st_alksthroughwalls: (research frustration)
[personal profile] st_alksthroughwalls
The morning sun broke through leftover clouds, warming their backs as they ran. They'd been keeping up a running banter on the subject of Easter, Passover, and April Fool's Day, and what the Inn might do about any of them.

"Head first, obviously," Steph said, as they topped a rise.

"Totally. Feet first is just cruel," Kitty agreed, even though she was hardly an expert on the subject of chocolate Easter bunnies.

"Anyway, it's just not Easter without peep-jousting."

"Hey, it could happen." Kitty winced at the image of giant peeps having a medieval tournament on the main lawn and Ghostbusters-style marshmallow goo everywhere. An almost literal shudder passed over her at another thought, "Pray we don't get April Fool's versions of the Ten Plagues."

"That doesn't sound like comedy," Steph said.

"My point exactly." They hit the end of their route and turned to head back. "The Inn only thinks it's funny."

A few minutes passed in near silence as Kitty thought about all the ways this could go horribly wrong. Steph's, "Huh," broke her contemplation, and she followed the direction of Steph's pointing.

"Somehow," Steph said, "I didn't think an Easter egg hunt was even an option."

* * *
Whether Steph and Kitty were the first to discover the brightly colored eggs that didn't seem to want to open or not, they were definitely not the only ones. By the time they hauled a few eggs back to the cafe, showered and returned, the eggs were starting to pile up. So far, none of them were open, even though there were clearly items of varying weights inside.

"I really hope those aren't new arrivals," Kitty said to no one in particular, because there were just too many ways the Inn could play with death, dough, risen and rise.
st_hotflashes: (Sensual)
[personal profile] st_hotflashes
Liz had been organizing the small party for Peter for two weeks and it had been hard not to excitedly tell Peter everything. She knew he considered today his birthday. His sixteenth birthday and she wanted him to feel special today.

Once Peter was out of the room, she went in a decorated. Everything was simple, but made from the heart. She had, with Pike's instructions, made a chocolate cake with vanilla icing and piped a web in black on it with candles that said '16'. There were some finger-foods like pigs in a blanket anc chips, but the 'main course' was thai food. Or, something that maybe resembled it. Liz had worked with Emma to try and make some. There was Thai curry and Pad Thai and there was even an attempt at Larb based off of Peter's recount to Liz and then Liz's recount to Emma. There were red and blue streamers carefully places around the room.

Liz was dressed in a simple black tank top and jeans, but her hair was pulled back and clipped together by a Homemade bow.

There was music playing in the back ground of the borrowed boom box. She turned around in place looking at everything and wondered if Peter would have wanted more?

Once everyone else had arrived, it was just Peter they were waiting on. When he did, everyone but Alec shouted, to varying degrees of enthusiasm, 'Surprise'.
st_aff: (Asphodel)
[personal profile] st_aff
By the time the Crystal Room, recently and precipitously vacated by Kash, had closed itself off to begin its transformation, the incipient connection to a new world had already been reflected in the Inn's shops. Notably, after Valentine's Day, the boutique had begun to stock two new clothing trends. First came the heavily weighted apparel, almost like blankets for those on the autism spectrum, designed to hang against the body and stay against the body, most of them in fairly neutral shades and modest styles. Then came the exquisitely light, unusual fabrics, that seemed made for dancing and twirling. They often had extra fabric, tubes and ruffs, and layers that when caught in the wind would puff out into shapes. These tended toward the colorful, and while rarely what any 21st century Earth person would call scandalous, they often seemed to be playing peekaboo with spectators and the flesh beneath.

Other, less interesting, changes happened more suddenly. Every room had fresh water bottles delivered daily. The chef's chicken dishes inexplicably began to contain a great deal of cream, cheese, and cream cheese. The ice machines occasionally acted up and spit a stream of cubes at people passing without filling a bucket.

In retrospect, when the Crystal Room opened onto the deck of what might once have been some kind of space yacht but had become more the equivalent of an overcrowded tour bus for penny-pinchers and scholarship kids, it was more obvious than ever that where they'd be going, what they'd need when they'd get there, and the camouflaging of their arrival wasn't entirely random. The captain and passengers of the dirty, overcrowded space-bus SC Trolley couldn't possibly have cared less where the extra passengers came from, if they even noticed. And the docking crew on the pretentiously named Celadon Ring (third from the top, reserved for miner-leave ships and the odd 'leisure' travelers), was more interested in clan personal matters than in how many people were supposed to be on the ship versus how many left through its doors. After the first few hours of the ship's arrival, no one cared at all, which made it very easy for the people of the Inn to come and go.

Whatever intelligence lay behind their off-world jaunts could do little about their appearances, however, and their strange fleshy colors and hairstyles drew unpleasant looks from many on station. The Verineans in particular were none too thrilled by the appearance of a long-forgotten race, and behave more haughtily than ever. The Trovians poked them curiously and ran away. Most of the others avoided them. Only the Gunnii and the Diggers seemed to take them in stride.

