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?"
lifemusthaveitsmysteries: (Default)
[personal profile] lifemusthaveitsmysteries
Today was a exclusive presentation for the esteemed Harvard professor in the Nexus. He was holding a meeting of minds or whomever would pass by to listen to his talk about artifacts throughout worlds, and even in his world.

He was wearing his best suit and boat shoes and walked through to a area with a simple speaking stand with a microphone, a projector and a lot of notes.

"So, Nexus... what artifacts do you have to bring to the table today?"

Coming Home

Aug. 7th, 2017 03:53 pm
juststeverogers: (Lost)
[personal profile] juststeverogers
A door opens in the Nexus.

It's the sort of given statement that would be used on Nexus crime shows if they existed in that spooky cop drama voice. A door opens in the Nexus every twelve point six seconds. Steve's never understood those shows or that one man who seemingly voices the narration for all of them. He certainly looks like a newcomer to this place at first glance. Large muscular man with a shield strolling around looking as much like a multiversal tourist as they come taking in the sights of the Plaza.


He's not confused, and this certainly isn't the first time he's been to the Nexus. It's just been a long, long, long time for him.

The place doesn't even look that different and that's what's most startling to him. Waking up in New York had been like waking up on a different planet, but coming back here...? Sure landmarks he remembers are in slightly different places, but that's normal in the Nexus. He clears his throat and takes a few steps into the central plaza. It might have been several decades for him, but he remembers his manners.

"What's the Nexus policy on senior citizens? I was jokingly given a seniors bus pass for my birthday last month and I'm wondering if someone around my age who actually needs the thing might be a better candidate for it. I used to know a few older folks here, but I doubt they're still around anymore."

The last bit is said a bit somberly. Someone needs a crash course in time travel to the past catching up to the present.
dogamidstmen: (Profile neutral)
[personal profile] dogamidstmen
He knows this isn't the forest he's wandered so many times before; the further he goes, the less familiar it becomes. But Gabriel is nothing if not curious, so he carries on. He can hear people, the sounds of life typical of the villages near the castle.

Or perhaps not so typical.

Leaving the woods behind him for the time being, he follows the sounds and the scents until he's somewhere wholly unusual. The people are oddly dressed - or at least oddly by his standards - they're holding small objects to their ears and talking to themselves, there are scents unlike anything he's come across before. He's lived in this area for over a decade, the royal family for generations longer. It's not possible they don't know about...wherever this is.

Definitely not typical. What this place is the question at the forefront of his mind, but he doesn't say it aloud. Instead he wanders just a little closer, keeping himself out of the way but watching with growing disbelief and confusion and just a bit of awe.

How did he get here..?
drake_kent: (Drake - upset)
[personal profile] drake_kent
There is a loud bang of a Nexus door closing loudly. A young teenager male, who is carrying a similarly aged female who is sobbing softly in his arms, looks around the Plaza for a couch.

Once he finds what he is looking for, he gently transfers the young girl onto the couch, and tried to calm her down slightly. "Don't cry. They can't hurt you here."

Unable to calm her, he sighs softly. "Does anyone know first aid?"

And then, mostly to himself, "Why do people bully and insult others?"

[ooc: answers could come from [personal profile] drake_kent or [personal profile] dru_kent]


Aug. 1st, 2017 05:31 pm
grantuseyes: (oh bother)
[personal profile] grantuseyes
If anyone has been in the library for the past week or two, they've surely spotted the caged scholar there. Sometimes with armloads of books, sometimes absorbed in reading one or writing notes. And sometimes uncomfortably asleep in armchairs, across tables or even on the floor, always looking like he's just gone and passed out where he sat or stood. He's usually awake more often than asleep, though, regardless of the hour.

With that in mind, it might not be surprising with Micolash finding his way to the plaza once more, he looks worse than usual. The rings around his eyes are darker, his clothing more rumpled, and if you get too close...he smells. The distinct scent of someone who hasn't changed or washed in far too long. Distinctly reminiscent of a homeless man, honestly.

Micolash looks distressed, twisting his thin fingers and often looking askance with nervous, sleepy eyes.

