Great Nortan Railway Tour: IC [OPEN]

[Danceria]

-snoip-

"Good to know..." the Dancerian went to quickly sign himself in, and enquire on where to place his bags before heading off to luncheon. He hardly ate breakfast, and his growling stomach motivated him to navigate the train quicker, and to find out where he could sate his immediate hunger and converse with his fellow passengers. This was going to be a long train ride, so he might as well start out on the right foot.

[Great Nortend]

Boleslaw rather quickly shuffled his way to the front desk and checked in while saying to Peter "I've been doing rather well, as it's been a fairly uneventful day. Regarding the situation with the room, you can take whichever you like, I'll make do." After handing the baggage to the porter he turned his attention to Wainright and Peter and asked, "How has your day been so far?"

'Quite uneventful.' 'Indeed'.

--------------------------------

Wednesday, the 5th of September, 2018. Noon.
By now, the guests of the tour had assembled outside the restaurant arch, and were milling around. Mr Wainwright checked the time on his pocket-watch. It was five to twelve, and got up. 'Time for luncheon, I suppose. My lord, ladies and gentlemen, if you would follow me...'

The restaurant was moderately sized and exceedingly opulent, with over ten fine crystal chandeliers hanging from the high, vaulted ceiling. It was mostly empty, save for a small group in one corner and a single gentleman in another. The tables were highly polished and covered in crisp white table-cloths on which gleaming cutlery, crockery and crystalware were set. The group were shewn to an area beside the wall, with an excellent view of the railway station through the windows, by the maître d'hôtel, a balding man in his late fifties.

'Mesdemoiselles and messieurs, pray be seated here. We are pleased to offer for you now, luncheon table du jour served à la russe. For entrée we have consommé de boeuf and soupe au concombre. The plat secondaire is civet de lièvre and terrine de hareng, whilst our plat principaux du jour is confit de canard aux pommes. The salade is carottes rôties et petits pois. Dessert to-day is poire pochée à l'orange.'

Waiters dressed in a black tail-coat, standing collar, white bow tie and starched, white aprons began to arrive, setting down plates of soup in front of the diners. Mr Wainwright stood up, his goblet of chardonnay in his right hand. 'God save the King!' This important ritual over, he sat down and began drinking his soup soundlessly.

[Dahon]

In this occasion Satomi opted to ride the elevator to the appointed floor -- she really did fancy that grand staircase, but as lunch shortly beckoned and with the rest of the day yet ahead, she decided to admire it from up close as soon as she felt herself better.

As it was, after a brief search she had located and entered her room. It was a breathtakingly well-kept one: two double beds, freshly draped; a spacious bathroom; a little fireplace spewing little red flames; a series of gilt-edged arched windows showing a rather wide green square, where people flitted to and fro.

But no sign of her fellow roommate, as of yet. "What was her name again?" Satomi wondered aloud. The guy at the front desk had said it a bit before she went on her way, and she was sure she had heard it.

As it was, there was no time to lose: first impressions mattered, and she was determined to come down and partake in the luncheon on time. So she came up -- ran, almost, even with her prescribed garb, as hinted by the handbook she got from the Board -- to the bed nearest the windows and claimed it as her own, speedily unlocked and unzipped her bag, took what she needed from it with all possible haste, and undressed and redressed with as much ceremony as her earlier disembarkment from the express train, presumably ignoring the possibility of her fellow roommate coming in as she was changing.

That such exertions did nothing to stave off her exhaustion was of course a given. Satomi only hoped -- as she almost bounded out of the room and back into the elevator -- that the food in offer would not only fill her belly up but give her a much-needed energy boost (supplied by plenty of coffee to keep her awake, of course) for the rest of the day's activities.

***

By the time she along with the other hotel guests (save whoever was her roommate, unless of course the woman she saw at the front desk moments before was indeed Miss X) had been seated under the glittering spectacle of the restaurant's chandeliers, Satomi scarcely felt like herself, though she was doing her best to conceal her distress; in her impatience and her unwillingness to be late she had quit the slow-moving elevator and raced downstairs, skipping steps as much as her long flowing dress allowed her to. That she further exhausted herself by this need not be emphasized; she was fortunate enough to have come down at the right moment, with Mr. Wainwright calling their attention to the prospect of a midday feast.

Such was Satomi's exhaustion, indeed, that although she had acquired a working knowledge of the French language (she had dealt with Francophone Moscans and Indo-Chinese before, when she was still working for her grandfather the viceroy, and it was partly from them that she acquired her sense of wanderlust), she had trouble understanding what the maitre d' was saying with regards to the food, though she did catch mention of the French word for "duck".

Haven't eaten duck before, she said to herself, before inquiring further, would it go well with coffee?

[Mervay]

Boney Street 118,Asteria,Kingdom of Mervay
The mail has leaved an letter to the name of Miss Tess Dileva. The 18 years black haired girl was adviced of this so during her breakfast she decided to read it. It said that she was invited to Great Nortend made by the company Great Nortan Railway and the Great Nortend goverment. Miss Dileva was interested in this travel since it would serve to distance herself of the city for at least some time before she enters to university. Tess was daughter of the CEO of an famous technological and aereal corporation know as Ares Corporation,so money wasn't gonna be an problem and his father will surely don't mind that her daughter travels for an week to an nation that is know for it's interesting history,their way of living and their transport ways.

