transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

[initiates]

Date & Time: Oct. 24th
Location: The Initiative Hold
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been led to a banquet room within the Hold.
Warnings: None.

NOTE: This takes place during this plot, though the plot log will not be posted until tomorrow. The Transports already in game have returned from their mission to find the island overrun with monsters. The log is set within the safety of the Initiative Hold, however, so while characters will be aware of what is going on outside, they can otherwise go about their business as usual if they choose.

--

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. She looks worse for wear, pale and gaunt, though is putting a great deal of effort into maintaining her energy and professionalism for the new Transports. "I am truly sorry that you came at such a bad time. That wasn't intentional, I assure you."

She leads the way through the Initiative Hold. The walls bear the occasional claw mark as a sign of the misfortune that has plagued the island, but it hardly seems deserted anymore due to the other Transports recently returning from their mission. After turning several corners, you arrive in a large room that has been transformed into a makeshift banquet hall. The food presented is perhaps not as luxurious or bountiful as one would hope, but it is certainly enough to go around, and isn't inedible by any means.

"We wanted to try and make this up to you," she explains. "It's meagre, but we did not have much time to prepare." There are a number of Transports already present, some looking over the long banquet table, others seated throughout the room at large, round tables meant to each seat eight people. The mood is grim, despite the Initiative's efforts to raise morale.

Before the Greeter turns to leave, she is reminding you that it will be perfectly safe to explore the Hold, the courtyard, the housing building, and even a several block radius around it. "Hopefully things will be back to normal soon."

Welcome to the banquet. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium.

Comments

[symmachy]

[As she listens to the woman's spiel about this place and the Initiative and everything else that they expect her to believe, Scathach cannot help but think how incredibly inconvenient this is. Joan is still sleeping in the Shadowrealm (which she doesn't know is a Shadowrealm since something had decided to drag Scatty away just as she'd been about to wake her and share the good news), the twins are gods knew where, and Perenelle and Nicholas are dying.

Inconvenient might not be a strong enough word.

But she follows, playing the good girl, pretending to be confused and a possibly scared (fear isn't something she portrays well, having never felt it). While she couldn't say this was exactly the same as a previous situation she had been in, well. It was apparently times like this that she was thankful for her decidedly small, frail-looking human body. People might leave her be that way, give her time to think. What use could a skinny, short, redheaded girl have here, even with a pair of nunchaku tucked into her belt? She just hopes she doesn't stick out too much, even dressed in her tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots. Maybe it's the latest fashion back home, these people wouldn't know. None of their scents are familiar. She doubts she knows any of them, which means that none of them know her.

She is taking this multiple-dimensions things way too in-stride. Probably because it isn't even close to the strangest thing that's happened to her in the past ten thousand years.

Of course, the food destroys any hope of finding peace and quiet. Her nose wrinkles at the stench of meat and she simply stops breathing. Her ears twitch at the noise from people chewing and swallowing so she tries to concentrate on a singular sound: that of a passersby's heartbeat. It helps. Except she might be staring a little too intently at you.

Look, she still has a hard time with human subtleties and courtesies, alright.]

[implying]

[ This particular heart comes with a few soft mechanic clicks, as does the rest of his body. They're too quiet to be heard by more typical levels of hearing, which Vanadi is super thankful for. He'd be terribly unhappy to know his heart was being eavesdropped on.

That stare, though, is entirely welcome. As soon as Vanadi notices it he's swinging in nearer, cocking his head and offering a cheerful smile in return. ]

Hello there! Another newcomer, I take it? We've quite an attractive bunch of you, this time around!

[fourcenturies]

This sure as hell wasn't 'normal'. Adam frowned, looking at the banquet table. One thing was certain: he needed to eat. He didn't know how long he was underground. Days? Weeks? His sense of time was completely out of whack. He was sitting down at the table, with a large plate of food. Katana by his side, Adam started to eat, slowly but surely, enjoying each bite.

God how he missed food.

He watched the people passing and mingling, frown deepening at some more than others. People were green, had pointed ears or, in one case that Adam was sure he hallucinated, there was a panda (there couldn't have been a panda). He still sat at the table, watching and waiting. If someone wanted to talk to him, he would be fine with it. But dammit, he needed food first.

[lovesgod]

Oh, that's new. Most of the people have eaten, but none like they were starving yesterday. Though there's something about this one that quirks his interest. Something that he can't quite put his finger on, and just reading his mind would be no fun at all. Instead, he gets both of them a glass of wine and sits next to Adam, putting one down for him and sipping his own.

"Don't eat too fast, you'll choke."

[sunstrokes]

Well, that was certainly a rush, and not exactly the good 'just won the cup' kind, either. In an impressive display of patience for Tidus, he'd managed to bite his tongue through most of the explanation, only butting in a few times with complaints or confusion or what have you. He hadn't been expecting an explanation, after all.

He hadn't been expecting anything.

