Fandom Dressing

Jack, I can't believe you! I wanted you to do me a small favor, and you just ignored me! What is you--

[ Okay. This certainly wasn't the nice little flat she and Jack lived in together in the city. It also wasn't anywhere she had ever been to. Ever. 

Everything looked so... she couldn't describe it. The only thing she could say was: ]

This isn't home... 

[ She bit her bottom lip and pat her slightly swelled belly. She was about 4 months pregnant. ]

Hello? Someone? I'd like some help?


(( ooc: Hello everyone! I'm new to the comm :3 I bring you Rose from the Metal Gear Solid series. She's a bit after the ending of MGS2! I hope to play here often :D ))

Vanyel had settled himself in an out of the way window seat after retrieving Woodlark from his packs and stripping the case from the lute. It didn't take him long to bring her into tune, and he absently began playing.

He was frustrated. He had absolutely no clue where he was, or how he'd gotten here, or how he was supposed to get back. Only the fact that he didn't know where he was kept him from trying a Gate. That and the fact that Yfandes would have kicked him hard. His reserves were slowly coming back - helped out by the fact that he tended to spend at least half of the day asleep, only to stagger out of the room he'd claimed in order to get food before heading back to sleep more.

But all that that meant was that he was at loose ends, and not particularly sure that he liked it.

With a sigh he launched into My Lady's Eyes, or at least an instrumental version of it. The song was complete tripe, but the fingering was intricate enough to keep his attention focused.

Try as he might he'd yet to find a way to leave this place. He'd tried subtlety. That got him no where quickly. He'd tried brute force, despite his lack of enjoyment in it. That had gotten him a migraine and what felt like every one of his nerves throbbing on and off for a few hours. So it seemed to him that despite the power he had, he had a long way to go before controlling it.

Remy didn't make a habit of sulking like a scorned teenager, and he wasn't about to start. He'd abandoned the bar to wander the where and whatever the heck this place was. He'd been entertained enough with exploring. Then he'd found somethign that really made him perk up. An auction house that, after carefully search, had active security system beyond a locked door.

The door gave him no trouble and he left it wide open behind him. He'd say it was open and he was curious if anyone owned the place and came looking. Three stories of priceless antiques, rare jewels and even rarer artworks called to the thief in him like never before. Some further searching had yielded a records room and he'd settled in to find out all he could about everything there. As he skimmed through filed and folders he'd set one aside every so often, but he seemed to be looking for certain things in particular.

To hell with hanging out in the bar until he could escape this world. He'd just found the best junk drawer full of trinkets ever. If this was heaven he'd have to kiss the first angel he came across.

It'd been many years since he'd worked on Nataku. For that reason alone while she appeared, strangely out of thin air, he carefully inspected every inch of her and then started re-familiarizing himself with her systems.

In a world gone strange, there were three things you could count on. Your sword, your Gundam, and Hiro Yui.

Well, the other pilots weren't bad either.

"Tao lo su, Nataku. It feels like we've been dragged into one of Sun Wukong's stories doesn't it?"

The machine stood silent as he sat on her opened hatch and started typing away.

An Angeal sat at a table, in a quiet corner of the room. While this was not very unusual, the fact that he was having a strong drink to calm his obviously frazzled nerves might be. He'd never been one to resort to this, but he lacked sedatives and he wouldn't let anyone see him cry. The day... well, to say it had gone badly would be a drastic understatement. It had been one of those days, he reflected, that made people want to forget it, because it was one they would remember for the rest of their lives.

Stella stumbled a bit down the path, not knowing how she got here, or even what 'here' was. A worried look came on her face as she tried to decipher her surroundings and to be prepared if there were any threats.

"What is this place?" She muttered

Sitting just outside the bar under the tree, Abel relaxed and tried to enjoy the sunlight. It had been a long time since he had the chance to do so, and he wanted to take a few minutes before he started on the list of things to do around the bar that he had put together to pay for what he had been eating.

His robes sat next to him, leaving him in only his boots and his pants, but his gun was within easy reach. That got a small chuckle from him. He had obviously been carrying it too long if it was starting to be habit to keep it close.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed back against the tree.