Wednesday, 5th of September, 2018
St. Christopher's Airport,Great Nortend
An Airbus A340 with the logo of her father company landed in the airport. Inside it Tess was taking her package,it wasn't much to be honest she just brought an bag since this was going to be an one week travel this was the enough,however she needed to brought an satelite phone with her since for what she readed and heard the signal wasn't very good. Still this place felt for her as an return in time. After she entered to the airport and the standard procedures begun however they were fast and since it was only an medium bag the excessive bureucracy didn't appeared. However she now needed to go to the hotel. Thankfully the latter said the way of how come to the hotel and at the same time it might serve for this blue eyeired girl to know the city. "Hmm let's see the tram shuttle stop is here and here it says that it pass every five minutes" Says the girl as she see her watch and see that it is 10:59 and that in one minute the next one will stop. After she waited that minute the tram appeared and she entered in it,she took an ticket to the St. Christopher and Nevvings railway station from where she will take the express to the Saint-le-Cross hotel.

After the tram travel and the express one she was now standing in front of the Saint-le-Cross hotel,the place in where she will stay the night and in where her travel of an week will begin. And like if time wanted it to happen she entered to the lobby just exactly by noon. As she entered she saw an black haired woman of the same age passing by,through she didn't cared since first she wanted to find the guide and then worry about the rest of the passengers that she will know during the week.

"Excuse me where could i find Mr Andrew Wainwright and my apologies allow me to present me Tess Dileva from Mervay" says the girl as she bow in respect

[Great Nortend]

Boney Street 118,Asteria,Kingdom of Mervay
The mail has leaved an letter to the name of Miss Tess Dileva. The 18 years black haired girl was adviced of this so during her breakfast she decided to read it. It said that she was invited to Great Nortend made by the company Great Nortan Railway and the Great Nortend goverment. Miss Dileva was interested in this travel since it would serve to distance herself of the city for at least some time before she enters to university. Tess was daughter of the CEO of an famous technological and aereal corporation know as Ares Corporation,so money wasn't gonna be an problem and his father will surely don't mind that her daughter travels for an week to an nation that is know for it's interesting history,their way of living and their transport ways.

Wednesday, 5th of September, 2018
St. Christopher's Airport,Great Nortend
An Airbus A340 with the logo of her father company landed in the airport. Inside it Tess was taking her package,it wasn't much to be honest she just brought an bag since this was going to be an one week travel this was the enough,however she needed to brought an satelite phone with her since for what she readed and heard the signal wasn't very good. Still this place felt for her as an return in time. After she entered to the airport and the standard procedures begun however they were fast and since it was only an medium bag the excessive bureucracy didn't appeared. However she now needed to go to the hotel. Thankfully the latter said the way of how come to the hotel and at the same time it might serve for this blue eyeired girl to know the city. "Hmm let's see the tram shuttle stop is here and here it says that it pass every five minutes" Says the girl as she see her watch and see that it is 10:59 and that in one minute the next one will stop. After she waited that minute the tram appeared and she entered in it,she took an ticket to the St. Christopher and Nevvings railway station from where she will take the express to the Saint-le-Cross hotel.

After the tram travel and the express one she was now standing in front of the Saint-le-Cross hotel,the place in where she will stay the night and in where her travel of an week will begin. And like if time wanted it to happen she entered to the lobby just exactly by noon. As she entered she saw an black haired woman of the same age passing by,through she didn't cared since first she wanted to find the guide and then worry about the rest of the passengers that she will know during the week.

"Excuse me where could i find Mr Andrew Wainwright and my apologies allow me to present me Tess Dileva from Mervay" says the girl as she bow in respect

The clerk looked up from his cross-word, startled. They still haven't all arrived yet?, he thought.

'Good day Mademoiselle. You will find Mr Wainwright in the Restaurant. I trust you are in the Railway Tour? Please do check in first with me.'

The clerk rifled through her documents and indicated for her to sign in the guest ledger.

'I believe luncheon is presently being served, so you may wish to join them and settle into your rooms afterwards. A porter will take your bag up to your room, if you so wish. I wish you a pleasant stay at the Saint-le-Cross Eastern Railway Hotel, and welcome to Great Nortend.'

[Trumpisslavia]

At that moment yet another young man came in -- or rather stormed in, such was the noise he made coming in -- accompanied by not one but two sore, struggling, sweaty porters, pulling with great effort two humonguous roll-on luggage bags; their very presence accentuated the young man's sheer size, as if he stood ever at the ready to eat whole some unsuspecting passerby.

The young man, who stood at six feet six inches without shoes, was even taller than he was broad; furthermore, his uncommonly handsome face -- messy blonde hair atop two piercing green eyes, aquiline nose, and a gracefully turned, almost feminine mouth -- were further highlighted by his huge hands and his bulging reddish-brown backpack, as well as the black jacket and pants with matching green tie that he wore, with an almost unimpeachable sense of grandeur if not unconcealed superiority.

