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capeandcowllogs2010-12-19 10:37 am
bluffing-ruffle.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2010-12-19 10:37 am
C&C HOLIDAY JAMJAR ICE HOTEL HELL: PARTY
WHO: AHAHAHAHA. Just... just tag yourselves in.
WHERE: The Gorsewick Hotel
WHEN: December 19th. 5PM-7PM for setup, 7PM onward for dinner.
WARNINGS: Let's just cover for your basics unless something more specific comes up.
SUMMARY: Miles Edgeworth and Remus Lupin are hosting the second comm-wide holiday party and have rented out the dining hall in the Gorsewick for the night. Everyone comes in for food, warmth, and (relatively... hopefully...) civil company. Whether or not they can leave is another story.
FORMAT: IF IT FEELS GOOD, DO IT! Long prose, action brackets, rapidfire dialogue, present tense, past tense--whatever floats your narrative boat!
The Gorsewick is not all that large a hotel, although it would very much like to grow up to be one someday, a mere five stories tall and having only a small parking garage to its name. The owner is clearly an optimistic sort of fellow, building a place like this in the City despite the risk the existence of imPorts poses to it and the hits the tourism industry has taken from their antics; bigger places than this have been smashed to pieces by enormous grey lizards with bad cases of heartburn.
Sadly, it just isn't paying off. At a time when people should be on vacation, packing his rooms to the max, the Gorsewick is... really, really empty. The groups renting out the dining hall are pretty much the only things keeping it afloat this month.
Still, appearances must be upheld, and although it is mildly understaffed, it is currently no less well-cared for. The handful of people on duty that night are friendly and the place is clean as a whistle--no bugs, no rats, no dust, nothing like that. He may be running a sinking ship, but the owner is damned determined to keep it a tidy one on the way down.
Come on in.
WHERE: The Gorsewick Hotel
WHEN: December 19th. 5PM-7PM for setup, 7PM onward for dinner.
WARNINGS: Let's just cover for your basics unless something more specific comes up.
SUMMARY: Miles Edgeworth and Remus Lupin are hosting the second comm-wide holiday party and have rented out the dining hall in the Gorsewick for the night. Everyone comes in for food, warmth, and (relatively... hopefully...) civil company. Whether or not they can leave is another story.
FORMAT: IF IT FEELS GOOD, DO IT! Long prose, action brackets, rapidfire dialogue, present tense, past tense--whatever floats your narrative boat!
The Gorsewick is not all that large a hotel, although it would very much like to grow up to be one someday, a mere five stories tall and having only a small parking garage to its name. The owner is clearly an optimistic sort of fellow, building a place like this in the City despite the risk the existence of imPorts poses to it and the hits the tourism industry has taken from their antics; bigger places than this have been smashed to pieces by enormous grey lizards with bad cases of heartburn.
Sadly, it just isn't paying off. At a time when people should be on vacation, packing his rooms to the max, the Gorsewick is... really, really empty. The groups renting out the dining hall are pretty much the only things keeping it afloat this month.
Still, appearances must be upheld, and although it is mildly understaffed, it is currently no less well-cared for. The handful of people on duty that night are friendly and the place is clean as a whistle--no bugs, no rats, no dust, nothing like that. He may be running a sinking ship, but the owner is damned determined to keep it a tidy one on the way down.
Come on in.
no subject
"Is it real? I mean, does it stay that way forever, or will it change back?"
no subject
"It'll wear off eventually, and it can't make eggs or anything like that. Every now and then you hear someone going on about how he's repopulating the Common Welsh Greens by transfiguring dairy trucks into dragons. Granted, the 'common' part is a complete misnomer anymore, because there's not a lot of space in Wales for dragons anymore. It's really still a pinecone, it just truly believes that it's a peacock."
no subject
Eleanor spoke almost to herself as she looked at the bird again. There was something very deep about that, she suspected. About the nature of the world. Of course, she couldn't sort it out, but it still seemed...deep. Especially coming from someone like Sirius.
"People turn things into dragons?" She asked as she turned back, shaking the deep thoughts away as she moved to gather up some of the nearby crackers in her arms as she did.
no subject
"Some woman down in Stockbridge-on-Tine was discovered to have been turning her neighbor's cats into novelty kettles for years, and selling them right back to them. People do funny things."