strangetrip | Check-in May 15

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Check-in May 15

It was the 15th of the month and given the possibility of arrivals, Caroline decided that something should be done to make new people a little more comfortable.

So she was sitting in the lobby, wearing a bright yellow sundress and surrounded by a riot of materials. Her feet were bare, as her sandals were lying off to the side, and her toenails were blue. She was creating Inn survival kits. There was a little pamphlet of explanations: people call the guy at the desk Daryl; yes,everything is free; no, you can't leave; just be firm about towels. A basket of sundries - snacks from the gift shop, sunscreen, guidebook, toothbrush etc. There was a towel, because obviously.

She considered adding a bottle of alcohol, but not everyone drank - she'd noticed at least a few of the current residents who didn't - and if they did drink TOO much, she didn't want to encourage it.

Maybe chocolate?

Caroline jotted down that as a note and resumed chewing on the end of her pen. The lobby door opened shortly thereafter and she looked up with a smile.

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Annemer. He was annemer, and that was enough of a relief that she pulled herself together and smoothed her skirt--her dress was sober, a severe gray thing softened only by the dove shade it was--rather than her hair--even as pale curls were threatening to escape from the knot she'd tried to tame them into. Her chin lifted a little, the gesture of someone who had been spooked and was now refusing to lose her shit. "I'm Corbie," she said. "And... yeah, I think a drink might be a good idea."

She really hoped he hadn't heard that guy call her Gartrett.

While she smoothed her skirt, Sam used the moment to sort out his impressions. Tiny stuck, so did scared, but there was a real steel in her spine. The clothes were severe, hairstyle too, sort of Puritan or Victorian, he thought. She spoke English, too, which was good. It would make the transition easier.

"Good to meet you Corbie." He tipped his chin in the direction of the cafe. "Bar's this way. What do you want to drink?"

Corbie had always had to be able to make snap judgments about men in her work, and most of the time she was pretty good at it. She couldn't have quantified exactly what it was that made a guy okay or not okay, but for the moment she figured Sam was all right. Given she had no idea where the Lady had dumped her or how or why, she had to start somewhere.

Though, y'know. Sam was still a giant and he could fuck her up without even thinking.

"Bourbon," she said as she followed him that way. She didn't even have to think about it. It was Felix's drink, and she needed the moral support.

Sam added that to the pieces of the puzzle that were "Corbie" and nodded. He had no idea what any of it meant yet, but if she wanted bourbon, she could have bourbon.

None of the usual bartenders seemed to be around when they got into the cafe, so he gestured to stools in front of the bar. "Here. Have a seat if you want, while I grab that for you."

Maybe he should've asked questions or offered answers, but Sam thought most people did better if you just acted normal, did normal stuff, and waited for them to settle down enough to start asking.

Corbie sat down, letting the satchel slip from her shoulder and onto the floor by her feet. Much as she wanted to clutch the thing to her churning stomach as if that would stave off all the things she had to ask and didn't want to know.

Okay. So she'd just been offered a room by a complete creepy guy (who knew her name, but she didn't know what to do with that piece of information just yet), a room that she definitely couldn't pay for with the few hermits and pennies she had in her pockets, the decor was gaudy as all get-out, and it was the middle of the day and kind of dead.

"This is a brothel, ain't it?" The idea didn't horrify her, though. If anything she was... resigned to the idea.

The world let her play at being a wizard for a while and decided nope, never mind, back where you belong little girl.

"What?" Sam lifted his head and stared, eyes wide and more than a little shocked. He almost spilled the bourbon before he thought to remind himself he'd been pouring. "No! I mean, god no. I hope you didn't think I was trying to..."

What, pick her up or pimp her out? Which was worse? Jesus.

"No, it's just a hotel."

Corbie's eyes on the other hand were perfectly calm, if too old and tired for her face. Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I don't have any money. Well. I mean, got some pocket change on me, but definitely not what I'd need to actually stay here." And experience had taught her that only one kind of establishment opened up to broke girls like that.

Oh. That made sense. Sam shook his head as he pushed the glass of bourbon across the counter to her. "No one really has any money. We're all trapped here together, so we all just all do whatever work we can to help each other and keep the Inn running." That would probably be confusing, but he still thought it was better to let her work through it her own way. (Which was probably why he didn't usually do this part.)

Corbie's first thought was that sounded like a shitty way to run a business. Her second thought was that it didn't make any sense. Her third thought--knocking back a considerable swallow of bourbon like a woman taking medicine--was that the burn going down her throat grounded her some to get to those things that she probably didn't want to know, but had to.

"Trapped?" she asked, gratified when the word didn't lift into a squeak. It wasn't exactly calm, but she was satisfied that she didn't sound like some half-grown kid either.

Oops. He probably should've introduced that a little more carefully. He gave he a rueful smile and said, "Yeah, sort of. We can leave the hotel and go about four hours in any direction we want, but after that, we end up back where we started. But it's not all bad. We've got everything we need to get by and it's safe." Not that he expected her to believe that, because fuck if he would. Still, you had to try. "I've been here five months and it's pretty quiet."