Disposing of the poor fading porters with a generous tip to each, he strode to the front desk, the very picture of magnanimity and confidence (if marred by his almost unconsciously brushing the young woman still tending to her own business), locked his green eyes with the clerk's own, eagerly took his right hand, and shook it with unseemly vigour.

He boomed with great enthusiasm: "Now we meet, Mister Wainwright! Capital afternoon, indeed! Master David E. Dwarf, at your service!"

[Great Nortend]

At that moment yet another young man came in -- or rather stormed in, such was the noise he made coming in -- accompanied by not one but two sore, struggling, sweaty porters, pulling with great effort two humonguous roll-on luggage bags; their very presence accentuated the young man's sheer size, as if he stood ever at the ready to eat whole some unsuspecting passerby.

The young man, who stood at six feet six inches without shoes, was even taller than he was broad; furthermore, his uncommonly handsome face -- messy blonde hair atop two piercing green eyes, aquiline nose, and a gracefully turned, almost feminine mouth -- were further highlighted by his huge hands and his bulging reddish-brown backpack, as well as the black jacket and pants with matching green tie that he wore, with an almost unimpeachable sense of grandeur if not unconcealed superiority.

Disposing of the poor fading porters with a generous tip to each, he strode to the front desk, the very picture of magnanimity and confidence (if marred by his almost unconsciously brushing the young woman still tending to her own business), locked his green eyes with the clerk's own, eagerly took his right hand, and shook it with unseemly vigour.

He boomed with great enthusiasm: "Now we meet, Mister Wainwright! Capital afternoon, indeed! Master David E. Dwarf, at your service!"

'Good day Sir,' responded the front desk clerk. 'I am, however, afraid that I am not Mr Wainwright and that the gentleman who bears that name is currently having luncheon with his tour group in the restaurant. I do presume, however, you wish to check in? Let me see, ah! You are a guest in the Railway Tour as well! Of course, I should have known. I do apologise Sir. Well, you are in Room 104. Pray, Sir, sign your ledger here. You are staying with a Mr O'Devlin... or it says here, the Prince Nuallan. I trust you are expecting this.'

[Trumpisslavia]

David took every word Mr. Not-Wainwright said in radiantly excellent stride, even as he withdrew his right hand and not very discreetly rubbed it with his left. But at the subject of shared lodgings, even with those of a prince, he reacted... less favorably. "No, sir," David now replied in a much lower tone, his eyes still locked with those of the clerk's, with his face reddening to match, "I did not expect this treatment when I first signed on to this Tour, believe me! Me, share living space with another guest? I find it -- I find it --"

A short disquieting pause ensued before David continued, dramatically pointing to his bags. "Look at them, sir! You've seen those porters huff and puff to wheel them here! I cannot have another man in the same room as me!"

David then exclaimed with an impetuous flourish (and a sudden jerk of his much-rubbed right hand, slamming it into the front desk), "Money is no object! Move this Prince Nelly or what's his name to another room!"

[Great Nortend]

David took every word Mr. Not-Wainwright said in radiantly excellent stride, even as he withdrew his right hand and not very discreetly rubbed it with his left. But at the subject of shared lodgings, even with those of a prince, he reacted... less favorably. "No, sir," David now replied in a much lower tone, his eyes still locked with those of the clerk's, with his face reddening to match, "I did not expect this treatment when I first signed on to this Tour, believe me! Me, share living space with another guest? I find it -- I find it --"

A short disquieting pause ensued before David continued, dramatically pointing to his bags. "Look at them, sir! You've seen those porters huff and puff to wheel them here! I cannot have another man in the same room as me!"

David then exclaimed with an impetuous flourish (and a sudden jerk of his much-rubbed right hand, slamming it into the front desk), "Money is no object! Move this Prince Nelly or what's his name to another room!"

The man was clearly irritated and the clerk had to think quickly. 'Please let me confer with the General Manager. I do apologise.' He pulled out an antique black rotary dial telephone and dialled seventy two.

'Good day Sir, this is Monsieur Fedge. There is a gentleman who has been booked into a double room by the Board of Touring who insists on a single room to himself and is... exceedingly passionate about it. I see. Thank you Sir, good day.'

Replacing the telephone, he turned back to Master Dwarf.

'Whilst I am afraid that it would be very inconvenient for the both of you if the Prince Nuallan were to move to another room, I am able to place you in a different room—a single room—with payment immediately or charged to the account of the Board of Touring, which will then likely claim it back from you at a future date. The fee is one pound, one shilling threepence for the night. Will this be suitable Sir?'

[Adab]

If there's one thing that Shalmaneser should have taken note of, it was that he was more exhausted than he actually realized. Perhaps it was the strain of the long journey from his country; he hadn't gotten any significant amount of sleep since disembarking from the private jet at St. Christopher's. Upon arriving at his hotel room, he set his phone alarm to 11:45 a.m., enough to give him about twenty minutes of sleep before he was to head down for lunch at the restaurant. This deadline he proceeded to miss in his sleep, and only when the alarm rang again at 11:50 was he actually roused (thank God for the five-minute snooze setting). The young lord, realizing that lunch was only ten minutes away, jumped out of bed with much trepidation, went for a quick detour to the toilet, and then set out for the restaurant; such was his haste that he nearly forgot to bring the key with him.

