Morgaine Kri Chya
New Member
You find yourself standing before a hotel, though you can't quite recall how you got there. The street behind you feels like a distant memory, blurred and hazy as if plucked from a dream you barely remember waking up from. The building before you looms with an almost unsettling elegance, its architecture reminiscent of something from centuries past, yet undeniably futuristic in the details. Dark ironwork twists along the façade, framing large, fogged windows that reflect the neon glow from somewhere beyond the street. Faded gold accents line the edges of the entrance, weathered yet pristine, as if the hotel itself refuses to yield to the decay of time. A carved archway bears the name Mora Hotel in delicate, curling letters, seemingly hand-forged rather than digitally displayed compared to the businesses beside it – whose details are hard to focus on. Above it, a series of small gas lamps flicker with a ghostly blue flame, giving the entire exterior an eerie, ethereal light against the encroaching night.
There’s a stillness around the place, an almost unnatural silence that sets it apart from the city outside its gates. It’s as if the hotel exists within its own bubble, separated from the world around it by an invisible veil. The iron double doors are closed but not locked, inviting you without demanding entry. As you approach, the lights flicker in acknowledgment, the subtle hum of hidden mechanisms whispering beneath the surface. The hotel feels alive in a way—aware of your presence. There’s no doorman, no visible staff outside to welcome or deter you, just the heavy iron doors that wait patiently, as if confident that you were meant to find this place. Despite the quiet grandeur of its exterior, there’s an undeniable sense that Mora Hotel is both ancient and new, timeless in a way that defies explanation. It waits, as though the very air anticipates your next step, inviting you to cross the threshold. ~
The lobby is an intricate tapestry of old-world luxury and subtle, cutting-edge technology. The walls are adorned with dark mahogany wood paneling, polished to a rich gleam, complemented by velvet drapes in deep sapphire hues that hang in perfect folds beside large, arched windows. A grand chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its delicate crystal prisms casting refracted beams of warm, golden light that dance across the room, hinting at unseen hands subtly adjusting its radiance. Below, the mosaic tiled floors are patterned with intertwining vines and ornate motifs inlaid with brass, reminiscent of an art nouveau style but with a hint of surreal asymmetry that seems to shift when viewed from different angles.
The furniture is arranged deliberately to create cozy nooks and inviting corners. Plush, tufted armchairs in wine-burgundies and deep sapphire blues sit near small marble-topped tables. An enormous, polished stone fireplace stands as the centerpiece of the room, with an antique iron grate that crackles softly with flames that seem to never run out of fuel. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, yet there’s an unsettling precision to it all, like the space was designed with a watchmaker’s care, with every piece of furniture perfectly aligned to draw guests inward.
Opposite the entrance stands the check-in counter—a beautifully carved desk of dark walnut with brass inlays that spiral like intricate clockwork gears. Behind it, a towering wall of polished wood shelves holds rows of keys and small curios above cubbies holding slips of paper and mail. A massive, antique ledger sits open on the counter, though it’s only for show; beneath it, a sleek terminal hums quietly, ready to record the guests' names.
Suddenly, a soft chime echoes throughout the lobby, and a figure materializes behind the desk. Harry’s hologram is a stark contrast to the refined elegance of her surroundings. Her form is a sleek, humanoid projection, composed of slightly translucent, shimmering lines that outline her mechanoid frame. She has metallic panels with traces of faded and chipped paint, giving the impression of a long-forgotten statue restored with care. Only her face and hair appear convincingly human, with her hair flowing in soft waves that seem to move with the same intentional fluidity as the rest of her holographic presence.
"Welcome to Mora Hotel," she begins, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of precision. "I am Harriet, but you may call me Harry. During your stay, you are free to explore the amenities and comforts we offer. The guest rooms are located through the grand stairway to your left, or, if you prefer, the elevator in the corridor just past the concierge panel. Each room is designed to provide both privacy and solace. Should you require any special arrangements, simply make the request through the panel in your room."
Her projection glides across the desk, and she gestures a hand toward a set of ornate doors on the far right. "Our bar, The Smoking Mirror, is just beyond these doors. The bar offers a curated selection of beverages tailored to soothe the weary traveler or invigorate the curious soul. The bartender,” a pause as she places a polished hand upon her chest, “myself, will be happy to recommend a drink based on your tastes. If I am not there, you will find panels that serve drinks at random, for the bold and curious, as well as craft any food item you may ask for.”
She continues, directing attention to another hallway veiled with heavy, embroidered curtains. "For those seeking relaxation, the guest amenities include a private library with a selection of rare tomes and interactive storytelling experiences. You may also find solace in the solarium, where the lighting and atmosphere adjust to provide a calming respite, no matter the hour."
Pausing for a moment, Harry’s hazel eyes focus more intently. "However, during your stay, we ask that you follow a few simple rules. Firstly, respect the privacy of other guests and refrain from entering locked rooms unless they are opened to you. Secondly, the hallways may shift slightly; do not be alarmed. This is by design to offer you the most efficient path to where you need to be. Thirdly, please remember to return to your room for safety should the lights flicker three times in succession, as it indicates the hotel is undergoing a transition. Finally, rest as long as is needed, the Mora Hotel will remain until you are ready to depart – no sooner, no later."
Harry’s voice softens as she adds with a smile, "We are delighted to have you here at Mora Hotel. Should you have any further questions or needs, simply call for me or feel free to use any of the service panels available. Enjoy your stay. Oh! And please don’t forget to grab a card." With that, her hologram flickers and disappears, leaving the lobby in a momentary stillness, the only sound being the faint ticking of an unseen clock somewhere within the walls.
Just beside the antique ledger is a card holder full of cards for the establishment. Should you pick one up you will find it is crafted from a matte-black, lightweight metal. The card feels cool and smooth to the touch, with a surprising weight that belies its size. The front of the card features Mora Hotel name, etched in delicate, silver filigree that catches the light with a subtle shimmer.
The back of the card is engraved with the words, “You’re welcome in Harry’s Bar anytime”, in a sleek, serif font. The lettering is slightly recessed, making it easy to feel beneath one’s fingers, and there is no visible address or contact information—just the enigmatic message. The edges of the card are smooth and slightly beveled, hinting at its durability, as if it’s meant to withstand time and wear, ready to be kept as a keepsake. *Or talisman...
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