"Can someone," he starts, his usual droning speech tinged with faint annoyance, "kindly explain why I am prone to losing consciousness since coming to this Dream? It's terribly inconvenient."
bratan: (pic#10645544)
[personal profile] bratan
Adam is kicking back in a lawn chair with an old timey fishing pole resting besides his feet and the line in the water of one of the numerous lakes out in the Wilds of the Nexus. His tactical gear and coat have been chucked off to the side, and he is sitting there letting the cool summer's night breeze blow against his bare skin. With the lenses of his shades pushed back into his skull, Adam looks like he is at ease with himself this evening.

Or is he? He hasn't been in the Nexus since the battle with Khan, and the fate of Steve has hit the Aug hard. But Adam is a master at bottling his emotions up.

"I'm almost forgetting that I need to ask a question. Alright, what's your favorite thing to do when you have a little downtime?"

Adam asks, as he looks at the fishing pole that Rosco gave him for Christmas. It isn't something he's partaken since relocating to Prague, but it feels nice to do something that reminds him of simpler times.
losthunter: (more and more is revealed)
[personal profile] losthunter
There is a large canvas set up in the Plaza today. The majority of the canvas, which is five feet in height and close to seven feet in length, is currently blank. But there is an artist who is working on the first portion of his project.

Hunter has a very unique appearance. A network of vine-themed tattoos cover his face and neck (and since he is wearing a tank top today, those same tattoos are also visible on his arms). There is a large rose bush tattoo on his left forearm that seems to be connected to the vines that run up his arm. He is completely bald. A large silver tree is prominently placed on his forehead, which trails down to a nose-bridge piercing. He has no eyebrows, instead Arabic writing is tattooed along his brow line. And along the right side of his cheek is a deep red scar.

At his side is a large trolley, that currently holds a multitude of paint jars. There is also a large container of rose petals, which every now and then Hunter uses to dip into the paint and place onto the canvas to create a multi-dimensional appearance to his creation.

He also has a few cloths available, so every now and then he can clean his hands, step back and look at the piece. It is during one of those moments, that Hunter asks his question. "Where do you find your inspiration?"
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 Plaza, 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?"
shinyglassballs: (Default)
[personal profile] shinyglassballs
The shadows are long in the plaza - perfect dramatic lighting for a grand entrance. Jareth's cloak sweeps behind him, and he takes a moment to survey his surroundings. This isn't his first multiversal rodeo. He sits down - somehow his posture is able to communicate "arrogant, nonchalant monarch" even when his throne is a modest cafe chair.

A crystal appears in his hands and dances between his fingers. If you were curious and wanted to draw in closer, you might see visions shimmering beneath its surface.

"If you could... say, magically wish away one thing or person from your life, what or who would it be?"
romeoinabox: ([Cheeky Smile])
[personal profile] romeoinabox
With all of the strange goings on in the Nexus lately, Red's taken to enjoying the show with his feet up and a cool drink in his hand. Being an observer of such things is always more interesting to the Concierge of Crime. The Plaza is a wonderful place to take it all in and on this particularly sunny day, he's nursing what appears to be an iced tea with a slice of a bright blue citrus fruit tucked along the rim.

"I often find myself in need of a nice way to keep cool during the blistering months of summer, and while the old standbys are always there for me, I'm always looking for something new." He lets that thought drift out into the crowd as he takes a sip of his drink, the ghost of a smile on his lips. The silence hangs for a moment longer than is really comfortable as he looks out over the Plaza before he adds, "So tell me, how do you pick your poison on a hot summer's day?" He chuckles as he takes another sip before clarifying, "Do you prefer something light and sweet? Or hard and heavy over ice?"
auspex_caelo: (Stay right there Jim (female))
[personal profile] auspex_caelo
The most recent bout of Nexus trickery has caught Stratos in its net, but a battlemage of the Imperial Legion isn’t about to let a little thing like being turned into a woman keep her from her duty. That’s why she’s manning the banner-draped desk in the Plaza. Since her usual armor no longer sits properly, she’s borrowed a red Starfleet uniform courtesy of a helpful captain, and draped a Legion cloak over it to try and avoid confusion. It also means the good tribune resembles a very confused cosplayer, but hopefully no-one will tell her.*

In between assisting the odd Nexus-goer, LOLed or otherwise, she’s writing something out on a sheet of parchment. When she’s done, she sets her quill aside and spins the notice around so it’s legible for visitors, then rises and lifts her voice to make an announcement.

