic to call anyone stranded in their little world this way.

At one point, though, she set aside the guitar and turned her face to the sky. For just a few minutes she required a different kind of magic.

It had been a week now since Scanlan had vanished in the battle. And Pike, too, though Curnen honestly couldn’t have cared less about her going away if she tried. Still. The two of them were family to people very dear to her, people who missed them. And Scanlan had been her friend. You marked something like that with a song.

Of all the money that e'er I had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that e'er I've done
Alas, it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

It was a traditional Irish goodbye, a farewell to friends said with love, drinking, well wishes, and the hope of meeting again. She couldn’t think of a better one for the occasion. And as she sang she twined her magic into her voice in a new way, sending the song to any ears that needed it, ears of those who knew and missed the departed. Not all of them might understand it, not all of them knew what she was, but she didn’t particularly care about that right now. The song was more important than the hiding.

Once the last note had dissipated she picked up her guitar again and resumed her work. If there were anybody out there, they had to know where to go.

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Liz had been right. Tess had killed Alex. Tess had killed Alex. Maria felt bad that no one had believed Liz all this time. She felt bad she hadn't believed her. Some best friend I am

They were now racing to the desert to tell Max and the others.

"Liz, I am so sorry." She repeated again.

She turned her head and realized Liz was no longer beside her. Maria slammed on the brakes and her car went skidding.

"Liz?!" She said with on setting panic. "Liz!!"

Maria looked around. Liz just vanished. Maria unbuckled herself and stepped out of her car. While it looked like desert, it didn't look like New Mexico desert. Her flip-phone wasn't working.

Her eyes found the Inn.

"Okay, okay. I have no idea what just happened, but I need to get to a phone and we can figure this out." She said to herself.

Maria climbed back into the car and white-knuckle drove all the way to the inn. The parking lot was empty, but the hotel looked like it was open.

She hurried inside and was currently trying not to hyperventilate.

"Hello?? Hello!!" She said. "Anyone know where the payphone is?"

Vax'ildan hadn't been much in the mood for rolling out on the welcome wagon. With Scanlan and Pike gone... He didn't know he had much heart left for anyone new, not just yet.

But he had come when he'd heard Curnen's song. And it had touched him, where he'd found a shadowed place against a tree to lean and listen, been a balm when he hadn't known what could have made him feel any better. And once the song had finished, he'd been debating if he shouldn't go to tell Curnen... There, on the road. What was that?

He stalked the girl that climbed out of the armored carriage at a just-discreet distance, even slipping soundlessly into the door behind her as she burst inside to find someone. "There's phones here," his soft voice explained with a bit of an accent. The speaker, as it turned out, was a lean fellow in black armor and feathered cloak, with long dark hair to match. "But it's more complicated than what you're thinking."

She turned and saw some dude in a Halloween costume.

"Sorry. Did I just, like, turn up to some sort of convention or something?" She asked. "Listen, I need to phone home. A friend of mine - well I don't know what happened, but I'm trying not to freak out right now, but I need help finding her."

The man looked a bit non-plussed about the whole 'convention' question, but the freaking out? That was probably unavoidable.

"Okay, this is going to all sound super weird," he started. "But that armored carria- That car of yours, you probably drove it here without expecting to find a pink inn at all, yeah? Have you suddenly found yourself in a place very different from where you were?"

All he had wanted was to buy some plums. Then suddenly, his face is on a newspaper and he's sure that people would come looking for him. While nobody was staring at him directly, the skin on the back of his neck crawled enough that he knew he had to get moving. Never stay in one place too long.

Of course, he had been there. It always ended up in a fight, even if he wanted to try to help him be otherwise. Come with him. Get out. Let the good Captain save him. There was no saving him. There was no going back to the way that things used to be between them. He saw what the museum said. He remembered snippets. There was a reason he'd pulled Steve out of the river, but he couldn't be the man Steve wanted him to be.

Suddenly, they were compromised. Men breached the dingy apartment, coming in through the door and the windows. Bucky turned, lifting his dirty mattress and using it for cover. His arms swung violently and he upended a table, watching it fly to the door in an attempt to block it and buy them some time. Swing right. Swing left. Block. It came as second nature to him.

Buck, stop! You're going to kill someone. Bucky shook his head, staring at the man in front of him. How badly did he want all the memories, the flashes in his mind to be true. Pushing the Captain to the ground, Bucky made a fist and punched the floorboard. Reaching in, he pulled out a black backpack and tossed it out the window. "I'm not going to kill anyone."

