[sticky entry] Sticky: Welcome to the Nexus!

May. 7th, 2016 06:23 pm
varnished_truths: a cat in glasses with a book (Default)
[personal profile] varnished_truths
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[personal profile] varnished_truths & [personal profile] spackled_speculations
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boldygoing: (Beard: Satisfied)
[personal profile] boldygoing
Jim Kirk enters the Nexus in a mild daze, still a little stunned at the news he's just received from Command. He doesn't look like he's shaved for a few weeks, but his black Starfleet Academy instructor's uniform is clean and his hair is neatly combed, so it's not like he's been letting himself go or anything.

He gets a cup of coffee on autopilot, before finding a seat to really think over what the hell just happened, a look of hopeful disbelief on his face, like he's been told something that's too good to be true.

"Have you ever had a dream job you never expected to get?" he asks after several minutes, looking up. "For those that haven't, if you knew you wouldn't be home for a couple years, what would you not leave without?"
poetwarrior: (Headshot)
[personal profile] poetwarrior
While lots of human-style furniture is understandably meant for bipeds and little else, there is a K'da poet-warrior who is appreciating the chance to test out one of the chaise lounges in the Forum, its cushion long enough to allow the entire length of the tiger-sized creature to stretch out comfortably, hanging his forepaws over the side.

Perhaps it's frivolous to spend his time this way when there are other things he could be doing, but he's been in the Nexus many times and never had reason to ask a question. That is no longer the case.

"Have you ever had cause to uproot yourself from your home and travel to places unknown, with no intention of returning? Did you encounter any difficulties that you had not expected?"

[[OOC: x-post to [community profile] nexus_crossings]]
resurrec7ion: (mangst)
[personal profile] resurrec7ion
Bond never seems out of place anywhere he goes, no matter how much he doesn't match a usual crowd. Here's no different. He's also not usually one to talk to strangers - well, not about his actual life. He's recalcitrant to a fault when it comes to his personal business, what little of it he's ever had.

Waking up this morning had unsettled him, though. The weather was lovely. Madeline was already up. He had smelled tea and heard her moving around their flat. They hadn't spoken in a day and a half, though he couldn't actually remember why she was angry with him this time. It was probably something entirely justified. He'd still needed out of the house. It wasn't right.

So, he'd come here. He stood with his hands in his pockets, ostensibly looking relaxed. His eyes darted around, though, cataloging every person or - thing. He always forgot the strangeness of this, even though he'd seen many a strange thing in his lifetime. It's been a long time since he's come. His life has been full of strange things recently, or at least strange to him. He hasn't indulged many of his habits.

"What do you do when you're bored?" He drawls. That's not the best way to put how he feels, but - well. That's what you're getting.
sweetcandygirl: (We are Not In Kansas Anymore)
[personal profile] sweetcandygirl
A new door opens in the Nexus, signalled by the fact that there is a serious gun-fight on the other end. A young blonde, wearing skin-tight clothes and sporting colorful ponytails, rolls through the door. She fires some shots back into the scene that she just left as cover fire, before slamming the door closed for a brief moment to catch her breath.

It takes her a moment to realize that she doesn't hear the gun fire anymore.

And then she stands, alerted to the fact that she is somewhere new. Somewhere with millions of sights... and sounds... Her eyes get big. And wide.

She puts her gun into a holster at her hips, as she spins around to take in everything all at once. And laughs, as she spins faster and faster, until she gets a little dizzy and has to sit down.

When a random couch shows up right in front of her, it causes another laugh as the girl plops down on the cushy cushions. "I am dreaming... someone pinch me."
boldygoing: (At the bar)
[personal profile] boldygoing
Of all the things Jim Kirk wishes he could do right now, getting good and drunk to drown his sorrows is certainly towards the top of the list. But his doctor says no, absolutely not, and never in his life has he wanted to go against doctor's orders less than he does lately.

So the captain finds himself in the Forum, unsure even what the hell to do with himself, and he gingerly eases himself down onto one of the couches, moving with the careful patience of the recently physically injured, before he notices the date on a nearby calendar.

Father's Day. Huh. How... stupidly appropriate.