Nevertheless, the noisy Hub with its welter of foreign tongues, the familiar patter of bargains and auctions, backed by the odd and occasionally terrifying structural creaks and groans, smelled of tarnished metal, less than fresh bodies, and commerce. Away from the pristine living quarters in the wealthiest petals, Asphodel was a trade station, and anyone with goods to trade and a will to trade them wouldn't be turned (too hard) away.

The rings and Paidia, the upper and the downbelow were something of a different story. Dangerous in the rings and the downbelow, downright welcoming in the Paidia, and off-limits without bribes on the upper, they had their own rules and their own essences. In truth, the station was large enough with so little in the way of true government, it might as well have been several small nations bound together by a gravitational system and air supply.

Regardless of where they planned to go, any visitor that exited a ship in one of the rings was made to watch a welcome video while waiting for the lifts. It contained the basic rules, offenses punishable by death, and an overview map of the station. Exchange rates in currencies unknown to the Inn were posted at the lifts exit doors. Yet whenever any first left the rings for the Hub or elsewhere on Asphodel they couldn't help but be unprepared.
st_rongheart: (casual?)
[personal profile] st_rongheart
It had taken a good three weeks for Sora and Peter to gather enough materials and also enough nerve to put on the fireworks that Peter had felt were missing from New Year's. They'd filched, over time, a pile of steel wool pads and an embarrassing number of whisks. Why they needed those things, Sora didn't exactly know.

Once everything was gathered up, Sora and Peter met outside, a safe (probably!) distance from the Inn. Peter showed Sora how to stretch out a pad of steel wool and jam it inside a whisk, then he attached long ropes of webbing to the ends of the whisks and fastened them to the ground. While he did that, he cheerfully explained how the webbing worked and how he was sure it would stick to the ground right and everything would be fine. There was a lot of math and other things Sora did not understand at all, but he was absolutely confident that Peter was right.

Once everything was fastened properly, Peter gave the nod.

Sora called out the Keyblade, stood in the middle of the webby circle of stuffed whisks, and cast Aeroga. Swirling winds came out of nowhere to lift up the whisks and spin them in the air, held in control only by the webbing ropes. Next came Thunder - bolts of lightning to ignite the wool in the whisks as they spun. (Peter had been sure that Fire wouldn't work, it had to be Thunder. And he was so right!)

Then the boys settled, more or less, to watch their homemade fireworks spinning and throwing sparks.
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_andingtall: (eyebrow)
[personal profile] st_andingtall
"Did you hear about that sardine boat?"

"Y'mean the one went missing up near the old oil rig?

The conversation floated on the buzz of conversation in The Hangman's Grill where Sam had staked out a booth, a newspaper, and a prime position for hearing the rumors of supernatural stuff happening in the town. A lot of it was turning out to be not-so-supernatural, but that was par for the course.

Dean would love this place. Great cheeseburgers, great pie, and enough hunting to keep them busy for weeks. Sam smiled into his coffee cup. At least thinking about Dean wasn't hurting so much.

"...haunted."

"Load of crap if y'ask me.

"Just saying, it's not the first boat to go missing up there."

That was enough to pique Sam's curiosity. He paid his check with one of the credit cards in his wallet. He didn't feel bad about it being a fake. If they got rid enough of the supernatural activity in Bonesville, The Hangman's Grill would make a lot more money. And if he found any cash, he'd leave it for them.

He saw Sora as he was leaving the grill to do some research and nodded in greeting. "Hey, Sora."
st_oneswidow: (Singing)
[personal profile] st_oneswidow
Curnen had been at the inn for nearly six weeks, and in that time she'd had her good days and her bad. Most of the time she remembered to walk upright and speak clearly, and on the best days she remembered songs. Not many, and often with a line or two she had to fudge, and she still couldn't play worth a damn, but she was slowly remembering words to standards she'd known for longer than most of the people around her had been alive.

It was time to try again.

In the lobby and the bar she knew that for the fifteenth the welcoming committee was getting into place to set any newcomers straight on the workings of the Madonna Inn. She too was getting into place, but for a very different reason.

Perched on the roof, Curnen lifted her head to the sky and began to sing.

I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
A-traveling through this world of woe
But there's no sickness, toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go


This time she felt the magic take hold as the song lifted up and floated out on the wind, calling out to Rob. She knew that at least some people here would sense what she was doing, would know what she was, but she didn't care. Not enough. While she still had not told anyone about her true nature, she was sure at least a couple had guessed. And there was so much less incentive here to do so. She was surrounded by wizards and beings who like herself were not human at all.

So she sang, her voice bright and clear like a bell. A beacon.
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_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.

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