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degausser · 11-24-2015, 09:59 PM

Damon Lannister
It was not too terribly out of the ordinary for Damon Lannister to rouse himself from a heavy slumber influenced by wine, ale or a combination of the two and find himself in completely unfamiliar surroundings. Such was the case now as heavy lidded eyes blinked groggily, attempting to adjust to the lighting which was mercifully dim. His first mistake was trying to sit up as quickly as he did, when he did, and Damon's right hand immedietly moved to cover his forehead where a searing pain flashed violently behind his eyes. A sound more groan than growl escaped his lips, and he found himself rolling onto his stomach as if anticipating some wretched beast was about to climb up his esophagus and pour from his mouth.

Seven hells, how many bottles of wine did I drink last night?

It was combing back to him in pieces, fragmented though they were, scattered and non linear. Damon vaguely remembered singing The Dornishman's Wife in a tavern. His brother had been there, grugingly, if his memory served him correctly. There were others as well. Most of them had the crimson cloaks of his father's house clasped to their gilded breastplates but he vaguely recalled a quiet boy no older than one and twenty with a stag stiched on the breast of his doublet. Had he been drinking with a Baratheon? It seemed unlikely what with the only storm lord he was at all familiar with being too dour and grim to ever engage in anything resembling a good time, lest it soil the white cloak at his shoulder. Clearly he had had more to drink than he thought. But he supposed that was his right, what with the wedding being the next day and all ...

Gods be good, the wedding.

Damon fell out of the bed in his haste to get to his feat for fear that he was late, or worse, had slept through the whole thing. The Lady Alissa Tyrell would surely never forgive him if that was the case. His Lord father would never forgive him either, which was the more terrifying of the two thoughts. That's when he finally noticed his room. A queer looking portrait hung on the wall, with broad brushstrokes cleverly crafted to make it look as though a bald man was screaming. The room was dimly lit, yet there were no candles to be seen anywhere, nor any braziers of fire. Instead the light seemed to be coming from a strange disk in the ceiling, though its flame was conspicuously concealed behind a glass dome. Damon shook his head in disbelief. Clearly he was still well, good and truely shitfaced drunk, or else R'hllor himself had managed to capture the sun and put it into tiny disks in the ceiling.

"Where in the Seven Hells, am I?" He whispered out loud to the empty room, blindly stumbling backwards until he had a door at his back. With his hand moving frantically to find the knob at his back, he twisted the cold metal and stumbled backwards into the strangest looking hallway he had ever seen in his seven and twenty years of existence. It was then Damon decided he was no where near as drunk as he needed to be to handle a situation such as this.
OPEN FOR FELICIA

Siobhan Easton
Somewhere along the line Siobhan Easton had convinced herself she wanted something resembling normalcy in her life. It was the primary motivating factor behind moving out of Pembroke Academy two years ago. She had longed for an environment where her surname didn't raise any eyebrows and the only oddities she might have to contend with were the silly themed parties that seemed to be common place amongst fraternities and sororities. And Siobhan had gotten her wish for the most part. A computer program helped determine her schedule from the hours of 8am - 9pm five days out of the week. She worried less about a transmutation spell accidentally turning a person into a toad and more about whether the toga she had stitched together (by hand, without the aid of any magical devices) looked authentically Roman enough. She had even gotten a perfectly boring part time job at a local coffee shop.

Only Siobhan had found that anonymity was not all it was cracked up to be. She was surprised to find how lonely she had felt while at college. Making new friends had been difficult and in one of her more desperate moments she had even flirted with the idea of rushing a sorority if only because she missed the camaraderie of her coven. Several times she had found herself staring down at her Sidekick, lingering on several names in her address book still at Pembroke Academy. She had even hovered over Caitriona's name a couple of times, only to abandon he idea at the last minute. Siobhan vaguely remembered having something she wanted to prove, though she could hardly tell you what that was at this point.

Perhaps that was why she was not nearly as rattled by the present turn of events as perhaps she should have been. Her heart raced quickly in her chest, adrenaline burning through her veins as her mind scrambled to come up with some sort of explanation as to how she could be in her college library at one moment and then ... a strange hotel room at the next. Was this anticipation? Perhaps it was a sign that she was unsatisfied with the monotonous turn her life had taken, the powers that be telling her in their own way that she might want to make a few changes in her life going forward. But that was neither here nor there at the moment. She had a new mystery to puzzle out, and Siobhan was not the sort to sit around and hope for a magical resolution to just magically occur on its own.

She moved about her room, curiously inspecting a brochure left on the table and fiddling with her cell phone. No reception. Why was she not surprised? She felt mostly compelled to leave her room and explore the rest of the hotel. The hallway had been empty when she first emerged from her room, no sign of life existing anywhere, until she turned a corner and nearly walked head on into someone else. Siobhan pivoted on her leather clad heals just in time to avoid a collision and she opened her mouth to utter an apology ... only to have her jaw hang slack open as her gaze swept the queer appearance of the man before her. The man wore a tailored doublet with intricate embroidery at the breast and she noted a leather scabbard hanging at his hip.

Siobhan's brow knitted perplexedly as her gaze gave him a slow once over. She really couldn't help herself. "Is there a Renaissance Fair in town I don't know about?"
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