"For those who've lost a parent... how the hell do you honor their memory? Even if you haven't, do you bother doing holidays like this?"
losthunter: (time to reveal my face)
[personal profile] losthunter
When Hunter made his first appearance in the Nexus, it was in The Parklands. And today, he is sitting in the same spot near the water. He has a canvas set up, and is working on a large piece depicting a mother pushing a child on a swing set. There is also a large collection of books near him. Obviously he had been studying over something of importance.

He gets to the point where the canvas is nearly complete, when he stops and places his brushes to the side. After studying the canvas for a moment, Hunter reaches out and touches the canvas, right in the lower left corner.

He closes his eyes and concentrates, and after a moment, the picture on the canvas comes to life. There is also a soft glow on his arm, where a few tiny roses bloom to life on the rose bush.

But the moment doesn't last long. It ends very quickly. And Hunter sighs a little frustrated. "What am I doing wrong?"
boldygoing: (Smirk)
[personal profile] boldygoing
James T. Kirk absolutely loves marketplaces.

It's not necessarily because he's looking for anything, per se, although he does often keep an eye out for interesting books to add to his collection, or maybe a bottle of some kind of exotic alcohol, or some kind of pointless alien gizmo with which to annoy Spock with its purposeless existence. No, he just loves the sheer diversity each bazaar brings to the table.

No two markets have ever been alike, in his experience. Sure, it's not quite as exciting and mysterious as exploring deep space, but it's something of a microcosm of the same, all sorts of goods and cultures thrown into close quarters, and one never knows what one might find just down the street.

His shipboard gold uniform may stand out a bit in the crowd as he meanders along, a faint smile on his face as he leans in to examine someone's wares on display, just enjoying being out and about in the fresh air.

[OOC: Retconning Jim eating bacon in this thread. Hadn't fully considered some of the elements in his backstory at the time.]
noble_at_heart: (Rueful grin)
[personal profile] noble_at_heart
Gwaine has settled himself on a bench to watch the swirling crowds, his amazement and joy evident by the steadily growing grin. He might have got lost in the castle's maze of corridors more than once when he first arrived but he's absolutely certain that this is not Camelot. Uther's health may be failing and Arthur not quite the uptight, pompous, hide bound little braggart of a Princeling he first thought him (he'll grudgingly admit that now) but even he would struggle to accept the multitude of strange beings and obviously magical artifacts crowding as far as the eye can see.

He tilts his face back towards the sun with contented sigh before picking up the bright paper he discarded beside him earlier and reluctantly continuing to read. It's not that he can't exactly, goading by family members determined that their poor relations bring as little shame as possible and later Merlin's patient if faintly teasing guidance mean that he's adequately literate, thankyouverymuch, it's just that there were a lot of very long and confusing words.

Eventually he reaches the end where the warning at the bottom of the page causes him some rather profound worry.

"What's a man to do to get a drink around here, then?"
peterhighking: (Crowned)
[personal profile] peterhighking
It's been quite some time since Peter has been in the Nexus, and he pauses for a moment to get his bearings. He's obviously been traveling for a while, his boots dirty and his tabard in need of mending, but his well-worn armor is properly maintained and a golden circlet gleams on his head.

He puts his hands on his hips. "Well, this wasn't a planned stop on the tour." He's not upset, though, a faint smile touching his lips.

"What's the farthest you've ever been from home?"
h_hollister: (Say what)
[personal profile] h_hollister
"Jesus Cristo, it makes the ganglia twitch."

Hello, Nexus. Hello, world. Hippolyta Hollister is sick of answering questions, sick of dithering and snarking and dropping the ultimate sarcasm bombs on people. She's sitting cross-legged on a stool at the nearest pub, nursing something that looks like three fingers of scotch. She's buzzed, she's angry, and she's out of fucks to give.

"Don't you all get it? Reality is smegged. You come here, you ask small personal questions for your small personal worlds....and miss everything else. Reality is a-...a hologram. It's an ineffable card game played for infinite stakes by a dealer who smiles all the time. You ask questions to the Nexus, totally ignoring the fact that the Nexus is by nature totally blank."