Five minutes later he was outside the restaurant, his hair a bit scruffy, his legs shaking from the rush downstairs (once again, such was his haste that he didn't even think of taking the elevator), and indeed looking like someone who had just woken up, but at least he was awake. The other guests had gathered at the place, and the same Mr. Andrew Wainwright, having announced that it was time for the luncheon, kindly led them inside. It was beautiful, furnished with the best table-cloths and the purest crystalware around. They settled onto their seats, and this balding man - who turned out to be the maître d'hôtel - rattled off a series of phrases, which he knew to be the names of the food but otherwise did not understand, in what appeared to be a French-English mishmash. As waiters served plates of soup to the guests, including the young lord, Mr. Wainwright chanted "God save the King!" while holding a goblet and then settling down to drink from his soup.

"God save the King, indeed," Shalmaneser muttered under his breath, staring at his plate, reaching for the spoon, "and I hope this soup is delicious enough."

[Trumpisslavia]

The man was clearly irritated and the clerk had to think quickly. 'Please let me confer with the General Manager. I do apologise.' He pulled out an antique black rotary dial telephone and dialled seventy two.

'Good day Sir, this is Monsieur Fedge. There is a gentleman who has been booked into a double room by the Board of Touring who insists on a single room to himself and is... exceedingly passionate about it. I see. Thank you Sir, good day.'

Replacing the telephone, he turned back to Master Dwarf.

'Whilst I am afraid that it would be very inconvenient for the both of you if the Prince Nuallan were to move to another room, I am able to place you in a different room—a single room—with payment immediately or charged to the account of the Board of Touring, which will then likely claim it back from you at a future date. The fee is one pound, one shilling threepence for the night. Will this be suitable Sir?'

The clerk's offer of a single room had its effect: the encroaching darkness that was David's countenance dissipated in an instant, replaced not by the earlier jovial magnanimity that characterized his arrival, but something evidently similar -- if one were to put it David's face at that moment in words, it would be a sort of exultant superiority, the sort one gets to after besting another man in single combat, in this case a verbal one.

"I'll take the first," David finally said as he averted his eyes at last, reaching into the folds of his jacket and extracting a wallet, from which he fished out two pounds. "Keep the change. Of course I'll have to know if the room suits me, but I'm satisfied. For now."

Everything accounted, without another word (or indeed a word of apology from the young woman he so rudely swept aside) he reached out for his bags and walked out of the lobby and into the elevator, without any appearance of strain or stress on his part.

***

Not a quarter of an hour later, a differently dressed David (not that the change was apparent, as the only things he had gotten rid of were the jacket and the tie, and as for the rest of his wardrobe he always made it a point to buy the same make and color of suits and pants and what else as to not cause useless delay) had comfortably seated himself in one of the restaurant tables. A waiter brought in the appetizers: beef consommé and cucumber soup.

A veteran of fastfood joints and a capable fry cook himself, David had no great love for the measured deliberation of French dining -- he pretty much wanted to gorge on the main course right then and there, as he scarcely had time to eat on his way from Le Creuset. Still, he saw no reason to make a scene with the last one so fresh in the mind, and in any case he was contented, so he sipped his soup with all the dignity of a descendant of Julius Caesar, Charlemagne, and last but not least, his poor, dear, departed father.

[Kowani]

And this, thought Marta upon stepping out of the shower, is why she hated traveling. Her dress, the one she had spent so much time picking out, was sitting back on her bed at home. Pulling the dress the government had given her when she had been given the permit, she winced. It was not ugly, just...plain. A black thing, reaching just below her knees, and with a tiny Kowani flag on her right shoulder, but it was all she had. Sighing, she put it on and raced downstairs.

Upon arriving at the restaurant, she poked her head in, looking around for the rest of the group. Seeing them, she waved energetically, bouncing in their direction.

[Mervay]

Boney Street 118,Asteria,Kingdom of Mervay
The mail has leaved an letter to the name of Miss Tess Dileva. The 18 years black haired girl was adviced of this so during her breakfast she decided to read it. It said that she was invited to Great Nortend made by the company Great Nortan Railway and the Great Nortend goverment. Miss Dileva was interested in this travel since it would serve to distance herself of the city for at least some time before she enters to university. Tess was daughter of the CEO of an famous technological and aereal corporation know as Ares Corporation,so money wasn't gonna be an problem and his father will surely don't mind that her daughter travels for an week to an nation that is know for it's interesting history,their way of living and their transport ways.