Bucky turned and punched a door, watching it fall to the ground and stepping over it. His eyes narrowed and he took a running leap, off the balcony and landing on a rooftop, dropping and rolling right next to his bug-out bag. Bucky grabbed it and turned right, taking another running leap off the roof to the next one.

Instead, Bucky blinked as he looked up from the pavement where he had landed. Suddenly, he wasn't in Berlin anymore. The former asset moved slowly, stalking the road as he tried to take in his surroundings. His good hand reached up, pulling the cap down lower over his face. It wasn't long before he appeared in front of something very pink. He frowned, not sure what else to do but go in.

He was slow, stealthy as he opened the door as little as possible and slipped through it. He wasn't sure where he was, but as long as there was nobody trying to capture him, he'd deal for now.

Edited 2018-09-01 17:12 (UTC)

"Beta--Beta, I have told you not to do that."

Sighing, Allison leaned back against the kitchen counter, so she didn't have to lean on her fucking crutches, and shook her head as the little silky terrier and sleek black tomcat with pigmented corneas switched breakfast plates on her. It was a not uncommon occurrence, but considering that Beta was on a weight control dog food and Todd was taking glucosamine with his breakfast, it was a problem at least for the time being.

No matter--she'd give Todd treats later, and the glucosamine in Todd's food would be good for Beta's joints.

Letting the pair finish each other's food, Allison grabbed her crutches and started hobbling towards the bathroom, cursing the stupid cast that encased her foot for the millionth time. She hated not being able to hit the street, she hated the stupid plastic fucking bag she had to wear over the goddamn thing, she hated...

...crossing the threshold into the hallway of her apartment, Allison found herself outside.

The situation wasn't unfamiliar to her--once upon a time, it had been a train and not some dusty road, with a monstrous pink building looming in the distance, and a song on the air that stirred strange feelings, had her turning on her crutches to better face the distant structure, to start hobbling forward a few steps to go towards it.

The problem now was that she had a sinking feeling that came with knowing. That she wasn't where she was supposed to be, that she had no recourse, no escape...

That, for the second time in two years, she'd been taken from her home.

So she started hobbling along the crappy dirt road on crutches, with one bare foot and her cast getting filthier by the second--gathering dirt the way rage gathered in her chest, hot and cold at once, burning instead of hurting.

She didn't care about her cast, didn't care what she would look like as she approached what looked like a hotel in cutoffs and a sports bra, or the questions that she might raise with the scars littering her noticeably muscular bare arms and tattooed torso--among those being a couple of bullet grazes and plenty of old knife wounds. And that didn't even include the aged green and yellow bruise still marring her shoulder from the last bullet her body armor deflected, nor did it include the sheath clipped to the inside of her cutoffs, the handles of her ring daggers pressing a comforting weight into the small of her back.

Allison didn't care about a goddamn thing as she struggled up to the door--not the music that propelled her along the road, not the dust, not anything.

She only cared that she was further from home than she had ever been--not just Beacon Hills, but Darrow. Darrow was home now, with her cozy apartment and her pets and her blood soaked second life. She had friends like Tris, family like the Inseparables and Newt. Darrow was where she didn't have to struggle to belong.

She'd been taken from Darrow, and it hurt. It hurt like hell...but she'd endured far too much pain in her life to be able to survive more of it, more loss and grief and regret.

So no, she wasn't scared or aching for home.

As she furiously hobbled up towards the hotel, Allison Argent was seriously pissed off.

It'd been a beautiful day when he started on his drive; partly cloudy with a light breeze. Steve had climbed onto his motorcycle this morning to take a drive up the California coast. He'd flown out here to clear his head after Peggy's funeral, to try and get his head back in the game. Going to Peggy's funeral and hearing Sharon Carter speak hit him a lot harder than he'd anticipated. There were a lot of conflicting emotions running around in there, ones that he wasn't sure how to handle. So Steve did something a little out of character for him: he ran away.

Then he did something even less in character: he got lost. With his gas tank running on nearly empty, he finally had to stop and ask for directions. He'd been on the road for hours and hours, and found himself completely and entirely lost. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened--and paper maps were an obsolete relic only slightly younger than he was. Natasha had shown him a couple of times how to use the map application on his phone, but he still wasn't used to the thing.

Twilight was gently falling when Steve pulled his motorcycle into the drive, parked, and started up toward the building. He'd noted the name of the hotel on the way in, but didn't think much of it. Madonna. The first connection he made in his head was to the Virgin Mary, not the pop singer. She'd come around way after his time, anyway.