The last thing he remembered was falling - then, nothing. Or that's how it should have been - instead, he showed up here, got the grand tour, and, just as he started calling after the haggard-looking greeter with a 'wait, wait!' she was on her way to whoever needed instruction next. And so, here he was, standing in some big banquet hall, the only familiar thing in the world being the shimmering blue sword he held in one hand - and even that was different somehow. On top of that, this place was apparently less 'normal' than it usually was, whatever that means, and he was possibly in danger.

"That's just great," he gripes under his breath. For a little bit, he just idles there near the entrance of the room, pacing back and forth, trying to figure out what he should do now. Being alive was great - really great, unbelievable, even - but being tossed into another 'new world' with bigger-than-life problems hadn't exactly been on his agenda. The fact that he'd already had experience with this already was probably the only thing, other than his newfound existence, keeping him from just screaming here. He liked to think he'd gotten past that.

And that experience tells him that pacing around wasn't gonna get him anywhere. He had to take action, talk to someone, figure out a plan, anything to get some footing here. He'd figure stuff out. He did before. If he stopped to think too hard about everything right now, he'd just get overwhelmed. So, for now, Tidus just settles into his usual old mindset - act first, think things out later. He picks out the first table with an empty seat, plops down into it heavily (and maybe a bit angrily), and hovers over the food, setting down the shimmering, waterlike blade on the back of the chair. If anyone else's at the table - well, they're about to be greeted with a dry "so, you too, huh?" Otherwise, he'll proceed to start eating like he hasn't for a week. At least he didn't have to go looking for food this time.

[moondances]

Yuna had heard, in passing, that the arrival of new transports was cyclical. So when she heard that there was a banquet being held today, she was sure it was because new people were just arriving. It was around the same time she arrived, as well, and if it was cyclical, it only made sense to hold it around the same time each month.

She had to go, just to make sure none of the people who were arriving were people she knew. Not that she'd wish them here, or anything; Lulu and Wakka were dealing with their budding relationship. Rikku was back with the Al Bhed. Kimahri was attempting to restore the Ronso tribe. And Auron and Tidus.. well. Either way, just in case, she had to see. If they were going to be stuck here, too, they at least deserved to know she was here as well.

She takes a deep breath as she wraps her hand around the door knob, then, after mentally steeling herself, throws it open. She's greeted to a crowd full of people and lots of pleasant aromas. Taking a few steps in, surveying the room with her eyes. No one looked even vaguely familiar. Still, she decided to stay for a while. They could be huddled in the back, or maybe they hadn't finished being briefed.

For now, she moves over to a concession stand, and reaches forward to take a roll of bread, only to end up touching another's hand. She gasps. "O—Oh, I'm sorry, you're free to have it if you want."

[shalamayne]

[Varian wasn't even sure what was going on anymore. Things in Azeroth had been pretty grim, Deathwing's rampage all but tearing it apart at the seams. How something so dire could get even more dire was beyond him, but this place sure managed it alright. Now he was stuck in some room, food spread out on tables before him.

Sadly enough, the King of Stormwind couldn't fault it on appearance. He would eat when he got home though, it wasn't the time for having a banquet. The people of Azeroth were suffering and he would not be sitting around eating food and chitchatting with random strangers. It was definitely top of the strangest hostage situations the King had found himself in. No small feat.

Anyone who had the misfortune of walking past the large, armored male was treated to a rather dour glare, as the King of Stormwind refused to even take a seat. He was not intent on staying.]

Hmph.

[fintastic]

[ Feferi's seen her fair share of sour faces in the banquet hall, and this one is no different. She just can't seem to help herself, though. She contorts herself, tilting her head so she can look up at the unfamiliar human. Awww, how cute. ]

Welcome to Exsilium! You look like you're enjoying yourself.

[championhawke]

If Garrett had been challenged to think of a day more opposite to the one he'd had planned he never would have come up with this, but that's only because it's so utterly, mind bogglingly opposite that he would have laughed himself out of his own ...head--

It wasn't a very good way of expressing to himself how bizarre all this was, Garret had to admit. So instead he sighed and went to investigate the buffet, because he had been going out to eat terrible marketplace food anyway. (It was nostalgic.) He did remember to murmur something to the poor, harried guide about how it was nothing, really, not to worry about it, seen worse--

So Garrett is sitting at one of the tables, staff leaning up beside him. (Of course he'd chosen it as his weapon, although in retrospect--if they broke it somehow with suspect enchantments he was going to be haunted, he knew it, but there he was, living with a potentially stupid decision and hoping for the best, at least that was familiar no matter where he was.) The food is better than what he would have been eating, so he's going to look on the bright side: saving the world, or a world, at least until he either woke up or realized he wasn't dreaming for sure and likely panicking just a little bit in a restrained and composed way, a few safe spaces to wander in, this...thing they'd given him with all the words, and an apparent and refreshing lack of people yelling at him to run their errands.

Besides the saving everyone thing, but that was fairly typical. And if this was a demon, he assumed the escape route would show itself shortly, or someone would be along to rescue him, and all in all it was better to remain optimistic about the whole improbable situation. And to eat tea and cakes, which help with almost anything.

