We are our Avatars

[JetSet]

Welcome to We are our Avatars. Rules are simple, you play your avatar, don't be a jackass, and have fun. Plot can happen, but most of this is going to be character driven. So jump in!
Somewhere in the land left between worlds, a hero was bored.

Sitting behind a counter of the inn-like building he had claimed as his own, a single man sat, twiddling with a die as he rested his cheek on his hand. Another day of nothing and no one, just like the day before and the day before that. "How many days have I been stuck here now?" He mumbled to himself letting his head drop to the counter with a thud as his arm slid out from under him."Ow."

[Nayt]

"Obviously too many," remarked the small girl with light, reddish-orange hair.

There were obvious signs that something was wrong. The haze of memory, the blur between imagination and reality, how the world around her felt like a smudge over the iris. But that could be investigated later, once she had her bearings. Right now, she'd arrived at this place--this inn--without a strong understanding of how. And there was someone here, someone at the front desk, who looked exactly how she felt. Still, she needed to keep up appearances. Make it seem like she knew exactly where she was, exactly what was going on.

The girl, Emma, was short, just shy of five feet tall, with green eyes, and bushy hair tied back into a ponytail. Much of her bangs covered the right side of her face, concealing a set of scars she preferred remained hidden. Oddly. A bit of memory she had that pierced the haze. Cover the scars. Duly noted. The girl wore a purple spaghetti strap tank top and denim short-shorts. She folded her arms over her chest as she stood before the counter and the rather bored looking man.

"Are you the owner, here?"

[JetSet]

"Hubbduwha!?" The man yelped at the sudden appearance of the small red head, jumping back and falling out of his chair with a crashing thud. A few groans of pain, and a little shuffling, and the man pulled himself to his feet. When he was sure that he wasn't hallucinating the girl, like he had before, he smiled.

"Well, closest thing to one, I suppose. Welcome to the Nowhere Inn. I'm Jack, and before you ask, I don't know why you're here, how you got here, or how to not be here. Sorry." He said before pulling his headphones off his head and let them sit on his neck. He shifted a little, having to look down to the girl due to their height difference.

In contrast to the small orange haired girl in front of him, Jack was a tall, bulky man, shoulder length brown hair left to its own devices. His hands rested inside the pockets of his pants, pushing the leather duster he wore back out of the way.

"So, who're you kid?" He asked,  giving her a cursory glance over. 'And what's with the outfit?' Thankfully, he had the sense not to comment on her clothing.

[Nayt]

Wasn't he a silly one? What, did he think he'd seen a ghost? Had he not heard her open the door? She kind of remembered opening the door. That was still part of the haze, part of that gap in her recollection. There was an inn, a door, a table, and a very surprised man. Named Jack, apparently.

"Well, good thing I wasn't going to ask, huh?" She punctuated the statement with an innocent smile, "I'm Emma."

She extended a hand to shake his. She looked dainty compared to him--hell, she even looked dainty compared to other teenagers. But she'd meet this guy with chest out, shoulders square, back straight, and as firm a handshake as she could manage.

"Oh, and please don't call me kid," she said sweetly, "Unless you don't mind me calling you old man."

[JetSet]

Jack smirked at actions the girl had taken, then shaking his head when he realized he should have been paying much more attention to his surroundings. He had gotten a little too lax in the peace of the space between.

When she squared up and shifted her posture, Jack had to bite the inside of his cheek before he laughed at her. He pulled one of his hands from his pockets, and offered it to her. He took a moment to consider the sight of his hand, covered as it was in the metallic gauntlet before taking her hand and shaking it. He had the strength to give a firm handshake, even when trying to go light on her. When he was finished, he slid his hand back into the pocket of his pants, then chuckled.

"Far enough, chickie. I wouldn't call 21 all that old though." He said before looking down to a panel behind the desk and looking mildly amused. "Huh...That's new." He said, taking a key from the panel of hooks and tossing it to her. "Looks like whatever brought you here prepared a room for you...and left the key without me seeing." He mumbled, not even the least bit surprised by something that strange happening.

