st_ingofthehundred: thinky (official)
[personal profile] st_ingofthehundred
The first of the month arrived and Kash took up his usual station at the edge of the Cafe with his eyes on the door. It had been his habit since he first arrived and learned that arrivals had a pattern, and he had kept to it when he realized that a lot of people showed up injured. It had nothing to do with expecting Zahra to come for him any day now. Nothing to do with wanting to be right here should she arrive. He was just doing his work as a healer.

From the new library, he had acquired a text on modern medicine. It sat in front of him, a cup of coffee by his hand that Kitty kept full of fresh, steaming brew, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies by his other hand. He wore the symbol that he refused to consider holy, his dark spear rested against the thigh closer to the wall, and he had prepared all of his healing spells, and a few damage and area of effect spells in case anything came through that posed a threat.

Kitty was on-shift, which used to mean covering the bar, the cafe, and the pool bar. Out of habit, she still watched all of them, but these days, she had plenty of help. Ignis or Emma were almost always in the kitchen and someone usually tended the bakery counter.

In short, there was absolutely nothing unusual about the day, Kitty or Kash. It was exactly like every other arrival day. The only exception, if it was one, was that Kash was almost as interested in his book as Kitty was her research.
st_ingofthehundred: tarot (cleric)
[personal profile] st_ingofthehundred
Whether to spite "INR's" accusation of poor planning or because it was his nature, Kash arrived in the Garden Room on the 2nd floor an hour before the 3:00 meeting.

Caroline, who'd lit up like the sun when he asked for her help, had beaten him there, and was already setting up the room for his meeting. If Vax was around for the call back, he'd have stage-whispered "is she always like this?" but since there was no one to see, he just smiled his thanks at her. It was actually pretty cute.

Between the two of them, they quickly finished the set up - chairs around the outside of long tables arranged in as near an oval as the shape of the tables would allow. At the far end, away from the door, several whiteboards (which were one of the fucking coolest inventions Kash had ever seen) had been set up. At each seat there were Madonna Inn notepads, a pen and a mechanical pencil (also fucking cool) to suit individual preferences, and a plastic cup. Pitchers of ice water had been set at intervals around the tables so as to be in easy reach. At the side of the room, two tables bore coffee urns and hot water urns for tea; baskets of apples, oranges, and bananas; plates of brownies and cookies of various types.

When the others began to arrive, they found Kash with a chocolate chip cookie between his teeth, finishing a rough sketch of the buildings and grounds. It had notations of vulnerabilities, choke points, and sundry tactical notes around the margins that (minus the personal notes) looked something like:



[ooc: Please assume that Kash gave an intelligent presentation on defending the Inn against various threats and then asked others to weigh in. I'm not a battlefield strategist. If you want Kash, put "tag Kash" in your subject line. Otherwise, I'll tag OTAs as Kash sees fit.]
st_unaligned: (default)
[personal profile] st_unaligned
It had been almost a week now since Bo had arrived. She had gotten familiar with the hotel and very familiar with some of the people, but the impending war between Light and Dark Fae back home kept dwelling on her mind. That and leaving Lauren the way that she had meant that at least once a day Bo practiced in her head how she was going to apologize Lauren about killing her girlfriend. So Bo needed a way out. She knew Dyson was here and he would have looked for a way out for a while, too, but Bo was convinced she could spot something even Detective Won't-Crack-A-Smile-Anymore couldn't find.

She found herself at the stables today. Her goal was to look for anything that was out of place - even for an separate dimension place. As she neared the stables themselves, the distinct smell of horses hit her nostrils. "At least it's obvious they have real horses."

Bo walked up and into the stables and started slowly walking, looking into each stall as she walked by.
st_oriedqueen: (bored)
[personal profile] st_oriedqueen
Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim. - Vicki Harrison

"You're sure?" Regina already knew the answer but demanding that Sam tell her what she already knew satisfied something petty in her. Or maybe just something hurt that hoped he'd have a different answer than her locator spell had already provided.

"Yeah." Sam half-rolled his eyes at her as he leaned across the pink bar counter to grab bottles of beer from the Silver Bar ice bin -- probably the results of Rebekah's last work-effort at the Inn -- for himself and his newly arrived companion.

Briefly, Regina considered burning a hole in the seat of his jeans, but it wouldn't bring Rebekah or any of the absent ones back. Instead, she took refuge in straightening her A-line and walking around the stylish counter Sam lay across like he was surfing the waves of grief. She took down a bottle of pointlessly pricey champagne, and then found the precise cut-crystal glasses Rebekah and Miss Fisher had preferred for their afternoon indulgences. She poured herself a glass and one for the person who dared her openly bitter expression.

"So who all are we missing?" they both said at once, glared at each other and sighed. They both knew the answers, in their own way and for their own reasons. And neither of them wanted to say.