And humming. Badly. Just to underscore how absolutely nonchalant he feels, in case anyone happens to be questioning that.

[noble_nate]

Nathaniel hadn't been keen on attending the banquet, but after days of fighting and helping with defending the Hold, he'd been persuaded to take a short break. Being a Warden, he was almost always hungry, so he piled his plate high with various foods and headed for a table in the back.

It was as he was headed there that he saw a familiar face -- or rather a familiar beard. He shakes his head; he shouldn't be at all surprised that the Initiative chose to bring him here.

"Garrett Hawke," he says in greeting, sitting down across from the man. "It's been a long time."

[slingshots]

[ This right-at-home and totally-okay-with-everything look that she has going on here, as she stands at the table and munches an apple? Is such a front. She listened carefully to all explanations they gave her, so she's got a pretty good idea as to what's going on here, or... what they want her to think is going on, at least. It doesn't make her any more easy with any of it, though.

If this is the scheme of some new enemy of Gotham, she has to admit, it's seriously elaborate. Kudos to whoever put this one together, seriously. She'd be able to appreciate it way more at home, though. Or even just with the Boss at her side, that would help a whole lot too.

But... no Boss, just Robin. And since no one's reacting to her Robin outfit, she's going to go ahead assume these are some well-trained actors with convincing props, or she's way far out of Gotham right now.

...At least the apple is pretty good. She'd been a little worried that it might have been poisoned, but if they were gonna be that up front about wanting to kill her, then starving would just be slower. So she keeps right on munching, eying people warily from behind those big green shades. ]

[lovesgod]

[That is an outfit. That is an outfit. There are uniforms, and there is that, so obviously a uniform that Lucifer can't help but be interested. He knows that covering one's eyes are the easiest way to hide one's identity, and, well, he'd definitely be distracted by the costume. It's like this person is trying so terribly hard to disguise their identity, really - and that just makes the devil curious. He meanders over, a half-eaten chicken leg in one hand, studying the costume with a curious, mischievous kind of intent.]

What's the R stand for?

[inanimates]

[There's a certain shock one experiences when they're hit by a car. A certain shock that's only prolonged when one is transported to another location, given things they're not sure they need and given a long-winded explanation and apology they don't entirely understand. Things become a haze, things blur together and Martin Gallagher in particular, could not keep the tears from streaming down his face while being guided to the banquet.

He doesn't seem to register it, standing in the doorway. The guide leaves him and he barely reacts, just tightens his hold on the objects gathered in his arms. Slowly, the clatter of dining and chatter reach his ears but for once he's too preoccupied to feel nervous. The sound of people–a large group, no less–that would usually send him into a fit of anxiety barely fazes him as he walks into the room, settling at one of the tables near the end. Collapsing in a chair, his items pool in his lap and spill onto the floor and his head finds a home in his hands. He drags them down his face and groans softly to himself.]

This can't be happening.

[He's muttering to himself. Great. He takes his hands away from his face and reaches for the closest pitcher, desperately hoping it's wine or whiskey or any alcohol that's not beer.] I'm going to wake up. Find myself in a coma and everything will be much better. [He frowns at the contents of the pitcher. Beer. He pours himself a cup anyway, sniffing.] Who am I kidding?

[payback]

[Rin would feel awkward approaching people just willy-nilly, but this guy does not look okay. What with the open crying and all.]

Ah, hey...

[handsomejack]

[Jack examined the tablet, tracking back the archives of the network members of the Initiative used. He leaned back against a wall, stroking his chin. Everything from relevant to irrelevant information... the question here was how to put it to his own personal advantage. He was done being a pawn a long time ago. Unfortunately, from the looks of everything... this was hardly a place to stake any form of power. He'd have to play this little game... at least until he found the right time to get leverage. After all, trying to take control as Captain to a sinking ship was just stupid. Which meant he needed to keep his head above water, manipulate, and make this place strong enough to have it worth the take over.

First.... re-establish Hyperion. Work on building a strong armory, or at least maintain the current one. Use his experience as a programmer to build shields. Become someone these people can trust and eventually rely on. By his calculations it wouldn't take long for him to achieve the strength he wanted. After all, he had just died from the biggest failure of his life. It probably couldn't hurt to take it slow.

This place offered a new beginning for him. He didn't have weakness now-- his daughter was gone, and his failure in Pandora was great and he even lost his life. He really did have nothing to lose. He could be stronger than he ever was before.

And now he was here. At a banquet, bloodied as all get out]

Heh. After all this, you'd think they'd give a guy some time to clean up.

[He says this more to himself before looking around the room... Now where was the closest John? If anything else he could rinse off the blood from his face, hands and hair.]

[shalamayne]

[Even though Varian was still in the throes of stress from being whisked away at a bad time, it didn't stop the large male from scrutinizing the room. A good warrior always checked out their surroundings and this was no exception. The surroundings were bizarre, but not as bizarre as the sight of some man just about caked in blood.

