16 April 2006 @ 10:29 am
 

After the excitement of yesterday, Walter's back to being Walter. Sweeping the floor of the bar like he didn't fight off an Opera Ghost yesterday. Just busying himself around at being Walter.

Until he stops in the middle of the floor and stares. At the door.

Quietly, unobtrusively, Walter stumbles over to the kitchen and returns his broom. Then he makes his faltering way to the front door, and slips out.

His Mum needs him. The Opera House needs him.

The show must go on.



fin
 
 
15 April 2006 @ 10:03 pm
 
[OOM: On stage in the Ankh-Morpork Opera House, the two Ghosts face off... Most dialogue taken directly from Maskerade by Terry Pratchett.]

The door flies open.

There should, it seems, be a crash of thunder lit by a flare of lightning sillhouetting a dark cloaked figure in the doorway... But there isn't.

The figure is dark and cloaked, however, though minus his mask. But the unsheathed rapier and the expression of insane viciousness on his face more than make up for that lack.

Someone is not having a good day.

(Ahahahahahahaha!!!!!)

[OOC: Plotlocked. Please see backroom post for details. Plotchat is located at 'fiveexclamationmarks' Because one can never ever have too many canon references.

If your character just wants to watch/flail? Feel free to start or tag into a thread with one of the observers below. Just think of the main (first) thread as a floor show, baby.]
 
 
08 April 2006 @ 04:34 pm
 
Mary Lennox is sitting by herself, at one of the larger tables in the bar.

She needs the table space for her current activity - copying out her map of India, rather battered at this point from constantly being carried to and fro from Yorkshire to Milliways, onto a large piece of tracing paper.

She's being very careful about the lines. It wouldn't do to accidentally mis-copy a road and find oneself on the way to Bangalore by accident.
 
 
06 February 2006 @ 04:43 pm
 
At the bar, there waits a white rose in the fullest of bloom - showing its last burst of beauty and scent before the soft petals begin to shrivel and darken. Tied to the dark, thorny stem with a scarlet ribbon, is a note.

Antigone )
 
 
20 January 2006 @ 02:14 pm
 
The music's running out of time, and it knows it. But for right now?
Everything's still going just fine.
So, musician with rocks in inna bar, over by the piano (has he even moved since he got here? Who knows?), enjoying the chaos.

Well, mostly enjoying the chaos. Somewhere in there, he's more than a little fed up with the current state of affairs.
Anyone have a well-timed distraction?

(OOC: Is plotty! You know who you are.)
 
 
10 December 2005 @ 11:06 pm
 
There are patrons everywhere.

(Take your turn, take a ride)

The Bar's a big place, when you think about it. People everywhere, going about their lives, or unlives as the case may be. All day. All night, so far as 'day' and 'night' apply in this place/time.

(on the merry-go-round)

Some of them are being watched.

(in an inhuman race)

Not all at once, obviously. But over the day (or night, as it may be) the time adds up, and these eyes see much.

(But who can name the face?)

The patterns are clear when you know what to look for, and he knows.

(Masquerade)

They are all so operatic.



[OOC: Salzella is not visibly around. But do tag this post with your pup doing something completely normal, wherever they are in the bar, and the Ghost will reply with one of his trademark roses to be delivered. No obligation to do so - no obligation for follow-up if you just want them to recieve one. Fair warning - he is not a nice man. No.

EDIT: Gone for sleep. However, all tags will be replied to in slowtime!]
 
 
11 June 2005 @ 09:17 pm
 
Susan Delgado's in the bar once more, on the couch by the fireplace again, and with hot chocolate nearby as usual.

Her golden hair is loose and unbraided and mayhap a little windblown-- which might explain why she's currently trying to untangle it, say true.

[Summary: Rent!Angel testifies to Susan and Cuthbert about Roger's good character, really; Tom Riddle comes to apologize for way-back inadvertent breakage and then demonstrates to Susan that a broom really does fly-- eventually convincing her to try it herself.]
 
 
10 June 2005 @ 02:58 pm
 
*Andrew comes thumping down the stairs, and heads for the bar to grab some lunch.*

*He gets a surprise with his order, and grins at it. Meg's told him they've caught the stalkerboy who was leaving these stupid things.*

*So that's good. And things with Jonathan are ... possibly, just possibly, looking up in a way he'd hardly dared to hope.*

*And there's only one item left unchecked on his To Do list: Pack.*
 
 
03 June 2005 @ 03:20 pm
 
*Meg's in the bar, sitting at a counter, with coffee, scowling down at a notepad.

There's not much written on it. Inspiration is just not coming today.*

[OOC: Meg and Tony meet again, after a long time, and discuss topics ranging from the relative weirdness of bar patrons to the right words for relationships to the likelihood of getting murdalized in the 24verse; Meg learns about Kitty and Edmund's custodianship of her wee cousin Derry; the Phantom is sinisterly sinister, and Meg is unwisely dismissive; Claire and Meg plan their next line of attack on the Photographers of Doom, and discuss Milliweddings; Meg commiserates with Faith on the wedding of Dooom, with fairly cracky predictions for the future; Val is pregnant and depressed and Not Caring, and Meg tries to talk her out of it.]
 
 
19 May 2005 @ 07:36 pm
 
Maria is singing quietly to herself--Ani Difranco, if you want specifics--as she sits, curled up in a booth, with a copy of The Wizard of Oz.

Some books you're never too old for.

Her mun has no idea how good she'll be about replying, but will try.
 
 
Mel comes into the bar from the Staff quarters.

No, I don't know when she moved in either. Must have been in the last week or so. It's not like she has a big room, or anything,

Anyway, she's heading out towards the lake for her pre breakfast swim. She's happy to talk to you, though, if you catch her in the bar or at the lake.

Except now she's sitting at a table, spinning a headless rose stem thoughtfully between her fingers, not looking particularly happy.

[OOC: Fine, I'll do it in small text as well. Faith and Mel have a brief chat about Mel's sex life (because clearly someone's been telling the entire bar about it), Then Mel is sung at by the Opera Ghost, left a rose and talks to Salzella about his ghost problems. Finally Mikey turns up for comfortations, and this last is slowtimed.]
 
 
 
16 April 2005 @ 03:04 pm
 
*Meg stumbles downstairs and sits down at bar, scowling down at a coffee cup.

She looks vaguely headachey, but will deny that fact to any and all comers.*
 
 
10 April 2005 @ 10:03 pm
 
In any crowded room, the noise level fluctuates. Even if there's usually a fairly loud buzz, the noise can sometimes become so loud that you can't hear a conversation with the person next to you. Conversely, sometimes the noise drops to almost deathly silence.

During one of these natural silences, a male voice fills the bar. A rich tenor, it doesn't appear to have any particular origin. The unaccompanied song may or may not be familiar to the patrons.

Night time sharpens
Heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs
And wakes imagination
Silently the senses
Abandon their defenses

Slowly, gently
Night unfurls its splendour
Grasp it, sense it
Tremulous and tender
Turn your face away
From the garish light of day
Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light
And listen to the music of the night

Close your eyes
And surrender to your darkest dreams,
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before,
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar
And you'll live as you've never lived before

Softly, deftly
Music shall surround you
Feel it, hear it,
Closing in around you
Open up your mind
Let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night

Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world,
leave all thoughts of the world you knew before,
let your soul take you where you long to be,
only then can you belong to me.

Floating, falling
Sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me
Savour each sensation
Let the dream begin
Let your darker side give in
To the power of the music that I write
The power of the music of the night!


If anyone should happen to glance into the rafters near the end of the song, they might see a flash of a white mask and a swish of a black cloak. Then nothing.
 
 
09 April 2005 @ 10:49 am
Mop and bucket in hand, Walter pushes open the gents’ bathroom door and starts to mop the floor industriously. His way of movement, as if he's about to fall over and is just using the mop to stay upright as it flails from side to side almost randomly, doesn't seem the best way to mop a floor, and yet somehow there's no large puddles of water forming and the floor gets mopped expertly.

The bathroom is empty right now. Walter is aware of this as he cleans each cubicle methodically. Then he stops in front of the mirror over the sink and stares at his reflection.

Without breaking eye contact with himself, he slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out the mask he picked up yesterday...

And straightens up dramatically, almost with a flourish.

Milliways has acquired itself another Ghost...



... he pulls the mask off and continues to mop the floor.