[Nayt]

Gauntlets, huh? Interesting. Emma wondered what those might be for. Wondered, too, if Jack even knew what they were for.

"Chickie? I'll take that," Emma said with a roll of her shoulders.

At least that sounded interested, and not like Jack was passing her off as some dumb kid hardly worth his time. Not that his time was going to get her very far where it concerned answers to some burning questions, but this guy was the first person she'd seen since the haze--since forever, maybe?--and keeping up impressions was going to be important.

Attempts at that, however, were dashed once Jack tossed a room key at her. It hit her square in the chest, and Emma quickly scrambled to grab it before it hit the floor, displaying all the grace of a tranquilized house cat after a particularly bad vet visit. Key in hand, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she straightened her back and squared her shoulders again as if nothing at all had happened. The key had a large and gaudy "3" tag attached to it, and it was temporarily the most interesting thing in the world, at least until the pride recovered a little.

[JetSet]

"Good, cause I don't think I had another nickname in mind." He said and laughed, watching her flounder to catch the key. While she was recovering from the toss, he walked out from the counter and stood next to her. "Since it doesn't seem like anything else is going on right now, how about a tour of the place? You're probably going to be stuck here for a while if my own experience is an indication." He said, looking to the lobby. Three doors lead off into the main building of the inn.

"Pick your poison. We have the hall of infinite bedrooms!" He pointed up the stairs. "The room of endless sustenance!" He announced, pointing to the door behind them, and then pointed to the final door, to their left. "Or the lounge." He said very calmly. This man was a goof for sure.

[Nayt]

Emma pocketed the key. At least Jack being ridiculously silly let her move past the temporary bruise to her ego. The words infinite and endless had also grabbed her attention. That couldn't be right, could it? What had the inn looked like from the outside, again? Ugh, it was still locked in that haze. She'd have to go outside and look again, and for some reason, that felt like a really bad idea.

"The room of endless sustenance for a thousand, Alex." A reference to something before the haze.

But seriously, Emma was kind of hungry. Something of a snack would be greatly appreciated. Although, come to think of it . . .

"None of this is gonna cost me, is it?"

[JetSet]

"Alex? I don't...eh." He shrugged, chalking it up to something he didn't understand. "Follow me little chickie, for I shall show you a place where the food never runs out, the drinks never run dry, and for some reason, battle axes are considered cutlery."

With the explanation out of the way, he pushed into the kitchen, which to someone like Emma, would be something out of a dream. Big enough to fit a full team of people to be working with room to spare, the kitchen had everything that anyone could have wanted. Ovens, stoves, grills, fridges taller than Jack, pantries lining the walls, pans and pots all over, sitting neatly all around the kitchen. Whisks, spoons, spatulas, and all sorts of other cooking instruments, including a rather heavy looking battle axe, rested in their place, looking perfectly natural.

"Chickie, with the clothing you have on, I don't think you have the gold to pay for a place fancy as this. Don't worry about it...And speaking of which, if you ever need something new to wear, I'm a weaver myself, so just ask and I'll see what I can do." He said and flashed her a smile, taking a step back and letting her explore the kitchen while he stood next to the doors leading to the lounge area.

[Nayt]

Okay, this was bizarre. Cool as hell, but bizarre. This kitchen was huge, large enough that it should have cramped up against the entrance and stairs, overtaken the entire first floor of the building. Emma's first order of business was briefly stepping back into the entry hall, then returning to the kitchen, to conclude that yes, this room was bigger on the inside than the outside. That kind of anomaly couldn't have been possible, but it was here. Wherever here even was, where the Nowhere Inn could feasibly exist.