Obviously the man was either a fighter or a killer. Varian settled against the wall opposite Jack, opting to just keep an eye on this one. The only answer to the cleaning up comment was a mere eyebrow raise.]

You've been busy.

[holmesisnowhere]

Sherlock Holmes has never been inclined to intense displays of emotion in the face of the unexpected. At least, when he feels he's got complete control of the situation. For anyone who might recognize him, the furrow of his brow and the faint press of his lips is enough to denote he's fairly put out, but he's not bored, and that's a start.

As he's lead in by the Welcomer, his grey-green eyes slip over the crowd, over the food (which he gives a long, hard look, though he doesn't touch it.) The inhabitants of the room, too, are given the same flat stare, and he's not so concerned with politeness as he is figuring out just where exactly he's been dropped into. He doesn't make eye-contact with anyone, and anyone with good (or superhuman) hearing will hear him sniffing quietly, getting the smell of the room, the smell of the people, especially, who smell everything from mildly pleasant to hideous. His footfalls are soft on the ground, even for what appears to be an average human male in a calf-length Irish wool tweed coat. He reaches up to loosen the scarf around his neck - it's warm enough here, and the cashmere is proving to be a touch stifling.

Sherlock doesn't speak to anyone, not just yet, he's over by the wall, pulling off leather gloves to run his fingers over the claw marks engraved there, leaning so close to the wall one might think he's even breathing in the smell of the concrete (if that is in fact, what the walls are made of.) Long fingers slide down the marks, and he's in movement again, occasionally leaning into faces to search them, likely interrupting conversations and seeming more than wholly unimpressed by anyone either covered in blood in a state of disarray. He doesn't bother to ask if they're alright, either, he just moves on.

A wandering back to the food, and he picks it up a piece of broccoli, inhaling it, but not eating, certainly not partaking in anything, though there's a quick scan for a cup of tea. Setting down the broccoli, he finds teabags and hot water, which, while is wholly unacceptable, will have to do. He makes sure the bag is completely sealed in its package, turning it in his hands carefully before pouring himself a bit of hot water and dropping the teabag in to let it steep. At least Earl Grey is still Earl Grey.

Turning again, he positions himself where his back is against the wall and the exits are the room are in his field of few. A sip of his brewing tea. He wrinkles his nose and resists the internal temptation of throwing the whole affair across the dining hall. Instead he shoves one hand in his coat pocket to check to see that his debt card and cell are still in his possession.

The tablet then, is drawn out, and he stares down at it, scrolling through impossible amounts of text fairly quickly. He is, notably, not carrying any weapons, not even (for anyone who knows where to look) a gun in his coat.

[ooc: The Sherlock!Scan will only pick up what you want it to.]

[slingshots]

[ ...There's something a little weird about that guy. And by a little weird, Robin is pretty sure she means something wholly unlike the guys running around with blood-stained huge swords.

Maybe he's crazy.

But either way, she's heading over casually, steps leisurely and indirect enough to make it look like she's just heading to the table for a better look at the food, and it's pure coincidence that puts her anywhere near him — though that may be belied by a curious glance tossed Sherlock-wards now and then. (He doesn't seem armed, though that coat could be hiding the more slender categories of weapons. She'll keep her distance a few feet back, just in case.

She speaks with eyes on a plate of vegetables, like she's talking to it, instead. ]

Tea could be poisoned.

[[ooc; i am entirely welcoming to the sherlock scan!! he might notice things like that she's recently spent a whole lot of time in a (well maintained) cave underground, she's dressed in expensive and lightweight gear made for cold temperatures, and uh... oh god i'm up for anything really]]

[swissarmybow]

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

[He says it to himself because it's all he can think. One minute he's eating shawarma, next minute he's falling into some creepily-lit room with little to no care for his personal comfort. Definitely not liking this place so far, other than that promise of advancing his weapon. Alright, that part he can work with. If he's stuck here, he wants to be armed and prepared for anything. And at least they left him in his suit.

The food doesn't look so bad, and for some reason he's not full anymore from the shawarma, so he cautiously grabs a plate and begins to gather a smattering of things from the tables. Might as well make the best of a bad situation while he gathers some intel.

Looking around for familiar faces, he walks the room, eating the smaller bits from his plate as he goes. Not once does he stop to initiate idle conversation, not yet, but he'll certainly say something if the situation or need arises. The first steps for him: watching and listening.]

[sunstrokes]

[ he keeps seeing this guy around, but he hasn't actually noticed him talking to anyone yet... at least not when he was paying attention. It wasn't like he gave Tidus a bad feeling, exactly, but he definitely looked like he was up to something. Maybe he'd been here for a while already. Maybe he even knew something.

Or maybe not, and Tidus was just grasping for straws and getting up in people's business when they'd rather not have it. When he makes his way over to this table, he'll be finally forced into some idle conversation. ]

Are you looking for someone?

