InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Leave your boyfriend for him."

Doors Verse (doorsverse) wrote in doorslogs,
@ 2012-02-21 00:16:00

Entry tags:

plot: hotel

Who: Everyone!
What: Hotel Opening
Where: Passages Hotel
When: Now
Warnings/Rating: This is a group log. Please place locations in subject lines (Hall, Ballroom, Outside DC door), and warn appropriately when required.

The evening of the 21st, every journal - be it a phone, a notebook, a tablet or a diary - blanks out entirely, leaving only one thing behind: The Passages Hotel is opening, February 21st, midnight. More instructions follow, cryptic things about ensuring one brings their key along, and explaining that the doors will open, but cannot be crossed until a week after the Las Vegas resident has entered the hotel.

The hotel itself is a creature of a bygone age, old and dusty, but it is furnished for the event. The lights all flicker (candle, not electric), and each door along its many hallways has a flickering sconce beside it. Sometimes, the sconces fall dark, but they come alive again without warning. It is the way of the hotel.

The darkened stairs are dusty and filled with shadows that appear and disappear in the shifting light of the sconces. From the main landing of the grand staircase, one can look out on the fallen garden, in which shapes sometimes move. The pool is filled with water once more, and there are strains of classical music, 1920s jazz, modern rock and futuristic tones throughout the hotel, depending on which door a person is near. The scents vary too - now the faint musk and rot of thick vegetation, now the light sting of windswept desert, now city exhaust fumes, now the scent of curling incense and hot water poured over steaming tea leaves. The doors themselves adopt different shapes, according to the viewer and the world behind each. Yes, the hotel is truly a place of fallen grandeur and strange variety, never letting its guests forget who they are, or where they have yet to go.

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Lobby

darknesshasme
2012-02-21 06:08 am UTC (link)

She wasn't supposed to actually read the journal.

Oh, she hadn't told the nuns and priests about it, or they would have taken it from her for sure, but she knew she shouldn't be reading the scrolling words that went on by. She couldn't help it, though, and most nights found her under her sheets in the top bunk, while the postulates had dreams of Jesus in the other beds, and while she read about folks hearing things in their heads. No one else thought they had demons but her, and she knew her stepmomma would have said that was the Devil's work, but they sounded real nice, the people, and she just wasn't as sure as she'd been once about being damned.

When the note about the hotel came across the page, she did something without thinking. She slid off the bunk, pretended she was going to the bathroom, and sneaked right on out of that holy apartment. Surely baby Jesus was crying somewhere, but she just needed to see what was in that hotel.

She had the key wound round her neck, tied to a scapular of rope, and the black and white composition notebook was clutched in her hand. She was dressed in a white nightgown that went from neck to ankle, and she wore a plain tan robe overtop, just as long and cinched in a knot at the waist. Her hair was braided neatly, and she had sensible shoes on her feet. The cab driver had looked at her like she was escaped from somewhere for mad folks, and he hadn't waited around for her to explain that she didn't have cab fare.

The hotel was huge and looming, and she was pretty sure she'd never seen something so old and lit up like that. She wandered in tentatively, clutching the scapular at her neck and whispering a Hail Mary as she entered the lobby. Something was making her want to head toward the staircase, and she looked over her shoulder before heeding the desire. After all, she'd come this far, hadn't she?

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Lobby

skelterhelter
2012-02-21 08:45 pm UTC (link)

John was also obsessed with the journal, but for different reasons entirely. He looked upon the ruled pages as a saving grace rather than a brochure for the next boat ride to Hell. Despite the fact that the journal was obviously connecting him to other people, John suspected - or just hoped - that it would reveal some clues about himself eventually. After all, coincidences didn't exist, right?

He was home alone when the journal blanked. Initially John did not notice, as he was digging some pizza out of a box in the fridge and half listening to the nightly news segment. The boy in his head was, as ever, quiet. Even so, there was no sense of solitude. He could feel the young man like a wild, pacing thing trapped in shadows and steel bars. Occasionally there was an echo, some scream of frustration or a plead for help(please, please help me) lost in dark caverns. John tried to ignore it for the most part.

While chewing on a piece of stale crust, he bypassed the plastic kitchen table with intent for the living, but John paused with a glance upon the open journal, which was questionably blank and then suddenly alive with cryptic directions to some hotel. Without question, John pulled on a dark blazer over a graying tee shirt and hit the door.

The hotel was far from promising, that was evident from a few yards away, but John went inside anyway. The desert air had a bite to it tonight, and it made the pin in his elbow ache with strange familiarity. The pin, like so many parts of him, was a clue with no label. Even the doctors in Reno had shrugged their shoulders over where he'd had the surgery, only hypothesizing that the break was approximately five years old.

The inside of the hotel wasn't much better, especially when brought up in comparison with the hotels that he was recently acquainted with. This was no Caesar's, and he wasn't sure if it was the lack of clanging slots or the lack of people that he found so disconcerting until just ahead he noticed a figure making for the stairs. "Hey," he called out. Not meaning to sound like gruff hotel security, but out of practice to sound like anything else.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Lobby -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-22 12:38 am UTC

Re: Lobby -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-22 04:58 am UTC

First-floor hallway -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-22 05:29 am UTC

Re: First-floor hallway -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-22 05:50 am UTC

Re: First-floor hallway -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-22 06:35 am UTC

Re: First-floor hallway -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-22 06:57 am UTC

Re: First-floor hallway -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-22 04:21 pm UTC

Re: First-floor hallway -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-24 04:35 am UTC

First-floor - American Horror Story door -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-24 05:18 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-24 06:20 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-24 06:51 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-25 12:00 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-25 03:25 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-25 04:27 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-25 05:07 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-25 05:24 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

darknesshasme, 2012-02-25 05:47 am UTC

Re: First-floor - American Horror Story door -

skelterhelter, 2012-02-25 06:25 am UTC

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darknesshasme, 2012-02-25 07:06 am UTC

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skelterhelter, 2012-02-25 07:21 am UTC

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darknesshasme, 2012-02-25 07:44 am UTC

Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor

itismynature
2012-02-21 06:50 am UTC (link)

There was no question that Dominic would go to the hotel when the message appeared on his journal. Why wouldn't he? He'd been working on a column for hours, and he was stalled on a letter that was going to get him crucified by one set of readers or another no matter how he answered it. That wasn't all, though. He knew well enough that the presence inside him, quiet as he was, was restless. Maybe it would do them both some good to get out for a while and see what all the fuss was about.

