multiversallogs | How many goodly creatures are there here!

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

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.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cassandra was so relieved she forgot to bristle at mention of the shower or the lookout. This was the Apollo she had been with in Willaknapp. All of those confusing feelings she was experiencing--had been experiencing--he was experiencing too. True, there was a whole separate set of issues to worry about now, but for the moment, Cassandra decided to stick with relief. It was just easier.

"You're you," she whispered with a long exhale.

She wondered what sort of warm welcome he wanted. Certainly not that. Certainly not now.

"Are we the only ones?"

A glance to his left, and then a glance to his right. No familiar faces. No singing men with shaggy hair or tiny redheads bouncing up and down or dark haired men who were trying too hard to look aloof.

"Not that I see," Apollo responded before turning back to face Cassandra. "Of course I'm me. Who else would I be?"

"Another you," she replied. "One from an infinite number of points in history." The more she thought about it, the more staggering, she realized, the odds that of all the possible Apollos that this place could have 'chosen,' it had chosen this one. She wondered what that meant. She wondered if that meant anything at all. It was quite possible it was simply one of the more unusual quirks of existence.

"Have you read the papers we've been given?" she asked, deciding that her head hurt too much to consider those possibilities right now. "The..." she struggled to find the right world, "the propaganda of it all? We've been 'chosen?'" She shook her head. "It's Rowan all over again, I think." Not as nice as Rowan, but it felt the same.

Of course, at least they weren't naked.

"Well, we'll be out of here soon enough." Apollo dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. "No need to get upset over it, Cassandra. Look how quickly you're zipping from one world to another. I give this place a two weeks at most."

Feeling bold, he reached out and took Cassandra's hand in his own, giving it an affirming squeeze.

Cassandra went rigid when he took her hand and a small hiss escaped her lips. She pulled her hand back and it took everything inside of her not to immediately strike him across the face. That was, of course, an over-reaction, she knew. It was only her hand. But still, her emotions were heightened as it was right now. She didn't need the added stress of an unwelcome touch.

"Maybe," she said, fighting to keep her voice level. "Maybe not. But jumping from world to world is no way to spend the rest of one's life." She paused, looking up at him with her dark eyes. "It's maddening."

She let the weight of the word hang in the air for a moment before she spoke again.

"What are you going to do first?"

What Apollo actually planned on doing first was finding another woman who wasn't going to push him away at the slightest touch. It would probably be easy enough. They were surrounded by other lost, misplaced, confused people. Emotionally vulnerable people. It was just a matter of picking off one of the weaker members of a herd.

"I suppose we should figure out what this place is," he decided to say instead. "And figure out what they expect from us. How long they plan to keep us."

She calmed down, nodding slightly. "Yes," she murmured, "yes, that would be logical. They expect us to find our own employment, be self-sufficient." That was the most significant difference from life in Rowan and life in Willaknapp. Of course, in Cassandra's case, it was a significant departure from her life as a Trojan princess. But Troy was nothing more than mythology now and she was as much a princess as she was a soldier. Which was to say, not very much at all.

Cassandra twisted one of her curls, tighter and tighter around her finger until the tip turned white. "Maybe this is Tartarus," she mused, more to herself than to Apollo. "Maybe hell is just being bounced from corner to corner of existence, never to rest, never to find peace."

Abruptly, she let out a laugh. It was explosive and ended as quickly as it began. "But why would you be in Tartarus?"

"Careful," he warned. "You're hovering on the edge of another crazy spell. It's not going to impress me."

With his mood right now, it would mostly just annoy him.

He reached up to pull her hand away from her hair but paused halfway, recalling her reaction when he took her hand a moment ago. Probably not the best move. "You think everywhere you go is Tartarus," he said tersely. "It's not."

Cassandra's breakdown was inconvenient. What a pity.

She pulled on the curl, tighter and tighter. Why was it that she was always so delightfully miserable when talking with Apollo? Probably because she couldn't hide herself from him. And, more recently, probably because any time she smelled him, all she could think about was that night in the showers. It haunted her.

"No," she said softly, "it's not."

Her eyes danced about, looking at all the unfamiliar faces. The thought of starting over again seemed so enormously complicated. "Where is your room?" she asked.

"That way," Apollo said unhelpfully. "Did you wake up in a tiny green room that wouldn't open from the inside as well?"

He folded his arms, face contorting into obvious displeasure. "I though Simon Simone was in charge of it all at first." He wasn't sure if he was pleased or upset at being somewhere new. Willaknepp had been terrible, but who was to say this world was any better?

She nodded slightly. "Green room. No windows and only a door opening from the outside." In some ways worse than arriving naked. There was a lack of dignity to being caged up like a tiger in a sultan's court. Then again, there was a lack of dignity to being stripped. Really, all things told, her arrival in Willaknapp had been the most graceful. At least until that scene during the masquerade.

"We won't have to worry about Simon again," she murmured. "Whatever he was. I doubt there's any returning to Willaknapp."

Cassandra let go of her curl, feeling the tingle as her finger turned pink again. "I suppose I can go back to being a barmaid," she sighed. It wasn't an attractive notion, but she saw no alternative. "And you? What will you do?"

"I'm not going to throw together any plans before I know what's going on," he said, giving her a strange look. "What makes you think there's going to be work as a barmaid, or that they even have bars wherever we are, or that we're not going to be traveling tomorrow?"

Really, she was speaking like they'd been there for months. "Frankly, I'm more curious to see who's going to come speak to us here. There has to be a reason they've congregated us all together."

Perhaps Apollo was not the person with whom she should be discussing practical things. Actually, the more Cassandra thought about it, the more ridiculous it all seemed. He was a god. He knew precious little about hard work. And, she supposed, it wasn't like he required warm food or shelter to survive.

