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!))
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?"
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?”
primelogic: (Default)
[personal profile] primelogic
A world without time.

Worlds upon worlds, eras intermingling. Species crossing who would never otherwise cross paths. Never ending, infinitely possible. All coalesced into one shared space where the impossible is not only probable, but for certain exists around every corner.

"Fascinating."

The young may come and go through this place with the purpose and rush that that they so often have, but for the particularly old Vulcan who has ended up here there hardly seems to be a hurry. He patiently strolls up and down the streets of the plaza, through the shopping districts, and round to more open areas with parks full of lush grasses of varying colors.

The summer weather is favorable for one used to a more arid and warm climate. Ambassador Spock finds a quiet sunny bench to take a seat at and relaxes against the worn wooden frame with the peeling paint. Ah, but that's right. There are requirements here for those who seek answers.

"If one found themselves in an opportunity to meet their past self, what words of wisdom would you feel obligated to impart?"
dyaetus: (Default)
[personal profile] dyaetus
Heart thumping, mind swirling. Is this really happening? As a little girl, Tae had only dreamed of being able to service for her country, being able to help hold the balance between the different colourants. Alongside other Dyaes, she felt like she was the queen of the world, almost. Now that it's actually happening, she can't fathom the thing she will be able see, do, or think. 

But does that actually matter now? Her heart is set, and there's nothing that will come between her and her ascension to dyaedom. Tossing her worries aside, she exits her house, preparing to face the world as the next Magenta Aenk Dyae. She's sure that the other Dyaes are waiting for her arrival, and she would be soon standing alongside the Cyan, Yellow, and Key Aenk Dyaes. 

The path to her fraction is like a maze--her role as the new Dyae is to find it on her own. 'Follow the path', she'd hear from the elders. Her memory doesn't lead her to the main building, and it leaves her thinking whether she had taken a wrong turn somewhere. What stands in front her isn't the main building, but a busy plaza. The way back seems to have vanished completely, and the queasy feeling in her stomach doesn't settle her nerves.

"I was so sure I had taken the right turn that time..." Disappointment settles, and it leaves her feeling even more nervous than before she left the house. What's a girl got to do in a situation like this? Tae looks to her left right, taking in all the information she can manage, and quickly tries to find a way to retrace her steps. She can't. 

"I should have drawn a map--why didn't I draw a map? What am I going to do now?" 
somepray: (because it's good?)
[personal profile] somepray
So, maybe Wendla's been traveling back and forth between 19th century small-town Germany and the Nexus. And maybe she's got a few ideas about things, thanks to interacting with a certain boy. And maybe she feels like asking a question, because that's what you do in the Nexus.

Today she stands in the Plaza, holding a sign she's written.

It reads:

Do you think charity is a good thing?

She's got a little frown on her face, as if she's concerned about the nature of the question. And truthfully, she is.
whitefrost: can you repeat that (puzzled)
[personal profile] whitefrost
A recent arrival is back in the Nexus, this time of his own volition. Rather than stop to talk to anyone right away, Hitsugaya spends half the day simply wandering around, noting landmarks and the different districts and trying to get a feel for navigating here. In fact, some residents may notice him flickering into existence - in midair - at various points across the Nexus for a short time before disappearing again.

Later, he's back in the Plaza, familiarizing himself with one of the Nexus Terminals. Upon his initial inspection, the thing seems vaguely similar to the systems used by Squad 12 and Soul Society's archives, appearing to be some sort of... half-database, half-communications system. (What Adina was referring to when she mentioned computers, he hopes.)

As such, he guesses there has to be some sort of staff to manage it - and perhaps even answer some questions. Hoping to get some much-needed information from a knowledgeable source, he spends a fair amount of time hunt-and-peck-ing at the keys, and after a lot of tapping and backspacing and mulling things over, he considers it good enough and hits Submit.

(Does he have any idea that it's about to take over devices everywhere? No. No he does not.)

Cut for length! )
theresistancemustgoon: (Default)
[personal profile] theresistancemustgoon
Derek walked into the Nexus, rather irritated. The Tech-Com Human Resistance was supposed to win this war, John was supposed to win it for them. Instead, a man named "Pops" came in, the T-800 took over as the leader of the Resistance, and it was a annoyance for the man to serve under a machine leader, but he was doing it for John's sake, he would've wanted it that way.

The old John had died during a fight, he had heard.

He sat at a table, his plasma rifle sitting on a chair.

"So here's a question for you, folks. What would you do when you are forced to adjust to a new beginning?"
notamaniac: (thoughtful)
[personal profile] notamaniac
In light of recent Nexus events, Freddy has been busy the past several weeks. He's been helping repair and rebuild, including his own business. The anti-violence field left him completely unprepared for that level of violence. Things like that usually didn't happen in his country, in the time he is from.

To say he's unhappy would be a vast understatement. He's pissed and it's bringing out a side of his nature that he doesn't like.

While he's been working, Freddy has been having an intense debate within himself about vengeance, justice, and protecting other people. He hasn't reached any conclusion that satisfies him. It seems he can make his mother proud and keep his self respect...or he can do something about what happened, which...might protect people in the Nexus. Maybe. Then, again...maybe not? Maybe he's just pissed and looking for an excuse to lash out.

Freddy walks to the middle of the Plaza, watching people go by, before addressing anyone who wants to listen.

"Y'know, one of my parents was scum, the other a saint, at least in my eyes," Freddy announces. "I choose my character every damn day."

Well, that was dramatic, at least. He took a deep breath, starting over.

"What's going to happen to that Khan guy? Anything?"
brother_alone: (Head Tilt)
[personal profile] brother_alone
Some days are better than others.

On Bad Days, the Nexus' resident schizophrenic is hardly recognizable. He's a mess of garbled and slurred speech. Delusional rantings. Unkempt clothes and wild dangerous eyes. The world he sees and hears so far different from reality. He shouts at shadows, throws rocks at the birds, claws at his hair as though he's trying to rip himself out of his own body.

Joshua tends to go somewhere by himself when he's having a Bad Day, though. He's very very used to hiding his condition and pretending to be normal. There are Good Days, too.

Days when he has a part time job, a put together appearance, and a friendly temperament. A life to his eyes that seems so small and fragile and full of hope. Joshua has a few bags with him when he comes to the Nexus today, frowning thoughtfully at the address written down he's supposed to be delivering to.

"You'd think in a meeting place between all worlds and times, prank callers would get more clever than 'Seymour Butts'." With a sigh, he dumps the address in the nearest rubbish bin and takes a seat on one of the couches. So much for his delivery.

"So, does anyone want to commit some petty identity theft for a free meal?" Hell, he'll pretend to be Seymour Butts if it means a free bowl of IceBear's soup. He's going to snag a freshly baked croissant out of the bag first though and pull off a piece of it. "Alternatively, what's the best prank you've ever pulled?"

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