He took his time getting to the hotel, taking the car smoothly around back streets and side streets that he could picture in his mind as clear as a map but still hadn't learned the names of. He'd spent most of his nights since arriving in Vegas driving and getting to know the city. He'd bought a road map, and found himself poring over it at odd times. He didn't fight that, because he knew that would keep things quiet and it was good to pick his battles. The Driver wasn't going to be totally comfortable or at ease until he knew the city like the back of his hand. In L.A. it wouldn't have been necessary, but he wasn't as familiar with Las Vegas, so studying was in order. As long as Dominic didn't fall behind on his columns, he didn't mind. And it had its advantages, too. Where he normally would have eschewed a car for a bike simply because learning a new city was such a chore, he knew almost half the streets already, and though he was still driving the old used thing his parents had given him, a few tweaks had left it running smoother than it had in years.

He parked the car a block from the hotel and walked around the front. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but the place fit the bill pretty well, spooky and abandoned from somewhere around the middle of the past century. The drive over had left him with a feeling that was growing more and more familiar, somewhere below even keel. It was a submerged sensation, and it made everything seem a little distant. The prospect of going inside seemed less daunting than it might have otherwise, and he climbed the front steps without hesitation.

There were a few people already in the lobby, which was a comfort. The journals had told him that he wasn't alone, but it was different to actually see people, to know they were all there for the same reason. The Driver wasn't in the mood for idle chat, however (not that he ever was), and just wanted to get a look at the door. Dominic was curious as well, so he followed the tugging upstairs, slipping his fingers into his pocket, fingering the worn key where it hung on his key ring.

He paused on the stairs when he reached the third floor. Something about the hall struck a chord, and he walked down the hall, looking from door to door. He was waiting for a sign, or a sense of recognition, and he tried to ignore the steadily growing nervous pounding of his heart.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor

notanadvantage
2012-02-21 08:07 am UTC (link)

Noah was lost inside the hotel, which wasn't particularly surprising. Like throwing away the umbrella, avoiding the door that seemed to call his name felt like a necessary thing, lest whatever was controlling him dig its claws in deeper still. He'd come, yes, when he'd seen the message on the leather-bound journal, and he'd walked to the door that felt right, and then he'd turned and walked away.

It was, amazingly, easier than leaving the umbrella in countless bins around Las Vegas in the past weeks. It was, too, easier than his countless attempts to destroy the journal. Whatever compelled him, it seemed to fear the door as much as he did, and for once Noah felt like a semblance of control had been returned to him. He could return to the door, if he wished, he realized. He could be the one who made the choice this once.

For now, he chose to walk away.

He was on the third floor when movement caught his attention, and he turned his face in time to see the man walking down the hall. "A moment!" he called out, sounding young and British. He was dressed in much the same manner - khakis trousers and a gray vest over a white t-shirt, clothing too warm for a Vegas Spring, but that was the norm for Noah. He tapped the umbrella on the floor impatiently, and he waited for the stranger to turn.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

itismynature, 2012-02-21 10:11 pm UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-22 12:48 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

itismynature, 2012-02-22 01:26 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-22 04:06 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

itismynature, 2012-02-22 04:24 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-22 06:19 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

itismynature, 2012-02-23 02:02 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-23 02:59 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

itismynature, 2012-02-23 03:53 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-23 05:42 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

itismynature, 2012-02-23 09:56 pm UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-24 03:18 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

itismynature, 2012-02-24 04:30 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-24 05:35 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Third Floor -

itismynature, 2012-02-25 05:31 am UTC

Second Floor Landing -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-25 05:58 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

itismynature, 2012-02-25 08:07 pm UTC

Re: Second Floor - Sherlock door -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-26 03:47 am UTC

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itismynature, 2012-02-26 05:14 am UTC

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notanadvantage, 2012-02-26 05:50 am UTC

Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor

onerule
2012-02-21 06:59 am UTC (link)

Despite the phone being closely entwined with the voice that had identified itself as Bruce, Luke found it immensely useful. The device was far above his budget, though he might have had something like it years ago, in another life. Now it became a tool, utilized to track, to keep note, and to organize; he was in the midst of using it to update a change of address for one of his targets when the screen went blank without warning. Luke stared in dismay, but before he could attempt removing the battery in the hopes of restarting the phone a strange message appeared. It was nothing of his doing, nor of Bruce's-- the man made that clear enough. As another line of text appeared, this time appearing to be instructions, he made the decision to visit this mysterious hotel and see what awaited him there. Bruce warned that it might be a trap, and for once Luke agreed. Hence, his intention to go in prepared.

Fortunately he had the night off, and he took a cab instead of his bike to the appropriate address. Luke was clad plainly in jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt, with a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. The cabbie barely spared him a second glance once he'd paid his fare and gotten out, and the wheels screeched against pavement as the cab left him standing on the sidewalk, regarding the ominous-looking hotel before him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He had a small switchblade in one pocket pocket (just in case), and the key--which was black and old enough to look like it belonged in some manor house--in the other. His phone was held firmly in one hand as he walked inside, unafraid.

He saw that he wasn't alone, but that didn't eliminate the possibility of a trap. Bruce was very interested in exploring the hotel, yet he also wanted to know what door the key was for, and Luke decided they'd have plenty of time for exploring later. Right now he wanted to get to the bottom of the voice inside his head and the things he said; above all else, he wanted to know who he was once and for all. The others hesitating in the lobby and on the staircase were ignored as he moved, opting for stairs rather than the elevator. He was more wary of the latter. Step by step he went, unsure of what, exactly, he was looking for, since trying every single door seemed tedious and laughably impossible. He'd be here for days if that was the tactic he chose.

It was a feeling, really, that brought Luke to a halt on the landing of the fourth floor. Much like a brief brush of contact he wasn't sure was real or imagined, it caught his attention long enough for doubt to blossom into something more solid. After a long moment Luke turned back towards the stairs, an experiment of sorts, and he felt it again; like a tug at the edge of his mind. He didn't need Bruce's encouragement afterward to start down the hallway, every inch of him on high alert for another something to point the way.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor

laminette
2012-02-21 07:58 am UTC (link)

Wren had taken to using the sleek black phone (the one that wasn't actually on the market yet) for everything. It had more bells and whistles than anything she owned, even though she had the money to buy pretty much anything she wanted these days, and she suspected it was stolen, but it felt right in her hand, and there was still the mystery of all the files on it that she couldn't decipher yet. So the phone was her main cell these days, and when the screen (which lit up constantly) went dark, she noticed right away. She was just finishing up with a client, and she was scrolling through the posts that had been made since she'd last looked. A second later, the message about the hotel flashed on the screen, and she made quick work of calling for a car.