Once again, Cassandra was reminded of her place as a 'mere' mortal.

"Yes," she said quietly. "I imagine there is a reason."

There was a pause as Apollo examined Cassandra, and he couldn't stop the wry little smile that came to his lips. Oh, she was so displeased with him right now. It was sort of endearing, really, but he didn't feel any desire to make her sad. Not today.

"You'll be okay," he said, in as soothing of a tone as he could manage without veering into patronizing. "And no matter how you feel about me, it's a good thing that we're together, right?"

Damn it. He read her far too easily.

"The truth, Apollo," she said tersely, "is that this whole affair is beginning to terrify me. A human being isn't meant to go through these sorts of things. And although you assure me this isn't Tartarus, I'm beginning to question my own sanity. I'm beginning to wonder if any of this--including you--is real."

She sighed. This was not the sort of talk one went about having in the middle of a grand common room, surrounded by swarms and swarms of strangers. For that matter, this probably wasn't the sort of talk you had with someone like Apollo.

"But I suppose it's best to assume it's real for now," she decided. Which meant finding a job. Which meant finding shelter. Which meant fighting against herself to try to make friends.

"I could show you just how real I am," Apollo replied, but the words seemed more of an automatic response than a genuine rakishness. He gave an absent--but still dazzling--smile and cast a glance around the room. No one was giving off any obvious signs of taking charge (or of killing everyone in the room, for that matter), though that fellow off across the room was far more red than any person should be.

"Let's wait to make any decisions until we find out what's going on," he repeated. "And I wouldn't entirely rule out that this isn't still part of Willaknepp." It didn't look like it, but then again, it was a stranger place than he'd ever seen before. He didn't discount anything.

Cassandra nodded slightly. She wasn't going to let Apollo make any decisions for her about when to make decisions, but she wasn't going to argue with him either. It wasn't a lie as long as she didn't say anything, she decided. Maybe that was a thin justification, but she decided it was for the greater good, if it meant avoiding a fight.

"I suppose it would be for the best to get to know the others," she said absently, looking out around the room. She felt no motivation, no drive to mingle in this crowd. "In the morning."

"Not making friends five minutes into your arrival?" Apollo asked, not entirely joking. Cassandra has a tendency to flock to people, despite how much she insisted that she did not play well with others. Apollo had managed to avoid making a single lasting relationship in the caravan over the past few months, while Cassandra practically had a gaggle of them.

"I'm tired," Cassandra answered. She was: Physically exhausted, emotionally drained, and bordering on morally bankrupt. It was just feeling less and less worth the effort to make friends, to establish ties, and create makeshift families...only to lose them again when the universe decided to be funny and send her flying into a new world. She found herself missing the people she had known so much it hurt. Bret had been a brother to her. And Cris...who knew what he could have become?

Still, Cassandra reminded herself, it was important to be tied to someone. It made her human, and she was constantly struggling with the part of her that was beyond human, the part of her that knew things were going to happen and was powerless to stop them, at bay. She wanted to be human. She needed to be.

If not, what was left? There was always suicide, but Cassandra was afraid of what sort of afterlife awaited for her. Would she ever truly be in Elysium or Tartarus? Both were preferable to a world without the people she had loved in her life.

These thoughts were too much and she shook her head. "I'm sure there's a bloody Jack Harkness lurking here somewhere. I think I'll retire before that happens. I'm not sure I have the mettle to deal with that tonight."

As Cassandra announced that she was tired, Apollo examined her. It was true, he could immediately see. She was beautiful as always, of course--nothing ever made her anything less--but her expression and words and posture all verified that she wasn't feeling her best.

For the first time since he approached her, Apollo gave her a genuine, if somewhat sympathetic, smile. "Cassandra," he spoke gently, "Don't get too discouraged. You never know. Maybe Bret or Bonnie or Anathema will show up here too. It might just take a few weeks."

"Of course," she said. One of them had to be optimistic. She could be the realist.

Cassandra had to admit, she could sense Apollo was trying but that didn't make her feel better right now. Under normal circumstances, she would be thrilled to see a sparkle of humanity, but for now...it just was too small a victory. She was trapped in a whirlwind of discontentment. A pretty metaphor, but a thoroughly lousy place to be.

She forced herself to smile, looking up at him. But her smile, as always, never really reached her eyes. "And hopefully, there will be no more ghost turkeys."

"Hopefully," he repeated, fighting a sudden urge he was feeling to lash out at anyone who was standing too close to her. She fought so hard to fight it, it was easy for him sometimes to forget just how fragile Cassandra was. But she was human, and she was a woman, and she was never the most stable person he had known.

Whether or not she wanted to admit it, she needed some protecting.

Looking up at him, Cassandra felt a sudden urge to throw herself into his arms and repeat what had happened on the overlook. And this was really neither the time nor the place (if there ever was one, but she would worry about that later). She averted her eyes, running a hand through her hair to cover her discomfort.

It was time to escape.

"This is too much," she said quietly. "I think I'll go back to my room for a little while to breathe."

This was too much? Probably, but Apollo was pretty sure she was being a little kind with the "This".

"If you're trying to get away from me," he decided to generously offer, "I can just head across the room. Someone could come in here and make an announcement at any moment, and I don't want you to miss it on account of me."

Cassandra frowned slightly. "What makes you feel so certain there's going to be some kind of announcement?" she asked. She supposed that might be the way of things in the Greek city-states, but she had no reason to believe that anything so formal was going to happen. "I don't think there's any reason for...anything. Not anymore."

Well, that was a bit dramatic. Still, at least in Rowan she had been given an explanation of her presence. Eventually. Willaknapp had been completely meaningless, as far as she could tell.

"I just mean...you've read the pamphlet. I assume. We've been 'chosen.' I don't think we'll learn anything more."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject