[ Opening Mingle ]

[randomly_modding]

[Everyone will wake up suddenly, as if having drifted off -- while sitting upright in an uncomfortable office chair. In one hand they're holding the communicator, and in their lap is propped a clipboard with a job application (standard, looking something like this; it requests up to ten years of job history, ) and a pen. The waiting room is also fairly standard, except for being empty.]

[The communicator's lock screen reads, Complete the job application. Time limit, twenty-four hours.]

[There are magazines, fake plants, and computers. There's a staff lounge with food -- tupperware that might have belonged to some of these nonexistent workers, popcorn and cocoa packets, vending machines -- and restrooms. There are exits, but characters will be unable to use them... or make their own, or escape in any way.]

[So the characters are stuck here, until tomorrow morning. Set up a comment telling everyone what your character is doing, and thinking, whether they're obeying the task or not, at any time during the day. Then tag other people! Be sure to check back later in the week, when people are encouraged make threads for the evening as well as the day! Characters that have been claimed are also welcome at this point to join the community, and will be able to make their own posts, which can be tagged by anyone taking part in the event.]

Comments

[franchisepirate]

[Somehow, Westley doesn't think his particular employment history is likely to be productive in this environment. Pragmatist that he is, that was his first thought before contemplating whether Humperdinck has sent him to Heaven or Hell with that flip of a lever. Being dead as he is, this could well be the application that would send him to be reborn as a caterpillar.]

[The least the afterlife could have done is put him in a decently put-together shirt. His tattered black pirate's shirt is in just the shape he... died in, so to speak, giant holes and blood and the whole mess. Unfortunate, that.]

[It's an old reflex to blindly follow instructions, but a flash of indignation has Westley deciding that if he's going to suffer being killed by that blundering wart he'll do as he wishes. He rises from the chair and makes use of his time trying to find the exit. Or someone he can charm and/or threaten into returning him to where he belongs. His true love awaits him.]

[actlikealady]

[congratulations, Westley! you are the first person here that Sif does not instantly suspect might be somehow in league with their captors! it might be the fact that you're in a bloody torn wreck of a shirt]

What did they do to you? [closing the distance between them]

[franchisepirate]

[He always did strive to let his pitifulness work to his advantage.]

I suppose that depends who you mean by 'they'. Quite a few parties conspired equally in my present condition.

[actlikealady]

[omg hearing that in his voice so much she frowns a bit; it's easier to see now that he's not injured as badly as he looks. or much at all, perhaps]

I assumed whoever abducted you were also responsible for attacking you. Are your injuries healed now?

[franchisepirate]

I can only assume not. [Giant rodents are not typically known for their powers of teleportation. Or whatever this might be. And genius though Rugen is in his dastardly way, he's not the one who threw the switch.]

Fortunately, and considering, [he gestures at their surroundings] I seem in remarkably good health. [For a dead man. But he'll just keep that tidbit to himself for the present time.] And yourself?

[actlikealady]

I had no injuries to speak of. I was at court the last I remember, and then I was waking here, without warning. Things should have been peaceful. [inasmuch as they could be, with strife growing beyond Asgard's borders. so it makes sense that some powerful sorcerer must have done this. but she skims her gaze over him, and then decides he is in good enough condition for the moment, so she straightens up and continues briskly] I am Sif. And I expect we both find ourselves in need of an exit.

[franchisepirate]

Far be it for me to defy expectations. [He gestures for her to lead on. Ladies first, and also strangers not behind.] Let the search resume.

Westley. It's a pleasure, in spite of the circumstance.

[actlikealady]

And I am Sif. It will be considerably more of one, should we have the opportunity to actually free ourselves. [another glance at him, measuring, before she moves ahead, resuming her circuit of the walls] Are you armed?

[antiapocalypse]

[ there is no way this isn't one of Buffy's favorite movies ever, but the injury is way more pressing than putting anything remotely like fourth walling together ]

That -- wow. Next time, try dodging.

[ so she says, but she's looking furtively around for first aid supplies ]

[franchisepirate]

[A small grin, equally amused and self-deprecating.] Wise advice, indeed. I shall put it to use in the future.

[As far as he knows she's looking for a way out, same as he is and as they all should be, so he doesn't explain that his injuries are healed over despite the ghastly condition of his attire.]

[antiapocalypse]

Yeah, well, experience is a great teacher.

[ nothing! damn. she turns back with a hopeful grin ] Don't suppose you heal fast.

/extra bbs for you

[cleanedslate]

Let me guess: LARPer? [ too much to hope. man, he is just surrounded by logical impossibilities today. ]