She finally takes a breath, and runs her fingers through her hair.

"...If you've found the Nexus, you're clearly thinking these things. Don't deny it. The only question left to you is...how do I fit in? Which, to be totally honest, has been my main question for thirteen years. How do I fit into an infinite universe?

"Do fill me in, if you get a satisfactory answer."
losthunter: (introspective into my soul)
[personal profile] losthunter
Hunter has an art and craft table set up in the commercial district today. He has an assortment of gifts on display, that anyone could purchase if they are looking for an early Christmas gift. He also has an assortment of his paintings and portraits on display.

There is also pottery items, ranging from mugs and cups, to plates and platters, and candle holders.

He also has some hand-crafted jewelry on display. Most of the jewelry incorporates the rose petals, ranging from bracelets, earrings and necklaces.

There is also a sign on the table.
Looking to make something special for your loved ones?
Not sure how to start?
Artisan services available, to help guide you to the perfect gift
putthecandleback: (aristocratic)
[personal profile] putthecandleback
There's a new gentleman in the Nexus.

A bit short and a bit thin, but with a perfectly groomed mustache and an old-fashioned tailcoat and tie. Definitely nothing maniacal or coockoo here, no sir. He takes a quick look around him and warily eyes the cyclopses and aliens wandering around about... This is just like the time Igor slipped those funny mushrooms into the deutsche pilzsuppe for a laugh. The dinner had gotten a lot more colorful, and ended with the good doctor terrified of melting into the bananas foster. But he'd been alright then, so how much worse could this be?

"Here's a question," he poses. He's got the authoritative voice of a man used to giving lectures, or else monologuing profoundly on his own. "Have you ever felt your fate was inescapable? But then when it caught up, it turned out it was the best thing that ever happened to you, and you wondered why you tried to run away at all."
toocoldforthis: (lemons)
[personal profile] toocoldforthis

The Nexus may have seen a glittering and glorious ball the night before, but every party must end. Every overindulgence has its morning-after regrets. The pains of burning eyes and revolting stomachs have visited more than a few people like malevolent fairies. And then the lucky denizens of the Nexus get another treat.

Cailleach may well be the grumpiest looking grumpy old lady ever. If she'd been sucking on lemons for a thousand years she could not look more sour. White hair fragile with age is hidden beneath a scarf and within the hood of her raincoat. Her glasses are old-fashioned, her makeup is out of style, and her shoes are sensible. Do not ask her for candy. She is not your granny.

What is is watching the goings-on with increasing vexation. Something about everyone passing by seems to set her to an ever-increasing amount of angry muttering. Finally, she can't contain it anymore. "Why don't young people prepare for the lean times coming? Do you all think it'll be sunshine and flowers forever?"

It doesn't matter who answers. She's grumpy and demands an audience.

((She's going to be 100% mean to just about everyone, be warned. #sorrynotsorry))
u_can_have_it_4_a_song: So happy you agree (Grin)
[personal profile] u_can_have_it_4_a_song
Something flits through the skies of the Nexus, bobbing and swooping only to climb again, an ecstatic aerial dance. At last, mirth of the moment giving way to some other whim, the flying figure drifts groundward, turning and drifting like a falling leaf until his feet, clad in pointed-toed green suede moccasins alight. Forest green tights hug lean legs all the way up to a bright green tunic, belted with rich brown leather and a bright brass buckle. On his left hip hang a set of pan pipes; on his right, a black-handled knife. An impish grin curls his lips, his eyes sparkle with the promise of mischief, and a pert green cap sits atop his head, crowned by a lone red feather. Could this be the black-suited GQ cover model who makes himself ubiquitous in the better-traveled spaces of the Nexus? Could it be Schön?

It is. "People of the Nexus, friends, in the world from which I hail we stand on the cusp of a special day, a harvest-fest when the walls between worlds grow thin, when masks and costumes are worn to frighten away wicked spirits--or to invite them in on more congenial terms. Today we bid Summer adieu, and raise fire and song to meet the long night! Join me, for an evening to last a lifetime, and a farewell to a season well-loved." His hand rises, pointing to where two bright beacons blaze in the churn of the Nexus' heavens. "Second star to the right, and we'll keep on 'til morning!" Crowing with laughter, he soars for that distant point like an arrow, leaving a trail of sparkling, glittering motes of light for anyone interested to follow.