Hatchin pulled the duffel bag higher onto her shoulder. She was getting tired of walking. Maybe it was time to find another job and get a bike. She'd just celebrated a birthday making her about thirteen now. No one was there to celebrate it with her, or say it to her but she didn't care. "Dad" turned out to be just that, a "dad" and not a father. Michiko was gone and would come back to her later.

"Hah," she sighed. Setting her bag down and sitting on a much appreciated bench, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she wasn't sure if she should scream or act naturally.

"where...am I?" she muttered.

There is a flash of purple smoke and the stench of brimstone and standing in the middle of it is a fuzzy blue creature holding multiple bags of Taco Bell.

"Vonderbar. It started to rain and I think I left Pitor's in the car." He then looks around... This isn't the mansion. "Vat?"

He touched up the last of the redecorating with a flourish to his sign, which he was hanging upside down off the roof to paint with huge letters that said "Zack's Place".


"And done!"

He had been waving to his friends, watching as Inaba disappeared behind him when he had closed his eyes, confident that everything had finally finished. No more Velvet Room, no more traveling into tvs, no more strange trips.

Of course, that meant that when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere else entirely.

His expression never changed out of sheer practice and he strode into the bar and sat down at the counter, turning in his seat to look around.

"..."

One moment the twelve-almost-thirteen year old was slamming her door in the face of her disgruntled adoptive father, the next she was--well, wherever here was.

Sadly? This twelve year old had seen weirder, more perverse, things than this. (Truth be told: She was more likely to be considered twelve going on forty most days, depending on her mood.) She kept a relatively cool poker face for her age; inside she was screaming--and this was used loosely--WTF, because things like this don't happen!

Oh. Wait. She knew people that could. (And it didn't comfort her a bit.)

"Where am I?"

He didn't know where he was. He didn't particularly care.

"This popping me about shit is getting old." he muttered, walking into the bar with his head down and hands shoved in his pockets.

He didn't want to hunt. He didn't want to run. He didn't want to fight.

"Just give me something that'll knock me on my ass alright?"

The barkeep nodded, underage and covered in more scars than skin, picking up a bottle and passing it down. Oooh. Rotgut that didn't even bubble.

"Thanks."

First he'd drink, and if he didn't pass out, hopefully he'd get fucked. Before the world fucked him over too much to even enjoy that anymore.

It was far to warm for the clothes Creed was wearing, but less than ten seconds ago he's been knee deep in fresh snow pack. Now he was staring at the entrance to a bar he'd never heard of somewhere he wasn't familiar with.

"I'm guessing this is going to be one of those when in Rome times," he seemed to be talking to no one until he was answered by a quiet mew form the right pocket of his trench coat, "Yeah, yeah. You're hungry. Don't get me in trouble... yet."

The bar was strangely empty of anyone that didn't already work there. He didn't mind it just meant he'd be served quicker. So it do no time for him to settle into a corner booth with a cold beer and a plate with cut bits of raw steak.

Vic settled back with a quite huff and set a kitten on the table near the dish so the little one could eat.

Staggering as they stepped through the doorway, Cain and Abel looked around with wide, wary eyes at the bar that was most definitely not their quarters. They were tired, dirty, hungry, and fresh back from a mission. All they wanted to do was eat their fill, have a hot shower until the water ran out, and crash for the next twelve hours. But here they were, in a strange place that was potentially hostile (not like any place on Earth was safe), and the subtle reminder of their leashes in the form of the collars around their necks mostly hidden behind their long white tunic uniforms.

Tense, they stepped into the bar, searching for answers or a way back before their handlers decided they were AWOL and activated their collars.

"Ooooooooo...." The blond mused as he looked around. Kisuke had been climbing down the ladder to the underground room of the Urahara Shōten, to check on Renji and Sado-san, but by his deductions he was no longer in the room, in the Shōten, in Japan, possibly not even on earth anymore.

"It's not Soul Society either... This is very interesting." Throwing up his fan in front of his grin, he decided it was time to go exploring. Starting with the building in front of him that seemed to have the most activity going on in it.

By trace scent of alcohol in the air, he figured it had to be a bar.

He needed a bar alright. Lee was still stunned by the way things had ended. He pulled off his dogtags, wound up, and flung them into the wall with all the force he could muster. He didn't need the things anymore anyway seeing as the Colonial Defense Forces no longer existed, or maybe they did but they certainly didn't exist here and he wasn't about to see to their re-establishment either.

She'd run from him again, run from him? She'll flat out disappeared on him this time. Instead of being blown up in front of him she'd left him standing in the middle of a field with no idea of where she'd gone and no possible hope of following her. He'd gone from the highs of happiness to the lows of despair in an instant. Yes he needed a drink; he needed a real bad.

He pulled open the door and walked into the place immediately walking to the oak bar that dominated the room. "Hawryliw, and a glass". Shoving some cubits across the wood surface at the bartender he took the bottle, picked a table, and proceeded to attempt to drink himself to oblivion.

Smirking, Tseng lead his lover and potential lover out of the bar and into the hotel part of the building. There were hallways of rooms, ready for the claiming. "I'm sure we can locate a suitable bed to break in one of these rooms."

"Really, ashke, I don't think the proprieter intended for Companions to come in here," Vanyel said as he looked at Yfandes, who was standing just inside the doorway.

:If you feel like going back outside and soaking yourself to the bone, you can feel free to do so,: Yfandes snapped back. They were both dripping, which was part of why they hadn't gone far into the tavern just yet. And unlike Vanyel, who could simply change into a spare set of Whites, Yfandes had fur, which wasn't nearly as condusive to drying off.

Especially since Vanyel had pretty much exhausted himself magically taking care of the unexpectedly-large pack of Changewolves that had been harassing the village. He had another streak of silver in his hair now, and what reserves he had were going toward maintaining his shields and protections rather than sparing a touch to dry and warm the both of them.

"Fine, four-foot. I'll sacrifice my spare cloak to use as a towel on you," he finally relented, heading to her side and rooting through the saddlebags.

Have one wiped-out Herald-Mage, and an equally-tired not-a-horse.

He had his headphones on and was singing along, probably a bit too loudly considering his level of ability was on par to a Malboro's mating call. Eyes, closed, he walked through the door, past the bar, jumped over the bar and started mixing drinks before he realized he wasn't in his bar.

With a shrug he turned up the volume and went back to work.

"Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are dooone. Lay your weary head to reeeeest, don't you cry no more!!!"

(Warning: There is a very high probability of adult things happening between Remy and Ifalna. This will be updated if there is sex.

ooc: Anything you want to know about this Remy's background feel free to ask him or me. I'll tell you. It's just a lot to explain and not what I want on the journal in case I use him elsewhere.)

He woke with a snort, shooting up into a sitting position and looking around bleary eyed and confused. The setting had changed completely from the room and desk he'd passed out on. This wasn't his office but he had managed to take the newspaper he'd had under his head with him. A quick glance told him it was pretty much useless now that he's managed to drool a small puddle onto the from page. he rubbed at his cheek with an exasperated noise smearing the ink that had been transplanted to his face.

"Well that will teach this boy good," the fire eyed man muttered to himself, "Don't go passin out form exhaustion in your office."

He wasn't sure where he was geographically, but he knew a bar when he woke up in one.

"What's Remy got to do to get a good stiff drink around here?" he asked as he fiddled with the ring on his finger.

To say he was confused was putting it lightly. Stepping out of the elevator was not supposed to take a guy right into a bar. Well, and the elevator wasn't supposed to just vanish right behind him either.

Squashing his natural paranoia as hard as he could, he tried to take it in stride. It happened. Freaky things just plain happened.

He should know.

Seriously.

Hm. A new crossroads-of-realities. Some faces, here, he knew, others he didn't. Angeal glanced about himself, taking it all in. Perhaps coming to this place would allow him some time to relax and think things over...

Or maybe it wouldn't. He looked up, as he heard someone approaching, and smiled. "Hello."

