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

[byrightsinhell]

Lucius, for his part, stops. After Rosier and Regulus, he supposes he should have been prepared, but he still can't really help being mildly startled to see Rodolphus there, of all places.

"...Lestrange?" he asks, not entirely willing to trust it just yet. The last time he'd seen Rodolphus had been the night that the Longbottoms had been tortured out of sanity. It made an impression.

[pureandstrange.livejournal.com]

His gaze lifts unhurriedly from the flowers, hollow-eyed reassessment bringing some life to his expression. He definitely looks like a man who's been through years of Azkaban, though he wasn't exactly handsome to begin with.

The strange attire doesn't register as anything more than a superficial oddity. If this is Malfoy, then he must have been here longer, and be (as he himself is) without the means to dress as he normally would. In response, Rodolphus rolls up enough of his sleeve to reveal the beginning of the scar where the dark mark once was. There's something almost charmingly outre about it all, to be so open about it because it means nothing here.

[byrightsinhell]

"Merlin's balls," he says, much quieter. "It is you." So Sebastian was right - not that he hadn't believed, but here was evidence that was much closer to home. And much more chilling, in its way. Everyone else he'd met was from his past or his present. This is different.

After a moment, carefully for all he didn't need to be here, he tugs up the sleeve on his left arm to the elbow. His own mark is faded, dormant, but clearly still there.

"It's still '86, at home." But he seems less shocked than he might at the assumption, based on the scar and Rodolphus' age.

[pureandstrange.livejournal.com]

The dawning possibility that there's actually someone here to whom he can relate and maybe even talk to is distractingly strange. Hours ago he'd been struck from behind with some curse and fallen unconscious; now he was in an entirely different world with a young Lucius Malfoy, unaware of what was to come. And how on earth could he communicate the depths to which they'd fallen? The fact he's having trouble thinking of what to say probably wouldn't come off as unusual for him, but there's an additional tension and discontent in his struggle for words.

"2007." That's probably all he needs to say, really, Lucius can put it together. Rodolphus smooths down his sleeve deliberately, jaw set.

[byrightsinhell]

Evan had been utterly the same as Lucius remembered him; Regulus had been quiet and thoughtful, but not so changed. Rodolphus is deeply marked in a way Lucius isn't quite ready for. Even so, however, he finds he'd glad to see him.

(This Lucius has never been to Azkaban, has never been broken, and for all that he's wary of the place and awkwardly aware of his clothing, he still is a young man in his prime. His uncertainty is minor and will pass.)

He doesn't want to know if Rodolphus is dead. Not yet.

"How long have you been here, then?"

[pureandstrange.livejournal.com]

"Just today." The short answer isn't meant to be so clipped, but the same question is in his eyes, he isn't being intentionally curt. It's just his way. Though he'd met Lucius after Azkaban on occasion, there hadn't ever been much time for conversation, and in many ways, the Lucius before him now is the same as his mental picture of Lucius — Lucius from a time when things were more in their favor.

[byrightsinhell]

He nods. "The same. Though I haven't come directly from home." Considering a moment, he adds, "Walk with me?" There was no place he could be sure they wouldn't be overheard; for the moment, everywhere was safe or nowhere was. But confidential conversations were something he always felt did best outdoors, in motion if possible. Old habits were hard to break.