She climbed into the sleek, black sedan in a black cocktail dress and stilettos. It wasn't her normal attire, but it had been a formal evening, and she hadn't changed after the function. Her pale blonde hair was back in an elegant twist, and there was no doubt that the choker that circled her neck was made of pristine diamonds, as were the earrings on her ears. The driver didn't ask any questions, because he was paid not to, and she missed the easy familiarity of Silver, who would help calm her nerves on the ride. Selina, who was as secretive as always, was excited about the trip, and it almost made Wren turn around - almost.

Wren didn't expect any particularly good things out of life anymore, and this hotel wasn't any different. She'd gotten good at hiding her fear and insecurities in recent years, though, and she crossed the old lobby with the certainty of someone who belonged anywhere they wanted to be. If her stomach was doing flip-flops, well, it wasn't something that was outwardly visible. She looked like wealthy that had curves in all the right places, and no one questioned someone like that.

The key, which she pulled out of her Coach clutch as she walked, was a standard apartment key, slightly bent and nothing special. She walked on instinct, not questioning it for once. If what she'd looked up on the internet was true, then she already knew where she was going; she just wanted to be sure. She stopped at the fourth floor landing, her heels clicking to a halt on the top step. She wasn't armed, because she hadn't carried a weapon in years, but she wished for a knife just then. No, a whip, Selina whispered, and Wren ignored that too. These days, she only wielded a whip for 8,000 dollars an hour, and this wasn't that kind of outing.

A deep breath, and she stepped into the dim hallway, which seemed to go colder and darker the more steps she took. There was a figure at the end, and she could make out a baseball cap and jeans. Her steps slowed. "Do you have a key too?" she called out, and the lights on the sconces flickered and went out.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-21 08:49 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-21 03:17 pm UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-21 08:24 pm UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-21 08:48 pm UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-22 04:01 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-22 04:25 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-22 06:45 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-22 07:16 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-22 07:53 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-22 08:56 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-22 07:42 pm UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-22 08:42 pm UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-22 10:44 pm UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-23 12:15 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-23 02:35 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-23 03:26 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

onerule, 2012-02-23 04:32 am UTC

Re: Guest Room Hallway, Fourth Floor -

laminette, 2012-02-23 05:10 am UTC

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onerule, 2012-02-23 06:03 am UTC

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laminette, 2012-02-23 06:31 am UTC

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onerule, 2012-02-23 07:11 am UTC

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onerule, 2012-02-23 08:25 am UTC

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onerule, 2012-02-23 09:13 pm UTC

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laminette, 2012-02-23 10:01 pm UTC

Fourth Floor Landing.

takespoint
2012-02-21 08:19 am UTC (link)

Cory climbed up the stairs and came to a stop. There was music rattling in his ears, the band Cake singing about going the distance and going for speed, so he couldn't hear the conversation, and he didn't try. He had more nightmares, strange ones about driving in the rain and being chased, which was weird because it hadn't been raining the night Becky died. Three years and whenever he thought about dreams he thought about Becky, and here he was, working a silver key around his palm and looking for a door he wasn't sure existed.

Cory looked down at his palm. (She's all alone [all alone] in her time of need..., Cake wailed.) The key was silver, a modern cut key made on a machine; the blade was a complex multilevel shaving set ready for a modern deadbolt lock, while the bow was a strange geometric design of rectangles that made Cory dizzy to stare at it too long. He should go down the hall and find where it fit, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. What was the point? More nightmares?

Cory knew the someone that was with him, and he knew that up until this point that someone didn't have much to say to him. He was too apathetic to be insulted, and maybe that was part of it. Cory took a step back down the stairs and sat down on the dusty carpet. (Because he's racing, and chasing, and plotting the course...)

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Fourth Floor Landing.

forger
2012-02-21 08:30 am UTC (link)

Evan had no real clue about the person in his head. Everyone else had one, and he thought he probably did too, but hey, that wasn't really worrisome when you spent every hour of the day with a dead girl you'd never met. He read the things people wrote in the sports book he carried in the pocket of his jeans, and he knew they were all hearing voices, but not him. He was all by himself upstairs - only him, and the dead girl, and the constant thoughts of death. Same old, same old.

He'd come to the hotel for the hell of it, because his therapy was done for the day, and A.A. had gotten out early, and it was either the hotel or the nearest bar.

He chose the hotel.

He was dressed in jeans and a blue, designer tee shirt that pretended to be vintage cheap, and his shoes were worth more than the ancient marble that lined the hotel's entryway. His eyes were only slightly bloodshot, and his skin only smelled a little booze-sweet, and he looked like a bored rich guy that had decided to spend some time in the shady part of town.

He shoved his cellphone (and the red poker chip he carried everywhere) into his back pocket, and he fished out the tarnished key as he did so. He took the steps two at a time, whistling some Etta James, and he stopped just shy of the fourth floor landing. The familiar shape a few steps ahead, sitting on the dusty carpet, was one he hadn't seen in years, but he'd recognize the kid anywhere. The dead girl waited at the top of the stairs, but Evan didn't move just then. He knew the kid had to have heard the whistling; he just didn't know if the kid would recognize him in return.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

takespoint, 2012-02-21 08:39 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

forger, 2012-02-21 06:17 pm UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

takespoint, 2012-02-22 05:27 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

forger, 2012-02-22 05:50 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

takespoint, 2012-02-22 06:03 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

forger, 2012-02-22 06:17 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

takespoint, 2012-02-22 06:30 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

forger, 2012-02-22 06:47 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

takespoint, 2012-02-22 07:10 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

forger, 2012-02-22 07:28 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

takespoint, 2012-02-22 08:12 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

forger, 2012-02-22 04:35 pm UTC

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takespoint, 2012-02-22 05:55 pm UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

forger, 2012-02-22 06:53 pm UTC

Re: Fourth Floor Landing. -

takespoint, 2012-02-23 12:57 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor - Inception Door -

forger, 2012-02-23 02:17 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor - Inception Door -

takespoint, 2012-02-23 03:24 am UTC

Re: Fourth Floor - Inception Door -

forger, 2012-02-23 03:34 am UTC

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takespoint, 2012-02-23 06:24 am UTC

