[Aside: This is just...pure, unadulterated nonsense. Mostly just a means to an end. Not worth a read, essentially, not that any of my other self-rps are, but, you know.]
The building was tiny, more of a shack, really. It hunched in a corner out of the way of anyone's gaze, and anyone who did look at it was unlikely to give it a second glance. There were certain enchantments to achieve such an effect, and this one was very good; the only way to see through it was with a certain pass. A scrap of paper marked with a stylized Q, of all things, and you could see the truth.
It was small, true, and flat and generally unimpressive, but it was nothing like the little shack visible to the uninitiated. Black walls and evenly spaced columns and enormous double doors loomed at its entrance. While the sign looked to those without the paper too faded to read, anyone with the pass could see the ominous lettering: Office of the Orchestrator.
She was late. Not normally a huge concern, but she'd already received a number of vaguely threatening letters telling her the time of the orientation, and she didn't want to know whether the Orchestrator would follow through. She flew up to the doors and very nearly panicked when she couldn't open them, but shortly thereafter a mechanical hand shot out and snatched at the pass that was wrapped around her leg. The hand and the pass disappeared into the wall, and a moment later the doors creaked open.
There was a desk in the dark room beyond, but it was unoccupied, and another open door seemed the way to go. She glided nervously down the dark hallway, glancing left and right until she entered one final door, which slammed shut behind her. Here there was another desk, and all kinds of creatures milling about in the shadows. What was with this place and lighting?
A pair of bright green eyes glinted from above the desk, reflecting light from a source unseen. "Now that everyone is here," said a voice, "maybe we can actually start registering you assholes."