Rooms

[Mary's script is long and flowing, written steadily in professional Tudor era handwriting. It reads more of a journal entry than anything else, as the idea of speaking to someone is still not really something that she's keen on doing. However, she is lonely, so she is reaching out here.]

It is strange, to be in this place where there are no others. At first I thought it had to be sorcery that caused their disappearances. I do not know what I was thinking. No sorcery that I have heard of could have caused such a thing. I know differently, now.

Sir Wagner? Are you still present? Does anyone here know of the kind Sir Wagner? I'm...[here, she pauses, and the time between writing is significant enough to notice the pause] I would like to visit another world. I believe it is necessary, important to do so.

I cannot stay here alone forever, after all, can I not?

[A very belated post on Mary's part. She doesn't like the idea of body switching and deems it close to witchcraft. She's spent the better part of the last week in the Catholic church, but now feels the need to reach out to understand more of what had happened. Plus, there's the addition of a book written in the English tongue. What was this? She'd read a page or two, deciding promptly that the book was akin to madness.]

I would like to understand this. I do not know how I came by this book that, to my knowledge, was never approved by my father to be published. And how is it that...the letters on the page appear different? I don't understand. They are not handwritten as most literature is for us, unless this person has very strange handwriting.

How is it possible that someone else could have taken...my body? What sorcery is this? I think...Sir Wagner, are you still present after all of this?

Who: Mary Tudor and Kurt Wagner
Where: The Hotel, between worlds for now
When: Backdated just a tad (last weekendish)
What: Mary's tired of being alone in her world so she meets someone new
Warnings: nothing I can think of....

( When God brings two strangers together.... )

Hello, everyone.

I am still quite not as used to this as I should be by now.

Is...there any world where I may come to visit, to be with the Lord? I fear in this world, where it is just I and the whore (if she may still be around), that I would like a place to pray.

Does anyone have such a place?

Okay....last I checked, I wasn't in New York. And I wasn't in a New York where everyone's insane and is claiming that aliens just attacked the city. Hiro? Peter?

[Written in a flowing, careful script]

I dare not trust this magic that has brought about this journal, nor do I trust the fact that others may read what is exchanged upon these pages.

However, I must beseech you all. Please tell me, what do we know of these strange journals?

I can inform you of my identity, if it may aide in your response. I am the Lady Mary, the eldest daughter of the King of England, King Henry VIII. The last date that I recall is 1534, though the Mistress Anne Boleyn recalls a date in the future, 1536. How is this possible, pray tell?

[written in an elegant, flowing script, after much debate over which language is most appropriate on her end]

What sorcery is this?

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