The In-Between Place [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
The In-Between Place

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[Mar. 12th, 2008|10:58 pm]

Who: William Birkin ([info]perfectresearch), Albert Wesker ([info]deception), and OPEN TO YOU!
What: Arrival, somewhat. Continued from here, but you don't need to read that post to join us.
Where: Main lobbyish place.

Expect the unexpected. )
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exploring the ground floor [Mar. 10th, 2008|06:45 pm]
[Tags|, ]

Who: John Casey, Rory Gilmore, Open.
((continued directly from the post "Falling down the rabbit hole"))

"It sounds nice," John told her honestly. The place she described was looking like a wonderful place in his head. Much better than some of the places he'd lived.

The pair exited the kitchen by a door that John assumed led to the rest of the ground floor, rather than going back up the stairs they'd come from. The first room they entered outside the kitchen was the dining room. Not a formal dining room, but it was beautiful all the same.

"Wow," he almost whispered.

The room was decorated in a deep red, the color balanced by sunlight from the setting sun pouring in through the window, and the flawless white of the dishes on the table. There were eight place settings around the table, each seemingly waiting for an occupant to feed. Again, John wondered where the owners of the house were.

John ran his hand over the smooth wood of the table, feeling the nicks and gouges from many years of use. There were some spots that were shinier than others, from so many people resting their arms while they ate, and other places where he could almost imagine he could see writing etched onto the surface from kids doing their homework on the table. It was an old-fashioned table, to be sure, but it was loved and cared for. There was not a speck of dust to be seen, and the table gleamed from a fresh polish.
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[Mar. 10th, 2008|01:08 pm]

Who: Sarah Ellis & OPEN
What: Arrival
Status: Unfinished; open

Sarah had been going to do her homework like she'd been instructed (commanded, the rebellious voice in the back of her head hissed), but when she stepped into her room, the surroundings shifted dramatically til where she was standing was not her bedroom at all but a rather vast and odd looking stretch of hallway. Frozen at the entrance to the seemingly endless walkway, Sarah turned and looked behind her, distressed to see that the door to her bedroom had been replaced by a majestic archway. This wasn't right on some many levels. Her logical mind was insisting that there was something terribly wrong here while the part the had been craving freedom from as long as she could remember was telling the logical half of her consciousness to shut up and enjoy the vacation. Worrying her bottom lip, Sarah soon found the one dilemma that seemed to come woven in with this vacation.

She had no idea which way she was supposed to go, and there wasn't anyone in sight who might be able to point her in the proper direction.
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[Mar. 5th, 2008|07:23 pm]

Who: Albert Wesker & William Birkin
What: Arrival
Status: Unfinished; closed

The Spencer mansion, although a front for the labs below, was still a very elegant building. Wesker appreciated both the architecture and the sprawling space - despite the fact that he knew that anywhere he went within the mansion, he was being watched, it afforded the illusion of privacy. A place to study or research without those idiots breathing down his back.

True, he couldn't bring lab equipment here, but he could at least read in relative privacy.

Wesker pushed open the heavy wooden door, and crossed the room to where he knew the lamp was. Despite the fact that it was mid-day, the heavy draperies that covered the window blocked out the sun. He clicked it on, then settled into a large, plush chair, and pulled out one of the books that he'd been looking over for the last week and a pen. He didn't bother with paper - this book was one of his own, as the notes in small, neat script that covered the margins proved quickly.
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Lonely Girl [Mar. 4th, 2008|12:58 am]

[Tags|, ]
[mood | listless]

who: Summer Roberts & OPEN
what: Arrival

Summer rolled her eyes and clicked off her cellphone as she flopped onto her bed. "Way to answer your phone, Coop." All she wanted was some place to escape the stepmonster while her dad was out of town and her best friend couldn't even be bothered to pick up the phone?

