2: A mattress with half the stuffing torn out.
4: A silver platter, complete with plates and silverware.
5. Logs from one of the fireplaces.
10. Something of your choice, appropriate to a hotel.

Peeling off her coat and scarf and gloves, Misha looked around the clusters of people in the lobby. They were terrified. Understandably so, really, she thought as she remembered what greeted her the moment she had stepped through Hestia’s fire. The birds were big, bigger in person than anything like them could or should be. They were mean and focused and fixated on their target. With wings and talons that both could cut… Misha shuddered and wrapped her arms around her torso.

She had been healed the moment she set foot in the hotel but she still remembered the worry and pain from the journey. If being a Chosen meant fighting giant metal birds, maybe she needed to rethink this. She saw movement out the corner of her eye then and smiled reflexively, sunshine-bright and warm as anything. No one could see you sweat. It had been her personal motto for many years and god-Chosen or metal birds or Swiss Alps be damned; nothing was going to change it.

Misha forced herself to release her hold and lower her arms. Then she turned on her heel to observe the lobby itself. It was probably quite nice at one point but now it looked a perfect shambles. Furniture was spread throughout, some of it broken and reused in other ways. Some of it just lay about, discarded. People huddled under blankets. Low talking filled the air.

She stepped towards a half-covered window and frowned. A flutter of wings outside the glass set her nerves on edge. The window needed to be fully covered. She looked around again.

A mattress spilled springs and stuffing to the floor, a rent in the fabric. Misha nodded. That should work. She reached up and tied her dark hair back more firmly in a ponytail. Then she dusted her palms together dramatically. It was not going to be easy but the tenants of the hotel seemed too worn out and scared to be of much help. Certainly, she could manage a measly twin mattress.

She bent and gripped it, fingers tight. A small, almost ladylike grunt escaped her as she managed to budge it a few inch. “Hm, not so much,” she muttered under her breath. This was going to be more trouble than she thought. She straightened, propping her hands at the small of her back, and eyed the mattress. It was just leverage, right? Just like moving stock or set pieces.

With that new perspective, Misha bent again to grab at the mattress. Her fingers sunk into it to find a good hold and, squinting with the effort, she dragged it over to the window. “Geez, that sucked.” She shook out her hands and, before she could lose her momentum, hoisted the mattress on its end. With a shove, she tipped it to lean against the half-barricaded window. When it threatened to tip back over, Misha grimaced and braced it with one hand while she glanced around for help. Some logs near the fireplace presented an option. She scampered over quickly to snatch them up and push them beneath the edge of the mattress. It helped some.

Straightening, Misha eyed the impromptu structure. Not quite good enough, she decided. With a smile on her face for everyone, she sauntered around the lobby as she looked for other options. By the time she returned to the window, she had gathered a silver platter and some lengths of a damaged curtain set. She wasn’t quite sure how the silver platter would help in defense but… Her expression lit up and she laughed under her breath.

She slipped to the side of the mattress and, with a wiggle, she managed to insert the platter between the mattress and the glass of the window. Reflective side out, she hoped it might act on these birds like mirrors did on normal birds. AKA they would fling themselves at it hard enough to break their necks. Then she tied one end of the torn curtain to the window sash fastener tightly. Stretching it around the mattress, she tied it on the other side to the opposite hook.

Misha stepped back and beamed at her work. “There we go,” she murmured, fists on her hips and dainty chin raised. “Looking good, Misha, my girl.” Now… Time to find something else to do or someone else to talk to; that was quite enough busy work for her for the moment!

Total: 738