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forger, 2012-02-23 06:44 am UTC

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forger, 2012-02-23 09:35 pm UTC

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takespoint, 2012-02-24 02:22 am UTC

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forger, 2012-02-24 03:28 am UTC

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takespoint, 2012-02-24 06:31 am UTC

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forger, 2012-02-24 06:59 am UTC

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takespoint, 2012-02-24 07:08 am UTC

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forger, 2012-02-24 07:20 am UTC

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forger, 2012-02-24 07:34 am UTC

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takespoint, 2012-02-24 07:49 am UTC

The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room

storyteller
2012-02-21 09:06 pm UTC (link)

Kate wasn’t supposed to be here. It was her night off – the only one she would have this week. She was supposed to be at home, tucked into a hot bathtub with a good book and an oversized glass of wine, ignoring the incessant buzzing of her phone for an hour. Instead, here she was in a hotel she had never spared more than the briefest of glances for, following the mysterious clues that had popped up in her moleskine for seemingly no reason at all. She had been tempted to ignore the strange script and stick with her original plans, but the brat in her head had bothered her about ‘going on an adventure’ and ‘doing something fun for once’ for so long that Kate figured it would be easier to go and shut her up than try to stay and drown her out.

So there she was, on the first floor, surrounded by complete strangers. She wore a simple black shift dress and black heels like she did on most other days, but wore her hair in loose waves that brushed her shoulders instead of in her customary bun. A gold key glinted on its long chain around her neck as she moved past the fireplace, but she wore no jewelry besides. Her hands traced the spines of the books on the shelves lightly as she wandered through the reading rooms, looking for something to explain why she was here at all. When no answer presented itself after twenty minutes of meandering, Kate went to the mahogany bar at the end of the room to pour herself a drink.

She might not get any answers tonight, but she might as well have a good time.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room

comeawaywithme
2012-02-22 04:55 am UTC (link)

Jack didn't require as much convincing, if anything he was a man who wanted to know exactly what was going on, and exactly what he was dealing with. It was pure desire for knowledge that had him walking into the hotel that night.

He was completely unsure of what he'd find once he got there, for some reason he didn't expect the cavalcade of people milling about. He looked around for a moment, and began wandering. He wasn't certain what drew him to the bar, the alcohol or his ex-wife. Probably a combination of both. He approached the bar and smiled, as amiable as ever, "Good evening, Kate. Pouring drinks for everyone?" he asked grabbing an empty glass and setting it down next to her.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room -

storyteller, 2012-02-22 03:49 pm UTC

Re: The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room -

comeawaywithme, 2012-02-22 11:40 pm UTC

Re: The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room -

storyteller, 2012-02-23 04:53 am UTC

Re: The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room -

comeawaywithme, 2012-02-24 04:33 am UTC

Re: The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room -

storyteller, 2012-02-24 04:53 am UTC

Re: The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room -

comeawaywithme, 2012-02-25 08:05 pm UTC

Re: The Bar in the First Floor Reading Room -

storyteller, 2012-02-26 07:04 am UTC

Outside Phantom Door

ofmazandaran
2012-02-21 09:25 pm UTC (link)

Insomnia wasn't always a bad thing. Despite the way it shut down all his more useful mental functions and made him into a zombie during the day, it gave him the opportunity to catalogue the books he had yet to put out on the shop floor and check them for damages. He could also browse eBay, Amazon, Craigslist, and other websites to look for books, and if not buy anything, then at least get a feeling for what was available. Or what people wanted. Not that that helped very often.

And now it gave him what catching up on sleep wouldn't have done: the opportunity to see the little notebook open next to him blank itself out and scrawl a few thin lines of text. He stared at it. It took him a while to actually get up and move.

Aiden was naturally wary as he stared at the gates that had previously been locked tight. Inside the hotel, shadows flickered and grew with every door opened. He had the key and the notebook jammed deep into one jacket pocket. He could hear footsteps, quiet voices, and see shadows that had to be people instead of candlelit furniture ... while not exactly paranoid by nature, Aiden had grown up in Boston. A decrepit place in a big city at midnight didn't exactly inspire confidence in anyone but the brainlessly brave.

Mindful of the possible dangers but unstoppably intrigued by the hotel's decor, he wandered further in, up stairways and around corners. The doors ... were strange. Everything around him seemed to change whenever he went by one, including the doors themselves. Once or twice he put his ear to one to see if he could hear better, but to no avail. It didn't sound like people were behind them. Eventually he stopped - one door, a massive, looming thing, ornately decorated like the front of an old, old theater, caught his eye and held him still. There was a gargoyle at the top. The handles were wrought iron, curved and magnificent. From behind the door came the strains of an orchestra, and above that, singing in a language he could barely place.

Aiden stared at the beautifully carved doors and felt the weight of the key in his pocket.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Outside Phantom Door

madeofdeath
2012-02-22 05:17 am UTC (link)

Neil would have been perfectly content to remain in his hotel room with a bottle of wine and some decent television, the message that appeared in his journal late in the night was impossible to ignore. Refusing to investigate would have angered Erik, and he couldn't bring himself to deal with the wash of emotions that came from the tormented composer. Not tonight. He'd already agreed to meet a stranger at the Venetian to see the show, and apparently this was yet another decision made due to the tempestuous presence that invaded his mind.

He arrived in a sleek black car that purred up to the sidewalk, and the driver was tipped enough to ensure that he'd never remember coming here. The size of the hotel was nothing surprising, but it didn't exactly look occupied, and he wondered--not for the first time--what he was doing here. The journal was tucked under one arm, and his key (which matched) was stowed inside his suit jacket. Upon entering he noted that he wasn't alone, even though the people were little more than outlines in the dim light and hushed voices in the gloom, but Erik urged him forward, towards wherever the key was meant for. The opera ghost's influence made him bold and unafraid in a place like this, where the shadows were familiar and even the flickering lights reminded him of a time long ago (though it never really existed, not in terms of the fictional work itself.)