Summer loved to shop, but she didn't see how the people running the mall were about to let her stay there for like, 72 hours or whatever. They eventually had to close and no way could she sleep there. Or shower there. And not showering for more than a day? Eww. Just eww.

"Looks like I need a new plan," she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "I could go bug Cohen and hope Marissa's there with Ryan?" Pass. Who wants to spend their afternoon hanging out with Cohen the Comic Book Geek? "I could... lay here and rot or go enjoy the beach for a while."

Pushing herself up off the bed she got up and gathered things to go to the beach. Going alone was a little pathetic, but less pathetic than laying in her room feeling sorry for herself that anyone she actually wanted to spend time with was totally MIA.

She headed down the hall to at least make sure she told her stepmoster she was leaving - so that the barely coherent supposed parent couldn't claim she didn't later - but didn't get any response when she knocked on the door. She turned and went to check her hair in the guest bathroom mirror and found the door stuck. She pushed and pulled until it finally popped free and she tumbled not into the bathroom, but the dirt in front of a two-storey building that looked extremely out of place for Newport. She didn't really trouble herself with why it was in her house, because she was too confused by its presence to start with.

"Well, at least I'm not in like, Chino or something," she commented with a shrug. She hadn't wanted to be at home anyway.

She pushed open the front door to the place and was suprised by how cozy it all seemed. "Uh... hi?" she called out, wandering to a comfy chair and pulling out her magazine.
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The only thing consistant is change. [Mar. 4th, 2008|12:33 am]

[Tags|, ]
[mood | gloomy]

who: Veronica Mars & OPEN
what: Arrival

Veronica sighed as she carried the first box of her belongings from the stack in the living room of the extremely downgraded living arrangments she was now sharing with her dad and her Pit Bull puppy Backup. The apartment wasn't really that bad. It was just them, so how much space did they really need? Yet at the same time this was just the latest in a long and evergrowing list of things that had changed in her life since October and she was more than ready for it to just stop already. She needed some sort of stability... a moment to believe everything was okay. It wasn't like her dad wasn't trying. He was, but she felt like he was grasping for normal just as much as she was.

Whatever 'normal' meant, anyway. Maybe they both just needed to accept that this was the new normal. He as a disgraced former sheriff, she as the school outcast whose former friends would rather spit on her than talk to her, both devoid of the wife and mother they miss so much.

She smiled at the fact that her dad had already put up a picture of her as a little girl on the shelf by hallway as she passed it, heading for her new room. She was trying to console herself with the idea that she had the bigger room and her own bathroom, but this place wasn't home. It wasn't even really theirs and it was taking all her strength not to breakdown and cry as she reached for the doorknob. "Why did those stupid movers close the door when they brought the furniture in?" she muttered, trying to balance the box as she opened the door.

What greeted her on the other side was so not the room she remembered the real estate agent showing them last week. Unless her new bedroom was all of the sudden the forest. Last she checked the ocean should be outside her bedroom window. Beach - sand, sun, surf... maybe some rocks... that would make sense if part of the building had fallen off in an earthquake she didn't remember happening... but a forest?

"What the hell?" she breathed, turning to go find her father only to find the doorway somehow gone. "Uh... okay... not good," she said, adjusting her grip on the box she was carrying as she decided to continue forward in the hopes of finding someone. A few minutes later she came across a worn-down building... but not one that looked totally abandoned. Taking a breath she put her box down by the door and pushed it open, heading inside.

"Hello?" she called out, "Is there anybody here?!"

Maybe she should try to find a phone?
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Falling down the rabbit hole [Mar. 4th, 2008|12:05 am]

[Tags|, ]
[mood | stressed]

who: Rory Gilmore & OPEN
what: Arrival

Rory was starting to feel like maybe this whole Chilton thing was a very bad idea. It was supposed to help her get into Harvard, but so far it had only made her feel like a miserable, lonely failure. Like she wasn't smart enough and that her dream was unachievable.