Wednesday, 5th of September, 2018
St. Christopher's Airport,Great Nortend
An Airbus A340 with the logo of her father company landed in the airport. Inside it Tess was taking her package,it wasn't much to be honest she just brought an bag since this was going to be an one week travel this was the enough,however she needed to brought an satelite phone with her since for what she readed and heard the signal wasn't very good. Still this place felt for her as an return in time. After she entered to the airport and the standard procedures begun however they were fast and since it was only an medium bag the excessive bureucracy didn't appeared. However she now needed to go to the hotel. Thankfully the latter said the way of how come to the hotel and at the same time it might serve for this blue eyeired girl to know the city. "Hmm let's see the tram shuttle stop is here and here it says that it pass every five minutes" Says the girl as she see her watch and see that it is 10:59 and that in one minute the next one will stop. After she waited that minute the tram appeared and she entered in it,she took an ticket to the St. Christopher and Nevvings railway station from where she will take the express to the Saint-le-Cross hotel.

After the tram travel and the express one she was now standing in front of the Saint-le-Cross hotel,the place in where she will stay the night and in where her travel of an week will begin. And like if time wanted it to happen she entered to the lobby just exactly by noon. As she entered she saw an black haired woman of the same age passing by,through she didn't cared since first she wanted to find the guide and then worry about the rest of the passengers that she will know during the week.

"Excuse me where could i find Mr Andrew Wainwright and my apologies allow me to present me Tess Dileva from Mervay" says the girl as she bow in respect

The clerk looked up from his cross-word, startled. They still haven't all arrived yet?, he thought.

'Good day Mademoiselle. You will find Mr Wainwright in the Restaurant. I trust you are in the Railway Tour? Please do check in first with me.'

The clerk rifled through her documents and indicated for her to sign in the guest ledger.

'I believe luncheon is presently being served, so you may wish to join them and settle into your rooms afterwards. A porter will take your bag up to your room, if you so wish. I wish you a pleasant stay at the Saint-le-Cross Eastern Railway Hotel, and welcome to Great Nortend.'

Tess Perspective (1st person perspective)
So the guide is in lunch with the rest of the passengers. I better hurry because the least thing i want is that i'm lost them again. I sighed relieved that the sir told me in where they were and that they were gonna take my package to my room. "It will be great that someone takes my bag please make the favor and thanks i hope to have an good time here during my stay" i said as i leaved the package to the clerk for take it to my room and then walked to the restaurant,but i stopped since i forgot to ask in what room i'am and who will be my roomate "Excuse me if interrupt you again but what is my room number and with who i will share it??" Meanwhile i awaited the clerk answer another guy appeared booming out of nowhere. The boy has brown hair,an tall or average height,black jacket,etc. And at least for his way of entrance it kinda was to me one of those guys who felt superior to others and that well i could say that he is very,very narcissistic,egocentrical and one that he liked to show their wealth,the guys stood in front of me and took my right hand for an shake of hands. His name was David Dwarf... Oh dear,so i'm front of the guy who calls himself the true president of the US and head of the goverment in exile. This guy is know for this kind of personality and shows an complete air of supperioty. I decided to say just my name and then continue just with awaiting my answer from the the clerk "Tess Dileva nice to meet you" after that the guy went with his buisness as so i. However i've saw that he got attended about an problem and then he leaved to the restaurant. Meanwhile i awaited for my response "Excuse if i'm being repetitive and that but could you tell with who i will share my room and what number is please??"

[Kuronami]

As it turned out Akira's delayed arrival helped matters along; her blonde roommate (who introduced herself as Sirin Allen) emerged from the privacy of the bathroom, evidently freshened up and ready for the luncheon.

Seeing as she had no reason to refuse Sirin's invitation nor that she really wanted to do so -- if nothing else, she had learned in her decade in the food business that good fortune often knocked at places where one least expected it -- Akira replied, while still bringing out from her luggage bag the clothes, undergarments, and toiletries she needed, "Yoo can address me as 'Akira', Miss Allen." Letting a beat linger, the better to let the implication of that latest statement sink in, she continued as she drew out of the bag a particularly long yellow dress, carefully wrapped, and laid it to her side along with the other things she had brought out, "Thank yoo for takin' the trouble, and oof coorse I'll joun yoo for lunch. But first things first."

Briskly, she now closed, zipped up, and locked her bag, forced it upright then wheeled it to the side of the bed, scooped everything she had brought out with both hands, and dashed to the bathroom, where she would remain for the next twenty minutes.

It was 11:21 am when she entered the bathroom.

"Very well, Akira then. " She obliged Akira's permission to address her by her first name "In that case you may call me Sirin. I'm glad you'll be joining me then, it's no trouble at all." And it seemed she wanted to get ready and why not, a lady should look her best. "Feel free, I'll be waiting." She unpacked a couple of things herself while she waited on her roommate to finish, she didn't want to completely unpack everything just enough to get her through to tomorrow. While she waited she figured she'd take time to write something to send home to her daughter. A little greetings from abroad. Sitting at the desk she pulled out a fountain pen, dipping it into the inkwell provided here and scribed out a little letter. ink and paper always classy and she had excellent penmanship. Glancing at her watch it was now 5 minutes to 12. "Akira?" She gave a gentle knock, "Are you doing okay, about ready to go or would it be best I go on ahead and grab us a table?"

