An Atypical RP—open

[quiche cat!]

⋆ ｈ ｅ Ｌ Ｅ Ｎ Ａ x ｅ ｌ ｉ ｎ ｋ ｓ !
(tagged.haylee,benja,mercedes) ⋆ (feeling.a lot of stuff) ⋆ (location.some weird place)

xxxxIt was morning when Helena woke up. Imagine that! A perfect square of soft light filtered in through a perfect square frame, through a perfect pane of glass {that was also square} to make up a perfectly square window. Why was she describing the window, of all things, you ask? Because she was confused. That's why.

She'd fallen asleep on Brooke's fold-up cot the previous night and ended up on not-Brooke's glorious, clean, white, medium-sized, comfy bed. Describing things kept her mind off of the fact that she had no idea where the flip she was. It made her focus on less-important things, rather than the issue at hand. Maybe she'd keep doing this and hope for the best.

Clambering out of that said bed, Lena crossed the old, wooden, creaking floorboards towards her plaid, slip-on Vans, stepping into them and wiggling her feet around until it felt like they were on all the way. Her plaid backpack sat beside her, along with her cool, black, nicely fitting sunglasses {a.k.a shades} and her cool, black, nicely fitting sharktooth necklace. Wasn't it odd how both items could be described the exact same way, yet in reality be something completely different? At least she thought so.

Helena put on her accessories, content with the dark, comforting filter now on her surroundings. For whatever reason, it made her feel more at ease. And, actually, she knew the reason: the sense of familiarity of wearing these same sunglasses nearly every day forced her brain to believe that this place would not harm her. As if rooms could eat you alive. Hah.

She was going crazy. Right?

Stooping to snatch up her backpack and swing it over her shoulder, looping her opposite arm through it so that it was now snug against her back, the girl traversed the remainder of the floor to the door. This was when some obnoxious beings or things decided to scare the crap out of her- hitting the floor, speaking, making strange growling noises. She immediately retreated a few steps back into her room, only deciding the coast was clear when the sounds subsided and her speeding heart slowed to a normal thump-thump, thump-thump. Come on, Helena. Toughen up, Buttercup. It's probably nothing.

Upon finally opening the door and stepping hesitantly into the hallway beyond, she took weary glances to her left and right, freezing as she laid eyes on three human-looking, weapon-baring, unfriendly-seeming creatures just a little ways away. Were they hostile? Would they come running towards her once they smelled her presence? Could they even smell things? All she could say was: "This is a horrible dream. Can I call it a nightmare? Someone give me permission. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's feelings if this was some heaven for them, but it sure isn't for me."

[subtle fox]

┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉
Name → Benja Verhoeve
Location → the Inn
Tagged → Haylee, Mercedes,
Helena
┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉

The knife was out of its sheath and his arm was cocked back and ready to throw before he really knew what the cause of the noise was. For a moment he frowned at the girl on the floor, then stepped back as a door opened and a black-haired woman stepped out. These people obviously weren't zombies, nor did either of them look able to fight one off. How the hell, then, were they alive? It had been months since the outbreak; by now the human population had been weeded down to those who killed to survive. Clearly, Benja eyed the wrench gripped in the woman's hand, they hadn't killed anything.

"With a wrench," he stated, voice heavy with sarcasm. "Right. Well, have you tried handling a knife in your skull?" A wrench wasn't too poor a weapon, actually; it was, nonetheless, far more cumbersome than a knife. She would be dead before she took more than two steps. Shifting with nervous energy he moved until he was at the top of the stairs. Instinct made him draw his second knife, the one with a blade as long as his forearm. He doubted he'd need it, but it was comforting to feel its soft grip in his hand.

A third door swung open, and another girl stepped out into the conflict. Good Lord, somehow he had ended up in a building full of clueless women. A year ago, this may have been an ideal situation, but he wasn't exactly in the right mindset at the moment. "It's been a bloody nightmare for months now, or have you forgotten?" He pointed his hunting knife at the three. "Now, would any of you kindly tell me what is happening? And, please," he waved the knife in the black-haired woman's direction, "Put that wrench back. It's making de meisjes nervous."

[harley.quinn]

»ＨＡＹＬＥＥ ＳＨＡＹ«
bisexual | 18 | werewolf/telekentic

•mood: Defensive
•tagged: Benja, Helena + Mercedes
•where: The Inn's Hallways

It seemed none of the people standing near Haylee even noticed her wolf-like growl. If they didn't noticed, she sure as hell wasn't gonna bring it up. She'd rather keep her.. abilities on the down low. Her anxious eyes moved to a new girl as she stepped out of a room and into the hallway. She looked kind of frightened. "Woah, woah. There's no need for violence. Okay? Calm.. down.." She said, even though she hadn't the slightest clue what was happening here, just like the rest of them.