Satisfied that this building was going to defy all manner of physics, she made for the pantry, eying all manners of snacks. Not terribly hungry, but peckish. Mostly for chocolate, on which she snacked greedily. After the fourth or fifth chocolate laden cookie, she open the nearest fridge, rooting around for something to quench her thirst. There were trays in the fridge that she couldn't possibly reach. Hell, Jack probably couldn't even reach them. But close, amongst innumerable bottles of drinks she'd never heard of, she found cider. Ooo. The glass bottle fizzed once she wrenched the cap off (using her room key as a bottle opener), and going down her throat, it was cool, bubbly, and warm all at the same time.

Emma let out a contented sigh, shut the fridge, and turned back towards Jack again, glass bottle of cider in hand. It'd taken several moments for her to address him, time in which she'd been enamored with what she could find in this room, but she finally asked, "Is something the matter with my clothes?"

Truth be told, she hadn't really looked herself over all that much, not since the haze stopped and the Nowhere Inn began. A kind of low cut tank top and short shorts, huh? Emma wondered if she should've been embarrassed about it or not. She didn't feel embarrassed. After all, if Jack--or anyone, for that matter--was eyeballing her legs, hips, chest or anything like that (regardless of how unimpressive she must've been to anyone but the most desperate of souls), then at least their attention was drawn away from the five tally marks dug into the right side of her face. Upon remembering those scars, she took a moment to make sure her bangs still covered them well enough. She'd no idea how they'd gotten there, where they'd come from, only that they had to be concealed, and that her choice in clothing might've been a way to distract attention from them.

[JetSet]

"Don't think about how the rooms or anything here works. It will just make your head hurt." Jack said and chuckled, watching her walk around and look at everything like a kid in a candy store. Jack took note that there were a lot of new things he didn't recognize in the kitchen now. Tools, foods, hell, even new containers he had never seen. He was used to everything being laid out bare, like one would find in his home. The sight caused him to ponder what exactly it meant that someone else had arrived. Jack stroked the stubble on his chin, and made sure to keep the thoughts in his head for later.

"Nothing really, but you're probably gonna want something more than that. I don't know if your room comes with more clothing, but mine didn't." He shrugged to her, then tilted his head a little, looking at her, almost meeting her eyes with his own. "Any reason you keep hiding your face?" He asked, taking notice of her bangs finally. "Got a birthmark or some kinda scar you don't wanna show off?" He said, a light chuckle on his voice. It was her choice to answer, but Jack didn't mind either way. Scars were nothing to be embarrassed over where he came from.

Almost as if to illustrate this, he put one of the pointed claws of the gauntlets to his temple, tilting his head to the side, and showing off some black lines under his collar, snaking down like they were either coloring his veins, or a very intricate tattoo. Something from a long time ago, he stopped feeling ashamed of what happened long ago. " Nothing to be ashamed of either way. It's really just you and me here, and I've got my share of marks." He said, offering her a genuine smile. While he would poke fun at her for her clothing, or her way of act, Jack isn't the kind of person to judge someone for a wound, or the story behind it.

[Nayt]

Emma froze at the comment, briefly looked like a deer in headlights. Conceal the scars. Trying to remember why made her head hurt. Heart, too. It churned up some horror, something clouded by the haze, that she decided wasn't worth approaching. Let the smudges of this world bury that forever. Let the taste of sweet cider drown out that surge of harsh feelings. She'd looked surprised, but that was gone in a blink, replaced instead by a once-more confident swagger.

"Yeah, you're gonna have to make a real good drink for me to go all show and tell here," she replied, one hand on her hip, the other soon bringing the cider back to her lips for another taste.

A bluff, to be sure. She didn't really remember good drinks or have any sort of context as to what would make a tasty alcoholic beverage. She'd just needed to say something, anything, to change the subject.

[Sabwones]

"Oh no. No. No. Nononononononononono-FUCK."

It began with a noise not unlike someone throwing a coconut down a distant flight of stone steps. A solitary, ringing 'bong', a moment of breathless expectation, then another, resonant and indefinably organic in nature.That is, if coconuts could curse.

