...And also these.

[thespaceopera]

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - Q Nami Natasha Romanoff Nelkeila Tarid Nux Nyssa al Ghul Octavia Blake One Peggy Carter Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève

R - U R. Daneel Olivaw Rapunzel Remy LeBeau Riku Robin Redbreast Rogue Santanico Pandemonium Shawn Hunter Stefan (Alesci) Salvatore Steve "Orion" Rogers Steven Quartz Universe Souji Seta Stiles Stilinski Syeira Tadashi Hamada Tekhetsio

V - Z Vash the Stampede Vima Sunrider Vision (The) Wanda Maximoff Wrath Yamanaka Ino

Comments

[cajunspice]

[His entrance to the room left Remy still, eyes smoothly moving over the area to take it in before he took his first step against the hard floor, his boots silent against it rather than the sound they should make against such a surface. A deep inhale to take in the lingering scent paused him once again, as well as a stillness to his form as if listening to hear for any signs of life.

Once sure he was alone he stepped carefully around the edges of the room, a hand out and fingers running over any surfaces they found. Remy lingered by the Hospitality Cupboard, not picking anything up but scanning the contents before continuing his route, fingertips trailing along the wall and doors, to the Storage Unit. He pushed at one of the panels, peering inside to see the contents and leaving it open as he kept going in his circuit. His fingers continued to draw the path he took, and as they came in contact with the hurricane lamp he stopped mid step, reaching out to try and pick it up and look it over.]

[touchofrogue]

[The Hospitality Cupboard does nothing except react just as cupboard should, and since Remy did not touch the objects inside the storage unit, there was no change until his fingers wrapped around the hurricane lamp.

Notably, he will not be able to move it from its position on the bookshelf, almost as if it's been integrated into the fabric of the room. However, that fact is not the strangest thing that happens.

The walls of the room become translucent, keeping the faint outline of their shape and substance. The land surrounding the rooms ripples, changes, and stretching before Remy through the barely-seen barrier of the walls is a dramatically wide open landscape set against a bright cerulean sky. The wind outside stirs the long grass, no longer whispering voices but wind in truth.

A sensation steals over Remy, one of perfectly composed control. Emotions are, not ignored, not denied, but set in their proper place as surely as the sea does not overwhelm the shore. Deep, deep beneath this sense of control is a certainty that runs through the spine, down the feet, deep into the ground and out into the very air and sky. It is a sense of connectedness, of oneness with the surrounding world. Steps and spine are filled with a sense of power and authority, as if all Remy had to do was speak a word and the very winds themselves would bow to his command and uplift him -- that sky is his, his to care for, his to command as his emotions are his to care for, to command.

Above all else, perhaps, is the sense of banked joy, connectedness, purpose.

The land longs for rain.

You are yourself, precisely connected to the sun, the grass, the wind, the water, the world herself - and you belong to the earth as much as it belongs to you. You belong. You are.

The land longs for rain, and there will be a storm tonight.]

[cajunspice]

[The instant resistance to his pull made Remy about to let go of the lamp, at least until the room changed around him.

Turning to gaze at the world changing around him, he raised a hand above his eyes, shielding at he looked up at the sky and felt.. it felt off. The lack of wind, the lack of heat from the sun, it was... it was perfect and he felt a pull to step out among the grass and move across the earth, yet those lack of sensations upon him kept him still. It felt like being homesick and seeing a picture of home, a want to be there but unable to reach out and take it.

Yet those emotions all subsided as quickly as the appeared, dominated by that unshakable control, an almost meditative stance that encircled his mind and sat lightly upon it. It was so opposite to what he felt, the energy, the flare of his powers, of his recent need for control, of dominance over them. This, this felt more hand in hand, no fighting but a unified purpose.

As his hand fell from the lamp and the world that he could had so easily stepped into and accepted faded, he let out a long breath and had to steady himself as he found himself back in the room. That... that was something, and Remy had to make himself take a step away from the lamp and keep moving, wanting to just reach out for it again.] Mon Dieu... [Another lingering look at that lamp before Remy pushed himself away from it, trying to push it from his mind, at least until after he had checked out the rest of the room.

Passing the checkerboard he moved one of black pieces forward, leaving it to explore the mantle, having missed the shadow of the crucifix for now. Instead he reached out a finger, strumming it down the strings of the guitar before looking at his own scattered reflection in the mirror.]

[touchofrogue]

[While from the checkerboard, Remy might receive a faint impression inviting him to linger, to sit and play, since he did not touch it for long it is easily dismissed. There is no immediate effect to the strumming of the guitar either, just a simple note progression filling the room. Maybe it gets a touch warmer. Or maybe he's just imagining it, since he is now closer to the candles on the mantle, staring at the shattered reflection of his face in the broken mirror.]

[cajunspice]

[Remy wasn't particularly musical, he could appreciate it but didn't have the inclination to create it, yet he again reached out to strum it once more before moving on. It didn't last long, quickly stepping back at the sight of the trophy and dropping his head to look at it in detail. Moving to get a better angle on it from under its protective dome, he was so tempted to open it up, even reaching to do it before he stopped himself and stepped back. For later, not now.

Instead his attention went to the other lamp in the room, walking up to the Tiffany Lamp and looking over it to see if it was the real deal rather than a replica, and reaching out to turn it on.]

[touchofrogue]

[The first thing connected with that touch is laughter.

Not unfriendly laughter, but warm and familiar - familiar is the key word there, indeed.

This isn't the same groundedness as before, but it is a place - a place that is open and welcoming and light -- a purpose, a reason to be -- to be.

And there is something beautiful about it, something beautiful about so many different people with so many different abilities coming together for a common cause, just like pieces of tinted glass form a whole, just like the - genuine - Tiffany lampshade.

