multiversallogs | How many goodly creatures are there here!

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.))

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Wolfgang has been having an awful day, but to his credit he's holding himself together pretty well. A year ago he probably would have been a screaming wreck huddled on the floor; now he's able to leave the room he's been assigned and face the situation head-on. He hasn't eaten yet -- the food looks all right but he's not sure what's in it and he doesn't want to offend anyone by asking. Anyway, his nerves are shot and his stomach's all up in knots and he's not even sure he could keep anything down. He feels sort of ill. He's been told that's not terribly uncommon and he supposes it wouldn't be, but it's not comforting to know that one's reaction is normal when one's environment is completely fucking insane.

He touches things occasionally, like he's testing to see if he's not imagining all of this. (That is exactly what he's doing, in fact.) He has his nails dig into the inside of his wrist, but doesn't wake up -- this doesn't feel like a dream either, not even one of his recent, hyper-realistic ones. They never go on this long, for one thing.

He looks about as out of place as he always does, so tall and rail-thin, which normally he's all right with, but... extenuating circumstances and all. When he sits, he looks stiff and extremely uncomfortable, in addition to pale and rather drawn, but at least that can be written off as "I just got kidnapped to another universe" blues. He has to force himself to try and relax and it helps that he can glance at those board games with a look of mild amusement. What a strange idea.

With two years in Baedal under her belt, Dominica has a good eye for the newcomers- particularly those who, like Wolfgang, seem a little more in need of someone to smooth the way than others. That's what she's here for, she figures, if in a slightly less official capacity than her oh-so-law-abiding husband, so she stops beside him (not too close, not too quiet, and she doesn't touch him unexpectedly) with a peacefully inquisitive smile.

"How're we doing over here?"

He jumps when he's addressed, which he's not entirely proud of -- what he wouldn't give for a Valium right now. He settles when he sees it's a woman and not a hideous flesh-eating monster (not gonna lie, he wouldn't be surprised) and offers her a tight, strained smile. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you."

It is so clearly untrue it's almost hilarious.

"All right," she concedes amiably, not bothering to either pretend she believes him or argue the point, and instead continuing in the same placidly blithe way that she has, "not much for board games, either? I never saw half of these before I came here - with my husband, that's the Sheriff, he's a real decent sort - and I still haven't played most of 'em. You want to sit down and add one to my tally?"

Or just sit down, in general.

"I... can't say I've ever played one." He was busy doing other things as a child, although what, he can't remember, now. That's part of growing old, he assumes -- you start to forget things. "I'm -- not sure, I don't recognise any of these either..." And it just seems like a strange idea.

He shakes his head to clear it, then tucks his hair behind his ears, to no avail as it almost immediately escapes again. "I'm sorry, my manners are terrible." It's little things like that -- pleases, thank yous, how are yous -- that he thinks if he focuses on, this will be less unbearable. "My name is Wolfgang, and yours?" He holds his hand out to shake and to his credit, it's fairly steady.

"Dominica Norrington," she says, smiling, as she shakes his hand; there's a sense of stillness to her even when she seems animated, like there's something steady under there that just never shakes. Some people find this comforting, others find it disconcerting - the latter is probably a solid part of why she makes some effort at a veneer of extroversion. "It's all a lot at once here, isn't it?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you." His hands, while not as steady as he'd like them to be, at least offer a firm grip. It's not confidence or sureness but maybe an imitation of it, a sort of fake-it-until-you-make-it attitude. He offers another brief, nervous smile. "It is. There isn't, ah, anything like this, where I am from." By this he could mean anything, but probably means the people in bright costumes and multi-coloured skin and the general weirdness of the place.

"Oh, honey, I'm from Wyoming-" with a laugh, as quiet as the rest of her, "-you take my word for it, I know just what you mean." Admittedly, she'd taken it more in stride, but...that's Dominica all over.

"Wyoming," he repeats, "that's... American, right?" Wyoming is one of those states everyone forgets about unless they live in Wyoming. Wolfgang's geography is a little fuzzy but he might be able to name most of the states if pressed.

"It sure is. I can't imagine it's a thing like I remember nowadays-" she's guessing time period on him, more or less accurately, having had some practise at it by now, "-but I lived there a while and I liked it fine."

She doesn't much inherently object to Baedal, either, though the way they do things with the arrivals...mmm, she's not so sure about that.

"Ah." Her accent seemed a little odd to him, but it was similar enough to other people's American accents that he was starting to be a bit concerned by how many there appeared to be. How strange. "How long have you been here, if you don't mind my asking?"

What he really wanted to know was whether it was permanent, but.

"Lord, let me see, now. I'd say two years now, going on?" ...this may not be the most comforting thing in the world, and she seems aware of that - she's a firm-but-gentle kind of a woman, in general.

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

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