The doors he passed were strange things, almost impossibly so, but he never lingered at one too long until he heard the faint strains of music down one of the hallways. Neil rubbed his hands together and started down the hall, and as he drew closer he saw the door itself first, something that he shouldn't have recognized yet did somehow, before the man standing before it. He realized it was too late to backtrack, so he was left to close the remaining distance and hope for the best. "Hello," he greeted, trying to ignore just how badly he wanted to see what was behind the door.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

ofmazandaran, 2012-02-22 05:32 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

madeofdeath, 2012-02-23 01:44 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

ofmazandaran, 2012-02-23 02:03 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

madeofdeath, 2012-02-23 03:15 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

ofmazandaran, 2012-02-23 03:33 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

madeofdeath, 2012-02-23 05:19 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

ofmazandaran, 2012-02-23 05:41 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

madeofdeath, 2012-02-24 06:12 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

ofmazandaran, 2012-02-24 06:59 pm UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

madeofdeath, 2012-02-25 06:03 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

ofmazandaran, 2012-02-25 04:54 pm UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

madeofdeath, 2012-02-26 03:56 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

author, 2012-02-26 04:02 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

littleingenue, 2012-02-26 04:11 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

ofmazandaran, 2012-02-26 04:19 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

madeofdeath, 2012-02-26 04:58 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

author, 2012-02-26 05:10 am UTC

Re: Outside Phantom Door -

littleingenue, 2012-02-26 05:21 am UTC

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ofmazandaran, 2012-02-26 05:30 am UTC

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madeofdeath, 2012-02-26 05:42 am UTC

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littleingenue, 2012-02-26 05:59 am UTC

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madeofdeath, 2012-02-26 07:07 am UTC

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madeofdeath, 2012-02-27 12:59 am UTC

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littleingenue, 2012-02-27 01:47 am UTC

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ofmazandaran, 2012-02-27 02:34 am UTC

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madeofdeath, 2012-02-27 05:28 am UTC

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littleingenue, 2012-02-27 05:42 am UTC

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ofmazandaran, 2012-02-27 05:06 pm UTC

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madeofdeath, 2012-02-28 07:00 am UTC

Lobby, near the stairs

apracticalman
2012-02-22 03:02 am UTC (link)

It was hard to ignore the journal that night, when all the pages went blank as though taunting him with the information that had once resided on those lined pages. Micah had nearly pitched the entire thing across his small studio apartment, simply out of frustration and a barely repressed anger, but something kept him holding onto the journal, and that something was gaining a louder and louder voice as the days went by.

Finally, he relented with a muttered curse as he made his way out of his flat, calling a cab and sitting sullenly in the back as he watched the city pass by, all neon lights and activity, even at this late of an hour. His thumb worried at the smooth surface of the curve of his cane, an unconscious gesture that he seemed only faintly aware of, his thoughts distant, his gaze even more so. As the cab came to a stop outside the hotel, Micah paid the cabbie and extricated himself from the backseat with a considerable amount of effort, though the pain was a distant thought as he made his way towards the entrance, free hand gripping the smooth key that he had pocketed, the metal warming against his fingers.

"This is insane," Micah whispered as he stepped over the threshold, took in the flickering candles, the shadows that danced and tempted, and for a brief moment, he considered simply leaving. Ignoring all of this. Forgetting all of this. But that little voice, insistent and persistent, did not let him leave. Slowly but surely, Micah moved towards the stairs, stopping at the foot of them and looking upwards with considerable distaste. His leg ached at the simple prospect of ascending all of those stairs, brows pinched together. "Bloody hell. Is there not a lift in this entire place?"

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Lobby, near the stairs

nonelementary
2012-02-22 04:14 am UTC (link)

Despite some strange meetings over the past days, Clare’s habits had remained fairly well intact, and the beginning of the week found her doing her laundry and folding everything neatly to place back in the drawers of her simple dresser. As she slipped her underthings (white, plain, boring) into their assigned drawer, her fingers brushed against the edge of the notebook she had shoved there the same day it had arrived. She hadn’t pulled it out since then, neither the book nor the key that had arrived with it, and had been blissfully ignorant of what others had been dealing with in regards to their own journals. As her fingers caught the edge of the cover, something within her prompted, insisted that she draw the notebook out into the light.

She looked at the plain cover for a long, uncertain moment before flipping it open, surprised to find words already there. She couldn’t understand any of the talk about the doors, about crossing (it didn’t make sense!), and she stood there confused for a very long time. It was inching along to be the time she usually readied herself for bed, but instead she simply sat on the stiff, uncomfortable couch that had come with the apartment, and held the notebook in her hands. Midnight wasn’t so very far off, after all.

She was shocked to find a taxi waiting to take someone somewhere, even at the very late (to her) hour, but she climbed in and recited the address. The key and notebook were both tucked securely in her purse, and she was still wearing the same clothing she’d worn to work that day - the same thing she wore nearly every day: dress with a knee-length hem, opaque tights, cardigan sweater, and simple flat shoes. After they’d arrived, money passed over to the driver, Clare headed inside with tentative steps, worried at what she would find inside.

What she found was candles, dust, and a strange feeling that pulled her forward. That, and a man paused at the foot of the stairs, muttering to himself. She overheard his words, having crossed the lobby on soft-soled flats, and cleared her throat quietly. “Did you... did you want some help?”

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Lobby, near the stairs -

apracticalman, 2012-02-22 04:25 am UTC

Re: Lobby, near the stairs -

nonelementary, 2012-02-22 04:50 am UTC

Re: Lobby, near the stairs -

apracticalman, 2012-02-22 05:07 am UTC

Re: Lobby, near the stairs -

nonelementary, 2012-02-23 03:59 am UTC

Second Floor Landing

author
2012-02-22 04:00 am UTC (link)

Shortly after arriving at the hotel, Liam had spent a few scant moments surveying the lobby, singing his fingers on a candle when curiosity got the best of him as he wondered about their reality, wondering how safe it was to be lighting an entire building by only the wax candles. It was a charming sight, he could see that, but safe? That he doubted. Sucking on his burned forefinger, Liam ascended the first flight of stairs to the second floor, the strip of leather he had tied to his key wound about his hand for safe keeping, the key nestled in his palm. The notebook was in hand, along with his own well-worn moleskin as he ventured onto the second floor.

For a long moment, he stood there, face tilted towards the ceiling, eyes half-closed, just soaking in the atmosphere. There was something peculiar, interesting, about the hotel, something he hadn't experienced before. The atmosphere felt charged with energy, on the verge of something happening. It was with those thoughts in mind that he dropped to sit where he stood, pulling out his notebook and putting pencil to paper to write, letting the mood take him.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Second Floor Landing

littleingenue
2012-02-22 05:07 am UTC (link)

Sam had never been timid, and she'd never been a dreamer. Life had always been up and down for her, straight lines and hard choices. She didn't linger on things, and she didn't wait around for someone to make her choices for her. She was impulsive, and she didn't plan, and she got angry way too often. Being angry, that led her straight to the hotel when she found out the thing was finally opening.

