How many goodly creatures are there here! :: GAME OPENER

[synergismus]

Welcome to Baedal.

These are the first words newcomers hear when the door opens and they are invited into their new world. Some fuss, some fight, some need time before they have the courage to step outside. Others, shell-shocked or jaded, go quietly along with the proceedings.

They are given brief instructions; a repeat of what's described in the pamphlet and a door key.

Please stay in your room. There will be dinner soon.

It's been almost a day for some. For others, only an hour's wait. The latest newcomer is lead straight from the arrival room to the dining hall where candles and lanterns have been set out to compensate for failing electricity. (Those who have been here longer explain about rolling blackouts.) The food, however, is warm, varied and plentiful. Seating is open, and less conventional chair are available to those who need them.

There are many strange faces around the table, the majority of these recent arrivals. The proprietor of the Valhalla Inn is here, as is some of her staff. The Sheriff of Mog Hill is introduced, his function detailed. The reason for the dinner is explained:

It's a celebration. A new cohort has finally been officiated; CeidaryBlue523. Your cohort. Please. Introduce yourself. Mingle. Get to know your fellows, they will be your brothers and sisters for as long as you live in this city.


((OOC post for discussion and coordination.))

Comments

Sideroom

[synergismus]

Just beyond the Public Room, there are a few smaller siderooms that some of the staff use for their lunchroom or for storing extra gardening equipment.

[wearyheadtorest]

So of course this is where Dean is. It's what he does--poke around, see what he can see. It's good to know if there are monsters lurking in the broom closets and where the weapons might be (and this is some serious intel he needs, considering this time--and how fucked up is it that he can say this time about this dimension-crossing being-shanghaied shit?--this time he wound up here sans Impala and therefore sans arsenal). He's just got the shit in his pockets and otherwise on his person, and that is not okay.

He closes a door, takes a breath, and begins mentally composing a journal entry as he pokes his head into another room.

Dear Sammy--Today I landed in Middle Earth. If you ever read this, shut the fuck up, it's not funny, dude.

At least there aren't cats this time.

This time.

[ironshodboots]

Eventually, Nazca grows restive and goes exploring, with a vague aim of seeing if she can find more weapons, more answers or both.

When she turns into a hall and sees him there, she pauses. She doesn't look caught or guilty, but she takes a moment to weight whether he seems to be a threat. She still has the blades attaches to her boots, if nothing else, so that's something if this takes a turn for the terribly bad.

[wearyheadtorest]

Dean stops too, doing the same sort of assessment even if his mouth curves into a polite smile that's trying very hard to be charming. It's a lady, a pretty one at that, but that doesn't mean he's safe.

"Hi. I'm new here," he says by way of explanation, figuring that'll cover any potential what are you doing in here and maybe also draw out some information in return.

[ironshodboots]

"Me too." She displays empty hands, a universal gesture for being no immediate threat. You wouldn't distrust a girl with glasses, would you? (In Nazca's case, yes, you probably would.)

"I'm Nazca. This isn't what I was expecting."

[wearyheadtorest]

"I'm Dean."

He notices the spread of her hands, letting himself relax a few degrees. He glances around and then he just has to ask--

"What were you expecting, if this wasn't it?"

[ironshodboots]

Nazca sighs, just lightly. "Something more organized, at least. I don't even know if this is meant to be a punishment or a reward, really, and that should be clear, I should think."

She tilts her head, then adds, "How did you get here?"

[wearyheadtorest]

Dean nods grimly. "Can't say I'm any kind of expert, but in my experience? Winding up someplace you didn't expect to be isn't good." It sure wasn't last time--last time.

He raises his eyebrows and then he shrugs. "I was walking up to the house where I live. One minute I'm crossing the lawn, the next I'm in that room and someone's giving me a brochure."

[ironshodboots]

"No, generally not," she says, thoughtfully, to his first observation.

She presses her hands together, clearly in thought, then says, "I suspect there's been some sort of confusion. It doesn't seem like I got here the same way anyone else did, from what people were discussing in the dining hall." Why yes, she was shamelessly eavesdropping; why do you ask?

[wearyheadtorest]

Dean's serious expression does not improve. He nods, lips pressed together thoughtfully. "Last time I went through something like this, the place where I wound up? It'd been pulling people in randomly from all over the damn universe. I bet something similar's happening here."

He casts another appraising glance over her. "So you just got here today, too? With the rest of the crowd?"

[ironshodboots]

"Yes. I mean, unless I was here before being aware of it, of course, but it seems more likely that it's been a day." Then again, they could have all lost time - there wasn't a real way to be sure, without points of reference.

"You've been through this before, then? Where did you go last time?"

[wearyheadtorest]

"A day. Yeah. Sounds about right." Unless they've been messed with. It's not out of the realm of possibility.

For at least the millionth time today, Dean wishes his brother was around. These kinds of things made more sense to that giant brainiac.

"Last time was some hell hole." Dean shakes his head. "The less I talk about it, the better."

[ironshodboots]

"Fair enough." She certainly was in no position to press. "Where's home, then?"

[wearyheadtorest]

The question gives Dean pause for a moment; he's never sure how to answer that. His car? A million motel rooms across the country?