[mistborn]

[Vin stands where the Greeter left her, her face a mask of confusion. She fists her hands in two strands of her mistcloak, drawing the pieces about herself as if they were offer her some protection. The heavy air in the place makes her uncomfortable, she eyes the food with wariness, and altogether presents the appearance of someone who is very uncomfortable and out of place.

Finally, she releases her white-knuckled grip on her mistcloak. The ribbon-like strips cascading from her shoulders ripple as she releases them, falling in silent waves behind her, and she begins to move swiftly through the crowds. Her expression remains watchful, but curiosity eclipses the suspicion. There is a hungry, predatory edge to her, a killer's grace as she weaves toward the tables. She hasn't eaten in several days, and it shows. Her skin, already naturally pale, looks pallid. Her eyes hold a covetous light when they take in the spread of food. Picking up a plate, she piles it high and then, in the interest of at least appearing normal, she plunks herself down at a table. She wants to sit in a corner, but the table she chooses allows her to see the majority of the room and others will be hard pressed to sneak up behind her.

She picks at her food, uncertain once more. She doesn't recognize most of it. With a confused expression, she holds up a piece of lettuce]

Green? [Her brows draw together.] So they really are green.

[whatsupcroc]

( Collette looks up from where she was sitting, stopped for a moment in her wheelchair. Someone fascinated with the color green? In what?

She sees the lettuce, mildly confused. )

What color were you expecting?

[orgiamode]

No amount of assurances of normalcy were going work for Aigis.

Though she listened carefully and attentively to the lectures and history of the place as she always has, there was a certain numbness in her expression and movements. She is here physically, taking note of her surroundings and storing the information, but her mind was elsewhere. Why she was really here, what she can do to get back. And the ever constant question that maybe, maybe there was some way she could still wake Minato up.

So it's no surprise that the sight of the food and banquet hall doesn't faze her. Thankfully, Aigis doesn't require food for sustenance and the delicious aromas aren't a distraction for her. Instead, she lingers by the walls of the hall in her school uniform, covering her shoulders and hips and with her hands laced in each other behind her back.

No Minato. No SEES or Kirijo group. Nothing that was familiar to her was here. Instead, there were just talks of war going on, being enlisted without really any kind of consent.

It's not her war, but there was a time when she would just take orders and complete them to the best of her ability. It's not a good solid long term plan, but until she gets more information, maybe complying with them would be for the best.

[foolish_seal]

By now, Minato had mostly resigned to his fate, sacrificing himself to protect his friends and everyone. Being here, however, made things worse, taking away the guarantee of safety and making him fight harder for it. Fight without the direct support of SEES or being able to see any of his friends. Had to start alone here, in a strange, new place. Again.

He finally makes his way to the banquet after some brooding by himself, sorting out and repressing the emotional stress it brought. He was good at that, at least. Perhaps too good. He was planning on at least trying to eat something to get his mind off everything, but something caght his eye to change his plans. A familiar uniform. Familiar hair. Familiar face. It was... Aigis.

It took all he had to stop himself from running over and making a scene by all but tackling her. God knows he wanted to. But instead, he kept his cool for the most part, walking over with only a slightly hurried pace, pushing past a few stray people to get to her, slightly trembling and apprehensive all the while, as if he was expecting her to disappear any moment.

"...Aigis?"

[birdsmustdie]

[ Hmph. If the Initiative thought that a banquet was sufficient apology for the golem, they were sadly mistaken. The only reason Shale had remained reasonably compliant throughout the tour was her own baffled curiosity, but now that she was faced with the disgusting prospect of watching the odd assortment of fleshy creatures pile food into their greedy little mouths... eugh.

For a while, she watched from a corner of the hall, brow furrowed into stony irritation as she tried to quell the desire to rip their jaws from their faces to put an end to their infernal, ceaseless chewing. She even tried counting the number of bites they took to ease her growing irritation, but it quickly backfired and left her with an even larger desire to crush something.

So, to stop her figurative blood from boiling, she turned her attention instead to the device that had been so crudely attached to her arm, alternating between indignation that they had the gall to alter her in such a way, and fascination at the way the device lit up, reluctantly admitting that it was rather lovely in it's own peculiar way. ]

[nonedible]

[Such a curious being. Taicea isn't unfamiliar with golems as the asura are quite fond of them but they are more refined, more robotic. This being resembles something more of an earth elemental. Which piques the sylvari's interest even further. How can an elemental be here without an elementalist?

The tiny sylvari creeps over, near silent save maybe a creak or two from her leather gear. She doesn't stop until she's right on Shale, inspecting her with pokes and prods. Personal space means nothing to the curious being of plant.]

[burnthewitch]

[ Maya wasn't always comfortable with large groups of people in enclosed spaces. Sadly, she didn't yet have eyes in the back of her head so keeping an eye on all the potential threats meandering about was a pretty big task to take on alone. Were all of these people abducted and brought here as well? The information provided to her on the tour was still bouncing around in her skull, almost as though it was refusing to absorb into her brain just yet. Maybe if she grabbed something to eat?

