Who: Hopper and Farah What: Getting booby trapped When: Morning, day 2 Where: Starts in the kitchen, ends in the lobby Warnings: Language, booby traps leading to mild gore Status: Completed
The problem with being a unicorn was that it was basically impossible to use doors. Farah wasn’t able to kick down the door inside her own room. Eventually, holding her PDA in her lips, manipulating the handle with her chin, she finally managed to get it open after several long, irritating minutes.
Thankfully, she was not quite the size of a horse. Farah wasn’t a horse at all, really. Unicorns were slender with long necks and cloven feet. It also meant taking the stairs was possible, though slow and cumbersome.
Unable to manipulate the PDA, she couldn’t ask for help on the net. Not that she was sure anyone would be able to do anything for her. Farah’s dainty legs slowly made it to the first floor and she found herself wandering into the kitchen. The kitchen presented new challenges, namely that she couldn’t get to anything.
Gingerly setting her PDA down onto one of the counter tops, Farah spoke but her lips didn’t really move. Her voice was just there, lingering around her strange body, adding to the air of awe and mysteriousness inherent in all unicorns.
This sucks.
Hopper hadn’t even been there long enough to try to get used to the place when he woke up without his clothes. He still had on his underwear, at least, but everything else had been taken and replaced by costumes. Go figure. The only acceptable one was one that came with a hat and a whip, and it wouldn’t make up for the absence of a blue bracelet he’d be feeling his wrist all week for.
It wasn’t until the looked in the mirror that he realized he’d been turned into Indiana Jones. Great. Could’ve been worse. At least he still had a gone, and now he had a whip, which he wasn’t even sure he knew how to use. When he tested it in the hallway, though, he got it to crack easily, and found it was much more comfortable in his hand than he thought it would be.
Aside from the change in his clothes, he didn’t notice anything else that had changed in the hotel, but he hadn’t really been there long enough to get used to it the way it was. As long as the kitchen was still there with food and coffee, and the lounge was still there with alcohol, he’d be set…
What he didn’t expect to find was a unicorn in the kitchen. The ghost chef that appeared and disappeared occasionally, sharpening her knives or throwing things when the guests made a mess, he was expecting. The sparkly unicorn, not so much.
“Well, that’s… new,” he muttered, watching it from the doorway for a second before he went straight for the coffee maker.
Farah lifted her head, stared at Indiana Jones, and sighed. From the unicorn it looked more like a resigned huff. You mind? I am not talking to the ghost. And seeing as you picked a costume that let you stay bipedal…
Farah nosed the fridge. Her steps were quiet. No matter how hard she tried, there was something supernaturally majetic about the creature.
The unicorn huffed again. This is great. Just my luck. Couldn’t suck it up and go with Barbarella. I just had to go for the unicorn onesie. I can’t even pick a Halloween costume correctly.
Hopper turned around to stare at the unicorn for a few seconds, blinking a few times and debating lighting a cigarette. He was already almost out of the pack he’d arrived with, and he didn’t really have a way to get more. He was holding onto the hope that the beginning of the next week would bring him more, but even if it did, right now he only had enough to give him one a day until then.
This was definitely a cigarette moment. He took the pack out of his pocket, shook one out, and lit up.
“So you’re… not actually a unicorn?” he asked. If he could skip right past the actual unicorn part and figure it out, it became a little less… no, it didn’t become less weird. It was still weird. “It’s way too early for this crap…” He needed coffee, but until he could get coffee, he’d settle for a pastry from a case on the counter on his way over to the fridge. “What do you want?”
Are you actually Indiana Jones? the unicorn retorted. If you say yes, then I’ll know I’m just crazy instead of in a crazy situation. Farah tried to get closer, but she already felt vulnerable and exposed being seen. Also, without wanting to know why, she had the very distinct impression that whoever Indy really was, wasn’t a virgin.
What do they have? I know nothing about a unicorn’s nutritional needs or how many calories they’re supposed to consume on a daily basis. I hate this. ...Any apples? Or carrots? Farah sniffed delicately in the air in his general direction, trying to discern what was in the fridge. I’d also take a glass of water.
If he hadn’t felt like it yesterday, he sure as hell felt like some giant trick was being pulled on him, now. Maybe he finally had that nervous breakdown. Or maybe the Upside Down was messing with his head. Whatever it was, he hadn’t had his coffee yet, so rather than try to logic his way around someone being turned into a unicorn, he opened the fridge to look inside.
“No, I’m not actually Indiana Jones,” he answered finally, opening up the produce drawers and pulling out a large bunch of carrots. “Horses eat feed. Grains. Carrots and apples are like junk food.” That didn’t stop him from pulling out a bag of apples, too, and setting them on the counter next to the carrots. As for her water… “I’m gonna go ahead and get you a bowl instead.”
It was while he was searching around for a suitable bowl that the chef appeared, evidently cracking ghost eggs, and as soon as she noticed the unicorn, she just about had a conniption. A ghost egg was hurled in the unicorn’s direction, though it disappeared in a puff of greyish smoke when it ‘hit’ her.
“No animals in my kitchen!” she yelled, and threw another egg.
“Ah, piss off-” Hopper grumbled, walking right through her to open another cupboard, where he finally found a large bowl. “Goddamn ghosts…” He went to the sink to fill the bowl with water, then glanced over at the unicorn again. “You say somethin’ about a onesie?”
Did you just call me a horse? For some reason, the word struck Farah as a huge insult. But before she had time to dress him down, the ghost chef was throwing ghost eggs at her. Farah snorted and shook out her luxurious mane of hair.
Ma’am, she started, in a tone that more authoritative than polite, used by law enforcement everywhere. I’m going to have to ask you to step back… But Not-Indy’s method of ignoring her seemed to work better as all Farah accomplished was getting another ghost egg thrown at her. She sighed.
My clothes were gone and there were three costumes in my closet: creepy clown, Barbarella in one of her more X-rated outfits, and a comfortable looking unicorn pajama thing. Clearly I chose wrong. Farah had to comically turn her head to the side to properly grip one of the apples as her lips worked overtime to position it and get a good bite.
Thankfully, Hopper was fairly good at selectively responding to people; being chief of police in a tiny town meant a lot of people with shit problems that weren’t actually problems that gave them attitudes. To be fair, being a unicorn was a more serious problem than most of the people in his town used to have.
“Clearly,” he agreed, and started looking through the cabinets some more. He hadn’t taken a good look around the kitchen yet, anyway, so looking for unicorn food was as good of an excuse to as any. Plus, he was still waiting for his coffee. The chef was grumbling angrily about the horse in her kitchen, before finally storming off into the pantry.
“Oats sound appealing?” he asked, setting the container of them on the counter in front of her without waiting for an answer. “I don’t really know what unicorns eat, either, but horses eat shit like oats and grains. Best I can do.”
Farah glared, about as well as a unicorn could glare at a ghost, which didn’t do much. The muscles in her face worked differently. When she was called a horse a second time, this time by Not-Indy, her nerves were a little frayed.
That was rude. That was just… I can’t believe you just called me that again. I just… Farah was too majestic to sputter, but it was about as close to sputtering as the unicorn was capable of. Farah bowed her head to the bowl of water and daintily lapped it up. She needed a moment to compose herself.
Thank you, for your help, but let’s just stick to some ground rules here. Horses are big and dumb and can’t talk…
Holding his cigarette between his lips, Hopper waved a hand in her direction.
“I’m gonna cut you off right there,” he said, as the coffee finally started dripping into the pot. He turned to start searching for a mug in the cabinets, and for a few seconds, he didn’t even say anything. Mostly because he just wanted the quiet for a few seconds. It was way too early for this shit. “I wasn’t callin’ you a horse. Let’s end it there.”
The largest mug he could find was roughly the size of a soup bowl. He stood by the coffee machine, leaning back against it and setting the mug down. He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaled, and then took a bite from his pastry.
“What’s your name?” he asked. Changing the subject was easier, and he had to wait for his coffee.
Farah, the unicorn answered. I just got here yesterday. You? How long have you been here? Changing the subject seemed to work, as the unicorn seemed calmer. Farah got worked up easily, but she could also be reasoned with and calmed down easily.
Farah sniffed at the oats, but didn’t eat while they were talking. She didn’t want to be rude.
“Jim Hopper,” he responded. He didn’t make a habit of introducing himself as Chief unless he needed to, and at the moment, he didn’t feel like he needed to. Plus, most of the time he had his badge on. It didn’t really occur to him that he didn’t at the moment. “Just go here yesterday, too.” That needed another drag from his cigarette. He felt like he should’ve gotten more sleep. What else was new?
As soon as the coffee pot was full, he filled his mug, setting his pastry down so he could take a sip, ignoring the fact that it scalded the shit out of his mouth. He needed coffee.