At the end of the trail... )

((Happy Halloween! Enjoy the festivities, threadhopping is encouraged, tag back whenever you have time, and don't worry about missing out--we'll still be here when you get back.))
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Oct. 23rd, 2016 09:56 pm
brave_heart_verity: (thinking about it)
[personal profile] brave_heart_verity

Verity's sitting on one of the benches around the Forum, all pink braids and French stripes and soft jeans, idly fingering a new ring and studying a brochure someone handed her. Not the Brochure, just a flier for a temporary costume shop. (Both the shop and the costumes being temporary, one of those things is very important when the other disappears.) The pictures are bright and cheerful, almost inappropriately so. This is a highly sanitized, 'safe' for 'children' sort of Halloween being peddled. Meanwhile, Bobbi sniffs around to check for changes to the area and signs of adventure. She's a pupper of valor and courage, ready to take on any strange sniffs and mysterious smells.

"Is your Halloween tradition to put a mask on, or take one off?" The question begins when she lifts her attention to the wider worlds and does the now-habitual mental and visual sweep of her surroundings. As casually as it's asked, she knows this is a deeply probing question, so she'll give anyone wary of answering an easy out. "You coming to the Ball?"
theredprince: (Default)
[personal profile] theredprince
 Jalan had been through Hel.  No literally.  He'd walked through actual Hel and it honestly was one of the worst experiences of his life.  Far less fire and brimstone then he thought though.  It was mostly just a vast endless gray desert.  Filled with, of course, countless abominations that wouldn't be out of place in the deepest dankest of nightmares.  Which was why he was so very incredibly thrilled to discover there was actually an Exit.  An exit that would take you anywhere you thought of when you opened it.  Unless you weren't thinking of a 'where'.  Then it just dumped you kinda... wherever.  And Jalan wasn't really thinking about anything besides outrunning the terrifying lady demon who seemed rather keen on tearing off his delicate bits.

So he really didn't care very much where he ended up as he tumbled through the door.  He spun around to slam the door shut, a magical black key clutched in his hand ready to lock it up tight so Little Miss Hellspawn couldn't eat his soul... only to discover there was no door.  He looked around in confusion but ended up breathing a sigh of relief.  His key was on a chain so he slipped it back around his neck as he got a good look around.

Didn't recognize anything one bit.  But he wasn't really concerned.  Honestly he was just grateful that he was alive and not in Hel, and there were no undead monstrosities looking at him with hungry eyes.

He was a little concerned when he read the brochure.  The food wasn't safe?  What about the water? He hadn't had a sip since he started traipsing about the Afterlife and he was beyond thirsty.  And starving.  Honestly he was just a complete mess right now.  Even his garb, which normally might make a Lord of the Rings cosplayer green with envy, was covered in dust, dried blood, and torn beyond repair.

"Pardon me," Lost, alone, and on the verge of dehydration, the prince put on his best, most charming of smiles and waved to the closest person, "I've read the food and drink here could be dangerous.  Any chance you can lead me to something safe? A change of clothes too... these have.  Had it I think."

Plus he felt as if he was sticking out like a sore thumb.  Most of the people here... well they weren't dressed like him really.  In fact a lot of them reminded him of the little he'd seen of the ancient Builder's culture.  Weird.
mosthonest: (005)
[personal profile] mosthonest
Iago enters. Stage left.

He's been perusing one of those brochures and then tucks it away somewhere in his doublet. He's a soldier, and the astute might guess by his clothes -- unremarkable, but they have the crisp unworn look of who does not go about his life as a civilian much -- and his bearing. Iago looks like a man who has done much marching, and so is enjoying the freedom he has to amble and lounge while he can in his own time. He's got an easy, open face.

"Here's for you soldiers," he says to the Forum in general. "How fare you in times of peace? Find you solace in that gentler life, and put you far your battle ways and bloody thoughts with ease as a man hangs up arms?"