After pondering over several different colorful gelatin desserts, Maya carefully picks up a plate to examine it closer. She takes a brief glance around and brings the dessert to her face. From the smell alone she comes to the unwavering conclusion that the gelatin was very obviously... red flavored! Good job! Could be strawberry. Cherry? ... Baby blood?

She sets the plate back down and slumps her shoulders, defeat and exhaustion plain on her face. The gelatin wiggles up at her, obviously mocking her pain. Her forehead drops into her palm.

Nobody said the life of a Vault hunter would be an easy one. Assisting planets achieve freedom from tyrannical political powers was apparently just something she was going to be good at whether she wanted to be or not. Freeing Athenas from, well, herself and then saving Pandora from Handsome Jack? Yeah. She can see why she'd be a good candidate for the Initiative to consider.

While she can't blame them, she can pout at their gelatin. That'll show 'em, Maya. ]

[nonedible]

[Seemingly out of nowhere appears a small plant woman. She peer curiously at the gelatin before reaching out to poke it. It doesn't matter that Maya is sitting right there and the plate is obviously hers. Personal space and property don't mean much when Taicea is in full curiosity mode. And right now? Everything is setting her curiosity aflame.]

What a strange food? I assume it's food as it's on a plate. But yes, so very strange.

[nonedible]

Taicea had asked so many questions after her arrival that the woman that escorted her to the banquet hall pretty much shoved her in before fleeing. The sylvari didn't know what she'd done wrong, she was simply curious. Was that such a horrible crime? To her the woman had seemed quite rude but after seeing all the other people in the hall she could kind of understand her need to get away.

So Taicea wandered around a bit before finding an empty seat. She settled down and pulled a plate of food to her. She inspected the food for a few moments. While some of it seemed quite familiar some of it was indeed very foreign to her. But it made no matter, she was hungry after such an exciting trip.

As she ate she messed with the tablet she'd been given. They'd showed her how to use the basic features but there were just so many buttons and things it could do that she got confused. She had the time so she might as well figure out how to use the strange bit of technology and hopefully not break it.

[lyriumscribed]

[ The elf is choosing to stand further from the rumble of the banquet, keeping to its very edges. His posture - coiled and tense - sends a clear message of wariness as he regards this entire commotion from a distance.

He does not like this. It sets him on edge, the temptation to reach for the sword strapped to his back growing with each passing moment; and yet, idly he crosses his arms, sets his back to the wall and observes, far more content with leaning into the shadows than anything else.

Fenris can hardly believe any of this; in fact, he isn't - the information that's been fed to him soon after his arrival left him scowling and squinting.

With an exhale, he's growling out a curse under his breath. ]

[nonedible]

[Taicea isn't good on picking up on what body language means. So his supposedly clear message goes completely ignored as the sylvari makes her way over.

She's drawn by the strange markings on his skin and really just wants to get a closer look at them.]

Hello. [Her voice is practically a chirp.]

[motherofnemesis]

There isn't a lot left that genuinely surprises her.

This? This is what counts as a genuine surprise. She doesn't eat the food or drink the water, at least not for now, because that seems like an absolutely terrible idea, but she does lurk. Watches other people, gets a feel for the room and the emotions running throughout it. Eavesdrops in on more than a few conversations by virtue of pretending to be reading her tablet. Reads her tablet in actuality, back checking the network and seeing what there is to be found out.

The first conclusion was trap, of course. That's always the first hasty conclusion.

It takes a lot of time and wandering for her to slowly begin to come to conclusion b. This is really happening. It's more than a little unsettling, but there's still more to be found out and determined before she actually wraps up her investigation. (Conclusion c. Still a trap, but by completely different people than she's used to.) Cautiously, she starts to make herself look more open for conversations, carefully sends out a bubble of confidence and starts looking for people it would be a good idea to walk up to.

[nonedible]

Taicea would have approached one way or the other. She's been seeking out anyone that catches her attention either by their appearance or them being alone. And even without Max doing what she did the sylvari had been making her way over. It was just a matter of time.

She smiles brightly, a genuine smile. The emotions rolling off her are nothing but curiosity mixed with excitement and a little bit of fear. Fear of the unknown, really. "Hello. Are you new as well?"

[torchedhunt]

[She isn't sure what to make of this, quite honestly. A grunt, one of many, summoned to help? Her first thought, cynical, is: they must be desperate. - a quick reflection on the information she was given, of course, tells her that yeah, that's actually exactly it. They're in a bad place, and they need all the help they can get.

It would be so easy to just flee and pretend this isn't happening, but she's had enough of doing that - she'll never do that again, she all but swore it. So, instead of looking away or leaving, she leans against a wall in the room, arms folded, eyes narrow and watchful.

At least Sirene came with her. That's a small comfort, to not be completely alone in a strange land. Reaching into one of her bags, she pulls out a piece of jerky and tosses it to the dragonhawk, earning an approving coo.]