There is something else too, something perhaps more insidious than joy... there is hope, unfurling slowly from the belly, strengthening the spine. Hope, hope like a light in the dark, hope for the next to mean something, hope to find a place, hope to make the world a brighter one.

If his hand remains longer on the light, though the feelings remain the scenery will begin to change - he will have a chance to pull his hand away before it takes him to a very different place.]

[cajunspice]

[Initially there was that want to keep holding onto the item like with the hurricane lamp, letting the sensation wash over him and lull him into a softer version of the world, letting it carry him. At least until a bitterness that lived in the back of his mind spoke up. Hope was useless, there was no hope for a person like him, and Remy quickly dropped his hand and drew back into himself as he eyed the lamp. Part of him wanted to touch it again, get that feeling back, but he squashed want that quickly and pushed it aside.]

[touchofrogue]

[As he releases the lamp, the sound of laughter fades.

Instead, the room simply remains... lighter.

Hope is not so easy to shake.]

[cajunspice]

[No, it wasn't, Remy could still feel it lingering despite his attempt to shake it off and again the need to just let it take over his darker thoughts.] Merde. [A rub of his eyes, he circled his way around the coffee table and dropped onto the couch,

Only to stand bolt upright a second later after getting a wave of those feelings over him.

Looking at the couch as if to work out what the hell had happened and what had happened (well, he could guess what it was, he knew those feelings well) yet finding nothing suspicious about it, Remy shrugged it off and dropped back onto it. Why the hell not, those feelings he did like. Letting them rotate through from the initial desire to final high, he put his feet up on the coffee table, one ankle crossed over the other.] I need one of these couches.

[touchofrogue]

Ya need ta get off that couch, is what I think ya meant ta say.

[Familiar voice is familiar, and very cross.]

An' get your feet off the table, were ya raised in a barn?

[cajunspice]

[What? Who? Lingering on those words, that voice, that tone. Ok, the tone he knew.] Rogue? [Shifting his weight Remy swung his feet off the table, leaning forward and looking around the room to source the location of her voice.]

[touchofrogue]

That's right. [The fire crackles loudly, almost imitating a whistle.] An' get off my couch, Swamp Rat.

[Before the whole thing starts up again.]

[cajunspice]

[Ok, yes, off the couch, but also moving around the place where that quiet voice was coming from, not questioning that the room was empty apart from him. Circling around left him still at the coffee table, before he glanced down and stared into the fire until, lo and hold...] Cherie! [Then got over his shock and smirked.] I knew ya were hot before, but this...

[touchofrogue]

Ha, ha.

[Rogue has her hands planted on her hips and is scowling up at him from her position as a tiny fire in the middle of the coffee table.]

You're hilarious.

[cajunspice]

I know I am. [Circling around the table once more to take in her situation, Remy finally stopped and crouched down by the side with the dip in it.] Ya ok in there, or ya needin' some fuel, would hate to see ya go out.

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue blinked, momentarily stunned out of her irritation by his unexpected consideration. He just kept doing things like that.]

No, I'm fine. You can have a seat if ya want -- on the armchair.

[cajunspice]

Does that have la petite mort option on it as well? What kinda room ya runnin' here, Rogue, I rather like it. [He did however do as told, moving over to the armchair and waited for something to happen.]

[touchofrogue]

You're an idiot.

[Dry disgust in her tone, no desire to get into a discussion about that couch with him at all, thanks.

And nothing happens when he sits in the armchair. Voice lightly mocking:]

Don't tell me this is your first time?

[cajunspice]

Yes, 'm completely pure, can't ya tell? [Remy gave her a shake of his head and a 'really' look as he relaxed into the chair, glancing to the puzzle next to it, dragging one of the edge pieces over and putting it in place.]

[touchofrogue]

[When Remy touches the puzzle piece, the room fades around them.

They are on a riverbank. The air is hot, humid in a way only the American South can be. The sun is very bright. Bare feet dangle in the river, splash.

Then the memory fades, leaving behind something brief, tart in the mind.]

Not anymore, ya ain't.

[There are a few more puzzle pieces, but far more are simply... missing.]

[cajunspice]

[Lost in the memory for the moment, in a place that felt surprisingly like his own home by the bayou. Not quite the same, smoother, brighter, cleaner in a way, lacking the darkness that hung over New Orleans and mixed in with the spice of music, cultures, and food. The side most didn't know about. It was however enough for Remy to feel closer to home than he had in awhile, missing her words at first.]

Hein? What was that chere?

[touchofrogue]

[An exasperated breath releases a little puff of smoke; irritation remains part of Rogue's first defense.]

What do ya think? [Pause a long beat.] Ya really don't remember anythin' else like this? You're in my head, Remy. That was one of my memories.

[cajunspice]

[There was a long pause, before Remy let out a bark of a laugh.] Yeah, right, ok. [Pffft, in her head, suuuuurrree.

Although... she wasn't normally a fire... and most rooms didn't change when you touched stuff... and a couch like that didn't really exist. Oh... OH. Clearing his throat, Remy asked;] So... did ya absorb me? [Is this was what it was like to be one of the voices in her head? Was there the real him walking around outside of her skull? This was... this was strange, to say the least.]

[touchofrogue]

[Some of the irritation lessens in her expression. Her tone takes on notes of reassurance.] No, Remy. I didn't absorb ya.

[A gesture around her space.] Think this little tour is courtesy of the Atroma.

[cajunspice]

... Really? So it's like a shift? [Huh, ok, he could understand that... no, no he couldn't, but he would roll with it as if he did understand it.] Just... 'nside ya head?

Guess I shouldn't had gone pokin' 'round then.