“As a general announcement, the Imperial Legion is now offering minor bounties on various items and information of interest. Those interested should speak with me, or whichever legionnaire is on duty at this post.”

She settles back into her chair, arranging her cloak around her. From beneath the desk she produces a bottle of brandy and pours herself a glass. “And for anyone else, what are the worst conditions you’ve had to work under? I’d like to remind myself that matters could be worse…”

*Please do tell her.
super_cool: (Because they grant me )
[personal profile] super_cool
Freddy’s pretty sure he’s dead. He’d like to believe everything – the heist, the getaway, the bloodbath back at the rendezvous – was just a fucked up dream. He’d like to. There’s no hole in his cheek, no bullets in his gut, but he’s still wearing the same clothes – black suit, white shirt, and black tie – and they’re still soaked with blood. There’s blood in his hair, splattered across his face, and coating his hands.

He’s sitting on the curb outside of something that resembles the type of cheap convenience store familiar to someone from Los Angeles during the late 20th century. Next to him is an open bag of Doritos, four empty bottles of shitty beer, plus two more unopened bottles of that same shitty brand... and also a welcoming pamphlet.

While he’s not exactly feeling any better than he was when he first woke up, the alcohol is at least helping him settle into a sort of numbness. He opens the pamphlet and reads. Most of it fails to register.

‘Do you have a question for the Nexus?’ the pamphlet says.

‘What the fuck?’ is all that comes to mind. He sighs and rubs his temple, before burying his face in his arms. It's been a long goddamn day. Thinking it over though, he does actually have a question:

“Does everyone who dies get sent here? Or is it just like”–his voice still sounds hoarse, so he coughs into his fist and clears his throat–“only certain ones?”

He tries to brush his hair back, but his bangs just flop back into his face. He opens another bottle. Don't worry, he’s not going to cry or whine about shit. He may be a hot fucking mess, but he’s still a tough guy, okay?
quiet_librarian: (old fashioned dress)
[personal profile] quiet_librarian
A tall, and dignified woman dressed in Victorian gowns sits quietly at one of the Plaza tables, with a few sheets of parchment scattered out on the table before her.

She paused for a moment, uncertain about the words she wants to write.

Glancing around her surroundings, she takes a moment to compose her thoughts. "It can be difficult to be separated by someone close to you. How do you keep a connection, when more than just distance separates you?"
mirrororrim: (Default)
[personal profile] mirrororrim

Things coming and going in the Nexus is hardly alarming once you've settled into the way this place works. Sometimes a water fountain you saw yesterday will vanish overnight, or a particular chair in the Plaza will feel the need to switch its location. Maybe these objects are travellers like the rest of the denizens, eager for new points of view? Or maybe it's just magic.

A mirror is in a central area of the Plaza today. It is an ornate antique, clearly. The frame looks to be quite aged, but its full-length reflective surface is clear and spotless.

There's no note, no invitation, no instructions. It's just a mirror, it seems. Might as well see how you're looking today before going on your way?

((Here it is, the Rule 63 LOL! Whether it shows a reflection or maybe even your character's true self, they will shortly find themselves another sex/gender after gazing at themselves in the mirror. The effects wear off when you want them to, be it a day, a week, or even permanent! It's up to you!

This account, as it is a prop and not a person, will reply only once per person for the initial effect taking place. It's just a mirror! A magical/demonic/enchanted(?) mirror, but still just a mirror. So it's time to threadhop! Time for all your characters to move around and witness the chaos all their friends and enemies are experiencing.

As our first OOC post about this event says, please be respectful and keep our #6 rule firmly in mind while this plays out. This is for fun and shouldn't be offensive or upsetting to any of our players. If there are problems or questions as to what is or isn't okay, contact the mods right away and we'll help you sort it out. HAVE FUN!))
mudblood_andproud: (perceptive observation)
[personal profile] mudblood_andproud
Hermione is wandering the Plaza area of the Nexus, with no particular goal in mind. She is closely followed by a large orange cat, who seems to twirl around her ankles just at the right time to avoid being stepped on, but still be close to the young woman in question.