As she listened to that explanation, Corbie's body went still in little ways that she likely hadn't noticed. Her fingers had been playing with the glass in her hand, twirling it this way and that, which gradually slowed to a stop. Her leg had been swinging off the bar stool, which slowly came to a halt as well. And her eyes got all big, making her look more like the barely-grown kid she was.

"But..." But what? "But I gotta..." She straightened her spine as best she could and shook her head hard. "I was in the middle of downtown, how the fuck did I even get here?"

For someone as prim as she dressed herself to be, she seemed to fidget a lot--or she did before she processed what he was saying and pretty much froze. Then she didn't look either prim or nervous, just like a twelve year-old whose pet goldfish just got flushed.

"I get it," he said as kindly as he could. "Everyone has something important to do, something they were doing before they got here. And it sucks out loud, because no one knows how we got here or even where here is. We don't know why us instead of other people." He rolled a shoulder in a tight sort of shrug. "It doesn't make sense, but it's true anyway."

She would not panic. Much as she didn't want to believe any of this... how else did she explain going from the Nullity to this place in the middle of nowhere in a second? At least part of this apparently had to be true. She couldn't trance herself well enough for dreamwalking--Felix flatly refused to teach her that for years yet--and magic of any kind didn't work in the Nullity. It was like trying to start a fire underwater.

Her fingers tightened around the glass and voice was small when she asked, "How do we tell people that we're okay?" Even as she was certain she already knew the answer, she couldn't resist the question.

Edited 2017-05-18 04:33 (UTC)

"We can't. But everyone's working on it," he added quickly. "Mages and scientists. We haven't given up."

Honestly Sam hadn't put much work in on that project, but he had others, more pressing, since Dean was here. Of course, if this Dean hadn't made the deal yet, it might not matter--unless the Dean in his time made the deal and now Sam wasn't there to help him.

"There's time travel involved. People coming from the same worlds, but from different times. My brother's here and he's from two years before me. My grandfather's here and he's only a few years older than I am. So, we don't really even know if anyone from our own time knows we're gone."

She wanted to ask about mages. She should ask, and her eyes had momentarily brightened with curiosity, only the idea was working its way in.

No way out.

No way to tell anybody where she was.

"But..." Corbie said, smaller, barely more than breath. But Felix and Mildmay and Lord Brightmore and Julian and Hutch and Virtuer Stone and Miss Leverick and Robin and...

She didn't cry. She fucking refused to cry. But tears stung at the corners of her eyes.

"I know," Sam said feelingly, his expression softening considerably. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. Believe me I do."

He came around the other side of the bar so he'd be closer, able to pat her shoulder or give some comfort.

The hand on her shoulder brought Corbie back to herself. She didn't shrug him off, if anything she ever so slightly leaned toward him, but she made herself sit up again and rubbed hard at her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I'm okay," she said, because it was better than 'I'm not a kid.'

"It's okay if you're not." He squeezed her shoulder gently then lowered his hand away. "Anyone who's been here through more than one check-in day has seen someone completely lose their shit. We're all pretty used to it."

Which probably wasn't comforting, on balance, but hopefully she'd get that no one would think worse of her if she cried or threw something.

Corbie had to pause a moment in surprise, and then she laughed. It was a little frayed around the edges and hollow in the middle, but it was a real laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I bet you prolly have. All right." She was so used to being the one dealing with new people, and even in Esmer she'd had no real reason to be in distress herself.

In any case, she gave him a little smile and drank the bourbon. Liquid courage and all that shit.

Edited 2017-05-20 02:34 (UTC)

Sam smiled at the laugh. She might have it rough for awhile, but this one would be okay.

"There's more to know, but most of it isn't really important right now. I'll tell you if you want, but it might be easier to get your room key and go check out your room. Depending on where you're from, you might need someone to explain how some stuff works."

Corbie nodded. She wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but she'd take his word for it right now. "Should prolly actually let the guy gimme that key now."

"Probably." Sam glanced over at the Innkeeper and then back to Corbie. "We call Tall and Creepy over there 'Daryl'. He's harmless, except his obsession with towels. I can go with you if you want."

"Nah," Corbie shook her head at the offer, careless enough of a gesture that it couldn't be a lie. "I've handled worse'n tall and creepy." She'd fucked all kinds of creepy. Leaning over she picked up her satchel and slung it back over her shoulder, then hopped down from the stool. "Though from the sound of everything, I'll see you 'round pretty soon."

"Probably," he agreed. "If you need anything, I'm in Room 102. And I'll be here in the cafe for the next few hours."

He held out his hand to her to shake and said, "I'd say welcome, but it's not like you want to be here. It's good to meet you though."

"Good to meet you, too, Sam," she said, because it was polite, and true, and easier to face than really look at how wrong everything got all of a sudden. She didn't quite succeed at not goggling at how small her hand was in his.

Re: Assigned threads

st_andingtall - 2017-05-21 05:00 (UTC) - Expand

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