You can check out anytime you'd like.. [Hotel Corona Mingle]

[thespaceopera]

Who: The Fleet!
Broadcast: If you want
Action: Hotel Corona or Planet Ikke
When: December 7th onward



[After the mystery and isolation of their last destination, the Marsiva seems determined to head to brighter, busier territory. After a long journey through remote, nebula-painted space, speeding along at a brisk pace for the Host ship, the Marsiva brings her Fleet to a sudden and prominent point of traffic.

It seems that the Fleet has happened upon some sort of vacation destination! Maybe Atroma thinks that the passengers deserve some rest and relaxation... or just wants to distract them with something huge and shiny.

Welcome to Hotel Corona! Feel free to enjoy yourselves and enjoy the sites! If a hotel resort isn't your thing, you can head on over to the nearby planet and explore it's icy wonders.

In order words: it's a mingle!! Everyone get in! ]

[>> Plot Post]

Comments

[exothermia]

[There are no words in his various known languages for it. He just shakes his head, because his own room is not a safer topic.]

It's... purple. [To put it lightly.]

[pain_train]

You should jump on the bed, Erik. It's super bouncy. Like. A trampoline almost. It's crazy.

Oooh! I like purple. I want to see.

[exothermia]

Beds aren't for jumping on.

[Which is a comment he's really more used to directing at his eight-year-old, rather than a grown woman. He grimaces a bit when Wrath voices her desire to see his room. Still, given the surroundings here, it can't possibly look worse.]

If you really want to. I'm a few floors upstairs.

[pain_train]

Don't be silly, of course they are. [She almost tells Erik to stop sounding like such a dad, but her normally malfunctioning brain-to-mouth filter manages to catch that one just in time.] Beds are for fun stuff. And sleeping.

Let's go!

[exothermia]

[He merely grunts; his bed is only for sleeping these days. With a nod, he heads back out the door and holds it for Wrath, glad to escape the pink furnace.]

I'm not certain whether it would be an issue for you, but you should know that my room has automatic perfume bursts.

[pain_train]

Oh my god. [It is probably mean to laugh at Erik, but she's laughing. She can't help it. She hasn't even seen it yet, but that one statement is enough. She knows Erik that well at least.]

[exothermia]

[He sighs, only half in exaggeration.]

I can still turn back now, and refuse you entry.

[pain_train]

Don't be mean! [Still laughing.]

[exothermia]

I'm not the one laughing at someone's room.

[They reach the door finally, and Erik gets out his card key.]

[pain_train]

I'm laughing with you. For you! This is all the laughter you keep inside and never let out. [Teasing. Yep.]

[exothermia]

[He just sighs, and opens the door.

He wasn't lying about the perfume. There's a floral scent immediately apparently as soon as they step inside. It suits the place, the same way lavender would suit a 90-year-old grandmother's sitting room. The wallpaper and the curtains are both that shade, patterned with vaguely flowery geometric shapes. The bed is ornate and piled with lace-edged cushions and blankets. An antique looking armchair also completes the space. The only incongruous aspects are Erik's things, which are mostly contained to a table in the corner, and the nebulae visible through the wall windows.]

[pain_train]

[Wrath goes inside and falls silent, looking around. She has... Never seen a room like this in her life. Literally.]

Is this... Really old stuff? [She pokes some lace and smiles.] This is pretty, though!

[exothermia]

It's hard to say, given we're in space and I don't know what the ... current fashion is. [The fact that he even has to say that is mortifying enough.] But it would be old-fashioned where I'm from.

[pain_train]

Fashion has really varied system to system so you're not really behind. [Yes, she pays attention to this.]

Wow, so this is like... Old people stuff on Earth?

[It's like she's standing on a museum. Holy shit.] That's so cool!

[exothermia]

That's the closest comparison I have.

[He groans a little, picking up one of the stray lace cushions and throwing it back onto the bed.]

It's absurd.

[pain_train]

[She pats the pillow. It's really soft, and that makes her smile.]

I guess a little, since you're not an old person. [Smile becomes a grin.] Bet you could rock some lace, though.

[exothermia]

Please don't ever suggest that again.

[pain_train]

[Challenge: accepted.]

It's not my fault if you just don't want to look hot, Erik.

[exothermia]

I'm fifty-three, Wrath. My looks are not much of a factor in anything these days.

[He says that, despite still looking like a slightly grey thirty-something.]

Lace is not considered men's attire.

[pain_train]

[She wrinkles her nose at him.] So you're saying you are old?

[He's too fun to tease.]

You're not that much older than me, you know. Less than ten years.

[Ugh and that excuse. Next project definitely go.]

And you come from a really weird time. All this gender role stuff.

[exothermia]

Yes. [He certainly feels it, these days.] And it's still older, all the same.

Your time is just as confusing.

[After a pause, he moves over to the table, shifting some things aside.]

While you're here, I have something to show you.

[pain_train]

Pfffft. People live to 150 all the time. You're barely middle aged. [... Well, in her time...]

Well, yeah. Civilian stuff is probably confusing no matter what time it is. I think it's probably better in the not having to worry about all that what your gender is supposed to do thing though.

[Ooh, Erik wants to show her something? She's excited. She follows him.]

What is it?

[exothermia]

Most people only live to eighty or ninety in my world. [Unless you're Logan, or god forbid, Sebastian Shaw.]

I finished the etching, that you gave me the drawing for.

[He picks up the metal plate from the table finally, and hands it over to Wrath. It's about the size of an A4 piece of paper, and the side facing upwards has the etched outline of the tree she provided him a reference for. It's not quite as well done as hers; etching doesn't provide as much detail as pencil, and he works far better with straight lines than actual artistry. But it's close enough.]

[pain_train]

Wow, that's really sad.

[Oh wow, look at that!]

This is really good, Erik. [She traces one of the lines with her finger.]

[exothermia]

That's the normal human lifespan. For mutants it varies, but we're still a young race.

[En Sabah Nur excluded. He smiles a bit, glad to hear that it at least looks correct.]

It took a while. Drawing isn't my strong suit. But the other side was a bit easier for me.

[He reaches out and flips the plate over. The other side is an etching of the front facade of the Xavier Institute mansion. This is a lot stronger, more architectural, and it's clear Erik was more assured of his work on this side.]