Suddenly, Hermione stops, just outside the grand library and looks up to the immense building with a little bit of awe, a lot of interest, and a glee that is very close to 'kid-in-a-candystore'. But even though every bone in her body wants to go into that library and explore (and get lost in the books), Hermione has paused. A slight confused look on her face.

She finds a place to sit, nearby the library, looking up at the building. The orange cat claims a seat in her lap.

"Would you rather take time to improve your own skills, or teach others to be better people?"
boldygoing: (Serious thoughts)
[personal profile] boldygoing
There's a starship captain in the Plaza, sitting at an outdoor cafe style table which bears a half-consumed cup of coffee and a glowing, transparent datapad. Jim Kirk is not in uniform, clad in well-worn civilian clothes, though given that his shirt says PROPERTY OF STARFLEET ACADEMY in faded text, he's probably not trying to be covert. He's fairly focused on the datapad, and one might assume that he's catching up on reports or requisition forms during his off-hours if not for the quietly contemplative look on his face.

And, of course, the fact that he's chosen to take a break here rather than anywhere near Starfleet property.

His thoughts don't remain a mystery for long, as this does tend to be the place to go for advice, no matter how small the matter. "How's your relationship with your family? Have you ever tried to reconnect after spending years apart?"

There's an empty chair on the other side of the table. Feel free to have a seat, if you'd like.

[OOC: Tags don't seem to work, but dupes are okay!]
chocolatechipbadass: (ROLL FOR INITIATIVE)
[personal profile] chocolatechipbadass
Sheets of paper are strewn about the Nexus today. Moreso than usual, and not just the innumerable 'Welcome to the Nexus, Newcomer!' pamphlets that can be found all over the Plaza. They're full of nearly ineligible scrawling (and some of them are sticky eww--oh wait that's just raspberry jam) but the title of each sheet is the same.

BUNKERS AND BADASSES Campaign the Second

Near the center of this litterocalypse sits Tiny Tina, a crayon tucked behind her ear while she writes fervently over yet another piece of paper in pen. A plate of crumpets sits to the side, only one of them half eaten. The young lady groans in frustration before balling up this piece of paper too and chucking it behind her.

"Hey y'all so I'm trying to plan a new Bunkers an' Badasses campaign but I gotta get some new ideas son or it's gonna be one hell of a lame trek through imagination land, ya dig? What's the most awesomest adventure you ever been on? Or, if you're hella lame and haven't saved the world or conquered one in the name of crumpets or what have yas, what kind of character would you play in an adventure game?"
havensnumberoneracer: (Erol listening/talking)
[personal profile] havensnumberoneracer
 A growl on the Commander's face shows that he is angry about something. 

This man is Commander Erol of the Krimzon guard.

He is swinging a pair of energy handcuffs in his hands

The long eared, strange tattooed man frowned "If you have a good reason to hate a man, like personal reasons, would you still go after a man who seems innocent to other people?"

A loud roar is heard in the Nexus as he rushes toward what appears to be a dark beast with black horns, long fingernails, white hair and more.

(This is Commander Erol from Jak II)
grantuseyes: (forward)
[personal profile] grantuseyes
He’s been ghosting about here and there in the past day or two. Sometimes meandering, sometimes motionless in a chair. Sometimes watching people, often staring at nothing. His stride and motions always exaggerated and languid, as if moving underwater. Always in a rumpled academic’s regalia draped upon a tatty brown suit. Shoes perpetually untied, fingers spasming periodically as though struck suddenly by a brilliant, terrible urge that vanishes once more in seconds.

And the cage.

That cage.

The sallow face, the tired eyes, always peering at the world from behind wrought iron. A hexagonal lattice of metal that rises another two heads higher than his own, not including the moulded metal ornaments at each corner’s top, some of them hung with rusted rings. A man otherwise unremarkable in his shabbiness rendered entirely unmistakable by this towering cage he wears on his head.

Slouched in a battered wingback chair, Micolash has been sitting silent and unmoving for some time now. The moment when he finally raises his head enough to look properly at other Nexus-goers is accompanied with a quiet question. He speaks with a low and heavy accent, his tone droning and sleepy. If one is not listening closely, they may miss Micolash’s question entirely amongst the buzz and bustle of the Nexus.

“Is this place…a dream?”

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