Rebekah Mikaelson. Henry Winchester. Jack Robinson. Phryne Fisher. Dorothy Williams. Angua von Uberwald. Jaime Vegas. Harry Dresden. Lydia Martin. Raleigh Becket. Yasmeen. Joanna Beauchamp. Constance Bonacieux D'Artagnan. Lindsey McDonald.

"Grief is like the ocean," Sam clearly quoted from some fucking where, and Regina tuned him out until he added, "All we can do is learn to swim. Rebekah told me that."

Now Regina rolled her eyes; they weren't friends. "Shut up, Sam."
st_accato: (Default)
[personal profile] st_accato
You'd think that with spending time in a desert environment, that you'd get sick of the heat. Normally, you'd be right but after a workout, especially being able to give her all - or most of it anyway, Buffy always liked to relax and recoup in the sauna. She always invited Kitty or Jane, sometimes they'd say yes and sometimes not. This time, Kitty had decided to join her in the pampering. It lacked some hot guys giving massages, but what it lacked in that, it made up in sweat pouring down her temples. Maybe it actually was a good thing that there weren't hot massage guys to see her.

She reached over and poured more water on the hot rocks to make more steam. "Remind me again, why this is such a good idea? Well there is the fun fact that we don't pay to get hot and sweaty. But, besides that." Buffy was teasing, she actually enjoyed her time in the saunas. It gave her time to think about things, especially life as a 'normal' girl without Slaying. It could also be dangerous to be left alone with her thoughts, especially when they flicked between family and friends, Angel and Carlos... here and home....
st_raighttovampire: (Cheer)
[personal profile] st_raighttovampire
Independence Day called for joyous celebration. Caroline was up before dawn getting the last details ready. She laid out a breakfast buffet and mimosa bar with the help of her volunteers, set up games outside in the grass, dragged tables and umbrellas all over the property to make a fun little venue. The highlight of the whole business was a small stage that she'd convinced Piotr and Percy to build for her.

The backdrop of it could have various backgrounds projected onto it and, tonight would be an awesome movie screen for her triple feature: The Sandlot, Jurassic Park and, of course, Independence Day. Because nothing said America like fighting off invaders from outer space. Rey had worked a minor miracle by figuring out how to hook (and charge!) Caroline's cell phone to the speakers so there was music all day even when Lindsey wasn't up to playing.

In the storerooms, Caroline had found not just a SnoCone machine, but a popcorn cart and a cotton candy maker. Stephanie had agreed to take on running the last one, so Caroline hauled boxes and boxes of the sugar out to its location on the lawn.

A baseball game started to shape up around noon, while the scent of grilled meat filled the air.

It took a lot of work and most of the population being bullied into helping in some way or another, but on the 4th of July, Caroline was ready to declare independence from worrying about being trapped here.

The evening culminated with a brilliant lights display by two of the mages. Not fireworks, but not half bad either.

[Feel free to make up whatever activity you'd most like to see at the party. Sorry, this went up so late.]
st_accato: (Default)
[personal profile] st_accato
Buffy loved this time of year in California. Even if the California was in a bubble universe, pocket dimension, or something else Giles-y explanation. It was sunny and not too hot. All that was lacking was a beach, but there was a pool and that was a good second best. She'd spent most of the late morning hanging out by the pool after her workout, but she'd been pushed asked into helping out in case there were new arrivals. While Buffy could be just as stubborn, she actually liked greeting people and helping them adjust to the weirdness that was part of their life now.

She was assured that everything would be taken care of, she just had to show up. The perfect Buffy gig and she was not disappointed, there were baskets to greet new arrivals and the food and beverages were flowing. Well as much as they could for a place without a renewable source. Buffy didn't like to question things too closely. Sometimes it was good not to know what you were eating and where it came from.

Unlike most greeters, Buffy didn't have a project to work on or paperwork to do. What she did have was was a homemade, AKA crudely sewn by her, hacky sack filled with sand. Sand was never in short supply in the desert, so that's what she used. At the moment, she could be found in the lobby, near the 'welcoming' area kicking around the ball showing what some might call extraordinary dexterity and flexibility.
st_oriedqueen: (suiting up)
[personal profile] st_oriedqueen
Why Caroline had needed her to help with Check-In Day she hadn't bothered to say. Just, "you said you'd help," and when Regina protested she wasn't good with people, "aren't you a Queen or a Mayor or something?" complete with shooing gestures. While Regina found Caroline more exasperating the terrifying, she did have a point.

So Regina suited up--literally, gathered her files and folders, coffee mug, pens and pocketed the wooden carving of Henry/Roland Robin had made for her, then headed for the cafe. If, polished and politic and patently Busy, she didn't offer newcomers the brightest or warmest smile when they arrived, it was nevertheless confident and quite possibly reassuring.

