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

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."

"If you say so," Apollo agreed, because it seemed like a fairly silly thing to be arguing about right now. Maybe she was right, maybe he was right. Either way, the point was that she wanted him to leave her alone. For now, he was fine with that. There were a lot of people around, anyway.

"I don't suppose you want to be escorted back to your room?" he asked.

She tried to find something flattering in that, probably because she was so tired of fighting. "Are you concerned for my safety?" she asked. Under normal circumstances, she might have employed some of Cris' flirting tips, but she just couldn't bring herself right now. All she could really manage was a smile.

"It seems I was allotted one possession when I arrived here. My quiver and bow. Were you given any sort of luxury item?" She tried to imagine what Apollo could possibly want. All of the ideas that came to her were slightly disturbing and she pushed them aside.

"Of course," Apollo said solemnly. "I'm always concerned for your safety. I'm also curious to see if you're going to kiss me at the door." Even in these circumstances, he couldn't help teasing her. Just a little bit.

"And I showed up with my lyre," he went on, right shoulder rising and falling in a little shrug.

Really, he couldn't think of anything else he would have cared to bring along with him.

"Your lyre," she repeated, deciding to glaze off the kissing comments for the moment. "Did you have a lyre with you in Willaknapp?" She didn't know why, but that felt strange. Not that he might have had it, but that he had never mentioned it, never brought it out that she could recall.

And she felt a slight sentimental pang, remembering the last time she had heard him play it, when she was still very much in love with him.

Suddenly, she wanted very much to hear that lyre.

He nodded. "I pulled it out a few times. At that party that Damon had, for one thing. That time everyone got drunk and kissed everyone else." Frankly, he wished he'd stopped playing long enough to participate in the fun that day. It was one of the few days Willaknepp hadn't been completely terrible, really.

"I usually kept it in my room."

"I didn't know that." But how could she have known? She refused to go anywhere near his room. Or spend a lot of time in a room with him. Except for the showers, of course. But just thinking of that sent a shiver up her spine and she had to push it aside.

All right. It sent shivers in other places too.

She covered it up, sighing in annoyance. "I'll have to find new clothes," she murmured in irritation. Everything that she had scraped, scavenged, made, borrowed, or stolen in Willaknapp was now, presumably, still there in Willaknapp. And as always, she was carried away wearing her Rowan clothing. The thought of starting that over again seemed daunting. But then she thought, "Perhaps I could find a loom here. That's another possibility besides working in a tavern." She glanced up at Apollo. "I know, we shouldn't worry about that yet. Still..."

He wouldn't correct her again. Not when she was clearly feeling this unhappy. "I'm sure we'll have time to find new clothes," he reassured her. "It doesn't look like anyone's walking around naked from what I see. There must be someone who makes clothing."

He briefly cast a glance over her. "Are you going to insist on continuing to wear those breeches of yours?"

He didn't like them. Added an extra step.

Cassandra laughed. And it was actually a genuine laugh, perhaps one of her first. "Yes," she said, jutting her chin out slightly. "I'll wear breeches and I'll go where I please and I'll hunt with my bow like an Amazon. Maybe I'll even lop off one of my breasts while I'm at it." She was delighted by all those ideas. Except for the breast-lopping, of course, but the idea of it was funny. After all, Paris used to accuse her of being an Amazon and she had always denied it.

"And there is nothing you can do about it," she concluded with a bit of a smirk.

Yet, as quickly as it came, her mirth dissolved. She supposed it was only natural, considering how utterly overwhelmed she felt. "Or perhaps I'll take up the latest fashion of this world, whatever it may be."

"Perhaps everyone walks around naked," Apollo said, eyebrows waggling playfully. "If so, I highly suggest you partake in the current fashion."

He leaned in, lips dangerously close to her ear. "Because, Cassandra," he whispered huskily, "You look wonderful naked."

With a light smirk, Cassandra leaned in, her lips now hovering over his ear. "Don't hold your breath for it," she replied. "I'm only willing to assimilate so far."

She pulled back, her eyes glimmering with the last traces of a smile. Apparently, she had retained something of Cris' flirting lessons after all. It came to her naturally, without even trying.

Cassandra was actually a bit grateful to Apollo. He had managed, however briefly, to take her mind off of their circumstances. She rewarded him with another smile.

"You could take me back to your room," she said, lightly touching a strand of her hair and wrapping it around his finger, admiring the gloss in it. He loved her hair, unkempt and wild.

"We could overcome the travesty of the situation together?"

Oh, he was touching her. Cassandra felt a rush of sensation shiver its way through her body. This wasn't good. Not the time, not the place. It was no good.

Lightly, she reached out, taking her hair in the V between her thumb and first finger, wrapping her fingers around his. "The thing is," she said softly, "I would like to actually discuss the situation. And you want to pretend it isn't happening."

Gently, she pulled her hair out of his fingers. "I'll respect your wishes, of course."

If she respected his wishes, they'd be back in her room right now and definitely not talking.

Still, he hadn't really expecting much different of a reply. If anything, he'd expected her to kick him. "All right," he said politely, pulling away and looking at her.

"Go on. Discuss."

"No, no," she said lightly. "You don't want to discuss it yet. And maybe you're right. Maybe we'll wake up tomorrow and find ourselves back on the caravan, chasing after ghost turkeys and sharing a communal shower with fifty other people." Stop mentioning the showers, she scolded herself. Stop thinking about them, for that matter.

The denial actually made sense. She had seen many of the new arrivals, particularly in Rowan, go through an extreme stage of denial before accepting the fact that they were stuck there for good. There had been other stages too. Sadness and anger and a host of others. Perhaps she would write a book on it, she mused. She was something of an expert, at this point.

She only hoped she wouldn't get even more first hand experience. Three was enough.

"I can wait." She leaned forward, kissing his cheek.

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

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