“So what are you when you’re not a unicorn?” he asked.
You mean besides human? Farah asked. I worked private security but, things happened, things almost as insane as this hotel, and now I’m not. She didn’t want to admit she was technically a criminal on the run from an FBI manhunt. The whole story was too long and weird to explain. You?
Farah took a couple of gentle nibbles from the oats. They were good. The apples were better, but despite never admitting that her nutritional needs might be closer to that of a horse, she was paranoid that the apples were junk food and bad for her, so she stuck to the oats.
“Chief of police,” he said, putting his cigarette out on a dirty plate and tucking it behind his ear so he could pick up his pastry and dip it into his coffee. “Small town. Same kind of thing. Things got crazy.” He took a bite from his pastry, licking his lips before he added, “Still chief, though.”
He ended up staying in the kitchen longer than he originally planned, because he wanted to eat another pastry, and because his mood got a little better with coffee. By the time he was done with his pastries, he was halfway done with his coffee, and it was at a cool enough temperature that he could drink it easily.
“Need anything else?” he asked.
Well I don’t have any hands so, probably. This seemed like the sort of situation Dirk would get himself in, not someone normal like her. These sorts of things weren’t supposed to happen to her, until they did. She’d eaten a large amount of the oats and most of the water from the bowl. You mind if I follow you?
She didn’t exactly know anyone else. And Dirk was always of the opinion that everything was connected. The two of them arrived on the same day and well, maybe it was connected but she didn’t see how. Still, it was something to keep her occupied instead of worrying about being trapped in a weird mythical creature body.
Hopper had to seriously think about it for a moment. Honestly, he did not want to have a unicorn following him around all day. He took a sip from his coffee, and debated if calling her a horse on purpose would be worth it.
No. No it would not. And he wasn’t actually that much of an asshole. He just had to remind himself of it. He took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly, before he shrugged.
“Fine. For a little while,” he said, taking another sip from his coffee and heading out of the kitchen. They had good timing- the chef was just reappearing again, ready to throw more ghost food at them if they annoyed her.
The walk through the lounge was fairly uneventful, aside from the player piano, and the random assortment of ghosts around the room. When they got into the hallway behind the lobby, though, things looked… different. The floating candelabras had been replaced by torches along the walls, and as soon as they were through the doorway, it sealed shut behind them. The only place they could go was through the hallway.
Hopper was starting to get the distinct feeling that he’d done this before. He stepped forward in front of Farah, grabbing a torch off the wall and looking carefully at the floor.
“I think we need to walk very carefully…” he said. “How dainty are you on four feet?”
Dainty, she said with a bit of a huff. Farah wasn’t sure where the arrogance came from. He had a good point. Apparently unicorns were vain creatures, that he had to even ask was beyond her comprehension. Farah shook out her mane and looked at the floors and walls carefully. Nothing stood out, but she didn’t move forward, either.
Looking backward, Farah sniffed at the sealed door. Even if there was a way to open it, she wasn’t exactly in a position to help. There is nothing about this situation I am okay with.
“Me either, Sparkles,” Hopper muttered, the nickname coming out like he always made nicknames for people. He didn’t. Nor did he make a habit of looking for something in the ground… tiles in the ground. Any lines that might have been pressure plates…
“Just stay behind me, and walk where I walk,” he instructed. “Doesn’t look like there’s another way outta this.”
Slowly, he started walking forward, every single footstep placed carefully. It was a tricky thing, and now and then he glanced over his shoulder to see that Farah was following behind him.
Farah hesitated. In order to look down where he stepped, she had to angle her head down. Which meant her horn got in the way of her following too closely behind him. It was awkward. But it was also probably better than whatever was going to happen if she didn’t do what he said.
As long as her horn didn’t poke him in the leg or the ass first. Farah tried to angle her head differently, barely missing the walls in the hallway. At least she was right about being dainty and graceful. Unicorns at least had that going for them.
It was a combination of things. Part of it was the nerves, even though he mostly kept them steady- it felt like a much longer hallway than it used to be. Maybe it was just how slowly they were moving. Part of it, though, was the fact that one of the times she angled her head, she just barely brushed his back, which startled him enough to make him jump. He kept himself still on his feet, but turned around to look at Farah and sigh. He decided against making a comment, and instead moved forward again-
Without looking carefully enough. His eyeroll cost him, because even though he realized it as soon as he put weight on it, it was too late. He pushed down on the pressure plate, and his eyes widened.
“Run!” he yelled.
He didn’t know what was coming until the arrows started flying in front of him while he ran. He thought he could stay low and away from them at first, but when he dove to the ground, an arrow pierced through his arm- painlessly, but it still made him stumble and fall, regardless of how little it hurt to have sweet, too-sticky blood coming out around an arrow in his arm.
There was a pretty good chance that Farah was fast enough, nimble enough, to outrun the trap and dodge the arrows. The problem was while the unicorn might have, Farah would not. Farah stopped and turned around, taking three arrows in the side. She felt the pressure from each arrow, her heart racing, but there was little fear. When things got terrifying and bad, that was when Farah focused. She didn’t have any hands but she did have a mouth which bit down on his jacket and dragged him out of the hall backwards as quickly as she could, feeling more arrows hit her.
It was probably the shock or the adrenaline, but Farah had no time to really dwell on that until they were both out of the hall.
Hopper didn’t need to be dragged far before he was on his feet again, feeling another arrow go into his leg, but even though the hallway looked longer than it was, it was still the same length as always. Soon enough, they were in the lobby, away from the firing arrows, and surrounded again by ambient music that came from nowhere.
“Holy… shit,” he managed, hobbling over to the wall and leaning against it, looking at the arrow going through his upper leg. It went straight through, but he didn’t feel any of it. Just like he didn’t feel the one going through his arm. And the blood coming out was slow, sticky stuff that looked more like… corn syrup. “What the… hell…”
Okay, stay calm, just… Farah was ignoring the fact that she looked like a pincushion, partially because it wasn’t easy to look at herself and partially because she was more focused on helping him. She needed her hands though, but more than wanting to open a door or grab her own food, with that focus she transformed.
Into a young woman wearing a black knit unicorn onesie with the hood down to accommodate her natural hair, and boots. “You’re going to bleed more if we remove these arrows. I’ll see if I can find any clean linens. We can…”
Farah stopped and finally looked down at herself, frowning thoughtfully.
“This isn’t shock…” she finally said. She still was focused enough to maintain human form, at least for the time being. While she had hands to investigate, her fingertips dabbed at her own blood as she examined it closely before tasting it. “...It’s corn syrup. What the…”
And with the loss of concentration her body went unicorn again. The magical creature sighed.
Hopper watched as Farah turned back into a human, and then back again, only partially distracted from his own injuries. The fact that he couldn’t feel them was what weirded him out the most, but the moment she said corn syrup, he realized that was the sweet scent he was smelling. So they had real injuries that didn’t actually hurt, and they didn’t bleed real blood.
“You got more arrows than I do,” he pointed out. But like his, her wounds were bleeding more slowly, and the blood was thick and sticky. “Want me to yank those out for you?” He couldn’t really do anything about his own- at least not the one in his arm. He wouldn’t have enough leverage.
Start with one, see how bad it is after you pull it. Farah suggested. We still don't know that we can't bleed out. If we can, we should leave the rest of the arrows in until we find someone with more medical training.
She was willing to play the part of guinea pig, considering she would supposedly come back next week if she did die. Has anyone explained to you how this place works? There's some good information on the internal network.
“I got a tour yesterday,” Hopper responded, pushing himself off of the wall so he could limp over to her. His leg didn’t hurt, but the arrow was still messing with the way his muscles worked, and made it difficult for him to support himself. And since he couldn’t feel how it hurt, he could feel how it was lodged inside of him, which was arguably worse.
“We need towels or somethin’- goddamnit-” He steadied himself, tempted to just break and yank the arrow out of his leg. He was equally as tempted to just start pulling arrows out of her so he could go have some peace while he tried to get the arrows out of his limbs. “Unless you want me to just start yankin’.” He didn’t know where they would find anything to use nearby, anyway.
Pool room, Farah said, pointing with her horn. She felt more like herself while they were injured and there was a crisis to respond to. It was easier to ignore the flighty nature of the unicorn. Should be some towels.
Farah paused and sighed. You can hold on if you need to. She stopped short of offering to give him a ride. That was too weird.
“I’m fine,” Hopper grumbled. He wasn’t in pain, at least, but it was considerably difficult to walk, and it only became more difficult with the more steps he took, and it would probably stay that way until he took the arrow out. Eventually, he walked so he could rest one hand on her for support while they walked.
He hadn’t decided yet if this hotel was stranger or just a different kind of strange than what he was used to, but pulling arrows out of a unicorn was not how he expected to be spending his time there.