She'd been fighting with Clarissa (again) about the amount of time she spent on the internet, which was utter bullshit. She'd just come home from a ten-hour shift on the construction site, and she had a right to unwind, just like anyone. Clarissa was on her way out the door anyway, off to deal, and it's not like they were going to have any long and meaningful conversations or anything like that. No, so they'd fought, and the walls had shaken and they'd both ended up looking like alley cats. A shower later, Sam was making the short walk to the hotel.

She was dressed in a tank top, white, with a black bra beneath it. Her cargo pants were lose, baring a sliver of white at her hip, and she was too curved and soft to be considered the ideal weight for a woman in a society that was stupidly unrealistic about shit like that. Her long black hair (obviously dyed) was in a loose tangle, and her boots were thick and black and heavy as she stamped them clean inside the hotel doors.

Great. It looked like fucking Tower of Terror, she thought as she walked inside, and she pulled the old French lock and key from the chain that went from her beltloop to pocket. It was a rusted old thing, and she liked the roughness of the metal beneath her fingers. She was so lost in the feel of it beneath her calloused fingertips, that she didn't even notice she'd stopped at a door. Backtracking told her she was on the second floor, and she wandered away from the door, back to the landing with the wary look of someone who trusted nothing and no one - and definitely not that door.

In her haste to get away, she backed right into the man with the pencil and paper.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-22 11:08 pm UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-23 12:24 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-23 12:47 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-23 02:04 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-23 02:15 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-23 03:10 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-23 03:18 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-23 05:21 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-25 01:13 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-25 03:31 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-25 03:48 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-25 04:53 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-25 05:03 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-25 05:32 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-25 05:40 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-25 07:17 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

author, 2012-02-25 07:24 am UTC

Re: Second Floor Landing -

littleingenue, 2012-02-25 08:24 am UTC

... -

littleingenue, 2012-02-26 06:20 am UTC

Third Floor Landing

morningbuzz
2012-02-22 05:20 am UTC (link)

Brian had to be to work in 3 hours and he hadn't yet been to sleep. They could always tell when he hadn't slept well and he always worried he'd let on to the viewing public that he wasn't well rested or as enthusiastic. Oh screw the viewing public. The voice came and went as it pleased. She, Lois, had plenty to say at all hours of the night. For the most part she let him sleep, it was a dangerous bit of a truce, but at the first idea that they'd have something to investigate she hadn't let thought go.

The very word "midnight" was enough to throw him off, he didn't live much of the nightlife, save for weekends and vacations, but he couldn't afford to. Morning shows were tough business whether Lois realized it or not. She took every opportunity to harass him about his career choice, but he hoped by giving in and showing up to this place at this hour of night would shut her up for a bit. She'd owe him big at the very least. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be doing here, he was too nervous to find out. Too nervous about what might happen but every time he stopped to take in an old couch, or looked at something a bit too long Lois spoke up and demanded he go somewhere else. If this was investigative reporting he felt like it was a bit of a waste of time. This was less investigating and more wandering around an hold hotel aimlessly not being able to stop long enough to speak to anyone just yet.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: Third Floor Landing

published
2012-02-22 07:18 am UTC (link)

Stella brought the dog. She wasn't entirely sure why she'd brought the dog, nor was she sure that the dog was at all interested in being brought--in coming along--but she didn't want to go alone. The dog, recently christened Krypto, was a young but sad specimen of a mutt. She had muddy brown-white fur short to her body, a very pink tongue, one bad eye that made her tip her head and a much-torn and scarred ear. She didn't make the kind of happy sounds that most dogs made, and she growled at almost everything, but she hadn't bitten nor tried to bite Stella, who was presently trying to buy her trust with a great deal of things that weren't good for her, like steak.

The dog had an incongruously bright pink collar with a silver bow charm on it, and it rattled as Stella mounted the stairs. She had the night off, and she was wearing a shirt that was confused about whether it wanted to be green or gold and jeans. With her poof of red hair and no make up, she made up for the dog's warning growl with a bright smile at the hottie standing on the landing. "Hi! You get a note too?"

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Third Floor Landing -

morningbuzz, 2012-02-22 11:37 pm UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

published, 2012-02-23 12:46 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

morningbuzz, 2012-02-23 03:44 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

published, 2012-02-23 06:35 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

morningbuzz, 2012-02-24 04:24 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

published, 2012-02-24 07:00 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

morningbuzz, 2012-02-25 08:00 pm UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

published, 2012-02-26 05:01 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

morningbuzz, 2012-02-27 02:52 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

published, 2012-02-27 05:44 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

morningbuzz, 2012-02-27 06:06 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

published, 2012-02-27 06:18 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

morningbuzz, 2012-03-01 04:21 am UTC

Re: Third Floor Landing -

published, 2012-03-03 04:33 am UTC

top of the grand staircase.

hitjackpot
2012-02-22 05:28 am UTC (link)

Las Vegas was a city with the brightest of streets and the darkest of corners. The ostentatious glittering lights hit almost every inch of the town, except the bits that it didn't. Those seedy, midnight black parts of Vegas that only poked its head out in the most nefarious of times. It was a city of stark contrasts -- a city of the highest highs and lowest lows. But the shiny lights and big jackpots distracted from the bad things. MK Robinson, the redhead with big dreams, bigger problems, and the biggest personality, had been in town for less than a day, but she found a strange kinship with her newest home. The Sin City was a show with insidious and depressing little corners that people got the tiniest glimpses of. Just like her.

She had barely gotten off the red eye flight from Los Angeles and was waiting for a taxi to take her to Caesar's Palace where Wren was waiting. MK was apprehensive, strangely. So many things occurred since they last saw each other. MK knew she was different on the inside, even if others couldn't quite tell. She wondered how much Wren had changed and how much the other girl would be able to pick up on her own. They hadn't discussed details, not really, and she worried about how Wren would react to the real reason she left Seattle.

Wanting to forget lead her to opening the journal. It was a curious little thing, but instead of being filled with the usual writings, a message graced the front page. What the hell was the Passages Hotel? More writing followed, mentioning that key settled at the bottom of MK's bag, and giving directions to the hotel. It didn't make much sense, or any at all, but something tugged to do it. The voice or whatever. So, after dropping off her bags at the hotel concierge, she jumped right back into the cab and towards the ominous Passages Hotel.