Iago licks his lips. Not in a menacing way, he just looks thirsty. For answers, for war, more probably just for beer.

"Or does the blood run hot? Dost count the minutes to the next campaign, and think you of the quiet and indolent world outside of war, 'this is not life'?"
comeonguess: (Default)
[personal profile] comeonguess
Until he joined the crew of the Lost Light, Pipes had only ever been on Cybertron and space stations. And so, he joined up to see the universe, and have adventures, and make friends. He was very eager, very enthusiastic, very excited to be on his way.

Unfortunately, most people don't really like being around someone who's very eager, very enthusiastic, and very excited. Most people find that very annoying. So the making friends thing didn't really pan out all that well.

And as for adventures...mostly, he got hurt. He got shot and sick and hurt. Which...are sort like adventures. Maybe?  At least he got to see some of the universe. He also got to see a lot of the medibay. 

Then he saw the bottom of Overlord's foot. A few times, actually. 

And then? Then, well. Then he died.

And that's where we come in...

A small mech wanders into the Nexus...well, he's small by Cybertronian standards.  To the average humanoid, sixteen feet is possibly not that small. It's funny how that works, isn't it?

He looks around, optics bewildered behind their visor shield. "Um," he says after a moment, fingers twisting together with soft metallic whirs. "Um, is this the Afterspark? Cos...this is not at all what I was picturing."
slayers_desire: (twirling hair)
[personal profile] slayers_desire
April enjoys taking the time to explore the Nexus, whenever she has the opportunity. Today, she had already been in the Commercial District, picking up some school supplies for the children, and some new fabrics for her next clothing line.

She was heading to her door, passing by a few people as she does, when suddenly April stops. There is a gazed far-away look in her eyes for a moment.

April turns, looking around for a moment as if she had misplaced something. Or is looking for someone. She sets down her bags for a moment, before taking a seat. There still seems to be something amiss, since she tilts her head back and forth, for a moment, as if listening to something that is not there.

"Are you lost? Do you need help?" When she speaks, her question is soft.

[April has psychic abilities, and can sense danger to people around her. If you wish for her to sense something about your character, please let me know]
newtruths: (Default)
[personal profile] newtruths

Loki sat up just in time for a small black key to bounce of his head and fall in his lap. He looked at it in bewilderment for a moment before it turned into a ring that coiled like a snake around his finger. When he stood he was rather on the short side, and thin as a rail. Really aside from overly large eyes he was rather unassuming. If you ignored the fact that he looked as if he'd walked off the set of The Lord of the Rings. And the fact that his garb seemed to constantly shift in cut and color.

Though as he took a little bit of a walk around and read a brochure someone handed my he slowly took on a more modern look that ended with a pair of ripped up and battered skinny jeans, the holes and tears in which seemed to be slowly wandering and meandering around his legs, and a faded old graphic t-shirt, the print of which apparently shifted every time one stopped paying attention to it. And no shoes! Because sometimes you just really don't feel like wearing them.

"I guess I didn't fall apart quite as badly as I thought I would," he laughed as he pocketed the brochure and fiddled with the ring that was a key minutes before. It shifted again as he walked. Now it was a small rubix cube, black on all side that he twisted and turned without really looking at it. And then it was a key again, which he flipped into the air and caught.

An idle Loki with nothing to do, no plots winding down, and no one to pester was never a particularly good thing.

He turned on his heel just in time to stop someone passing by. He holds the key out already turning into a puddle of liquid onyx in his hand and forming into something new. Something unknown.

"Tell me stranger, what do you see here?"

A simple enough magic was working here. A magical Rorschach test you could call it. Whatever the new target of his boredom thought they saw in the amorphous twisting liquid key would be plucked from their imagination and made solid. Sometimes they saw something they desired, money, their lost love. Sometimes they saw fears.  Sometimes it was something from their past.  Other times it was completely random; a bird, a shoe, a rock.  Yes one highly uncreative individual once imagined a rock in the depths of a reality altering wrong magic spell.  Whatever they thought they saw in this three dimensional Rorschach, would be plucked from their imagination and made solid in the palm of his hand.


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