Fantasy Infinite Hotel (w/ cuzn)

[NoodleNumies]

Hello! This is the thread where me and cuzn will post our IC responses in the RP about an Infinite Hotel.

Please feel free to DM me if you feel like there was a post that I could improve upon, or maybe if something I wrote makes you want to RP with me in another world or another story! You may like any posts, but please do not comment!

 

[NoodleNumies]

----> Buzzing.
----> A low hum of a monotone melody.
----> Darkness and light push and pull behind my eyes, sleep and reality fighting for my attention.
----> The buzzing.
----> Something both unfamiliar and comforting in the sound. I feel the course carpet under me, unyielding to my bones, forcing my back into uncomfortable straight shape.
----> My senses bring themselves back to me; a light buzzing of something electrical, the rough feeling of cheap flooring, the danger in the unfamiliarity in my surroundings.
----> My eyes fling open, my muscles tensing and shooting me up in a sit-up position on the floor. The song of my deep beating heart drums in my ears and throughout my body, drowning out the low humming. My eyes, again, flick around the room. I am sitting in the middle of some kind of long hallway, lined with elderly looking furniture. The couches and chairs have yellowish-white cushions, indented with the seats of many wondering souls, triangle-patterned material that's been worn over several years leaves small windows peaking to the cedar wood frames. Sitting next to the mature cushioned seats are matching cedar wood nightstands and long, thin tables, topped with green and pink glass lampshades and painted gold structures, their siblings hanging off the walls above them, dangling their ceramic covers with matching blue and green flowers decorating over once white crystal plastic, now tainted with yellow. The walls and floors themselves are lined with cheap, ancient wallpaper, and cheesy plastic matting respectively.
----> My memory is hazy, I do not remember how I got in this hotel, nor what I was doing beforehand. I get to my feet, looking behind me. I see no front counter, neither any kind of elevator as these types of buildings use. I pat my pockets, thinking I might have my wallet or some kind of key card that might hint at who I am or what I was doing. I notice my cyan backpack lying on the floor beside me, and enjoy the little releaf I feel. I find an ID with a woman in the picture. She seems almost beautiful, if it not for the weird lighting or posing of the picture itself.
----> Her name is next to it: Enkindle McTyre. I wonder if that's me.
----> I stick it back into its' leather casing, finding a $5 bill and a few other credit or debit cards accompping it. Putting it back into my pocket, I also find a different card. It's in the shape of a paying card, only it has a single number on it: 1545. I put it back in my pocket too. Rummaging through my backpack I find a few other useful things, finding more comfort in keeping my pepper spray in my jean pockets for more easy access in this bizarre environment.
----> Next: Find out where the fuck I am and how to get out.
----> I swing my pack, nesting its' straps on my shoulders and move towards one of the many doors in this hallway. Reaching for the knob, I rattle it only to find out it's locked. After careful contemplation and over-thinking, I finally notice the black box on the doorframe. A keypad. I take the card with the number on it back out, again, it reads 1544. I press it against the plastic case and a green neon light flashes on it's head followed by a satisfying click. I try the knob again, and it swings open without any trouble.

 

[cuzn]

Day 15,042
October 15th, 2030, 9:17AM

There was something strangely dream-like about the concept of living in infinity. When the aging of the mind and body came to a screeching halt, Luciel found that her memory within this timeless universe was impeccable, and yet memories from before this faded over time. Sometimes, it felt as if her former self that had been born in Brooklyn and raised in Compton was slowly dying off, and to replace it, the infinite 'her' that had been in this place since the late summer of 1989.


Her last memory was spent in her bedroom on a Thursday afternoon, listening to Public Enemy's newest album released only a few months ago—Fear of a Black Planet—on the silver boombox that she finally managed to afford after an entire summer of work and toil. It was a slow afternoon. The boombox only stayed on during commercial breaks, and once those were over, the television was taken off of mute and the music was shut off. On days like this, Luciel only really watched the news halfway, spending the rest of her attention either fiddling with a Rubik's cube or pressing random chords and plucking random strings on the guitar; the news of that day was something that remained ingrained in her memory, as distant as it was. President Bush had just announced someone named Colin Powell as the new chairman of the joint chiefs of staff; they credited him as being the first African-American to hold that position.

The ringing of the landline, and later her best friend's voice, echoed like a distant vision in her memory. As years passed, his name would later escape her, but she'd recognize that laugh and that accent anywhere. The absolute definition of good humor. And when he called her, she could tell that he's been cackling about something. "Man, you see the news?"