She wandered quietly to the front door, and after a quick glance in the lobby, she moved towards the destitute, yet ornate staircase. The rug lining it was an ugly little thing, but MK still moved upward and onward until she reached the top. Large windows faced an old garden, and she was caught staring at it for a moment, lost in looking at the tiny details of what was once probably a beautiful building. Her fingers, slim and delicate, rose slowly and pressed against the glass. Why was she here? What kind of answers would she find in this place?

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: top of the grand staircase. [1/2]

bigtimehero
2012-02-22 04:39 pm UTC (link)

Simon was doing an acceptable job of settling into his new home, but he could already tell Vegas wasn't for him. It was hot enough in spring that summer was bound to be miserable, even in comparison to enduring the reflected heat of the canyon streets back home in Queens. He'd traveled a lot, but he'd never stuck around the southwest for a reason.

He had taken an apartment in what wasn't the worst part of town, but certainly wasn't the best, either. The idea of living in some high rise somewhere made him deeply uncomfortable, and he was hoping it would make life more difficult for the paparazzi if he lived off the beaten path.

The past few days had been spent cleaning the place out and setting up, getting some furniture in there. The only things in the place that could be qualified as expensive were the bed and the set of speakers in the living room. He'd spent a long time sleeping on van shocks under a metal floor, or spring mattresses, or people's couches. He didn't feel too bad about getting a really comfortable bed, or a set of speakers that would let his favorite music sound exactly the way it was supposed to.

Living in a neighborhood that was slightly rougher, though, did have its downsides, like the fact that there was more crime, which meant more opportunities for the guy in his head to go apeshit and insist he intervene. Simon still wasn't talking to him, but he was starting to consider bowing on that point just to try to convince him to get his shit in order and keep his weird compulsions for saving people to himself. Simon wasn't a superhero. He was good with his fists, but so far he'd come up against three different guys, and he'd just gotten lucky that none of them had guns. How long was it going to take before his luck ran out?

The message appeared on his journal while he was sifting through old records on his bed, and it took him a few minutes to notice it. The journal was laying flat off to his side, and he'd been checking it every few minutes, watching people chatter, firing off a couple replies. The message about the hotel, though, stayed up no matter how many times he flipped the page. He slammed the journal shut. Alright. He'd bite. Maybe if he followed the program, the hotel would produce the sort of answers he'd come to Vegas looking for.

He put on a hoodie, pulled it low over his head, and walked out into the warm spring night. It took him a couple tries to get a cab, but it was better than the alternative of getting recognized on his way to the hotel. He gave the driver the cross streets, and he fingered the key in his pocket, pressing his thumb against the sculpted teeth, tracing the lines of the spider cut halfway into it.

When the cab arrived at the hotel, the driver seemed anxious to get out of the neighborhood, and genuinely surprised when Simon paid him. He could see why. The place looked haunted as fuck, and it was only the people walking past the windows inside that reassured him he'd come to the right place. The sun was almost all the way down, but there was a reddish purple haze behind the hotel, and it gave it an eerie glow.

(Reply to this) (Parent)

Re: top of the grand staircase. [2/2]

bigtimehero
2012-02-22 04:39 pm UTC (link)

Simon mounted the front steps, running his teeth over his lower lip. He was thinking about getting a piercing there. He'd been wanting to for a while, and anything that made him unfamiliar sounded like a good plan. Maybe he'd pick up a couple more tattoos. Change his hair. Change his name, disappear.

Aside from the low murmur of conversation from the people scattered through the lobby and up the stairs, the whole place was quiet, which was about as unnerving as it was comforting. Weirder than that, though, was the sort of tingling feeling he'd had since he walked in the front door, like this was exactly where he needed to be, and that there was something he ought to see deep inside. If he'd had any questions as to whether he'd made it to the right building, those went away immediately.

He took the main stair, and the redhead on the first landing caught his attention right away. She was the only person he could see not intent on going somewhere or talking to someone else, and he hesitated as he moved past her. Why did her face seem sort of familiar, even in profile? He wished she'd turn her head so he could see her better.

"Hey," he said. Great job, nice conversation starter. He quickly realized he probably looked like a creep with his hood up, so he pushed it hood down, revealing a flat black mohawk with the sides buzzed low. "Uh...what are you looking at?" he asked. Nice save! God, he was an idiot.

(Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-23 04:33 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-23 04:49 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-23 05:18 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-23 10:05 pm UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-24 03:20 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-24 04:56 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-24 07:22 pm UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-25 01:18 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-25 05:49 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-25 07:59 pm UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-26 05:37 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-26 05:54 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-26 06:23 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-26 06:29 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-26 06:56 am UTC

Re: top of the grand staircase. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-26 08:07 pm UTC

Re: outside the marvel door. -

hitjackpot, 2012-02-27 04:14 am UTC

Re: outside the marvel door. -

bigtimehero, 2012-02-27 06:30 am UTC

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hitjackpot, 2012-02-27 07:07 am UTC

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bigtimehero, 2012-02-28 12:22 am UTC

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hitjackpot, 2012-02-28 04:17 am UTC

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bigtimehero, 2012-02-29 03:03 am UTC

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hitjackpot, 2012-02-29 03:59 am UTC

The Garden Entrance

dischocolate
2012-02-22 09:03 am UTC (link)

Oh, Carol certainly knew better. Anyone who was invited to an ancient and perhaps haunted hotel by some defective electronic tablet would suspect a prank. She didn't even conduct enough research about the place and instead seemed satisfied with what rumors her coworkers passed on. One of them, a man who insisted on visiting the cat reservation in a suit and tie, seemed puzzled by the hotel when she asked him about it. It simply doesn't belong here, he would say with an arched eyebrow, but didn't press her on details. Everyone was entitled to their secrets in Vegas.

After some careful thought, Carol admitted she wasn't one to ignore the strangely alluring and decided to let curiosity pull her away to the old hotel. She was surprised to find it beautiful in so many ways despite expiring so long ago. It made her wonder if this was some kind of tomb with purpose. The rot and crumbling stone simply guardians of a jewel or fire that proved to be an unimaginable prize. Pressing her nose against the smudged glass door leading out to the garden, she searched for a treasure. A solution to the puzzle.