Not that Paris and Tristian were helping that feeling at all. They were probably three quarters of the problem. Constantly calling her 'Mary' and finding ways to cut her down. How had anyone ever survived being the new kid in this place if this was how they were treated?

After another particularly bad run-in with Paris - the teachers seemed to want to constantly throw them together because of the close proximity of Gilmore and Geller in the alphabet - Rory had gone in search of some unused classroom so she could attempt to not be quite so pathetically behind her classmates anymore. Her heels clicked on the ancient floor as she walked down the hall looking for signs that there was a single room unoccupied. Eventually she reached a storage closet and figured that nobody would ever look for her in there.

She turned the knob and stepped inside, pulling it closed behind her while facing the door. The room seemed a lot brighter than she'd expected for well, a closet, and she turned around to find herself in what was clearly not a storage closet. Because first of all, most closets don't have windows. And most closets aren't bigger than the entire lower floor of her house in Stars Hallow. The room was not entirely out of character for the style of Chilton Academy's architecture, but she just knew she was some where else...

"Where am I?"
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Finding that place... [Mar. 3rd, 2008|09:53 pm]

Who: Johnny Casey, open.
What: Entrance.

Stepping out of the flow of bodies, Johnny opened his locker at the end of the school day and shoved his books inside.  He knew he wouldn't get to his homework tonight, so there was no point in carrying them the three miles home.  Slipping back into the crowded hall, Johnny made his way to the front of the school, nudging aside the oldest and meanest student at Emerson Prep.

"What the hell..." James Davidson started to shout, turning around to see which fellow student he was going to have to beat up.  His words died on his lips when he saw Johnny, and he stepped out of the way, letting him pass without confrontation.

With his eyes focused on the wooden doors at the front of the school, Johnny worked his way out of the building, keeping an eye out for the new kid.  Jose was deaf, and had been in the process of taking the wrath of James Davidson when Johnny had interrupted them during the lunch break.  Johnny knew James would need to have his blood-lust sated, but it wasn't going to be against Jose if Johnny had any say in the matter.  He spotted the smaller boy about a block away, heading towards Embassy Row.  Following him at a distance, Johnny kept  a watchful eye over the boy to make sure James didn't give him anymore trouble that day,  When he saw Jose duck inside the Columbian Embassy, Johnny knew he was safe for the night.

Cutting through the alley behind the local burger shop, Johnny arrived at the metro stop just in time to catch his train.  Fifteen minutes and two metro rides later, he was making his way home on foot.  The town of Alexandria was a beautiful old town, set just outside of the District, and home to a wide assortment of people.  Johnny himself had only been there a few months, but found the small-town charm appealing.  While it wasn't what he was used to, living on military bases around the world and in tiny villages, it was where he lived now and he'd have to get used to it.

A few blocks from his house, Johnny stopped short on the sidewalk, staring at a house he knew hadn't been there the day before.  It was old and ivy-covered, but didn't stand out compared to the rest of the neighborhood.  In fact, there was nothing to distinguish it from any other except for the fact that it hadn't been there yesterday, or even that morning.  Crossing the street. Johnny approached the building, stepping onto a creaking porch to get a closer look.  He knocked twice on the door, wondering if anyone actually lived there, and was surprised to find the door fall open.

Glancing into the street behind him, he made sure no one was around before slipping inside.  Ducking his head to get through the doorway, Johnny was amazed to find himself in a very well-kept entryway.  The dark wood floor creaked softly beneath his feet, not from disrepair but from being well-worn.  "Hello?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly from being used for the first time that day.  "Is anyone here?  You're door was open."
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[Feb. 28th, 2008|02:10 am]

[Tags|, ]

Who: Jonathan Crane (and open!)
What: Finds someplace New.

It didn't happen. This sort of thing simply did not happen and, even if it did, it would not happen to him. Jonathan refused to believe it. Centophobia, he told himself. The fear of newness. Or was it neophobia? Deep wrinkles set into his brow. His palms were sweaty and if anyone decided to come through the door behind him, just then, they surely would have bowled him over.