Caroline did friendly. Regina...did knowledgeable and polite. Dot and Ignis had been asked to provide finger food on catering trays. The still-grieving Miss Pryde had been tasked with samovars of tea and coffee and ice chest of soda and beer. Caroline's welcome baskets sat on the table beside Regina's for easy access. And though she didn't when she was alone in the office, Regina spent the magic to fix her eyesight so she didn't put glasses between her and new arrivals.

Madame Mayor was in.
st_alksthroughwalls: (eyebrows)
[personal profile] st_alksthroughwalls
For several days the doorway to Room 137, The Caveman Room, has been glowing. Then last night the occupant of Room 137 was assigned to a different room. Today, the room is open and at the back, instead of a wall, there is daylight.

Bird song fills damp, tropical air, heavy with sweet floral perfume. From all sides, voices rise and fall in a pattern universally recognizable as haggling in a marketplace. Fresh citrus wars with the copper and iodine of freshly butchered fish and shellfish, freshly baked bread, and newly tanned leather. A fountain with a cupola tiled in jade green and gold rises in the center of an oval space surrounded by a riot of colorful stalls and from the far side you hear the ringing of metal on metal.

Those who investigate find themselves amidst several hundred shopkeepers and their patrons dressed in colorful fabrics and leather boots. Beyond the market lies a city of thousands, and beyond it, an ancient temple and vast jungle that opens into what the natives call "The Land Out of Time."

~ * ~
As much as Kitty wanted to investigate this new phenomenon, and she would, it seemed especially important to have at least one person in the cafe in case of new arrivals. It was her turn, so whether Caroline and the others joined her or not, Kitty would spend at least part of the day here behind the bar. Hopefully, whatever it was wouldn't swallow anyone up. Or if it did, Lara or Wyatt or both would come get her.
st_eadiesthefour: (fond)
[personal profile] st_eadiesthefour
The longer Constance was here, the less she could let herself believe it was all some fever dream. She was here, stuck in an inn in the Americas almost four hundred years in the future. As much as she wanted to be home, she didn't have the means to get there, and she wasn't going to sit around doing nothing. She hadn't done that while her husband was at the front; she wouldn't do it now.

She needed to learn about all the new technology – a new word, one she'd learned from River Song – and learn English, and she wasn't going to do either hiding away in her room or in the kitchens, although after a week watching the inn's unnerving cook and preparing things that didn't include chicken, for whoever was hungry, she thought she was starting to get a feel for the stove and ovens, and the rooms cooler than most cellars without being underground.

Today she'd made several meat pies and some with fruit, similar to the apple pie many had had the day they arrived, and taken them to the cafe. After setting them out for people to serve themselves, much as she would've at the garrison, if the cadets... or Porthos gave her the time to, she sat at a table nearby with needle and thread. A seam in her overbodice needed repair, and it with only the one outfit it was the only mending she was comfortable doing in public, regardless how little most of the women here wore.

She looked up as she heard someone come in, threading the needle by feel alone, and offered them a friendly grin. "'ello." It wasn't much, and she'd have to switch to French for anything else, but a simple greeting she'd heard often enough to offer in English. "Il y a de la nourriture, si vous la voulez," she added, gesturing toward the pies with a tip of her head.
st_aff: (Default)
[personal profile] st_aff
None of them planned it.

It just happened.

After a week of nothing but Iron Chef: Chicken, Sam had gone to the Copper Cafe to make himself a salad and found Steph already there making waffles. Dean joined them when he couldn’t find Sam in the room and immediately started pouring draft beers. Snow crept down a little later, apparently planning to make mashed potatoes to go with her chicken, and found Steph already peeling them.

With promises of alcohol and no questions, they convinced Snow to stay. And then, to their surprise, she not only helped Steph with the potatoes but overheard Dean bitching about a bakery with no pies and rolled up her sleeves to make one or three. The Chef drifted in a bit later, made fried chicken without talking to any of them and left them to their demented, sad but drunkenly social New Year’s Eve “party”.

By ten they were bored of draft beer and Sam and Steph went and raided the Steak House coolers for champagne—Steph because she wanted it and Sam because it was entirely plausible that an insurance investigator/estate appraiser would know something about what was decent champagne. But when they found a room service cart, they didn’t stop at champagne.

Why should they? They couldn’t go anywhere. They had nothing to do except when Sam and Dean could sneak off to bust the odd ghost or Steph to crawl the odd roof and Snow for a horseback ride. No reason they couldn’t spend the next three days drinking in the Cafe if they wanted.

Which was why when the new guests started arriving in groups of threes and fours, they were still there, drinking, listening to whatever crap music Steph on her phone and ready to share their booze for consolation. There wasn’t any way for people to get out of the lobby without seeing them, either, so they ended up consoling a lot.

Of course, there were four of them and eventually like twenty-six new people, so pretty soon it was less you’re stuck, it sucks, I’m sorry and more have a drink, grab a chair, have some pie. Some stayed in the wood-and-red leather cafe with its copper fittings, and some didn’t.

Whatever they chose, not one could say it wasn’t an interesting New Year’s Day.

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