*1; phone/action
[She notices that something is wrong almost the moment she starts to drift towards consciousness. Only a few seconds later, she realises three things: This is not her bed. The blanket too light, the bed too soft, the scent of the room wrong, and even her clothes seem wrong, too soft, and there is a strange cap on her head. At least her husband is still where he was last night (she can hear him breathing). She opens here eyes and stares at the ceiling.
Not her ceiling, not in the least. A quick glance around reveals that nothing in this room is hers, not familiar in the least, not even something that she has ever seen anywhere. She reaches out, eyes fixed on the door, and grabs the shoulder of the man next to her to shake him awake, not yet realising that it isn't really her husband. There definitely is the beginning of panic in her voice when she speaks.]
Franz...? Wake up!
[Click. There is a pause, as if the person calling is waiting for something, and then the clear, level voice of a woman can heard. She does not sound bossy or rude, but is clearly used to giving orders and being in charge.
There is a clear hint of distress in her voice, though she is trying to cover it.]
Austria, Hungary, and any other subjects to the House of Habsburg present in this town, be you nation or human, report to me immediately.
I would also be most grateful to the person who can tell my how to change my place of residence in this city. It is of utmost importance.
[To everyone who would hang out in Mitchell 1445 for any reason, she is in the kitchen, clutching the phone a bit too tightly, in a state of dress that speaks of a situation where the wearer could not decide if they should rather get dressed or rather get out of the room as fast as possible. She's decent, but her hair is undone and she's wearing multiple layers that do go together somehow but were clearly never intended for that purpose.]
Not her ceiling, not in the least. A quick glance around reveals that nothing in this room is hers, not familiar in the least, not even something that she has ever seen anywhere. She reaches out, eyes fixed on the door, and grabs the shoulder of the man next to her to shake him awake, not yet realising that it isn't really her husband. There definitely is the beginning of panic in her voice when she speaks.]
Franz...? Wake up!
[Click. There is a pause, as if the person calling is waiting for something, and then the clear, level voice of a woman can heard. She does not sound bossy or rude, but is clearly used to giving orders and being in charge.
There is a clear hint of distress in her voice, though she is trying to cover it.]
Austria, Hungary, and any other subjects to the House of Habsburg present in this town, be you nation or human, report to me immediately.
I would also be most grateful to the person who can tell my how to change my place of residence in this city. It is of utmost importance.
[To everyone who would hang out in Mitchell 1445 for any reason, she is in the kitchen, clutching the phone a bit too tightly, in a state of dress that speaks of a situation where the wearer could not decide if they should rather get dressed or rather get out of the room as fast as possible. She's decent, but her hair is undone and she's wearing multiple layers that do go together somehow but were clearly never intended for that purpose.]