[Moscareinas]

"Nooo, please, Sir--," Akira had began to reply from the seclusion of the bathroom, only for great crashing and clanking sounds to follow in the wake of those words. Moments later she emerged, unhurt but quite the worse for wear, having had to crawl on her knees to get out. A quick look revealed the problem: she had become hopelessly entangled in her dress, so much so that parts of her anatomy that would be better left clothed lay exposed.

In other words, she was effectively half-naked.

Murmuring something about "haven't dressed like this before" and other low ramblings of that sort, as soon as Akira sat up and cleared her field of vision off of the endless feet of cloth she began to check herself for any conspicuous damage, to self as well as to costume. To her great relief there were none of either. So she resumed her speech, while still sitting on the floor, "We-ell, Miss Sirin, we'll both get too that table in time, but yoo'll... mind if yoo help me up?"

***

Minutes later, with a little effort from both ladies (getting the Moscan out of her unfortunate entanglement with her own dress proved to be a trying one), a now quite composed Akira and Sirin had found themselves seated on the same table inside the restaurant, just in time for the maitre d' to announce in tone of great enterprise the noontime fare. Putting her spoon on a freshly placed plate of soupe au concombre (a sickly green mixture with three delicate slices of cucumber and a smattering of leaves she could not identify) first, she said to Sirin in her ever-present accent, "Soo yoo ane a textill mill? Not in that line of bisiniss, but cooda spared me t' earlier trooble if I ever had t' fancy, noo?" Scooping up a slice of cucumber along with a generous amount of soup and gulping it down with gusto, she pronounced it "Toolerable. Good, actially."

[Great Nortend]

Boney Street 118,Asteria,Kingdom of Mervay
Tess Perspective (1st person perspective)
So the guide is at lunch with the rest of the passengers. I better hurry because the lastt thing I want is to lose them again. I sighed, relieved that the clerk told me where they were, and that they were gonna take my package to my room.

"It will be great that someone takes my bag please make the favor and thanks I hope to have an good time here during my stay," I said as I left my luggage for the porter for take to my room. I then walked to the restaurant, but stopped. I had forgotten to ask what room I was book into and who will be my roomate.

"Excuse me if I interrupt you again but what is my room number and with whom will I share it?" As I awaited the clerk's answer, another guy appeared, booming, out of nowhere. The boy has brown hair, an tall or average height, black jacket, etc. And at least by his way of entrance, he kinda felt to me like one of those guys who felt superior to others and that... well I could say that he seemed very, very narcissistic and egocentrical and was one that liked to show his wealth. The guy stood in front of me and took my right hand to shake. His name was David Dwarf... Oh dear, so I'm in front of the guy who calls himself the true president of the US and head of the goverment in exile. This guy is known for this kind of personality and shows an complete air of supperioty. I decided to say just my name and then continue just with awaiting my answer from the the clerk.

"Tess Dileva nice to meet you," he said before going on with his business so so did I. After he resolved his problem, he left to the restaurant. Meanwhile I awaited for my response.

"Excuse if i'm being repetitive and that but could you tell with who i will share my room and what number is please??"

'Certainly Mademoiselle. Your room number is Room 212, and you are currently booked in with Mistress Hakase. I hope you have a good day. Thank you,' replied the clerk. He was glad that Master Dwarf had been sated with the offer of a single room. 'You may wish, Miss Dileva, to hurry to the restaurant. They are likely to have finished the first course already by now.'

OOC: This juggling of time is getting to be a bit confusing. Can we all be settled and seated in the restaurant as soon as possible? Thanks.

[Mervay]

'Certainly Mademoiselle. Your room number is Room 212, and you are currently booked in with Mistress Hakase. I hope you have a good day. Thank you,' replied the clerk. He was glad that Master Dwarf had been sated with the offer of a single room.

Tess Perspective
"Have good day too,thanks".

I said meanwhile leaved finally the place and went to the restaurant. I just hope that,I'm not late or something like that. Meanwhile I walked over to the restaurant. I recived an call from home,it was from my father he asked me about the travel and in where I'am.

"I'm in the hotel in route to an restaurant in where the rest of the people is,look dad I'm alright and I call you if something happens alright,bye"

After that the call ended,I continued walking to the restaurant and after an while. I got there and being honest the place it didn't disapointed me,but well since this Europe it was obvious that the design will be of such style like an palace hall.

Once inside of it,I recongized an very excentrical dressed men and if,I'm not wrong that must be our guide. Mr.Wainwright,so I approach to him and present me.

"My apologies that,I'm late Mr.Wainwright but my flight got delayed because of an storm,ahh yeah allow me to present myself my name is Tess Dileva" I said bowing to him.

"If you don't mind,I will go to take my seat and eat something before we leave" After that,I leaved to sit and eat something.

Once sat down an waiter came and handed me an plate of soup. He told me about the other plates and being honest they were delicious,I remembered eat some of them during my vacation in France two years ago. The ones that catched my interest were the Bœuf bourguignon and
the civet de lièvre.

"Merci Beacoup Monesieur" I told him and begun to drink the soup.