He could picture exactly where the book, the one with all the answers, was sitting: atop the table tucked furthest into the back corner of the the building. The table no one noticed, his table. The book - a dictionary, really, of phobias, which he had studied for at least an hour, every day this week, so far - was open to the G chapter, today. Somewhere between gerontophobia (old people) and geumaphobia (taste), he noticed a few less than friendly eyes turn on him. Griggs and his gang, not satisfied with what they already accomplished on the playground during school, sought him out successfully. Which was almost funny, Jonathan noted, because the four of them must have suffered from severe bibliophobia. Being in the library must have scared them silly. For a split second, that was a good feeling. A very good one. He even grinned.

But if he let that distract him, they would surround him and that would, in turn, lead to a very Bad feeling. He gave a superficial glance to the page he was reading, only long enough to seem like he hadn't noticed what was coming his way. Heart pounding, he looked up once more and met Bo Griggs's eyes. Jonathan was far too skinny, far too unhealthy and accident-prone to be considered athletic, but on instinct, he ran. And was persued. Fortunately, he knew the stacks better than any kid in town and ditched them in Fiction.

That didn't slow him down, however. If he stopped now, those boys would sniff him out and give him what they thought he had coming. And he couldn't go home to his mother like that. Not again, not after Tuesday. If breaking the rules meant keeping her from being sad again, then through the Staff Only door he would go. So, he did.

He couldn't recall finding any names for the fear of doors or doors that led to unfamiliar hallways (or hallways, by themselves), but if there was a name for the fear of colour (chromophobia), then there ought to be one for everything. The new hall looked nothing like the library and actually rather like something out of his father's hospital (there was a name for that one, he knew it. If he'd only remembered to bring the book). Only more...hospitable. (He giggled to himself. How could two words sound so much alike and mean something so different?) Here, the walls and scattered doors didn't extend forever like some episode of The Twilight Zone; there was definitely an end in sight.

Jonathan turned back towards the door he had come through. Should he risk it? When he tried the handle (different from the one he turned on its opposite side), the door swung open to reveal a small, dark, empty closet space. But when he stepped in, he could hear voices. From the library, he was sure of it. Thundering footsteps, followed by the angry curses of what could easily be a small pack of children.

"Where'd that sunufffa bitch go?"

"Shit on it, I'm going in. He's pro'lly right..."

That was enough. Jonathan gave the door his hardest shove, made an about-face, and sprinted down the hall, willing to take his chances with whatever waited for him around the corner. There had to be another way out.
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[Feb. 27th, 2008|01:26 am]

Who: Krillin & Open
What: Arrival

The sun held council at the horizon as Krillin finished his daily exercises. Muten-Roshi had already gone inside the little pink house, probably to harass Lunch, leaving Krillin with the responsibility to finish his set of altered Taekwondo techniques three more times. As the little boy moved, sparring against his shadow, he couldn't help but let his thoughts drift to his missing friend. Training just wasn't the same without the knucklehead's dumb grins and dogged determination. Sure, Roshi and Lunch were...interesting to be around, and Roshi was actually going through different martial arts branches to help Krillin decide what were his strengths and weaknesses, but the needless worry at the back of his mind kept things from being as calming and enlightening as they could.

With one set done, Krillin paused, panting softly, beads of sweat tracing his cheeks and running down his ribs and back. He glanced to the Kame house. He could see Roshi in the living room, laying on the floor with his back to Krillin, watching aerobics. Deciding he wouldn't get caught, Krillin slipped off the gaudy purple turtle shell on his back - geez, what a relief! - and started to run through the set again. Each time he took the weighted shell off, he couldn't help but be amazed at the difference in his speed and strength, at how much he had grown in such a small time.

