(Untitled)

[skilledhands]

When Scott walked into the old airport Hilton, he was expecting a deserted building that had been slightly ransacked. He planned to ransack it more. With new members in the pack, they'd run out of serviceable beds. He was out looking for new ones

Comments

[cristofano]

"Hey." Chris smells like coffee, and oil paints, and warmed plants, and something just not quite human.

He's dressed in all green. All green.

[skilledhands]

Definitely didn't expect that, either.

...

"Hey," he grunted back.

Didn't smell infected. Didn't smell like a were, either.

"Uh."

Scott scratched the back of his head.

"Couldja tell me what's going on?"

[cristofano]

"Welcome to the hotel. It's a strange hotel. It doesn't seem to be anyone's home world. I'm Chris."

[skilledhands]

"Hunh."

...

"Scott."

[futures_of_ash]

"Where were you suppose to be?" the red haired girl asked cheerfully, feet and legs dangling between the slats in the stair railing. She certainly didn't smell of Vancouver either. More flame and ash, with a touch of human blood and bone beneath. Alive.

"If you turn around right now you might still get in there?"

[skilledhands]

(ooc: Well hello you. :3 *hugs*)

"...The Hilton. This... doesn't seem like it, I think."

He thought it was a very good suggestion, and turned around.

Outside, he could see the cracking parking lot.

"I think so."

Scott turned back.

"Does that mean you know something about this place, miss?"

[futures_of_ash]

"Rachel" she supplied with a grin. A Rachel in dust smudged spandex no less! "I think it's a place made up of pieces of other worlds, though the pieces keep changing."

[skilledhands]

"Rachel, eh. Well I'm Scott."

He looked around. The ceiling was painted with black and white stripes.

"Other... worlds. Whut, like some kind of science fiction fantasy hokey pokey cross dimensions kinda thing?"

Somebody's experience with science fiction books was appararently limited to reading the backs of them, and setting them back down.

[brightobject]

Well. There is a woman here who smells like... um... nothing much, really? The speaker for peaceful lobby music she is standing under is making more static-y noises than the others.

At the sneeze, she looks over, although her inquisitive gaze goes right by Scott before it backtracks to find him again. And misses.

[skilledhands]

Scott twitches slightly at the staticy noises.

[brightobject]

She does not notice.

... it's not exactly one of her skills.

[skilledhands]

He watches her.

Watching him.

(watching her watching him watching her? Who knows.)

[khephera]

"Bless you."

There is woman in grey robes looking down one of the corridors suspiciously from behind her veils. The hem of her skirts is soaked in a deep indigo stain, wicking up from the Persian rugs.

"The rain seems to have stopped."

Every so often her hand flicks downward and the moisture retreats a little in a slow speed imitation of the waves on the beach. Advance, retreat, advance, retreat.

[skilledhands]

"Thank you."

He looks over, noting the wet rugs down the hallway. Wet? Was there a flood? It certainly wasn't raining in Vancouver today.

Then he catches what she's doing. His eyes narrow as he focuses on it. A water Crafter? She didn't look like anyone he'd ever met, and didn't really even look suitable for traveling across North America.

How did she get here?

"This isn't Vancouver anymore, is it."

[khephera]

She turns and focuses on him, dark eyes taking in his manner of dress and his facial hair. A craftsman perhaps. One of the town folk. She quickly tucks her hands in her sleeves.

"I have never heard of Vancouver, but then -- I had never heard of Scotland either. It is a country, not a town, apparently. Is Vancouver a town?"

Always better to ask.

[skilledhands]

...Hunh.

"Yes, it is. In western Canada."

He has a thought.

"What country are you from, Miss?" That might help. Maybe he stepped into a hocus pocus gateway thing and is somewhere else. Maybe the same thing happened to her. Might explain some things.

[captainryan]

It always smells different here. Ryan's still getting used to the fact that he can even notice that sort of thing.

It doesn't make him happy.

If new werewolves smell new, this one does. He's watching Scott, curious and cautious all at once.

[skilledhands]

It takes him a moment to notice Ryan, given that he's absorbing as much as he can about the inside of the building. It wasn't just a small unexpected change. There is nothing that smells similar except for himself.

But senses fine-tuned for survival will always pick out what they need to. And Scott's purpose in the pack revolves around new werewolves.

So when he picks up Ryan in that fine Kuduma nose, he turns to look at him.

It's not that they specifically smell "new." One can tell the relative age of someone. But it's inferred through a combination of saturation of scent, the way they behave, and the emotions coming from them. To a nose as sensative as Scott's, the difference between uncontrolled new-were rage and a familiar Fireblood are even different.

He cocks an eyebrow at Ryan.

[captainryan]

Ryan cocks an eyebrow right back at him. He throws in a bit of a head tilt, too.

He doesn't know how to use his nose and isn't sure he wants to. Right now it's all so much indecipherable background noise to him. Scott is just another new person in what Ryan believes to be his head.

"Are you new?"

[skilledhands]

(ooc: Wheeee we're gonna have all the other threads happened already. Ryan gets a semi-informed Scott.)

Scott doesn't know that, though. What he does know is that this isn't Ryan's marked territory. So he continues watching him, not breaking eye contact until Ryan speaks.

"Yes, I am. To, er, here."

He looks around.

"Wherever this weird hotel-place-magic-thingy is."

His attention comes back.

"Do you live here? So far nobody I've met seems to actually live here, they just show up. Like I did."