"Really..? More knives. It's really not necessary.." She said, trying to smooth over the situation. She'd usually use her flirty tactics but now didn't seem like the time, especially when the man you're talking to is holding two knives in his hands. She was now staring at the man in front of her as he reached the top of the stairs, a safe distance from them. "Tell you what's happening..? I don't know what the hell's happening here." She said, raising an eyebrow at Benja. "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me." She said, frowning slightly. "Or at least.. where we are.." She said, giving a small sigh. "Your knives are more nerve-wracking." She said, glancing up at the man standing at the top of the steps. She hadn't taken Dutch, nor did she know any but she guessed from the sentence he used what he meant.

[quiche cat!]

⋆ ｈ ｅ Ｌ Ｅ Ｎ Ａ x ｅ ｌ ｉ ｎ ｋ ｓ !
(tagged.strange people) ⋆ (feeling.utterly confused) ⋆ (location.some weird place)

xxxxEven though only two people were talking, arguing, trying to calm everyone else down {while seriously needing to take a chill pill themselves}, there was too much going on for Helena. What was with the weapons? It wasn't as if there were some apocalypse raging the planet! Knives seemed highly dangerous indoors, with their gleaming, sharp, thin blades, and they were simply being waved around in the air by the man, as if they were some sort of baton that he might twirl around a few times and flip into the air whilst demanding applause.

Then there was the blabber mouth who couldn't seem to keep her words, phrases, remarks from spewing out and drenching the hall with their unnecessary existence.

Maybe she was being a bit harsh...

Shall she instead go with 'very confused female who doesn't know what to do so she speaks instead'? This girl's attempts at comforting and easing the hostile people around her were only seeming to put everyone into a more chatty and edgy mood as they tried to figure out where they were. And that lead her to a very, very good question.

Where were they?

It looked to be some sort of hotel, with floorboards that groaned under their weight and walls that creaked with each word they spoke. It didn't seem totally safe to be in, yet did seem safe, at the same time. She couldn't quite decide, especially with all this jabber going on. Well, not that she minded it; the general idea of other humans- breathing, living, thinking, confused humans, not creatures- was what made her relax, just a tad bit. It would take some miracle to grant this feeling to either of the other people, unfortunately.

Going back to her opinions on the other beings, the other female was wielding a wrench. A flipping wrench. First of all, where did she even find that? Second, she was just as bad as the man! What was the point of a weapon when no one here seemed intent on killing, mildly wounding, or seriously injuring anyone else? Gosh, if she'd known it was a knife-and-wrench party, she'd have brought her trusty jackhammer and made it a trio: knife-and-wrench-and-jackhammer party! That was, if she could convince her father to let her use it. He didn't trust her with tools, let alone a dang chunk of rock on a stick.

Having been caught up in her observations and thoughts about this situation, this hotel-looking building, the two females and single male in front of her, Helena didn't notice the chatter about whatever was happening 'outside'. Hold on a second. Here she was, proclaiming to herself that they were acting as if there were an apocalypse shredding their world as they knew it, and that truly was happening? She simply fell asleep at Brooke's house and woke up to find out that blood-lusting, arm-biting, jibberish-speaking, grossly-infected zombies were... Raging the outdoors?

Bogus. Hardly believable. Not impossible, but not probable, either.

Clutching at the shark tooth that hung limply from a thin piece of string wrapped around her neck, Lena cleared her throat, lifting her free hand to adjust her shades as they slid down her nose. "You know what? I'm just gonna..." Making her way towards the group, a definitely stupid choice on her part since they were showing off their finest fighting utensils, the girl had spotted a staircase and decided it was best to descend it. I mean, what else are you supposed to do with stairs? Stand on them and talk, like this guy was doing? Obviously not. "...use these stairs. Don't mind me."

Fortunately, the staircase was probably wide enough to fit at least three people going down together, though it seemed a squeeze, and she had no problem cutting past the others and quite hurriedly heading down to the floor below them. She might have called it the 'main floor', or the 'second floor', but for lack of knowing much about anything right now, it was known as 'floor below them.' Whatever. As long as there was a floor below them {and there was}, she was fine. More floors meant more doors, usually, which meant more ways of potential escape, which meant FREEDOM from this weird, hotel-looking, odd, clean, old place. There's your every-few-moment-ly dose of description.

[.synthetica]

mercedes santillán

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓

m o o d;
literally what the hell
t a g g e d ;
benja, hayley, helena
d o i n g ;
conversing with a possible kidnapper
┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

It quickly became apparent that her intimidation attempt had failed. Also, as moments passed and no one actually started a fight, it became harder to pretend she'd be the one to instigate it. She could agree that the man with the knife did have her outplayed, a little bit. From her experience with various mercenary types across Brookmount, she could see he held the knife like someone with a fair degree of skill - confidently, easily. He trusted it to hit the intended target, and that made a chill run down the back of her neck like nothing else that morning.