"Colin Powell?"

"First black chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, and he ain't even black! Shit, he's so white he makes Michael Keaton look like Samuel L. Jackson! We ought'a go up there and show them what real black is, shit..."

Luciel just laughed. "Yeah, we'll blast reggae music just so they know we aren't African-American, either."

"Those people couldn't name five African countries if the names slapped them in the ass. You could be Jamaican or Cuban or Brazilian and you're still African. African-American... Fuck that shit, man. Anyway, you gonna see Harlem Nights?"

"Um... Maybe. Gotta ask my folks."

"Ask your- Luciel, goddammit, it's Eddie Murphy! The others are gonna hit the theater opening night, I'll even buy your ticket if you can't afford it. You in?"

"I said I gotta ask my-- Oh, shit, I think I left the stove on. Hold up."


... It was a stupidly mundane memory, but really, it was all that she had left. Even the names and faces of her own parents had been replaced by these new memories, in this endless place, where she and perhaps millions of others had spent their lives in complete disarray and despair. The Sunshine Hotel. The name was said with a grimace by most, a sneer by others—it was, however, where she had spent the last few decades, and perhaps where she would spend the rest of her life. Forever eighteen years old, forever in her last year of high school, in that summer of '89, where the only thing scarier than the gang fights in Compton was the ever-looming threat of the Soviet Union that was slowly beginning to fall apart halfway across the planet.

Luciel got used to life in the hotel fairly quickly, and she liked to think that she took the whole thing about as well as she could, given the circumstances. Everyone here woke up the same way. Sometimes alone, sometimes with others, but always in the same dingy old lobby on the first floor, with the only path being forwards, into the next room, and the next, and the next. The contents of whatever was in each room changed at random. Some people got an easy path through flower fields and suburban streets to the second lobby, others got unlucky enough to be running for their lives through something reminiscent of the Nightmare on Elm Street on the very first room.

When they would reach the second lobby, some ever-changing amount of connected room-worlds later, they'd reach the Hub.

Most people didn't want to go on after only going from the first lobby to the second, and eventually, those people started settling down in the second. Lobbies were safe spaces on their own, and the only rooms with elevators—access to any lobby previously visited, traditionally, by traveling from room to room. The key cards displayed any random number on one side, and on the other, the number of an individual's top lobby floor was displayed right under their name and age.

Luciel A. Bloodworth
18 Years Old
Lobby 174

She supposed it was only natural that the higher floors would get less visitors. For the first few decades though, Luciel had spent her time exploring, finding an eagerness in the idea of her very own science-fiction universe to traverse. There were of course the rooms that would forever haunt her nightmares and lurk in the shadows of her waking hours, but at the same time, each one was so vastly unique that there were quite a few that were fascinating and outstanding enough to keep her going.

Nowadays, though, she had settled down. At least on the exploration part. Somewhere along the way, she had run into another girl—Jasmine Selene Patel—and had taken to tagging along with her out of sheer want for some friendly company, and then they had spent one year together, and then two, and then five, ten, twenty... Forever eighteen, forever nineteen, one from Compton in '89 and the other from Seattle in '98. It wasn't ideal, but it was manageable, and it certainly did have its moments. They would travel between lobbies, going somewhere new every day, and had more than enough to sustain themselves comfortably. Aside from that, they would theorize together, work together, on mathematics or physics, different theories and hypotheses of the nature of the Sunshine Hotel that would serve as constant conversation between them. It was all non-conclusive. It seemed like every new discovery only brought up a thousand more questions, but it was a mystery that they were bent on cracking.

Even if it took them forever.

Now, they were in the second lobby. The Hub. It was a metropolis of other 'players' who had settled down early to resume their lives in some poor mimicry of what they had once had. If anyone wanted to return to a Truman's Show ripoff of the real world that they had been so suddenly torn away from, they went here, and the only good thing about it was that all of the utilities seemed to be provided by the hotel itself, and taxes were apparently a fraction of what they were in reality. Not like Luciel would know anything about that.

