INTRO EVENT ;; OPEN

[nosotros]

Who: Everyone!
Where: All over the city!
When: June 19th
Summary: The newcomers to El Sera have arrived.
Rating: PG-13ish, likely!

For everyone who arrives in El Sera that day, it's the same. Whoever the newcomer might be, when he opens his eyes, he's alone in a calm quiet room. In front of him is a box. In his hand is a letter:

Hello. I'm sure you've got a lot of questions, so I'll do my best to answer them.

To start, you aren't on your home world anymore. You're in a city called El Sera, in a country called America, on a planet called Earth. A lot of you might recognize the name Earth, and you might even be from it, but if you're reading this then I can promise you one thing--this isn't the Earth you're thinking of.

Magic exists in this world, and that magic is what pulled you here. It's given you magic of your own, if you didn't already have it, and the ability to defend yourself from the monsters that inhabit this world. I want to ask you to take a more proactive role in fighting these creatures and do more than just defend yourself, but I'm a transplant from another world myself. I understand some of what you're going through and I won't force you into it, but it makes it easier for us -- Xochipilli -- to find a way to send you home.

Whatever you decide, whether to join us or strike out on your own, is up to you. I only ask that you keep your magical abilities and status as, well, an alien hidden. Xochipilli will do its best to hide and protect you, but there are limits to what we're capable off. This city is a bit of an odd one, so simply behave like you belong and most people won't give you another glance.

Sincerely,
Jackson Rau

The box primarily contains any objects or clothing of the newcomer that would draw undue attention in their new, modern surroundings. However, it also holds a phone complete with instructions, a key to the recipient's room, a map to their apartment or dorm (with an attached note reminding them that their roommate is probably a normal person and that they should maintain their secrecy), and a plastic debit card.

Whoever arrives here, the setup is the same: In front of him is a set of double doors, leading into a room filled with milling Xochipilli employees. Any questions he has about the city can be answered here--and if he's discrete enough about asking, he can even get some basic instruction on how to use their magic.

Behind him is a door labeled 'EXIT'. Should he choose to step through this door, he'll find himself in a deserted stairwell that opens up into an alleyway.

The choice is up to him.

The Welcome - The Festival - Roommates - Around the Town

Comments

THE XOCHIPILLI BUILDING

[nosotros]

It's pretty quiet here, and there's only a handful of people around. Most of them are friendly uniformed employees looking to answer your questions, but there are a few other newcomers in plain clothing milling about as well. For the most part, everyone is being directed to the festival going on at the Landing, but there's no reason you can't get to know the other people present all the same...

open

[crotesque]

[The last thing he wants anything to do with is a festival. Too many people at a time when his head is already too cluttered. The Xochipilli building is a little more what he's used to...]

[And he is assuredly playing detective and harassing anyone he can find about what's really going on here...]

[warmgun]

[John is also playing detective, albeit to less effect than someone like Sherlock might manage. Considering Sherlock outstripped the police on a regular basis, though, John wasn't going to dwell on that comparison and the disparity in their skills.]

[He has a notebook and pen out, everything else from his box having got stuffed into various pockets. The bloke with the thin beard is looking all right. At least like he belongs more than some of the others. John's stance is tight, guarded, though his face is as friendly as he can manage under the circumstances. He still doesn't believe this magic or new universe nonsense but he can try to be friendly with whoever the natives here are.]

Hullo there! Just trasferred over from the London office. Mad getting used to a new office, yeah? [He's not particularly adept at deception, but that's easy enough to maintain.] Are you one of the regular employees, then?

[crotesque]

[Will is not terribly personable, and it startles him for a moment to be approached with such glib ease. Everyone at Quantico knows better by now... He's not offended, it's just a shock to an introverted and obsessive system to be pulled from one concentration from another. He looks confused for a moment, but his memory is excellent, he runs over what was said to him again in his mind, takes a deep breath and recollects, although he's not precisely making eye contact when he does.]

No, I'm not from here. [His eyes flicker up then, taking a quick look at the other man, then back off to the side. He has to... try to summon up a slightly more friendly tone. It's more for the sake of wanting an answer than wanting to genuinely be friendly,] What office were you working for?

[Maybe he could establish some kind of pattern to this. He was always looking for pattern, for design. Meaning in a meaningless world. Woe is Will and his Existential Crisis.]