BONG

"RAT SHIT-

BONG

-ASS BASTARDING-

BONG

-FUCKMOTHERING-

BONG

-LIZARD PISS-

BONG

-FUCK!"

With one last crackling impact, a skull, slightly tinted with age, trailing a string of obscenities that'd make a sailor blush, fell from the air conditioning vent above them and landed upside-down on the tile. In accordance with comic tradition, the force of the landing left the skull wobbling around and around, gloing-gloinging it's way to a standstill.

The air was still for just a moment. The skull, having completed its rotation, began rocking back and forth, seemingly using its jawbone as some kind of lever. After a few seconds of fruitless oscillating, it stopped. A milky glass eye, pitted and scratched with age, rotated in a dry socket to fix on the delinquent girl.

"No rush. Don't bother yourselves. I'll be fine." It spoke, it's voice surprisingly lively and bereft of dry come-hither-to-yon-crypt malevolence. The eye ground to another position. Took in the tall chap in the coat. Back to the girl. "That's sarcasm, in case you weren't familiar. Help me up before I call the rozzers on you, ya bloody hooligan!"

[Nayt]

And then, interrupting Emma's swagger, was a noise. A clang, far above them, eliciting more confusion than anything else. Then curses, echoing whilst the clangs grew louder and louder, whatever it was coming closer, until . . .

Emma screamed. Dropped her bottle of cider, jumped back, and threw her hands over her mouth to suppress her fright. It was just-- it was out of nowhere, not what she was expecting, not anything she could have ever expected-- Oh, God. It was a skeleton. No. No, not a complete skeleton. A skull. A talking skull. All but on the tips of her toes, her spine straight, shoulders back, and hands over her mouth, Emma remained still as a statue. She didn't speak, didn't oblige the skull's request to pick it up, didn't move a a muscle. She hardly even breathed.

Inn that defied scientific explanation? That was okay. Skeletons? Not okay. Talking skulls? The least okay!

[Sabwones]

The cider bottle, though surviving impact with the floor, still spewed most of its sharp-sweet contents across the floor, a good deal of it coating the skull, welling in its empty socket, cheeks, like some tasteless novelty cup that even the most blase of viking would think twice before drinking out of.

Right. So maybe 'belligerent arsehole' wasn't the best tactic. Now I've terrified the bloody child. Tone it down, for Christ's sake.

With a little more effort, the second attempt of self-righting itself proved successful. Right-way-up, the skull had a modicum of movement, rolling its jaw to crawl forward and rotate from side to side no faster than a toddler could. It-He, cleared what would've been his throat in a hopeful attempt to try and restart the conversation. The fog of anger and pain was lifing from his mind - but what it rolled back to reveal was surprisingly scant.

He remembered...losing something. Big thing. Very important. Couldn't get by without it. Ah! Right. His body.

Something about double or nothing. Hm.

Name? Had to have a name. Something like...Jones? Sir Jones? Sad Moans? Bad Loans? Sa- Sab- Sab-wones? Sabwones.

Kind of fucking name is that, then?

"Oi. Girlie." Sabwones tried to give the girl a reassuring smile, which is somewhat difficult when your face is perpanently locked to 'rictus grin' but gave it a good try. "Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt 'ya. Not exactly like I even could if I wanted to. Worst I could do would be, oh, maybe bite out yer achilles tendon while you're not looking then chomp through your jugular when you hit the deck or some such like."

There. See? Much nicer.

Wait.

Damn!

"Aw, no, no, I mean. Um. Shit. Wait." The eye rattled around in its housing like a cheap maraca. Eventually it fell slack and rested its gaze on the cider-spattered tile. "Look- What I'm saying is I'm not gonna hurt you. That and I'd really like for someone to give me a run under a tap before this cider dries. Sticky crap never completely gets out." He glanced up, "...please?"