I'm not an french speaker so,I was forced to use google traducer

[Smaze]

Enter princess Theresa

It was chilly outside, and the princess was happy to see that the group could now enter the restaurant. The warmth of the building made her more comfortable, and she felt good while walking through its hall. Theresa studied the grand architecture of the restaurant, and marvelled at the Nortan minds who put it up. She thought of a number of restaurants in Smaze that also had this quality of architecture and size, and only a handful of them popped up in her head.

She hadn't checked out her room yet; trusting the hosts to have accompanied her with proper stay. Instead: The princess waited outside whilst smoking a cigarette. Her journey had been stressful, but long travels were nothing new to Theresa. This cigarette was just what she needed. She normally wasn't allowed to smoke due to the constant paparazzi around. This holiday would be different, though: No paparazzi, no common people and no fuzz. In short: A brilliant vacation opportunity.

She approached the dining hall featuring a long table, where Theresa presumed the guests would lunch. She seated herself, and looked up at the maître d'hôtel. The princess did her best to understand the dining jargon, although her French was very rusty, as she hadn't spoken it in some time. She understood most of the important words: Cucumber and beef soup, cooked hare and duck. She inspected the waiters and waitresses who were serving the food, and noticed that they looked exceptionally clean.

Theresa curiously watched over her consummé. The soup had a dark brown texture, and she saw slight strips of beef drifting in the soup. She watched as Mr. Wainwright got up and lifted his goblet, and she was unsure of what to do. She carefully raised her glass of chardonnay, and quietly repeated "God save the king", and started eating the soup.


(OOC: To speed up the RP a bit, I asked the OP whether it was alright that my character was already checked in. Considering that the OP already wanted to start the dining about 8 posts ago, I didn't mind skipping registration.)

[Kuronami]

Nooo, please, Sir--," Akira had began to reply from the seclusion of the bathroom, only for great crashing and clanking sounds to follow in the wake of those words. Moments later she emerged, unhurt but quite the worse for wear, having had to crawl on her knees to get out. A quick look revealed the problem: she had become hopelessly entangled in her dress, so much so that parts of her anatomy that would be better left clothed lay exposed.

In other words, she was effectively half-naked.

Murmuring something about "haven't dressed like this before" and other low ramblings of that sort, as soon as Akira sat up and cleared her field of vision off of the endless feet of cloth she began to check herself for any conspicuous damage, to self as well as to costume. To her great relief there were none of either. So she resumed her speech, while still sitting on the floor, "We-ell, Miss Sirin, we'll both get too that table in time, but yoo'll... mind if yoo help me up?"

***

Minutes later, with a little effort from both ladies (getting the Moscan out of her unfortunate entanglement with her own dress proved to be a trying one), a now quite composed Akira and Sirin had found themselves seated on the same table inside the restaurant, just in time for the maitre d' to announce in tone of great enterprise the noontime fare. Putting her spoon on a freshly placed plate of soupe au concombre (a sickly green mixture with three delicate slices of cucumber and a smattering of leaves she could not identify) first, she said to Sirin in her ever-present accent, "Soo yoo ane a textill mill? Not in that line of bisiniss, but cooda spared me t' earlier trooble if I ever had t' fancy, noo?" Scooping up a slice of cucumber along with a generous amount of soup and gulping it down with gusto, she pronounced it "Toolerable. Good, actially."

"Oh dear." Sirin helped Akira get dressed, clearly she wasn't very experienced with western dress or at least high fashion clothes. But a few touches later she was dressed and the two were at lunch together at a quaint table just talking as if they were old friends. "Oh I did not realize it was that well known but yes, I do. Well it's a quite a few around the country. As well as one cotton plantation. Oh no need to be concerned we do pay our laborers and give them good living conditions." Plantations often conjured chattel slavery to some so she always felt a need to specify. "Yes, the food is delectable here. What about you, Akira, what might you do for a living? What brought you here to Great Nortan?"

[Moscareinas]

"I woork in the food industry," Akira answered, absentmindedly trying to pull something -- a calling card, perhaps -- out of a nonexistent pocket. Finding to her dissatisfaction that she chose a dress with no pockets sewed on and that moreover she had missed it altogether earlier, she continued, "Yoo may have heerd oof Sengoku Foods & Sweets. Choocleet and deery products. I'm the foonder oo' that gooing cooncern. But not too brag." Having finished her soup, she reached out for the civet.

[Kuronami]

"I woork in the food industry," Akira answered, absentmindedly trying to pull something -- a calling card, perhaps -- out of a nonexistent pocket. Finding to her dissatisfaction that she chose a dress with no pockets sewed on and that moreover she had missed it altogether earlier, she continued, "Yoo may have heerd oof Sengoku Foods & Sweets. Choocleet and deery products. I'm the foonder oo' that gooing cooncern. But not too brag." She reached out, plate, knive, and all, for the plat du jour.

"Ah the culinary arts huh? Well afraid I don't know a pot from a pan and I would surely burn water if I tried my hand at a stove so I leave it to those who know their work. The name rings a bell, oh yes as a matter of fact, I believe we have a shop or two in Kuronami, yes now that I think about it, two, one in Caloris and one in Sonomi. Yes, in fact I'm most certain I've shopped there once or twice to find a gift."