This place looked interesting, and there were plenty of lights on in the windows. A sure sign of life. There must be someone inside who can help him find his way back to the interstate. Steve wasn't sure about things, though, as he headed inside the pink lobby. The concierge knew his name (then again, who didn't?) and insisted that he had a room here in this hotel.

Curiouser and curiouser. Instead of arguing the point, Steve gave a gentle, "thank you" and took the proffered key. Best to avoid conflict. Maybe there was someone else here that could help him figure all of this out. He turned to look around the lobby, wishing that he'd taken up Tony on the offer for more training on the blasted pocket computer. Then Steve decided to just get out of this place. He headed out to where he'd parked his bike... but the bike was gone.

Check-in days were always interesting and this one had been busier than most. They were still trying to clean up after the attack, a bunch of new people had shown up, and Curnen had been breaking hearts all day with her amazing music. Caroline had ducked out of the lobby for a minute, just one minute, to get a coffee, and when she'd come back, she'd already missed another new arrival.

Grabbing a basket as she went, Caroline headed for the front door and slipped out after the most recent guest. She was confronted as she did with insane broad shoulders, a perfect V torso down to a trim waist and hips. She may have focused a few beats longer on the ass in tight jeans than she should have before she shook herself out of it and got back to business.

"Whatever you're thinking, the answer is probably weirder," she said with cheer but not much force. She didn't want to scare him. Just make him turn around to see if the face matched the body.

Edited 2018-09-01 20:20 (UTC)

Where is he? No, really where is he? This isn't the Farringham School for Boys. Panic and fear rush to his face. As his mind tries to understand but can't is completely overwhelmed. So, rather than face the reality of the situation decides denial is better.

Okay; this is a dream one of those dreams where he has those two hearts.

So - the magic blue box that transports him to a far-off place brought him here. After all, that's more logical than just randomly appearing in the middle of a dirt road.

It's a dream. He can roll with that.

The Adventurer decides since this is a dream, very obviously to venture onwards and comes across the hotel. So far so good and rather tame. None of those weird creatures - yet and John allows himself inside.

"Hello?"

The anger and indignation were so thick in the air that Snow could almost smell them on the wind before she caught sight of anybody approaching the inn. And when she did look, she realized in some ways she could be looking at herself. Well. Except for the part where this was a white girl. But the part where she was torn up and torn away from everything and mad as hell, yeah, that Snow recognized. The part where they were of an age and covered in tokens from myriad fights--though Snow's own bruising and scars were hidden under overlarge clothing--yeah, that too.

There was a time not so long ago where she wouldn't have been even slightly that aware of what she could look like from the outside.

Now this was normally where Snow would make herself scarce and get herself back down to the stable. She didn't like dealing with new arrivals. Too often they needed her to be able to step carefully, something that reminded her either so much of displeasing her stepmother or so much of her inability to talk to people that she absolutely fucking hated it.

But somebody who was ready to punch her out just for being there? That was easy to understand. She could work with that.

She smoothed her hands over her two braids and headed down the path to meet the new girl. Snow wore a gun openly on her hip, but she made no move to draw or even touch it. It was only that she'd never had any success hiding Rose Red, and around here there was no point in hiding it, so she'd stopped bothering.

"Uh, yeah. Exactly." She said.

Maria paused. This has to be some weird alien thing. Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at Vax.

"Is this your doing? Did you bring me here?" She asked with a glare. "Where's my friend?"

Mary made a basket of muffins for new arrivals and was just about to go back to the bakery for more when she saw the confused man enter. Her brow furrowed for a brief moment and then she offered a friendly smile.

"Hi. You must be new. I'm Mary."

As she sometimes did on arrival days, Xavin set herself up to make coffee in the café instead of the library. Hot beverages were soothing, and new arrivals often needed soothing. Hot beverage, a smile... and it helped, perhaps, that the smile could be delivered by a pretty girl or a pretty boy, depending on preferences.

"It's not my doing," he assured her quickly. If she thought he was an archfey or something, he could understand why she'd jump to that conclusion. "And I've got no idea what it was that brought you to this place, same as I don't know how any of us got here. I don't know where your friend is either, or who your friend might be, but we can check the guest list at the front desk."

Her friend was almost certainly still on the girl's homeworld, where this new arrival couldn't reach. But one thing at a time. "I'm Vax'ildan. What's your name, miss?"

