[thread]
Who: Lucy Saxon (faithful_lucy) and anyone else who wants to play
What: Looking for Harold Saxon's room
When: Immediately after her conversation with the Tenth Doctor here
Where: Moving from the third floor of the castle to the twentieth (ouch)
Rating: PG-13 to be safe.
As soon as the words "Room 2015" appeared on the page of the journal in front of her, Lucy Saxon slammed the book shut and scrambled for the door of the lavishly-appointed bedroom she'd found herself in. But as soon as her hand touched the doorknob, she hesitated and picked the journal back up, along with the pen she'd been using to write. It seemed to be a communication log of some sort, and she might end up needing it... not only to communicate with the people she couldn't see, but with anyone she might happen to run in to.
She couldn't even make a sound of anguish over that thought. Her voice was truly and utterly gone. She knew; she'd already tried screaming at the top of her lungs.
The hallway she found herself in certainly looked like it belonged in a castle. Amazingly (and forebodingly) enough, the door to the room she'd left had a plate with her name engraved on it. Beneath that was the legend "311".
Third floor. And she had to go all the way up to the twentieth. Clutching the journal to her chest and wiping an errant tear of frustration away, Lucy struck out in search of a stairwell.
What: Looking for Harold Saxon's room
When: Immediately after her conversation with the Tenth Doctor here
Where: Moving from the third floor of the castle to the twentieth (ouch)
Rating: PG-13 to be safe.
As soon as the words "Room 2015" appeared on the page of the journal in front of her, Lucy Saxon slammed the book shut and scrambled for the door of the lavishly-appointed bedroom she'd found herself in. But as soon as her hand touched the doorknob, she hesitated and picked the journal back up, along with the pen she'd been using to write. It seemed to be a communication log of some sort, and she might end up needing it... not only to communicate with the people she couldn't see, but with anyone she might happen to run in to.
She couldn't even make a sound of anguish over that thought. Her voice was truly and utterly gone. She knew; she'd already tried screaming at the top of her lungs.
The hallway she found herself in certainly looked like it belonged in a castle. Amazingly (and forebodingly) enough, the door to the room she'd left had a plate with her name engraved on it. Beneath that was the legend "311".
Third floor. And she had to go all the way up to the twentieth. Clutching the journal to her chest and wiping an errant tear of frustration away, Lucy struck out in search of a stairwell.