 

[NoodleNumies]

Day 1
October 15th, 2030, 9:45AM

The blinding light of the outside world forces me to take a few unknown steps into a new realm. Before my eyes can adjust, I hear the slam! of the door behind me. A cool breeze finds its way to my skin, causing the hair on my arms to stand up. In front of me is a vast field, flowers sprinkle themselves through vibrant green grass, stretching until meeting the edge of a deep forest. I can't look at the sun itself, only making me blink over and over every attempt, it just seems so bright- too bright for any normal star; but maybe that's just an illusion my eyes are playing after getting accustomed to the dim lights of the hotel I was just in. Speaking of; I turn around expecting to find a tall, older-looking building, only to be met with the same meadow that met me at first.
Okay, what the hell.
Looking down, a place my hand on the ground. Intertwining my fingers with the laces of the blades, something just doesn't feel right. I may not remember my own face or name, but for some reason this grass is not what I've felt all my life. It's almost, soft. I swivel to the closest flower. Although separated by a few feet, all of these flowers are the same shade of pink, almost, exact same shade. I gently twist a petal between my thumb and forefinger. Plastic.
Suddenly, a chill runs down my spine. I whirl. My eyes struggle to concentrate on the gathering of trees behind me, but I swear I thought I saw a shadow move. Instinctively, I press my trusty pepper spray into my left palm, setting the trigger to the attack position and redying it in front of me. Slowly I push forward, adrenaline thumping to my muscles, tightening like springs, ready to release to either fight or run. Reaching the edge of the thicket, I don't spot anything. No moving shadows, no people shaped bushes, nothing. Actually, there isn't even any sound. Something unsettling in the idea of a quiet forest.
Continuing, the only sound is my knock-off Vans crushing every leaf possible, giving away my position if there really is someone out there. I step over some large roots that extend from the ground, and have to hold myself steady on some of the trunks, bushing my hands against them. Still, there is nothing. No moving branches in the wind, no shaking bramble from startled animals, no ringing of cicadas.
My eyes move back and forth, searching rhythmically. I feel like I've walked somewhere I'm not supposed to be, like when dad says to never go into his room, like there are several eyes on me. Dad. I remember his face, his smile. I remember the rules he had set for me, I remember watching him speak to me, although I can't remember what he said to me. Another hostile breeze ruins the comforting memory, and I stop. There is something behind me. Something enticing. Something that is beckoning, begging for me to turn around. Pulling at my curiosity, but my instincts are telling me whatever you do, do not turn around. Breaking the silence, I move forward again, keeping my head up and ignoring the unspoken alluring demand reaching behind me. I can't help but quicken my pace as the plea increases behind me. Now, I notice the trees. The sun strikes in small openings through the leaves, bequesting star shaped bright spots on the scaley timber. The ground beneath me pulses, almost in tune with my heart, with a melody reminiscent of the yearning that lurks after me.
I break into a run, keeping my eyes to the ground and leaping over every natural obstacle, but the ground keeps jolting in unpredictable ways, leaving my hands, again, searching for equilibrium. In front of me, a flash of white. Looking ahead, I find nothing, but my feet find fallen timber. My hands and knees catch me, taking the brunt of the sharp sticks on the ground. The voices behind me change, no longer trying to be comforting, or attempting to appeal to my curiosity, but threatening me. Unseen hands overtake the air to reach for me, but I'm already up and running again. Brownish-green throbbing harwood zip past me; no matter how curious I am, or how much I want to examine them, I cannot stop. Another flash of white, and I see an opening of sun. Another field, or maybe the same one, as I first walked into, only there is a white square in the distance.
Silent screams ring out. Whatever is behind me is upset I'm getting away. A chorus starts, a kind of chanting in a language I don't know. Stepping into the field of soft grass, I feel a few crunches of the fake flowers. I move a few more steps and throw a look behind me; I'm met with a darkened forest, and a very bad feeling. Whooshing of the wind advance from the shadowy form and traverse for me again. Pushing my head down I bolt for the white rectangle, which I now recognize as the same door I walked through to get into this realm. Leaping for the handle, I throw my body weight into the door, only for it to fight back.
"Fuck! The card!"
Fumbling through my back pockets, again the breath of the air grasps for me, the darkness of the forest expanding, spilling over the grass and getting closer. I manage to grab the playing card and quickly stab it on the little black box. I don't even wait for the light before I yank the door open. Pulling it closed I see a single figure amidst the black fog, before my gaze is interrupted by the hotel door. I collapse. Backpack against the wall, I run my fingers through my hair and finally breathe.
"What the FUCK was THAT!" I scream to the door. Grabbing my throbbing heart, I continue, "I could have fucking died! Where was I? Why am I back? What is happening?" The last question coming out as a sob, I hug my knees, and cry.