(OOM(s):

we never discussed
anyone's reservations)

On nights like these, Regulus is grateful for prefect duties. It gives him a convenient excuse to be out after curfew, so long as he doesn't push that (not that Slughorn would be in any hurry to reprimand him anyway), and so long as he can't sleep, he may as well be doing something.
(He suspects tonight, it's on account of the owls he sent earlier in the day. He wasn't expecting an answer from Sirius, but part of him was a little disappointed not to find one this evening. Then again, Merlin only knows if Sirius has found the bloody thing yet.)
When he rounds a corner and finds himself in Milliways, he only pauses for a moment before heading for the fireplace. Honestly, if he weren't going back to school he'd be half tempted to get a drink, if the Bar will let him.

He could use a distraction.

For those of the bar who've never seen Tsu'tey, it's often the cause of shock when they see a seven-foot tall (down from his usual ten) blue leonine alien with a semi-prehensile tail sitting in a chair with a bead loom in front of him. He's quite a ways accomplished with a very large and quite intricate hanging with a multitude of colors and geometric patterns.

His ears are flicking back and forth as he works, listening passively to the people around him.

Ibani's third trial, a 'trial of knowledge', has been given to her. Harkun's expression of malicious glee when he ordered her to retrieve a holocron from the tomb of Marka Ragnos betrayed just how much he wants her dead.

The rules prohibit him killing her out of hand, but assigning a deliberately impossible trial is perfectly permissible. Great Lords of the Sith have tried to retrieve that holocron from its stone prison for more than a thousand years without success, but if Ibani does not produce it within 24 hours she will fail her trial.

And Harkun will take great pleasure in killing her. Slowly.

So it's hardly surprising that her thoughts are heavy with anger and despair when the door to her quarters leads instead to Milliways.

She startles, reaching for her weapon, as the Door closes behind her. This....this isn't Korriban! There is no feel here of the Dark Side, and the gravity is far too light, only about one standard gravity.

Would someone care to explain what's going on?

(OOC: Tinytag: The Sith Inquisitor (Ibani))

[OOM: entr'acte, in which Loki talks to himself a bit before patching up his dead wife's body. Apparently relationship-crazy is an STD... thanks, Weyland. And Skaði. tl;dr: have a song instead There is totally nothing unhealthy about this situation.]

Which explains the pale, bony but mouth-scar-free woman on her way up to the bar tonight: Sigyn-shaped Loki has long, light brown hair, and is dressed in the simple clothes of the ordinary people of her kind; her only jewelry is a necklace made of baby teeth, Loki's customary sacrifice. She is trailed at a discreet distance by a vampirate bodyguard, mostly to make sure she can get back to the room safely.

Well, she's got to build up her strength, and the foods they have upstairs for Jack and Egil she can't eat yet. Start small--asphodel and wine, if you please.

Botherable. Probably creepy, but botherable.

 It's cold outside!

Well, except for a certain inlet, but that inlet doesn't count.

What does count is a large snowdrift, fluffy and comfortable, and the large polar bear-dog curled up next to it, which between them provide a suitable windbreak for the fir burning merrily by the lakeside.

Korra is sitting by the fire, warm in her fur and leather, cooking freshly caught fish by shooting fire at each one in turn.

Food is delicious!

Once, Ibani was a slave.

Now, she is an acolyte on Korriban. Training to, perhaps, one day become a Lord of the Sith.

If she survives her final trials.

The First Trial.

The Second Trial. (OOC: Warning for torture, murder, and other such unpleasantness.)





(OOC: Tinytag! The Sith Inquisitor (Ibani))

[OOM: So many directions
I don't know which way to go
I'm so busy doing nothing
I got nothing to show]

Joshua comes into Milliways early in the morning, has some breakfast, and then plays a video game on his phone. There are yet again plants and zombies involved.

Eventually, he gets up, goes for a run around the lake a few times, comes back in, and has some lunch.

After lunch, he paces around for a while, muttering to himself, and then pulls out his laptop for a vaguely generic fantasy-world-based video game.

He probably could use a distraction during any of his wanderings today.

Out of Milliways, in Sitka, Alaska:

Five years and four months after Raleigh Becket left the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps, Marshal Stacker Pentecost tracks him down.


Spoilers for Pacific Rim.

Howard enters in his best overcoat and a fine fedora, and places them over a neighboring chair. He orders a cup of hot coffee, cream but no sugar, and looks like he needs to defrost a bit.

Company is welcome.

There's an elf lord in the forest. He's warmly dressed in wool, leather, and furs. He is walking slowly among the trees and he wouldn't mind company.

Katrina is stuck in misty autumnal woods. They are endless, and there is no time. There is no point in walking about, and no time to walk about in.

She knows this. As she knows many, many other things.

And still, she walks out of the woods today, through an only slightly more mundane forest where there's snow on the ground already, and towards a deceptively small house by a large lake, whit glens and mountains in the background.

There is still no time, but she's taking some for herself.

If you walk in the mountains at night, from far away, you might see what seems like a creature with horns.-


[[OOC: Establishing post; not for tagging -- reaction tags welcome!]]

{[OM: Kirk's new mission is not one he wants. At all.]

The Eric stepping inside the Bar tonight is not quite like the Eric who's been here before.
He is dressed differently, his cropped hair scarcely long enough to brush against his tall, starched collar in the back, his whole attire sleek and understated as it suits a man of wealth in this age of prospect and progress.

But those changes are small compared to the changes brought about within him in these last few years. Months. Days.

Last night.

When he sees Milliways rather than his rented lodgings, he is obviously surprised.
And, judging from his small smile, pleased.

Despite the century and some that has passed, this place has changed little it seems. And he could do with a break.

He strolls toward the Bar, an imposing figure in black and white, the top hat adding to both his height and his elegance. As does the cape.

Black wool. You simply cannot beat it when it comes to hiding stains.

[OOM: technically still in Milliways but on his own in the garage. The mark on the wall that you kick when you fight in the dead of the night ’til the voices are still.]

Jay drags himself up to the bar to grab some coffee. Very strong coffee. Anything to stop him from falling asleep. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

He sits down on the couch by the fire, sipping his coffee but all too soon, the warmth of the bar and the comfy couch wins and he falls asleep, mug still in hand.

But the dreams that claim him are hardly good ones and he groans with pain, shifting till he’s close to spilling his drink.

Waking him up or leave him be; your call.

The winter evening drags on slowly, the fireplace littered with perishing ash. The Knight sits in a nearby armchair yearning for daybreak or at least an end to tonight's mournful thoughts of Elsa. The book open in his lap gives no such comfort in spite of his hopes. He leans his head on the chair's wing, drowsy, almost dozing.

Tapping birds with limited vocabularies need not apply.

(OOM, backdated to Tuesday:

and I say whoa, whoa, step on the brakes
do whatever it takes to stop this train)

Tonight, there's a delicious smell coming from the Milliways kitchen. If anyone sticks their heads in, they'll find a pair of Donovans busy cooking spaghetti.

They'll shoo you out of the kitchen while they're cooking, but when they're done, there'll be plenty to share.

[oom: Fry meets the new neighbours. Mum decides he needs to learn to stay safe in the bar, and he makes a new ally.]

Fry has set up his train set on top of the bar today, and is methodically pushing the little engine around the tracks.

Periodically, Bar provides him with additional obstacles, so soon it has a tunnel, a signal, and some little station people which he lines up in a straight line.