xp_logs | Hotel California: Arrival (Reply)

The group gathers at the site of Jean's apparent disappearance armed only with spotty records, faint mystical twinges and a prophetic crayon drawing.

There was nothing particularly impressive about the exterior of the Henley-Frey Inn. It would have been considered quite large during its days as a private residence; these days travel sites described it as "cozy" or "intimate". The Victorian style was not particularly out of place in Foggy Bottom, though its historic status had allowed it to preserve somewhat more of a garden than the surrounding townhouses. A small park across from the hotel served as a convenient meeting place without arousing too much suspicion.

As the last of the group arrived there was a minor but visible separation between the two X-Men and the members of Snow Valley. The telepath had stood with closed eyes for thirty seconds before pulling out a cellphone to call the professor while Scott leaned against a tree that presented the perfect vantage point from which to watch the hotel.

Nico felt an odd prickling on the back of her neck that she had already acknowledged had nothing to do with nerves. There was something else, something real hiding in there, she thought. Mutant? She wasn't so sure, but there was something of the mystic kind throwing her senses off, for certain.

Turning around, she eyed the rest of the team. Yep, certainly mystic. "Well then, haunted house. Who you gonna call?"

"If you try to call me Dana one more time," Wanda sighed, "I will be forced to do something drastic." She was speaking to Nico but her eyes were trained on the hotel. Her chaos vision was almost ... skittering and rippling every time she used it while looking anywhere near the building. There was nothing overt, nothing that she could pinpoint, but something was impacting the chaotic energies that tied her to the world.

"I thought we had agreed, no references to movies with Sigourney Weaver, so that none of us are eaten by giant alien bugs." Marie-Ange said, frowning, though more at the building than at Nico or Wanda. "Well, even without Doug's incoming informative spam..." Her phone, and the others had started going off not long after they got off the train. "I would say this building is certainly old enough that Americans think it is historic. It is maybe from your Civil War era? The architecture looks to be from that time."

Scott looked away from the hotel as Marie-Ange spoke and focused on her, apparently trying to will the hotel to give up its secrets wasn't going to work. "We're sure this is the place then?" he asked curiously. "I know Jean was booked in here before she vanished but," he gestured to the hotel, "it looks so normal, not really what I expected from a dangerous magical house." He pointed out a couple walked up the stairs into the hotel, totally oblivious of the group gathered across the way.

"It's still possible we're looking at something psionic," said Jim, pocketing his phone. "Or there's psionics going on as well as whatever Marie-Ange saw. I checked with the professor, and Jean did say she was investigating a psychic tremor. And she's definitely in the area. Her psi-signature is pretty distinct. I can't pinpoint it, it's not focused . . . more like sitting with your back to a bonfire."

Remy pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, quelling the flash of irritation. "Let's focus on de important details for now. Which are can we locate Grey and can we reach her. After dat, we can worry 'bout what's in de way. 'manda, can you get us to her?"

"I think so." The witch's eyes were slightly unfocussed as she stared at the hotel. "There's definitely been some kind of magic here, but it's pretty old. Nico and I should be able to take care of stuff -there's some kind of ward on the place, but it's barely there any more."

Jim grimaced. "I'm going to have to play a telepathic game of hot-and-cold. And even then I might need to be almost on top of her." He glanced at Marie-Ange. "Did Doug find anything to explain what you saw? Please tell me it's not a desecrated Indian burial ground."

"No dead Indians that he could find." Marie-Ange said. "Which, I asked. He said that is in his top ten things to check for, because he was mentally scarred by Stephen King novels." She slid her fingers over her phone, sending the information Doug had compiled to the others. "I was correct about the architectural era. The hotel was a private home built just before your Civil War, and later converted into a hotel. Curiously, Doug is not sure he can find the original owner, just the architect and that it was later sold at auction. There are no scans of the original deed that are legible."

Her phone bleeped again, mid-explanation and she pulled up the latest email. "Oh, and it is part of the Haunted Hotel walking tour of the city. Guests have reported cold sports and paranoia. So there is that."

Nico had defaulted to hum the Ghostbusters' song, because she liked to live dangerously. "At any rate, we aren't going to find anything outside, are we now? So let's get this over with. Jean's in there, so in there we go.

Scott nodded in agreement as he pushed himself off the wall. "Sounds like a good plan to me," he agreed as he headed for the doorway. "There's no use in us just waiting out here, let's get in there and see what we can find. We know she's in there so what are we waiting for?"

Given they hadn't been able to pull up anything on the place from the occult network, despite the obvious feel of magic about the building, Amanda would have preferred getting Strange in to help out. But the professor/sorcerer was off following another Chthon cult lead. So she was the boss, for all intents and purposes. "Me first," she said, reaching out to stop Scott from plunging in. "If the wards are still active, I'll be able to counter them. Nico, stay close, but don't bring out the Staff yet - I'm not sure how it will react to what might be in here. If we get pulled up, we're a group of haunted house fans looking for a tour, okay?"

At the various nods, the witch turned and faced the hotel, feeling the tug of something inside. "All right, let's do this," she said, and headed up the steps to the door.

The hotel was conducting business as usual; an emerging fortyish-female lodger barely spared Amanda a glance as they passed each other on the steps, and a window offered a good view of the desk clerk sitting with the sort of posture that indicated an ongoing game of computer solitaire. Even at the front door nothing indicated it was anything but an old building with a few aging wards and one badly-punctuated listing on a paranormal website.

The witch took the handle in her hand.