[maechtiger]

[...bizarre.]

[From a safe distance, Homura observes the strange nonhuman woman and her...pet. Her fingers rewrap themselves tight around the shaft of the bow. For the moment, she's just looking, but jumpiness and unease are abound.]

[betterinthedark]

[ See, the thing about being a rogue? Is that you don't tend to trust other people that easily. It was so easy to attack the woman explaining their situation, but that wouldn't actually help matters any. She wanted to ask more questions, but found that when she was let loose, that was denied from her.

Well, whatever. She was used to going by little information, so this doesn't exactly surprise her. As Blazenova strides into the room, she takes a look around to see who or what else was here. Particularly, she's looking for any other sin'dorei around, but she'll take what she can get - orcs, tauren, goblins - anyone.

For now, the rogue's up against a wall, arms crossed and her face tightening up in scrutiny. ]

[fourcenturies]

You're not going to find anything just standing there. [Adam said, a glass of wine in his hand. He walked up to the rogue, putting on his best poker face. After all, he didn't want her to know that he was mentally gawking at this strange pink woman. (She was pink. It was weird).]

At least ask around and bother people a bit if you want to find someone or something. [Because after all, why else would she just be leaning against the wall like that? She had to be searching-or at least scanning the room.]

[alwaysforhim]

[In contrast to some of the more poker-faced newcomers here, Merlin seems absolutely cheerful as he wanders from person to person, learning about their worlds. Only someone watching him closely for quite a while might notice the way his hand strayed again and again to the slender sword strapped to his belt, or the way his smile would suddenly disappear for a few seconds before returning full-force.

Because it's an act, of course. He is interested, yes, but he's far more worried and nervous and scared. Still, no use in giving into it-- and he might as well learn as much as he can while he's here.]

[birdhousesoul]

[Anders catches that smile. It's a night-before-your-Harrowing sort of smile. He feels unaccountably sympathetic. He's also looking for reasons not to be anywhere near Hawke and Fenris, since the two are now talking, and Anders suspects Hawke would call him back over just to see the sparks fly. Or Anders' Hawke would have done, anyhow. This Hawke ... well. He can't know yet, but it's safest not to put anything past Garrett Hawke, surely. In any universe.]

Finding everything all right?

[breakablegirl]

[Claire's currently pouring herself a cup of iced tea at the table, giving her eyes and her brain a break from endlessly searching her surroundings and judging the danger levels of the people around her. It's a lot to take in. So, for a moment, she's allowing herself to be mindless. Deep in a blank sort of thought, Claire's in a daze.

The petite blonde is wearing a pink long-sleeved shirt, black jeans and boots, her hair back in a ponytail. Claire's done her best to rub the traces of dried blood off of her neck and get the remaining pieces of straw out of her hair. But she isn't exactly looking fresh and ready for a, er, welcoming party.

If it weren't for the news of the monsters she'd already be out there, looking for a way to escape. But right now, she's forcing herself to.. Mingle. If by mingle you mean avoid conversation with everyone and sit and stand on her own, that is.

Though it might be a good idea to find some allies.]

[studieswaitressing]

[Mystique still can't fully believe that people are being brought in during the whole ... monster crisis. It's her curiosity that gets the better of her, and after a quick shower so that she's not covered in the dirt and grime of being out in the forest trying to find the damned battery to fix the problems here, she'd headed over.

She's blue as ever, sporting ... nothing, for the first time in a while, to cover her body other than her natural intricate patterns.

Not surprisingly, she lifts a plate from the nearby table just as she spots Claire.]

...they catch you at a bad time?

[vaudevil]

Lee nonchalantly arrived to take his place among the crowd but most likely he's interested in information. He had a brief of what had taken place and the information was just too much to take in at one time. The reality that he was a Transport hasn't quite sunk in yet.

It was a sobering experience. One minute he was looking at trying to break into the Zaibatsu, the next he was talking to some woman in strange robes in what looked like a room meant for a rave gone wrong. He removed his helmet and placed it on the table next to him. Part of infiltration was looking the part even though his training was far too different than a standard soldier.

His body armor suggested that he was in a few battles before he arrived. Bullets lodged in the Kevlar reflected the light on some places, burns and scuff marks in others yet the only weapon he had on his hip was a rapier. It didn't seem all that sturdy to go up against an army and yet he seemed to have succeeded.

Purusing the various foods, he picked at a few things to see if it would move. Thankfully nothing took off on feet so he decided to give it a try anyway. "Ah, it seems I have arrived at this little gathering fashionably late. My apologies, but if there is something that needs done, should we be out there instead of in here? I would like to offer my assistance first than be corralled here with the possibility of dying by a massive bomb. Wars are never easy." He sighed with a shrug to his shoulders.

[urnotafraid]

He had been burnt a little by the sun before he was pulled here and the patches of dried skin still itched. Sho had declined the offer of food in the Transportation Room, knowing that anything that came from a bag would do him little good. He needed it fresh and he also did not want to rip apart a person of their group just for food. They had done nothing wrong as far as he could tell.