Laughing to himself, Krillin stopped mid-set and started flipping through the air, an improv of childish strength and pride. In the middle of a double back flip, the world fell away and became something completely different. "What the -" Momentum forgotten, Krillin fell hard, slamming his chin into one of the tables in the strange new room and collapsing. He leapt to his feet and immediately took a defensive stance, glaring around the inn. "What is this?" he demanded of the room. "Where am I! Come out!" He hopped onto the table he'd just crashed into and surveyed the room, bewildered and tense. "I'll kick your ass!" he added, for good measure, though he wasn't so sure that was the case.
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over the rainbow [Feb. 26th, 2008|09:03 pm]

[Tags|, ]

Who: John Connor & ?
What: Arrival

Weird things had happened in the not so distant past, to John Connor. Things that most people would consider weird, had been happening to him (or around him) his whole life, but even he – and he considered himself a pretty jaded fifteen year old – had to admit that that this was weird.

The door to his bathroom, always lead to the bathroom. Not to – wherever this place was.

It wasn't time travel (having experienced that, and thanks, he'd pass on any future trips through time) but he was defiantly not in Kansas (or LA for that matter) anymore. He didn't think that clicking his heels and saying that there was no place like home, was going to do anything for him.

So John entered the room – a big room, that was most decidedly not his bathroom – and glanced around. He was tense, on edge, and ready to duck for cover at the first sign of any hostiles.
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[Feb. 26th, 2008|05:45 pm]

[Tags|, ]

Who: Gabriel Gray & open
What: Entrance

Gabriel stopped short a few steps into the main room and frowned. This wasn't his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment. In fact, judging by the décor, the abundance of wood furnishings, the way the light settled ... this wasn't anywhere in Queens at all. At least, nowhere he was supposed to be.

This was precisely why he didn't turn around to leave. This was a lot more interesting than Queens, after all.

He walked slowly to a table and set down his black school bag on its surface, then ran his fingers along the grain of the wood as he studied it. Yes, this definitely didn't belong in his apartment.

He looked up again, more puzzled and curious than anything, now, and glanced around to see if anyone else was here. It seemed to him that a place like this should at least have a door man of some sort, to make sure children didn't wander in and ruin it all.
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[Feb. 25th, 2008|09:46 pm]
[Tags|, ]

Who: Jed & Open
What: Arrival

Jed glanced at his watch and realised with a curse that he was going to be late for class. He was late for the second time this week, in fact, and there was sure to be a row if Dad found out. And oh, his father was going to find out; have no doubt of that. The advantage that came with being the headmaster's son is that you got free tuition. One of the many, considerably larger disadvantages was that your every transgression, no matter how small, quickly worked its way back to your parents' ears.

For any of the other boys, repeated tardiness might have warranted a detention. Jed did not have the luxury of being held to such a low standard. Because that was the other disadvantage of being the headmaster's son: Everything you did reflected on him. And evidently, Jed was capable of nothing but disappointment.

Hurriedly shrugging on his blazer, Jed snatched up his textbooks and made a sprint across the quadrangle. The ground was slick with moisture from the recent rain and twice he nearly went head over heels before skidding to a halt at the door. So caught up was he in his hurry to get to class that he didn't even notice the unusual heaviness of the door as he yanked it open, nor the entirely unfamiliar patterns etched into the dark oaken wood.

In fact, it wasn't until he shut the door behind him and turned, excuse at the ready, to face Mr. Hopkins' reproof that he realised that the room he'd just entered was in no way reminiscent of the English classroom it was supposed to hold.
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Marco... [Feb. 25th, 2008|11:43 am]
[Tags|, ]

Who: Temperance Brennan, Open
What: Entrance

...Polo. )

She stopped dead, taking in the flagstone floor, the wooden tables and chairs, the oil lamps and crackling fireplace, and took an uncertain step back, her eyes travelling to the heavy oak door. To go back would be to face the bemused, derisive, and - worst of all - sympathetic stares of her classmates. To go forward... she didn't even know. And so instead she found herself standing there frozen, caught in indecision.
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