The figure that started towards her up ahead raised Allison's hackles on principle: unknown, visibly armed, sure and measured stride of someone who knew how to use the gun at her hip.

...a really pretty gun, as the girl drew closer. It tempered a little of the anger--it gave her something else to focus on that wasn't how badly she wanted to bleed someone, it was a touch of the familiar and the safe and the sane.

"I really hope you're not planning on using that gun!" she called out as the girl approached. "'Cause it's gonna be really hard to ask to see it if I'm busy not getting shot!"

Run. Hide. Don't let them find you. Hurts. Hurts to remember. No. No... No... Two by two hands of blue. Always coming.

Wto was running? She couldn't tell. For the first time in a long time she didn't know if what she was remembering and feeling was hers or belonged to someone else. Someone... Him?

She knew when she saw him enter the lobby that it was his, AND hers. Running.

But not here.

"They don't come looking here." She might be talking to him, or herself from her spot perched on a chair near the front desk. Trying to convince herself.

John, meanwhile, returns the friendly smile when he spots the other. Is it that obvious? Makes sense - after all The Adventurer never seems to stay in one place.

"Yes. Hi." Name she gave him her name and it's polite to give his back. After all, not rude and not ginger.

John goes on to form words; mainly to say, 'I'm John Smith' and stops; because he's not John Smith. After all, this is one of his dreams and even if it's not a proper name does reply with;

"I'm The Adventurer."

At least he thinks so - that sounds right. Is it right? Does it matter?

It's weird to not have a proper name.

"Can you tell me where I am?"

When Snow came to a stop it was several paces away. Enough to give the girl space and some reassurance that Snow wasn't about to grab her or take a swing.

The challenge puzzled her, though. Because surely this was a girl who knew that if Snow was going to shoot her, she'd have done it already before drawing any attention to herself and with surprise on her side. She shook her head. "I'm not going to use it. Can I help?"

"Maria. Maria DeLuca." She replied tensely. "And if you're lying to me I will find out. I promise you. I've dealt with scarier things like the FBI and homicidal aliens."

Maria hopes her bravado was good enough to mask the panic she was feeling inside. She took a deep, deep breath.

"Okay, fine." She conceded. "Let's find out if she's here. Her name's Liz Parker.... we might as well look for Michael Guerin and Max Evans while we're at it."

She paused, blinked, but kept her smile. "Well, the Adventurer." She tried to keep the amusement out of her voice, but it was a little hard. Still, she knew a bunch of odd people came here from all over. They even had a god or two now, apparently. She hadn't had time to meet Thor or Loki yet to really know if this was true or not.

"This is the Madonna Inn. Which would seem like an easy answer. I could even say we're in California. But the truth is, while it looks like it's on Earth, we're actually in some alternate reality or other dimension. No one here knows why we came here except that we were brought here suddenly and without our consent and we can't seem to get back home."

Edited (Because I can't read) 2018-09-02 00:42 (UTC)

John gives a bemused look at Mary because it is a bit ridiculous but when in Rome - as far as the given explanation. John has no idea what she's going on about; alternate reality or dimension but it does seem like something that happens in his dreams so just smiles and goes with it.

"You can laugh, if you want." John eyes Mary coyly/playfully.

"Laugh at what?" She took in the man before her carefully. "I'm stuck here too." Although she was dead back home so she didn't want to necessarily go back. She decided, though, that telling new arrivals was almost always confusing. Best save that tidbit for a later conversation.

"Are you familiar with this sort of thing?"

Playfully; "At how ridiculous my name is." He's not stuck here. He's got his magic blue box - which is - somewhere.

"I travel around in a blue magic box. I would think so."

"Hm. I don't know. I've heard worse. There's a guy here who wants to be known as Star-Lord." Thankfully Mary had learned his real name was Peter Quill. Quill seemed like a better name than Star-Lord. "Is the blue box like a spaceship?" She paused. "If you have a way out, then I'm sure a lot of people would be happy to meet you. A lot of people want to go home."

John is going to stare at how ridiculous that is. Spaceship? He's read that word before but where? Right, Jules Verne from the Earth to the Moon. Though - his magic box.. Is it is a spaceship? It's certainly an odd spaceship if it is.

There's a flicker of something for a moment; in those big brown puppy eyes as he recalls the page that he drew of what is the inside of the 10th Doctor's Tardis. Was that part of the magic box? But that's impossible! That would mean the inside is bigger than the outside!

"Why do they want to go home?"

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[GP/EP] Check-in Day

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