[warmgun]

[Okay. He can think this through. The problem with lies is that once you start with one, they tend to get away from you in the telling.]

The medical block over near Hyde Park. [He holds out his hand, trying to cover how vague that is with a genial shake.] Dr. John Watson, though John'll do if we're both in the same crop of new employees.

[crotesque]

[Doctor opens a whole new category for Will, things that he glances for, fills in blanks. Not much older than himself, purposefully vague, purposefully friendly at this point as well. And Will... really prefers not to shake hands, but he knows it's more offense than it's worth to reject the offer. The smile he pushes on his face looks strained, but he takes John's hand.]

Will Graham. [Far too much brevity to just leave it at that, he knows, and so he makes himself continue,] It was a surprise assignment?

[Will is not a good liar. He is an obsession with the truth, an uncomfortable gift that allows him to see it. He is, however, not precisely lying. He is putting the idea of the surprise assignment out there to gauge a reaction, not to state a fact.]

[warmgun]

That's me, as well. [That seems believeable enough, anyway. John withdraws his hand. The other man looks about as wound as he feels now.] They're short on someone to handle the bonesaw at the academy. [He offers this with a light laugh to try to diffuse the tension, and thanks god that he'd run into that intern earlier. He doesn't want to grill Will, precisely, but he could do with deflecting attention onto the other man as much as possible.]

What do you do, then?

[crotesque]

[There is something... disconcerting to Will in how easy it would be to fall into this conversation. Will taught at 'the Academy' although he meant the FBI Academy. He doesn't really even consider lying when he answers,]

Forensics.

[He wrote a very good paper on insect patterning on corpses.]

I... [Uhm. A pause.] used to teach.

[warmgun]

[John's thoughts jump to Sherlock. Will isn't nearly enough of an ass for that comparison, not that he can see, anyway. Anderson is equally horrible. John settles on Molly.]

Knew a nice girl up at Bart's who worked in the morgue and did that sort of thing for the police. St. Bart's. Sorry. It's a hospital in London. [He doesn't mention Molly's rather awkard sense of humor. Hopefully it's just her and not every forensic analyst. It strikes him suddenly that if Will were in that field, he might have heard of Sherlock. They got requests from American clients on occasion.]

I... don't suppose you've heard of a bloke called Holmes, have you? Mate of mine in that area, as well. Forensics, I mean. He's got a website. The Science of Deduction. [With an analysis on God-Knew-How-Many types of tobacco ash.]

[crotesque]

I'm not... in circulation, much.

[He phrases that in a specific way, covering over self-denigration and openings to ask about his history.]

I do work with the FBI, we tend to keep our heads down.

[He smiles weakly at his own not-quite-a-joke. (He sometimes wishes he had kept his head down, and not answered the call when Jack Crawford came looking for him. He can't help but hate himself a little for that cowardice.)]

It's funny how many nice girls you meet at the morgue.

[...No, Will. No. (He might mean Beverly. But not entirely.)]

[warmgun]

[John's gaze sharpens at the mention of the FBI, but he doesn't press the point. He sizes Will up a bit more closely, though.]

Could do to meet more of the living than dead variety, though. [He regrets the words almost as soon as they leave his mouth. Gallows humor isn't a particular bother, but that probably says more about him than he'd like known at the moment.]

So, will I be seeing you around the staff room, then? Teaching and all that.

[crotesque]

[Will doesn't fail to notice. It isn't the first time. It wont' be the last time. He's been with law enforcement for fifteen years, in one way or another. Will doesn't react to the scrutiny, continuing to stare aimlessly to the side, not straight at the other man.]

It's a nice thought. [Will liked Alana Bloom, rather a lot. He liked Beverly too. And Abigail. But he's encountered all of them in the morgue at some point. Maybe he should try asking them out. As if he had the time.]

I don't... [Teach children. Know where I am.] know where I'm settling in.

[Story of his life.]

[warmgun]

[Story of John's life, as well. He offers Will a tight smile.]

Yeah, I know how that goes. They've got me set up with a room, at least. Awfully disorganized about new employees, aren't they?

[He knows he probably shouldn't lay the blame for whatever brought him here on a lot of people who didn't appear to have any idea what had happened, but the likes of Jackson Rau and his mysterious letters and kidnappings made John think of Mycroft.]