(Reply to this) (Thread)

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-22 06:26 pm UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-22 07:43 pm UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-23 01:40 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-23 02:53 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-23 03:07 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-23 03:30 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-23 09:46 pm UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-24 08:15 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-25 01:12 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-26 08:39 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-26 06:58 pm UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-27 08:12 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-28 01:59 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-28 03:01 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-28 09:00 pm UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-28 09:14 pm UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-02-29 03:10 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

dischocolate, 2012-02-29 08:20 am UTC

Re: The Garden Entrance -

toujours, 2012-03-01 01:49 am UTC

... -

dischocolate, 2012-03-01 08:42 am UTC

In front of the Peter Pan/Neverland Door

whistleforme
2012-02-22 06:24 pm UTC (link)

Tiffani was curious. It probably wasn't the best idea for her to go to a strange hotel at midnight after her journal told her to but she knew how to take care of herself. Sort of. Honestly, how bad could it really be? She didn't have work but she still went over to Coyote Ugly for a couple hours before heading over to the Passages Hotel. Given that, she wore a denim mini skirt and sheer white peasant blouse with a bright blue camisole underneath. She wore gold flats that still managed to accentuate her long legs. Being 6' sucked sometimes, but she loved not having to wear heels if she wasn't working at Crazy Horse.

She wandered into the lobby but nothing really held her interest. Her journal had said to bring her key so she brought both items in her knockoff Coach bag, which was slung over her shoulder. She fished out her key as she climbed the staircase and discovered that there was a number etched on the silver key. That was the best place to start, wasn't it? She climbed the stairs easily and found the floor she needed. Tiffani was so focused on finding the right number that she ignored all the other doors. She found the one she was looking for and used her key. The door gave her no resistence whatsoever and she swung the door open.

The place she saw inside looked inviting. There was a happy chime of bells and TIffani figured it out. This was home for Tinker Bell, wasn't it? What was the place called? Never something. An annoyed chime rang out this time and Tiffani rolled her eyes. "Neverland, I remember," she mutered, shaking her head. She went to step through the door but she found she couldn't break the plane. She tried twice more, partly at Tinker Bell's insistence, but the result was still the same. She found that she didn't quite want to leave though, and neither did Tinker Bell from what Tiffani could tell. She left the door open and took a seat, tucking her legs to the side so that she wasn't being indecent. She just looked through the door, content with that for now but eager to go through.

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Grand Staircase, Going Up

starshine
2012-02-22 06:40 pm UTC (link)

Zoe hadn’t planned on going. She didn’t have work but she had better things to do. Resting, relaxing, enjoying her night off. Anything. Indulging the nagging voice in her head was not something she tried to make a habit of. But Yvaine was insistent (she rarely was anything otherwise) and Zo had to admit she was curious. She had seen the announcement scrawled in her journal and fingered the silver key she had. She had spent far too long wondering where it lead and now she would finally know what it opened. It was a wonder she could think of anything else.

The cab dropped her off after midnight, remarking that she in her little black dress could do better than this dump and she agreed but laughed as she slipped him his payment and slid out of his car. She took in the atmosphere, or what little she found there to be, but didn’t want to spend too much time lingering. She could explore the place later. For now she only had one thing in mind: opening her door. So with sure steps, a feat in her ridiculously high heels, Zoe moved to ascend the grand staircase.

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Re: Grand Staircase, Going Up -

silverandiron, 2012-02-23 02:49 am UTC

Re: Grand Staircase, Going Up -

starshine, 2012-02-23 03:43 am UTC

Re: Grand Staircase, Going Up -

silverandiron, 2012-02-23 06:42 am UTC

Re: Grand Staircase, Going Up -

starshine, 2012-02-23 07:33 am UTC

Re: Top of the Grand Staircase -

silverandiron, 2012-02-23 06:53 pm UTC

Re: Top of the Grand Staircase -

starshine, 2012-02-23 07:50 pm UTC

Re: Top of the Grand Staircase -

silverandiron, 2012-02-24 01:59 am UTC

Re: Top of the Grand Staircase -

starshine, 2012-02-24 03:58 am UTC

Re: Top of the Grand Staircase -

silverandiron, 2012-02-24 06:53 am UTC

Re: Stardust Door -

starshine, 2012-02-24 09:02 am UTC

Re: Stardust Door -

silverandiron, 2012-02-26 04:39 am UTC

First Floor Landing

snownotstark
2012-02-23 03:55 am UTC (link)

Raegan was at work when the mysterious message appeared in her journal, scrawls of ink appearing on the page as though by magic. The club was loud, and she was seated out of sight in the midst of hanging coats with her iPod as she usually was when the first rush died down. She liked the journal, and she liked reading the words that appeared, words from other people, even though she observed more often than she responded. Technically her shift didn't end for another two hours, but the mention of doors and keys was simply too much to resist. She peered over the counter, ensuring that no one was watching her, and scribbled a quick note to her boss about being sick and having to leave before hopping over and heading outside. She considered walking, but considering the hour decided that paying for a cab would be worth the cost if it kept her from getting into trouble. The journal and key were already on her, tucked into her ragged black-and-purple messenger bag slung over her shoulder, and she hummed with excitement the entire ride there. Dreaming about Westeros and reading about it was one thing, but the possibility of actually going there herself was almost too much to hope for. Of course, it might be Jon who was able to enter, but she'd still be with him, hopefully, and that was just as good. He was a little wary of the invitation, but he too was anxious to return home, presumably back to the Wall.

It looked like something haunted, the hotel, but Raegan wasn't the least bit deterred. She wandered inside and immediately headed for the staircase, wanting to find her door as quickly as possible. Clad in a sleeveless hoodie paired with a denim skirt and ankle boots, Raegan took the stairs two at a time and paused on the landing. Jon didn't know which direction to choose any more than she did, but she thought that maybe her door would be higher up, considering Jon was from the North and all. It might have been flawed logic, and she chewed on her lip for a moment before reaching into her bag for the key. Maybe it would help guide her, she thought, and took an experimental step to the right with her key held out to see if anything would happen.

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Re: First Floor Landing -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-26 06:09 am UTC

Re: First Floor Landing -

itismynature, 2012-02-26 06:22 am UTC

Re: First Floor Landing -

snownotstark, 2012-02-27 07:25 am UTC

Re: First Floor Landing -

notanadvantage, 2012-02-27 08:03 am UTC

Re: First Floor Landing -

itismynature, 2012-02-28 12:27 am UTC

Re: First Floor Landing -