[Moscareinas]

Akira nodded approvingly at Sirin's words; three years ago, after a year spent smoothing out the inevitable difficulties of absorbing and consolidating what had until then been so many distinct companies under her direction, as part of its program of expansion, the new Sengoku Foods & Sweets had opened branches and distribution centers in 4 countries across the globe, including Kuronami. After a slow start owing to an initially low demand for artisanal dark cholocate products, a renewed PR campaign (including the setting up of an all-chocolate diet website, with paid sponsors and spokespersons) ensured the program's eventual success; by the end of the year, gross revenue had so exceeded expectations that the company was induced to buy prime cocoa-farming land, along the Niger river, the next year.

Secretly elated by what she took to be Sirin's endorsement, Akira swallowed up several spoonfuls of stew before remarking in a jocular if barely disguised entrepreneurial tone, "By any chance, you've tried arn all-choocleet diet? A baur's woorth of choocleet a day, keeps the fat away!" Shifting her voice to a low-key conspiratorial tone, she said further, "Now look at me -- I may not look it, but I was a loomer in my teens. Witted 'boot a hunnerd-seven-five or soomthing. Now the only loomy part is this!" discreetly pointing to her quite considerable chest with the handle of her fork while looking very mischievous.

[Kuronami]

Akira nodded approvingly at Sirin's words; three years ago, after a year spent smoothing out the inevitable difficulties of absorbing and consolidating what had until then been so many distinct companies under her direction, as part of its program of expansion, the new Sengoku Foods & Sweets had opened branches and distribution centers in 4 countries across the globe, including Kuronami. After a slow start owing to an initially low demand for artisanal dark cholocate products, a renewed PR campaign (including the setting up of an all-chocolate diet website, with paid sponsors and spokespersons) ensured the program's eventual success; by the end of the year, gross revenue had so exceeded expectations that the company was induced to buy prime cocoa-farming land, along the Niger river, the next year.

Secretly elated by what she took to be Sirin's endorsement, Akira deftly sliced up her portion of the hare before remarking in a jocular if barely disguised entrepreneurial tone, "By any chance, you've tried arn all-choocleet diet? A baur's woorth of choocleet a day, keeps the fat away!" Shifting her voice to a low-key conspiratorial tone, she said further, "Now look at me -- I may not look it, but I was a loomer in my teens. Witted 'boot a hunnerd-seven-five or soomthing. Now the only loomy part is this!" discreetly pointing to her quite considerable chest with the handle of her fork while looking very mischievous.

"All chocolate diet huh? While I do concur you have a slender figure and are well endowed but I'm not certain such a diet works? Then again you are the expert and I'm just a novice unless we're talking materials and clothing which is my real specialty."

[Great Nortend]

Peter sat down at the table, unsure of what to do. Here he was, in his own country, yet surrounded on all sides by foreigners. It was a curious sensation and he wished he could shake off his mild discomfort. Perhaps in time. French had not been a subject he had ever learnt, given the Nortan curriculum's focus on Latin, Greek, History, Mathematics and English, which continued into his University studies. All he could make out was that 'consomme de boeuf' sounded a bit like an order to consume beef, 'soup au concombre' offered the choice between soup and cucumber. He had no idea what 'civet de lievre' was, nor what sort of terrine a 'terrine de hareng' constituted of. In any case, he decided he would try them all.

After he had finished around his 'consomme', which turned out to be a beef soup, he turned to his neighbour, who happened to be his room-mate, Mr Boleslaw.

'So, Mr Boleslaw; I don't think I have introduced myself yet. I'm Peter Smith, from Haverham near Limmes, went to school in Stonly, near Limmes, and I suppose, now second-yearman at the University of Limmes though since the term hasn't started, I'm not quite sure if I remain a first-yearman or not. I'm sure we'll get to know all each other quite well during this week. How was your summer?'

[Camelone]

Nuallan was interested with what was brought before him, and the restaurant was built with a great taste in architecture and design. The food seemed to be good though French was never a language he focused all that much, English and Latin were the tongues he had focused on besides his native Gaelic. Raising his goblet Nuallan repeated the exclamation before he crossed himself and said grace quietly, trying the soup first he found it interesting, he was using that word a lot lately.

What really got his attention though was a woman speaking about something called a 'chocolate diet'. A diet that revolves around a treat? It sounds about just as plausible as a diet revolving around cake or some other dessert pastry, some of the usual teasa hogwash probably. Silently Nuallan continued to eat his lunch, it was not his business to get involved with the affairs of the teasa no his business was to sort himself out and mellow out, perhaps he should try out his courting skills. That thought prompted a small smile as he internally laughed at himself for that suggestion, he was never a really charming lad but practice makes perfect, who knows maybe he will actually find someone here. Among the teasa though he was not so sure, may want try at the very least. He looked back and forth trying to find some sort of conversation to join in but he was unsure of what to do, he didn't know the established hierarchy of this group making social moves more difficult... 'This is not court why am I thinking like that!' Nuallan thought to himself a little bitterly.