OPEN

[warmgun]

[John steps into the building, naturally. He's not Sherlock. He can't just live in anarchy when it pleases him to. At least whatever Xochipilli is, it has enough structure to have given him a note. Not that he believes a word of it. Magic? That was rubbish if John had ever heard it. Sounding like a madman certainly wasn't one of his top priorities, so he'd keep that politely out of the conversation as requested. Still, he's pocketed the bizarre blue magazine clip he'd found in the box with his other effects. It seemed... wrong to leave it.

His first move is to dial Sherlock's number once he's worked out the phone. He's expecting to get a voicemail, but the operator's voice informs him the number isn't in service. Harry's number isn't, either. Nor are Bill's, Mike's, or Lestrade's. Desperate, he tries phoning New Scotland Yard directly. There's no record of Lestrade, Donovan, or even Anderson.

Well. Right, then. Whoever put this together is really trying to convince him he's been transported to a different universe. It's certainly beginning to feel like it. He puts the phone away and pulls out his notebook and a pen before approaching the nearest person.]

Hi, sorry. Afraid I'm a bit new. D'you know who Mr. Jackson Rau is?

[nosotros]

[Lucky John, it's a young intern that he approaches first. Eliot gives John his brightest smile, though it looks a bit forced. It's not that Eliot is unhappy, it's just a bit awkward.]

I do! He's the CEO of our company.

[warmgun]

The CEO... right. Yes, of course!

[It occurs to him that a potential new employee should know that. John slaps his forehead in mock exasperation.]

Sorry, I must have left part of my head back in London. You're one of the regulars here, are you? I don't suppose there's a chance Mr. Rau would have a moment for a chat. I'm not entirely sure where I should be going.

[nosotros]

It's alright! Jetlag, right? [Eliot nods in understanding. Xochipilli seems to hire people from all over.] I don't know if you'll be able to see Mr. Rau any time -- he's pretty busy! Maybe I can help, though? I was born and raised here.

[warmgun]

[John seizes on the jetlag excuse like a drowning man to a lifeguard.] Yeah, it's killer. I feel like I should be eating lunch already. Maybe you can help, though. They haven't placed me yet for a position. What all does the company... do here?

[It was a roundabout way of getting information on whatever Xochipilli was, but at least getting the new employee tutorial from some bloke was better than nothing.]

[nosotros]

Well, there's the main company, but we also run the boarding school here in town. [Eliot crinkles his nose. Xochipilli does a lot and he always has trouble remembering all of it.] We get billed as a consulting firm, but we do a lot of work in communications, too. That's why you'll find so many employees from overseas.

[warmgun]

[That's rather vague. The kid doesn't seem to be intentionally hiding anything, at least.]

Just like me. Not much for communications unless there's a blog that needs writing. I don't suppose you have any connection to the local hospitals? I'm a doctor. I heard there were some... odd happenings around town that the company helps with on occasion. Seems like you'd need a medic if you're running into some sort of trouble.

[nosotros]

We're not officially connected to the local hospitals, but we do a lot of volunteer work around the town.

[Eliot blinks.] Ah, but I don't think they would have brought you over just to do volunteering. Are you sure you weren't brought here to work as the school doctor?

[warmgun]

The school doctor! That must be it. Lot of injuries, are there? Best to know what I'm getting into. [He shrugs good-naturedly for the lad's benefit. Like if the students would be regularly assaulted by monsters or whatever nonsense Jackson Rau thought might be here.]

[nosotros]

More than you would think. [Fortunately for John, Eliot is intelligent but not terribly observant. Sure, it strikes him as odd that John needs to have this many questions answered, but the jetlag excuse seems reasonable enough.] I guess kids just play rougher than they used to these days.

[warmgun]

Well, lads being lads, yeah? And girls, as well, I suppose. [He's known enough in the army not to take them lightly, either. He's running out of legitimate excuses to appear completely thick, though, so he decides to wrap it up. Perhaps someone else in the room would prove more helpful in teasing out what Rau meant about magic and monsters.]

Thanks for the help. I'll have a look-in at the Academy, then. Just one last thing I was wondering about. I've heard rumors of odd happenings here. Monsters... magic. Should I be watching out for werewolves on full moons? [He disbelieving smile.]

[nosotros]

[Eliot laughs.] You've heard the rumors, huh? El Sera's sort of a weird city, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. [Eliot doesn't buy into it, either.] The people here can be kinda weird, but they're pretty harmless for the most part.