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

[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.]

[crotesque]

Terribly. [There's a certain bitterness to his voice. Will doesn't like disorganization. He doesn't like not knowing what's going on, and he's vaguely frustrated by John's affability. If only because it doesn't offer him much by way of information.]

Haven't even set me up with a position yet.

[His smile is tight, irritated.]

[warmgun]

[John can tell well enough when to back off of someone. Will seems all right, if on-edge. Given John's own circumstances (and that of any employee who's been hastily uprooted and thrown into a new place with hardly any information), he thinks that's probably understandable. Seeing to his new rooms sounds like a good idea, as well. He's gathered about as much information as seems possible here, at least.

John shrugs, the hand not holding his notebook open and up in deference.] Might try talking to the interns, then. They're nice enough and can probably help you get sorted better than I can. Nice to meet you, in any case, and good luck.

[crotesque]

[Will can see the step back and for half of a second feels irritated with himself, but that feeling never lasts too long when it comes to situations like this. He's long-since grown tired of self-denigration over his poor social skills. He just nods, that seems like the best answer at the moment, rubbing a hand briefly across his upper lip as he resets his expression. It's less cross, but still exhausted.]

You too. Good luck with the new position.