strangetrip | [GP] Check-In Day

The formerly California air had grown crisp with winter moving in, but the sun still shone bright and the sky was clear. At the barn and in the pastures, the horses blew out their breath in playful snorts, shied and sidled playfully, prancing with their tails flagged. Grace, Regina's mare, gave a spirited whinny at her stablemates as Regina sprang up onto her bare back from the mounting block but waited patiently for her mistress, since there would be at least one long gallop in the offing. It didn't matter to Grace that Regina had an agenda for the ride beyond the gallops, as long as she got to run.

Inside the Inn, Kitty tended bar like any ordinary day, and Caroline's baskets had been freshened and set out for any new arrivals. Each one had a magic journal for "texting" and Sam had a stack of fresh ones set out on the same table in case anyone had used theirs up. The Inn had begun decorating itself the day after Thanksgiving, helped, of course, by Caroline, and Thor had brought in a lovely fresh tree that had begun to acquire a patchwork coating of ornaments, traditional popcorn strings, and hideous gleanings from around the Inn.

In short, it was an ordinary Check-In day with a little nip in the air, an extra sprinkling of glitter, and and an abundance of apple-based drinks and a few pies, compliments of Regina's harvest and her stress-baking. What there weren't were any of Emma's fresh pastries or any of her finer dishes, as she seemed to have taken the day off. Which meant that unless Sunny or Mary or one of the others stepped up, everyone was eating dishes with chicken or what they could make for themselves.

[ooc: Feel free to use for any threading purposes anywhere around the Inn. If you want Regina, Kitty, Sam or Lillith, poke me on Slack. Welcome Hook! Don't forget to tag your character's name if you tag the post.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Valkyrie considered the phrasing for a moment before shrugging. "Close enough." She tugged a flask from her belt and tossed it to it to the tall dark stranger. "Wherever you came from, whatever you were doing, you're no longer there. Means of escape is unknown and futile."

Miss Sensitive, Valkyrie was.

"I've asked. I've tried."

Well. At least they're covering all the pertinent things right out of the gate.

He's got a flask of his own stuck in a pocket, but he's not going to turn one down when it's offered. He unscrews the cap, takes a sip, closes it up, and tosses it back.

"Does this place have a name?"

"It's called the Madonna Inn." Valkyrie replied, catching her flask. "I don't know whom the Madonna it was christened for is, either. Whoever she is, I hope she's quite proud a hotel that kidnaps unassuming folk was named in her stead."

Valkyrie turned, nodding towards the front desk where a rather stiff looking gentleman presided, ever present for his duty. "See that one. Darryl. The gentle Innkeeper. If you're here, you might as well get the keys to your room."

A hotel that kidnaps people. He's still working on that when she mentions the innkeeper. "The keys? I have a room here?"

So someone was obviously expecting him. That's usually not a good thing.

“If you end up here, you’ve got a room.” Valkyrie shrugged. This man had a worldly look about him—not just that, but he was taking the news in stride. Disgruntled, but stride. “The jailers put us up nicely, at the very least. Perhaps you’ll get lucky and be in familiar company. I’ve run into two familiar faces here.”

"That's the first time that's happened. Usually I have to fend for myself." Which is why he's gotten good at it by now. He has survived a lot to make it here. "It is easier with familiar faces, at least."

"What's your name?" Valkyrie brushed a few bangs behind her ear, having let her hair hang loose today. Perhaps just hearing his name would unlock a few doors. "Call me Valkyrie, by the way."

"Killian Jones. Although more often it's just Hook, now." He holds up the hook on the end of his arm as if he needs to explain where that name came from. "Valkyrie. That's an interesting name."

Valkyrie was about to offer her hand when she caught sight the hook, and she cocked her head. "Were you born with that?"

"No. This was a later-in-life development. Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime." It's kind of a sensitive issue, but it's also a great story.

Valkyrie ran through potential scenarios where one would end up with a hook to compensate for their lost limb. Personally, she'd have eaten the loss and draped a cape over it or some such thing. If the man had lived this long with it, he likely knew what he was doing.

"Well. Hook. If you're used to excitement," And he definitely gave off the vibe, "I'll disappoint you right now by telling you this place is dreadfully still. Apparently it saw the invasion of the undead a few months prior, but other than that..." And of COURSE she hadn't been there to see it.

"Invasion of the undead?" He's had quite enough of the dead, un- or otherwise, for the moment. (Just ignore the fact that he was dead himself not that long ago. It's easier.) "Shame I missed that." Not really.

"I suppose I was due for another downgrade in the excitement level in my life." It's probably safer.

"The king I serve fought a flying skull. Or some such thing. So there's that to look forward to if fortune is kind." That wasn't the best way of phrasing it, but Valkyrie was confident that with the armed forced the hotel boasted, they were more than capable of guarding the defenseless. That, and she felt as if her brain would leak out of her skull and take off in flight itself if she had to stand much more stillness. "What I wouldn't give for my ship back..."

"A flying skull. That's something." Not that he's saying he wants to face one. Sometimes there's something to be said for a quiet life. "It's still probably better than a dragon."

“There was a dragon there, too, apparently. A skeletal one.” Valkyrie didn’t ask if it could breathe fire, though she should have. “Do you regularly battle dragons?”

"No, fortunately. Once was enough." And that had been less of a battle situation and more of a using-him-as-bait situation. "So are you saying that things that exist in our world could show up in this one?"

"People. Not beasts. Or tools." Valkyrie shrugged, electing not to drag on the disappointment. "You've anyone you'd fancy seeing? Who knows? They may already be here."

He doesn't know if it's better or worse that it's only people who could show up here. It probably depends on the people, though things have gotten better in that regard lately.

"Emma." It's an immediate answer, and an easy one. They've been apart far too much already. "Her habit of ending up in new worlds is almost as bad as mine."

Valkyrie touched her finger to her lips in thought. “We’ve a few of those, I believe.”

"You do?" There's a hopeful look on his face. "You wouldn't happen to know if one of them is Emma Swan, would you?"

"Ah, yes." Valkyrie clapped her hands once, positioning them at her forehead and sweeping them to the sides of her face. "Blonde hair, parted like so?"

"That's her." And, of course, potentially any number of other women too, but he's only concerned about the ones who fit that description and are also named Emma. "She's here somewhere?"

"Somewhere." Valkyrie answered simply--if she had more information, she'd give it readily. There was no ill intent radiating from the man that would cause her to hold back, otherwise. "It's a small dwelling. You'll run across her."

"We do have a way of finding each other." It's kind of a family trait, apparently, given how many times her parents have been separated. "Now that I know she's here, I know to keep an eye out."

[GP] Check-In Day

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject