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We are our Avatars

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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.

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