Wherever his brother is.

"Kansas." A faint smile and he adds, "Uh, America. Earth. 2008." If he learned anything in his last stop, it's that sometimes that kind of detail is necessary, what with all of this multiverse or whatever crap.

"That's where I was born, anyway. Moved around a lot since then. What about you?"

[ironshodboots]

She frowns just a little. "Camorr. And I'll guess the name means no more to you than Kansas does to me, so the year won't be much reference either."

As she had begun to suspect, she was much farther from home than she first believed; then again, her early guesses about the place had mostly been wrong so far.

"There's no Elderglass here, which means we're nowhere like anywhere I've heard of."

[satrinah.livejournal.com]

Lyla's pretty sure she recognizes Dean from the side, there--she stops in her tracks to double-check, eyes wide. Not much has really astonished her today, but this does, and she tells herself that hope is stupid, but it's so difficult to fight it back once it starts to grow. There persists the vague feeling like she might be wrong even if her instincts all say this is the guy she knows, just because she's inclined toward self-doubt, but she can't help herself:

"...Dean?"

Well. Now he is sans impala and arsenal, but plus teenaged dhampire delinquent.

[wearyheadtorest]

Dean is not a man that deals in hope, save in the smallest measures. Hope this doesn't blow up in my face, hope I've got enough cash on me for this beer, those meaningless kinds of hope. So it never occurs to him that things could go his way, that a situation could turn for the better out of nowhere.

He doesn't believe this, not at first. But he can see her, and she's said his name. He strides toward her, work boots thumping on the floor. "Lyla?"

If he can't hope, he can at least confirm. When he's within reach, he puts a hand on her shoulder, to confirm she's real, she's there.

She is.

He pulls her into a hug, no longer caring about being weird or freaking her out. He just holds on, tight.

[satrinah.livejournal.com]

Lyla has never really fully comprehended why Dean treats her so paternally--he's not really old enough to be her dad, more like an older brother, but it manifests that way, and she's gotten to the point where he's on the two-person list of people she'll actually listen to, alongside Integra. Lyla doesn't see herself like a lot of people do, as so screamingly clearly growing up way too fast and quite possibly in the wrong direction. But she doesn't feel as wrong when she's got her people around her, so she doesn't even object to the hug in her nominal 'aw man I am too cool for this' way.

She's kind of surprised, though--as far as she knows, she's only been gone a day or so. She'll be really disturbed to know it's been markedly longer.

"Dean," she says, tall enough to return the hug without a lot of awkward arms in the wrong places. "Still got my Hellsing badge."

[wearyheadtorest]

Dean draws in a breath like he's going to speak, but there's a pause--no, he is not choked up, what the hell are you talking about. Another breath, a hard swallow, and a few blinks of his eyes, and he draws back, smiling down at Lyla.

"Yeah? Yeah, me too," he says, and he draws it out to show her. It marks him as senior staff now, not just general-dude-in-the-garage like he was when she was still there. Your first clue that things are not what you expected, Lyla--here it is.

"When did you get here?" he asks, casting an appraising eye over her, more in control of himself now that he's had unexpected hope confirmed and he's had a minute or two to pull himself out of that chick-flick moment.

[satrinah.livejournal.com]

The badge's insignia is slightly unexpected, and she aims a puzzled glance Dean's way after she looks it over. Pleased for him, though. (She's still a trainee. Probably it will remain this way until she stops doing so many drugs.)

"Just today...but when'd you get promoted? That's cool."

[wearyheadtorest]

"Couple weeks back," he explains as he slips the badge back into his pocket. Already his something's-off sense is tingling. He's watching for her response as he elaborates, "You know. Maybe a month, five weeks after Integra and Alucard left. Which was probably a good month after most of the rest of you just up and vanished."

[satrinah.livejournal.com]

She stares for a second. "No, that's--"

What the fuck. Lyla reaches up and tugs anxiously at a strand of her hair, trying to figure out how this could have happened. Interdimensional travel is bound to be a little complicated, but this just seems downright mean.

"I only...I was there yesterday."

[wearyheadtorest]

Figures. Even on the way out, that place had to mess with them.

"Swear to you, Lyla. I haven't seen you in about two months. Most of the people who were there at Hellsing when Sammy and I joined have been gone, either those two months or half that time."

[satrinah.livejournal.com]

"Jesus," she says, puzzled and quiet. She wonders if she just stopped existing for those two months or something, and the idea bothers her enough to push the topic away. She shakes her head to illustrate as much, unwilling to let the reunion be disturbed by her morbid streak.

"That sucks. But we're here now, right?"

[wearyheadtorest]

Dean is decidedly not wondering about what happens to people when they disappear. Dean, you see, considered that exactly once, and the thought of his brother not existing nearly undid him. It's bad enough Dean has no idea where Sam is, even worse that Dean has no way of knowing if he's safe, but the thought that his brother just ceased to be? He can't take it.

"Yeah. Like I said, I got no idea how all this time stuff works. It's probably even more complicated when you hop universes or whatever the hell it is we just did. I wish Sam was here to explain it."

His solemn expression softens at her question, and he nods. "We are. That's what matters."