And as much as he could feel the hunger clawing at him, Sho was sticking to his rule of never touching anyone without blood on their hands.

He pulled on some sunglasses to hide the sun damage to his eyes and walked into the hall. The sight and smell of all the people milling around, the blood so close to the surface had him wanting to go back the way he came but he knew there was no way back. He scratched a strip of skin from his cheek and shrugged. There was not any food in here unless he felt like attacking someone, and that would just be stupid on his part. Instead he headed for the drinks and poured himself some beer. It might not be blood, but it at least will calm the empty feeling in his gut until he could find some.

With that, he took a seat in the back next to some guy in riot gear. While he agreed to the muttered comment, he still shrugged in response. "Maybe they wanna make sure they've got everyone before sending us out."

[grayatonement]

Sylar has never been one for social banter when he's feeling threatened, but it's worse now somehow. Though surprisingly used to waking up in unknown places and being completely pulled out of his element and thrown into chaos, this is different somehow. And not special. Just different.

The killer runs a hand through his hair. There's still some blood on the back of his head, but the wound has healed and the knife is tucked in his pocket. He's not fond of tangible weapons, but he doesn't trust his powers in this place, especially with the eclipse all too recent in his mind, and a knife certainly can't hurt him any. Even with the new gloves that they told him are 'sentient,' whatever that means when it comes to clothing.

Still, he can feel them in him. His powers. The gnawing desire at the back of his mind to learn more, the silent hum that brings him comfort in knowing that they are at his beckoned call. He looks down to his hand and flexes his fingers. One blue bolt of electricity appears to dance from his fingertip down to his wrist. Then he drops his hand and looks up and around.

Well, it could be so much worse. Maybe this won't be so bad. After all, he can feel the other powers here. Other people to explore, to understand. To cut open and poke around inside. To see how they work.

[fourcenturies]

Adam was sitting down, enjoying a glass of wine, eying everybody in the room. His eyes lingered on a man, just for a moment, watching as a bolt of electricity danced to his waist. Huh. That looked astonishingly familiar. Just like Elle. So, was he from their world or was it just a coincidence? One way to find out. Glass still in his hand, he walked over to the man, taking a sip of the wine as he does so.

"I knew a girl who could do what you just did," he said, pointing at his hand. "Lovely girl-I haven't talked to her in ages," Adam said, taking another drink of his wine.

[wolfmd]

Isaac is out of his depth. He hasn't even begun to process what he's been told, but he's been kidnapped. He knows that much. The smells and sounds are too new, too strange, to be anything else. His phone doesn't work. It's hard to keep down the feelings of rising panic, but at the same time the food calls to him.

Whatever else happens, he needs to eat. He needs to keep his strength up or the consequences won't be much fun. He's already a little underweight from the long hours he works, so he heads towards the food.

But he's jumpy, and can't help turning his head towards unexpected sounds or smells. It probably makes him look panicked, or paranoid, and he knows he can't make too much of a scene. So he takes off his glasses and cleans the lenses-fake, though they look convincing enough--while he tries to take some deep breaths. It doesn't really help.

[prepared]

While the woman talks, he ignores. Small words, forced apologies, it means nothing to him. He's listened well enough, and he is done with such niceties. The woman is lucky he doesn't kill her where they stand, at the entrance with the large doors. He would have, but clasped in his hands is a bleached, fanged skull, and it whispers instructions. Not yet, it says, not yet.

Fools rush in, after all, but Illidan would not suffer such idiocy for long, and nor would he suffer being trapped against his will for no reason other than the whims of others. He had a world to concern himself with, a war, and the Legion, which would hardly let something like this get in their way. They had laid siege to an entire world, after all. Just for him.

But wasting time with socializing? Oh no. This half-demon towered over the faces, towered over the tables and walls, heavy horns and heavier wings likely drawing silence and attention, if just for a moment, before things turned to normal. His lip curled into a sneer, and his cloven hooves were loud, even above whatever music and noise was playing, his tattoos shimmered with a faint ripple of power, while what were assumed to be eyes scanned across the room, looking for signs of power and magic.

[onblackwings]

[ It has ears like the elves that she keeps seeing pop up around here, but those horns are new. And the wings... well, those are sort of like her wings, and she has to admit that she's a little impressed. And then as she heads nearer and realizes just how tall this guy is, impressed interest sinks to something a little closer to jealousy. Man, why couldn't her human shape be that tall? That would only be appropriate, for how magnificent she is as a dragon.

She isn't currently giving off any signs of magic, as she stops a few feet off to watch him, but her necklace certainly is. A little orb of light tucked safely below her shirt, sharing space on a thread with miniaturized swords and ogre skulls, it doesn't look all that impressive. But the magic is stronger than even Khisanth entirely realizes, to the point of being an actual living entity trapped in the globe.

But nevermind that. This guy is so getting (jealously) stared at. ]