[OOC Component]
Just wanted to say that I like how your DR discourages wank and focusses on characters rather than players. I'm the mod of No Fandom Politics Dressing Room (NFPDR for short), http://asylums.insanejournal.com/nofandompolitix/profile And I thought I might occasionally bring my characters here, Gambit wants to flirt compulsively just for some extra fun. Apart from Gambit (from X-Men) I also play Damon Baird (from Gears of War) and Solid Snake (post-MGS1 "Meryl Dies" ending, from Metal Gear Solid). If you want to see any of those two I'm happy to bring them in. If anyone here wants to visit NFPDR, they can consider themselves welcome (memberships have to be approved, but I'm pretty rubber-stamp with that issue).

[IC Component]
[Gambit walks into the bar with a smirk on his face, shuffling a deck of cards as he struts. He grabs the cocktail list and then turns to the barkeep]
"I'll have a Screaming Orgasm t'ankyou, mon ami!"

Going to sleep in bed didn't lend itself to waking up on the ground.

He was not in the house.

Definitely nowhere near most of his clothes either. Tugging at his oversize pajamas a bit, he got to his feet and looked around, his other hand shoving his hair back behind his ear.

Well, moping around wouldn't help him find his brother in this place. And he did hope his brother was here. Especially after the hell of the place before the house.

Thus, he carefully started to pick his way towards the nearest tree. At least he could throw together some shoes. And get a walking stick.

Stupid new body and its weakness issues.

Genesis had gone to sleep in Wutai...

And awoken somewhere that was definitely not his home. The lush green of the private gardens of the palace were now replaced with a dustier earth, decorated with sparse tufts of weedy looking grass. The beautiful Banora White apple tree had been replaced with some rather common place tree that he didn't even know the name of.

The last thing he could remember was lying down to rest a bit after he and Tseng had been sparring on one of their more lazy afternoons at the palace. They'd had wasted a particularly large amount of energy hurling spells and honing their sword skills that day.

While he should be alarmed by this, it wouldn't be the first time he'd seemingly shifted worlds, at least this time he hadn't gone it alone. Looking to the side he could see all of their gear had apparently made the trip with them. Not that it was surprising considering they had now mastered the ability to manifest their swords to their hands upon their command.

Sitting up from where he had been lying across his lover's lap, he shook Tseng's shoulder to wake him.

//My Prince... wake up, there is an issue here that needs both of our attention.//

Stefan sat up and looked around himself, and blinked. Okay. Big difference here.

Last night he'd gone to sleep in his tent, and this morning he was apparently on a lounging couch in the middle of a nondescript room that looked like it might belong to an inn. Considering he hadn't been anywhere near an inn, it was even more confusing.

"Alright, who used a Warp staff on me and didn't mention it?" He rolled to his feet, noted that his sword was still with him - which was good, because he would have slaughtered thousands to retrieve it - adjusted his long purple coat, and decided to see what else was out there. His hand rested casually on the hilt of the Vague Katti as he opened the door, looking down the hallway in either direction.

Rubbing his temples, Father Abel Nightroad slowly made his way into the building, not paying too much attention to his surroundings. He looked up at the scent of alcohol, peanuts, and food, a bit surprised that he had wandered into such a place.

There were strange people scattered about but more than enough tables and booths empty to allow for more to join those already gathered here.

He didn't have anywhere he truly had to be, and no one he had to see at the moment. With a small nod, he picked his way over to a booth and sat down, ordering a pot of tea when a waiter came by. He at least had enough money to pay for that.

Well now, this was new.

Letting her halbard fade, Ifalna frowned. Last the Cetra remembered was Hojo, the labs, and then....

She was here.

No longer outnumbered, no longer fearing for her daughter, who was nowhere close. She couldn't feel the sense that her daughter was nearby.

Ifalna was going to find her daughter, and she was going to keep her safe. That was all there was too it.

Ready to summon her weapon again if she needed, the fighter started to walk towards the sensation of life.

((ooc: I love these things, and I'm going to shamelessly post right now. If this isn't allowed, tell me, and I'll get rid of it))

Confused on what was going on, given he had been dead and floating in lifestream just a few minutes ago, Angeal just decided to go with the flow.

"Hello?" he called out. No answer, and so he simply began to look around, absently collecting a bottle of something that was cold to drink along the way.

The place was interesting looking, at least, and reminded him of his rather misspent youth. And Zack's misspent youth.

Drink in hand, the formally dead man went to see if he could find anyone else.