The sound of a door opening made her freeze, then slowly turn her head to look. So there were four of them, all equally clueless. The longer this went on, the more she wanted to run. The not-knowing was an awful feeling, and the not-doing-anything-about-it made her skin crawl.

The first girl was speaking but the words barely made it through to her as she stared at the knife, then at knife-man. Whilst his sarcasm made her grit her teeth and consider just throwing the damn wrench (it would probably end up doing more damage to the wall behind him than anything else), his next words caught her off guard. They were clearly somewhere not hit by whatever was currently pummeling Brookmount, given the picturesque view. There wasn't a single tornado in sight. Just what as he referring to as a 'bloody nightmare'? Glaring at him, she slowly lowered her weapon, letting it hang at her side.

As she took a breath to ask him about his supposed nightmare, she was cut off by the girl - Haylee - and was instantly irked by her attempt at playing peacekeeper. Not that she wasn't already considerably irked before Haylee started speaking. She was as done with the situation as she could be, and she wouldn't stand there one moment longer.

"Whatever is happening, I don't intend to spend my time listening to this. Make sure not to cut yourself, Mr. Big Man, I agree with that one," She paused to flick her free hand towards the girl making her way towards the stairs, "I'm out of here."

Then, walking 100% more confidently than she actually felt, she strode past both of them and followed the other girl down the stairs to some kind of... foyer? Reception? She didn't have a chance to take note of the surroundings much before she spotted the older lady behind what seemed like a front desk. "Hey, lady, you don't look like a kidnapper, you know."

[subtle fox]

┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉
Name → Benja Verhoeve
Location → the Inn
Tagged → Haylee, Mercedes,
Helena
┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉

Either everyone was as genuinely confused as he was, or they were all good actors. "Or maybe I'm going crazy," he exclaimed as he sheathed his knives. "Or perhaps, I was infected after all, and this is a fever dream or something." He stepped back as two of the women walked past him. With a quick glance and a shrug to the remaining girl he followed after, only to stop at the bottom.

It was a foyer after all, as clean and well-worn as the halls and room. And there where were paintings—real, whole paintings—on the walls. He couldn't fight back the small smile at the sight of them. The last time he'd seen art that hadn't been burnt, torn, bloodstained or otherwise damaged was... well, he couldn't really remember. It had to be at least half a year. He was reaching a hand out towards one when a sharp voice snapped at him.

"Don't touch that," she barked, her voice surprisingly loud for such a diminutive looking old woman. "It's one of a kind, that one, and I'll not have your dirty fingers all over it as though it were naught but a child's finger painting. Now," she leaned back in her chair and beckoned everyone closer. "Everyone be quiet," she glared at each person before continuing, "And I'll explain your situation. If you have questions after, then you may speak. But not until then."

"I imagine everyone is wondering where they are. You are in an Inn. The Inn. I am the Innkeeper, and I have been for over half a century, so I know what I'm doing." Sharp grey eyes stared out, daring someone to object. "The Inn is in Home. Yes, I know," she waved her hand about, "It's a strange name for a place, but then, I wasn't the one who named it. And I suppose it does make sense, as this will be your home until you Disappear." The last word was spoken quite distinctly, as though it was capitalized in her mind. "You Disappear just as you all have Appeared: in your sleep. I did not kidnap any of you. You Appeared here, in this world. You are no longer in whatever version of reality you previously were." She smiled out at the group, then said, "Any questions?"

[leg]

Davis Fen || Part-fox
Frantic || Tagged;;

He gasped awake, recovering from a nightmare and blinked, turning in each direction before panic merged with fear in his chest. The one day he decided to do something productive, he gets kidnapped. "Typical." Whispering to himself, he slowly left the bed (rather comfy, though) and winced as the floor creaked beneath him. Wherever the hell he was, the sounds of an elephant's footsteps followed him. Davis pulled the door back and moved forward, badly navigating his way around, clutching his black old tie for some sort of reassurance. His tail shot out by a nervous habit and he cursed, stuffing it back in his trousers. It was an obvious lump, but there were more important things going on.

There were four or five people from what he could see. All of them seemed tense, expected if they were in the same situation as he was. With the help of good eyesight, he was able to peek around the corner of the entrance, but he wouldn't be hidden for much longer. He slid his hand into one of his pockets, fingers searching around for a second to grab onto a small butter knife and felt a flash of confusion. Was he making toast before being abducted? He would've thought someone would've hidden it from him, or at least have moved it of his reach. Maybe he was taken by sloppy kidnappers.

