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suitedreams2022-05-10 09:26 pm
guestservices) wrote in suitedreams2022-05-10 09:26 pm
Entry tags:
WEEK ZERO: MINGLE
W̴͍̎E̴̝̊E̸͚͝K̸͕̿ ZERO: MINGLE
(35 ḡ̴̻u̷͌͜ê̴̯s̶̢͑t̵̻͝s̴̡̐ ̴c̴h̴e̶c̴k̷e̶d̸ ̶i̴n̴)
Needless to say, marble isn't exactly the most comfortable surface to sleep on. Do you even remember falling asleep? Maybe not, but the moment your eyes flutter open and the lingering stardust fades, you come into consciousness with the distinct feeling that your dreams were very important.
You vaguely remember a shadowed hand, the pen and the scroll in its grip as the terms and conditions glow softly before you. You can't quite remember the details, the words blurring and fading fasting the longer you try, but you come to a conclusion rather quickly:
-Someone you care about is in trouble and their life is now your responsibility.
-You have signed a contract to provide entertainment to the Host in exchange for their safe return.
Your other memories begin to settle now that you're more awake. You remember that this isn't the first time you've been swept away for a game by someone else's design. You remember what those games entailed, too, but as the pieces click together you get the sense that murdering everyone around you isn't a solution. It won't get your hostage back sooner. It will only end tragically for everyone involved.
So instead, perhaps it's time to take in your surroundings. Where the hell even are you now? The marble floor of the lobby is still cool to the touch, and the front desk is before you with several keys on hooks against the wall. Each of them includes a keychain with two small, clear star-shaped crystals embedded at the bottom. Too bad you can't seem to remove the keys just yet! Guest accommodations aren't quite ready.
Ah, right. About that. You aren't alone! After all, what's the fun in playing a game by yourself? Should one try to actually count the keys hanging on the wall, you'll find there are 35 in total. You can also learn more about them should you look at the leather-bound book bolted to the front desk. Though some of them may look a bit different, seeing how everyone gathered in the lobby is dressed to the nines. What happened to your other clothing? Worry not. You do want to be presentable at the front desk, don't you?
Speaking of the front desk, while you aren't able to retrieve your keys or even leave the ground floor right now, you will find small gift boxes scattered around the desk as a complementary gift for each guest. Inside these boxes, you will find:
-A flask. Those of legal drinking age will find it filled with a sweet wine, and those underage will find juice of some kind.
-A shaving kit
- A single aspirin
-A keychain
-A condolence card
-A sheet of temporary tattoos
-A small bag of jerky
-A compact mirror with a cute pattern on the outer casing
No other items are on your person even if you were holding onto them prior to your arrival. Perhaps the bellhop has already taken your luggage for you?
But despite the front desk hosting a small cluster of bells, ringing them doesn't seem to draw the attention of anyone. The bells cannot be removed from the desk, but the hotel staff appears to be occupied with other tasks.
It looks as though you're on your own for now until maintenance is finished. But it's just like the first time, isn't it? Get to know the other guests, start asking questions, and settle in for your stay.
You can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave...
N̸A̵V̴I̶G̶A̶T̴I̴O̸N̷.̷
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Eight weeks. In different worlds.
[ he repeats that, sounding dumbfounded. ]
I dunno about that, but here's to hoping this is short and sweet. [ he offers him a lopsided smile ]
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[ he pats the chair whose arm he's leaning against. come on, have a seat. rest. ]
Didn't think I'd end up on what feels like another... we had nearly as many people at the start as well.
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[ his curiosity is genuine, though perhaps not entirely focused... he takes the seat offered him ]
Haha... I bet the feeling's mutual across the board. I was set to go home after... [ he makes a vague hand gesture ] the two weeks I was trapped in a group study. Or so it was called.
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[ two weeks? jealous. but that's not sylvain's fault. he crosses one leg over the other and just perches on the arm with a sigh. ]
We were sent home as well... after eight weeks of angels and God and... [ he waves a hand ] religion. Oh, and murder. Exhausting. I don't really want more of it.
[ he then blinks after a beat ]
Ah, my manners. I'm Kaeya Alberich.
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[ he lifts a brow, gaze angling up towards kaeya with slight amusement at his perch of choice. it's apologetic too. ] Sounds like a divine handful.
[ nodding, ] Sylvain Gautier. ...You comfortable up there, or should I scooch over? [ asked jokingly ]
1/2
[ he glances over at sylvain a moment before resting a hand on his shoulder— ]
2/2
No, I'm rather comfortable, actually.
1/?
2/??
3/???
4/4
Well then. Make yourself at home.
[ UMMMMMMM he's gonna pretend to play it cool. help ]
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[ as he relaxes, he does kick his feet up to show them off. regardless, he's a good passenger, adjusting in just a few small motions to make sure his dress stays decent. does he knows he's caused him to bsod? maybe a little. ]
You should have seen what they put us in last time.
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also they're practically the same height so this ought to be an awkward arrangement. but somehow kaeya works his magic and it's... not bad? dare sylvain think of this as... pretty okay? (is he playing MIND GAMES with him?)
it's hard to focus on the conversation at hand but he won't back down. ]
Okay, I'll bite. What did they put you in last time?
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[ it only works because kaeya is used to making these sorts of things work. it's comfortable, so he certainly isn't going anywhere for a little bit. ]
We had to get our clothing back from children who'd taken it.
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I... see. [ he clears his throat, very quickly getting the distinct feeling he's out of his depths. he tries not to shift in his spot, as one does when a cat favors their lap ]
And you had to escape uncertain death [ murder ] while wearing... this skimpy nun outfit. [ ? he meant it as a question but forgot to inflect. he laughs a little, hoping it doesn't sound awkward ] You usually galavant around in dresses...?
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Likely up those stairs no one can get through.
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[ but anyway this aint about yjh ]
Uniform, huh? Are you— [ a pause ] Actually, I'm not gonna guess. At least not until I see it for myself. [ spoilers: he will still have absolutely no clue ]
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No, you should definitely guess. Really. Especially if you haven't looked in the book. What kind of job do you think I have?
[ pass the time :> he is just going to get cozy don't mind him. ]
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[ sylvain's arms are probably starting to fall asleep from NOT HAVING MOVED AN INCH. he tries to angle them as... non-intrusively as he can, but truly this entire setup doesn't allow for much space between them ]
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[ that's your fault. you could be comfy but you playin. get comfortable, buddy. ]
Find out.
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[ wow fine!! he very gingerly drapes his arms around kaeya ]
Hmm, let's see. You obviously excel at sitting around looking pretty. And you don't seem to mind being in costume much. With your charming wit, you could be... a man of theater.
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[ the arms around him earn gloved fingertips against them. ]
Would you like a second guess?
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[ he glances down at the gloved fingertips against his sleeves, and considers them for a moment before asking, ]
Sure, but can I look at your hands?
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[ kaeya pulls the elegant, long gloves off and sets them down over his own lap. he presents his hands for evaluation: scarred knuckles and callused hands, indicative of much harder work and extensive use of a sword. ]
Have a good look.
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(sylvain wears armored gloves himself, so he doesn't carry quite the same set of scarring, but these marks are easily identifiable regardless.) ]
A fighter then. [ doesn't matter what kind. ] ...A survivor, too.
[ he hesitates for a moment, and then releases kaeya's hands. he looks conflicted. ]
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