[EP/GP] Today is Check-In Day

[st_illunsmeared]

When the fifteenth of the month came and went without any new arrivals, most people logically supposed that there would be no new arrivals that week, or that the pattern they believed they'd found was false after all.

Kitty Pryde, Caroline Forbes, and Phryne Fisher were decidedly not most people.

Between them, they agreed it would be best to keep a watch for a few days following the fifteenth, on the grounds that, often enough, holidays interrupted regular schedules, which would reassert themselves again at the next instance. If "keeping a watch" had required them to do anything out of the ordinary, they might have been somewhat less sanguine about it. Might have, as they were not, after all, most people. Yet since their routines, almost invariably, had them in public places, working and people-watching, it required no special effort on their part to be alert for new arrivals.

So it was that Phryne had taken up a table in the lobby cafe to read and hold court, while Kitty took an extra shift tending bar, and Caroline tidied up and labeled the boxes of decorations from Valentine's day "for next year's residents" on the morning of the sixteenth and again on the seventeenth--and not one of them were surprised when, in early afternoon, newcomers began to arrive.

Comments

For Phryne

[st_ockandbarrel]

He remembered...

Forgiveness and fear. Pain and acceptance. Life, then nothing.

He remembered...

A smothering darkness and a light, severing the connection, giving him a choice.

He remembered...

Dragons and fights and the final descent of claws. He remembered pain, then the warm healing presence of a goddess he could respect but not venerate.

And Percival drew in a breath, his chest rising for the first time in nearly a minute. Beneath him was cold hard stone. There was rain falling on his face, strange because they'd fought the beast in her lair. He hurt, and knew that once again, he'd delayed his meeting with the Raven Queen.

Percy opened his eyes. Above him was a clouded sky, rumbling with the promise of greater ferocity. Already he was soaked. Groaning, he sat up, saw that the rain was mixing with his blood on the strange black stone beneath him. His clothes were ruined, but the skin below seemed whole, if raw.

Most worryingly, he was alone.

for Vax (Greeting)

[st_unning]

Blood stained the front of Alcuin's shirt, seeping through the fine cambric and wetting his fingers. It was warm. He had felt it once before, his own blood, seen it destroy his clothing as it left his body. The blade had been higher this time, and his knowledge of his own body told him that the wound began mayhap where the old scar ended on his side. Was it a larger sword this time? Anafiel would have been disappointed, that he could not describe it with perfect clarity. He should be able to tell the swordsmith from one glance. But he had been too distracted by watching the life blink out of the eyes of the man he loved.

He remembered wrestling for the sword after it had slid into his side and out, remembered cutting his hand on the blade still slick with his own blood, remembered feeling the hilt in his hand and then the slick slide of it into unwilling flesh, the cry of the man on the other end of it, the knowledge that he had just killed a man. And then running, as he bled, intent on getting out now that Anafiel was dead and there was no one to protect but Phedre, he had to warn her, he had to tell her...

He didn't remember when he had finally collapsed, didn't remember actually moving into another part of the house. But it was a different floor that his blood was staining now, with his shirt, and his fingers. The sword he'd been holding lay on the floor beside him, and he realized vaguely that it was one of Anafiel's. He lay on his back looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling, and thought that now would be the proper time for Elua to bring him home.

Jane Doe - Assigned Threads

[st_artingpoint]

There was nothing out of the ordinary for the hotel lobby. People were coming and going in their daily activities. If no one noticed, besides the man behind the counter, that a light colored duffle bag suddenly appeared out of thin air near a table, the occupants could be excused. Their minds had been on other things including embarrassing things that had recently occurred.

An idle thought of what might be inside, if anyone gave it a thought, was likely to be wrong. It didn't house supplies or anything that could be of use to the people stranded in the quirky hotel. It did house something that could be of use, just not what was expected.

for Ignis + OTA

[st_unning]

After Vax'ildan had left Alcuin alone in the hideously red room and a warm bath, he had shed the rest of his clothes and gotten into the water. It felt wonderful. It also turned pink from the blood that washed from his skin. He stayed there, trying to clear his mind, until the water went cold. And only after he'd gotten out and wrapped a towel around himself had he collapsed on the cool floor and sobbed.

He wasn't sure how long he was there. Long enough to feel like every ounce of emotion had drained from his body. But at least he was not in pain, not even from the wound that was now already closed into a thin scar.

Finally, he got up again, examined his bloody clothes on the floor, and then put them into a waste bin. He remembered Vax'ildan's promise to bring him clothes, and so with the towel wrapped around his body he opened the door to the hallway and gratefully found a small pile there. They were clothes quite unlike anything he'd ever seen, but at least seemingly fairly simple. Trousers made of an odd material. A shirt with sleeves that were very short. He did put his own boots back on, since it was easy enough to wipe off the bit of blood that had gotten on them.

Part of him just wanted to hide there forever, but it was twinges of hunger that finally made him venture out. He thought of going to Vax'ildan's door, but no, he had done enough for him right now. And at least, despite the strangeness of everything, Alcuin was by nature incredibly curious, and there was some small amount of joy in the opportunity to explore. He went back to the building where Vax'ildan had found him (careful not to look down too much, as he very much did not want to stumble across a stain of his own blood on the floor).

As he looked around, taking in all the details of his surroundings, he must have looked terribly lost. Both literally and figuratively.