Hearing the woman's words, Davis leaned forward a little more, straining his ears for the more quiet sentences that was provided and stumbled, grabbing onto the doorknob for support. It provided no help and had him frozen on the floor, a static tail in the air. He rushed to his feet and stood among the others and nodded, muttering a sorry and keep silent for her or anyone else to continue. He'd apologise more thoroughly for his entrance later.

[dogs]

vipＣＨＡＮＴＥＬＬＥ 'ＭＡＭＢＡ' ＪＥＯＦＦlsd
ＷＯＵＬＤ ＹＯＵ ＴＡＬＫ ＴＯ ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ ＬＩＫＥ ＭＥ?
vipvipvipvipvipＣＨＡＮＴＥＬＬＥ - ＷＥＲＥＤＯＧ - ＩＲＲＩＴＡＴＥＤ
Chantelle rolled over on her back, thinking a moment before her eyes shot open and she pulled herself off of the what--mattress? She certainly wasn't in her alleyway with the bright lights of the morning sun burning her fur. No, she was in her human form and she was laying in a bed. Her heart rate increased as she heard more voices down the hall. The woman walked cautiously to the door and opened it with her hand, stepping back as if someone was standing there waiting for her. Morphing to her dog form caused her more nausea but if any other people were here, hopefully they wouldn't take much mind in the doberman padding the halls and minding her own business.

With that, she got her backpack that was surprisingly here by the handle and padded out the door and down the long and dreary hall. The lights were a grimy yellow and a musty smell seeped up from the floor beneath her pads. Overgrown nails tapped gently against the floor as she walked comforted her slightly. Uneasily rounding a corner and coming face to face with more people, the dog pushed herself up against the wall in an attempt to slip past them all without anyone raising any questions about the large dog gripping a bag in her teeth.

Perhaps the men and women would think she was just a pet of someone else? No one suspected a human who could shift to a dog. Making sure her collar was mostly clear from the reach of everyone, she sat toward the edge of the hallway to listen for any vital information about where she was and who these people were. She noticed one elderly lady in particular who begun to talk about what she would assume was an explanation. So, she perked her ears and listened.

[harley.quinn]

»ＨＡＹＬＥＥ ＳＨＡＹ«
bisexual | 18 | werewolf/telekentic

•mood: Curious
•tagged: Everyone
•where: The Inn

Haylee gave a small roll of her eyes at them before making her way up the staircase along with the rest of them. She then noticed a woman watching them, who then began to scold the man as he tried touching one of the paintings. She silenced herself as the woman spoke. She listened intently to the woman's words, trying to get a clue as to what in the hell was going on here.

"Disappear? What happens to us when we disappear?" She asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. Different versions of reality? How was that even possible? Why were they here? She had so many questions but she might as well ask one at a time. This woman didn't seem like she wanted any questions. She seemed more like a shut up and listen type of person.

[subtle fox]

"Oh, no one knows where you go. Probably back to where you came from, or maybe to another place like this one. We did have a visitor reAppear after their Disappearance, but a language barrier kept any of us from knowing where they'd been. Personally, I think they just didn't want to talk. Demi-dragons have always been stubborn creatures. Either way, they Disappeared again, soon after."

Her grey eyes pinned the newcomers, and she beckoned to the large dog sitting by the hall. "Come closer, girl. Don't think I don't know visitors in my own Inn when I see one." She sniffed, quietly affronted. "And you, fox-man, try to make a quieter entrance next time. This Inn is old; it makes enough creaks and bumps without someone else doing it himself. Now, before I forget..." She trailed off as she ducked below the counter.

A rustle of falling papers issued from underneath before she popped back up, a few sheets in her hand. "These," she declared, placing them on the counter in front of her, "Are the Rules of Home. You will understand the ones you need to, and the ones you don't are unimportant to you. They include things like, 'Every individual must do their share of labour to receive their share of necessities.', or, 'Do not instigate a fight.', or, 'No black magic to be practiced in this world.' There are, of course, exceptions to each rule, but you would have to ask the Rulekeeper about the finer details. I just hand them out."

"Any more questions?"

┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉
Name → Benja Verhoeve
Location → the Inn
Tagged → Haylee, Mercedes,
Helena
┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉ ┉

As he reached forwards and picked a sheet from the pile he saw a few sections begin to blur. "The hell?" Holding the sheet towards the light he watched with impressed confusion as words melted into nothing but some black lines. The old woman sure had not been kidding when she'd said they wouldn't understand what they didn't have to. Then he looked up, nearly raised his hand. "Actually, I have a question." He paused for a second, then asked, "Coffee still exists, right?"