29 January 2007 @ 11:16 pm
 
is my beginning is my end

The front door opens, slowly, and a cold draft gusts through the room.
...I will be watching then as I watch now.

Beyond the door is a gaunt young man in faded black, his back to the room, barely silhouetted against a slowly whirling vortex of darkness. He staggers back away from it, apparently involuntarily, into the warmth and light of Milliways.
I will praise darkness now, but then the leaf.

The door closes, and melts away into the wall.
 
 
29 January 2007 @ 11:08 pm
When a door last opened between the house and Milliways, two months ago, eleven people came stumbling through.

And two were left behind.




Don't cry. There's always a way.
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 11:20 pm
 
(OOM: Millitimed to last night: Ace goes to find a god-type that she can trust. That's what brothers are good for.
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 04:02 am
 
Roxas has been adjusting to his new life well. Mainly he wakes up in his little single room apartment (he's not quite sure how he's gonna pay for that, actually) brushes his teeth, dresses, comes down to the bar for breakfast or lunch or dinner. Time seems to work oddly in this place. And once he's done that...well, mainly he just sits around until he's tired and goes to bed.

Fun times.

Right now he's sitting by the bar, holding a baby blue popsicle (Sea-Salt ice cream FTW!) and licking at it happily. Not in a suggestive way you sick people.

Very botherable.
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 04:00 am
 
Alien, sitting at a table, half-asleep.
The other half is trying to read Bullfinch's Mythology.
So far it's not helping him stay awake.
He finally puts it down, rubbing at his eyes.

Feel free to poke him. With or without stick.
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 03:20 am
 
[After escaping the house, Dale Cooper does three things, only two of which can be thought of as productive, only two of which have nothing to do with coffee, and only two of which don't involve vomiting.]
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 02:33 am
 
The front door slams open.

Beyond is a scene of utter pandemonium, walls heaving and tilting, a floor cracked in ways that defy physics. One after another, eleven people come tumbling through into the bar. The door snaps closed almost too soon, almost catching somebody in the arm, but it does close, dividing them from the house and the house from them.

There's a brief stretch of silence. Then, one of the people -- John Constantine -- stands up and straightens his tie.

"Sweet Jesus, I need a drink," he says.
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 02:23 am
 
[Out of Milliways:

Don't cry;
there's always a way.

Here in November in this house of leaves we'll pray.
]
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 01:24 am
 
Brian's in one of the booths, head hanging off the seat and long legs stretching up the wall. He's having Fun With Pens, today! The rubber around his trainers is decorated with weirdly menacing smiley faces, the left knee of his jeans has the lyrics from the theme tune to Bucky O'Hare, and he's currently working on a design around the base of his left thumb. Kinda like a snake or something, although his artistic skills could be better and it appears to be eating its own tail...

It'd be nice if it were a marker. That way you could kinda excuse the weird positioning and the singing about toad-stomping. But nah - it's a biro. It's just Brian.
 
 
Current Mood: chipper
 
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 01:12 am
 
[OOM: Suite 134

Mike and Bar react.

When one door opens....]
 
 
19 November 2006 @ 12:34 am
 
Raguel's just in from the lake, but he hasn't been practicing much tonight. He started out with good intentions, really, but was distracted by a regular fireworks display of shooting stars.

A few minutes by the fire and something warming to drink, and then he'll be back outside, staring at the sky from the side of the lake.
 
 
Current Mood: enthralled
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 11:30 pm
 
[OOM: Bad Day.]

Jack comes back down after a couple hours of loafing around, trying to calm down.  It hasn't worked that well; he's not as jumpy as he was, but he still feels jittery, a little shaken.   He could use a drink, but it appears Bar is siding with his cardiologist; when he stops at the bar, a large mug of hot chocolate appears, its surface dotted with marshmallows.  Maybe not the healthiest thing, but better than booze.

He's not rattled enough not to see the gesture for what it is, and he gives Bar a pat in thanks before heading over to one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace.  Maybe if he sits close enough, he'll feel a little warmer.
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 10:41 pm
 
It's hard to tell when it happens, but that isn't of the utmost importance. What is important is that it happens, and what happens is this:

There is a door inside Milliways where there should be no door at all, one made of smooth, white wood. Its knob is a perfect glass sphere. It's standing open a foot, two feet, maybe a bit more -- that, too, is hard to tell.

Whatever lies beyond it is in utter darkness.



[ooc: open to all for noticing, but plot-locked for actually stepping inside.]
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 10:23 pm
 
Charlie McGee's in the bar, in jeans and a grey blouse, sitting on a barstool and drinking a rum-and-coke (light on the rum).

She's open to conversation.
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 10:23 pm
 
[Not quite out of Milliways:

Upstairs, Johnny Truant discovers something unusual.]
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 09:33 pm
 
[Out of Milliways, and into Twin Peaks: Cooper has been dreaming again. Audrey drops by for a visit.]

The front door opens, and Dale Cooper closes it, looking tired.

Looking, also, for Gabriel Tam. Cooper will be a little surprised if he can find him, but if he doesn't look, he won't find him at all.

Said almost to himself (almost) as he heads for the bar (because a cup of coffee sounds like the best idea in the world right now), "Yes, the newspapers were right -- snow was general all over Ireland."
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 08:57 pm
 
Was supposed to be in the bathroom of Labyrinthe, a new club on Broadway.

Not here.

His hands are wet.

Water isn't that color.

[ooc: Feeling ill, forced slowtime. Sorry.]
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 08:33 pm
 
"--but but but it was like. It was like Dr. No, but more and better! I've never seen a Bond film that good in my life!" Bernard enthuses, stumbling through the door, Crowley on his heels.

They've been out.
 
 
18 November 2006 @ 08:32 pm
 
Tom walks in, dressed for a comfortable night in. No robes, no ties, just a blue jumper and corduroy trousers (you can take the man out of 1954, but sometimes you just can't take the 1954 out of the man, even when you try very, very hard.)

Saturday nights with nothing to do but pop round to the pub are happy nights indeed.