03 December 2004 @ 03:03 am
 
* As the lights come back on, Indy looks around the bar. Spotting both Val and another man being traced by a very familiar red line, he frowns and checks his own back again by walking around a little. He utters some choice words of thanks as he notes that his trodden path is still clear of all tracers *

* With that, he chortles to himself as he watches the line's new owners being doggedly tracked. They don't seem to be too unhappy about it however. He shrugs *

The people at this place never cease to amaze me... but... better them than me I guess

* He finishes his drink and heads for his room, blissfully free of any unwanted followers *
 
 
03 December 2004 @ 01:25 am
 
Warren gallops down the stairs, hand tightly around the cerebral dampener in his left pocket.
 
 
02 December 2004 @ 11:56 pm
 
* If someone were to look very closely into one of the a dingy corners of the bar, they might see a faint red blob measuring about six inches in diameter. This little blob looks as detached and lonely as it is possible for a blob to look when its not at the end of a line on a map. It watches Indy enter with a curvature of loathing *
Stupid Jones! He ain't so clever. I could reattach myself to him any time I wanted. But... if he doesn't want me... fine!

Hell... there are probably dozens in this place who would love to have a useful route tracer like me. Hansel and Gretel knew the benefits...


* With a slightly evil snicker...*
He won't be feeling so smug next time he's lost in one of those catacombs!

* The blob shudders and pokes out a thin tendril of a red line, as if stretching. Then, with a tiny swoosh of resolve and determination, the circle fades out *
I don't need him...
 
 
02 December 2004 @ 11:05 pm
 
And it's enough with the moping, and on to the thinking. Val comes in the back door, pulling a wagon behind her. Don't ask how the tent had a wagon. Reasons All Its Own. In the wagon is piled a huge pile of tree branches. She stops in a corner of the bar, walking over to the bar proper, and rummaging through some stuff, returning with a mug of tea, and a roll of twine. Sitting down next to her branches, she starts humming to herself, and making the branches into a wreath and some garland.

Sleigh bells ring, are you listnin!
In the lane, snow is glistnin!
A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight...
Walkin' in a winter wonderland!
 
 
Current Mood: cheerful
 
 
30 November 2004 @ 10:58 pm
 
* The red line is confused *

* It curves itself into a watery question mark as Indy walks carefully downstairs... backwards. After two days spent successfully dogging the aggravated archaeologist, the line hovers dejectedly on the landing, before fading out to gather it's thoughts *

Ha!

* Indy blurts out a triumphant exclamation and glowers suspiciously at the vacated air until he is satisfied that the line is not going to return. Sporting a smug grin, he backs towards Alanna. Suddenly there is a loud thunk *

* Meanwhile, the line plots *
 
 
29 November 2004 @ 10:45 pm
 
* Disgruntled, Indy wends his way across the bar, still ghosted by his red line. It ribbons its merry way down from his room, out of the back door and once round the lake... for a breath of fresh air as it turns out. It then gets a bit criss-crossed as Indy finally caught sight of his faint red trail as he was rounding the shore line *

* At this point Indy decided to try and lose it by stepping over it and ducking under it a few times... and then by weaving haphazardly through some trees. Of course, these actions were to no avail because the 'line' is not so much material as conceptual *

* Unphased by the attempts at evasion, the line happily traces his route back into the bar, pulsating enthusiastically in a bold crimson color... with a nice dark drop shadow. With a grunt Indy settles in next to Mike and orders his usual. The line fades *
 
 
28 November 2004 @ 08:45 pm
 
* Indy wanders in from upstairs. About halfway down the staircase he hesitates, looking quickly back over his shoulder *

* A translucent red line hangs ethereally in mid-air behind him, tracing the route he took from his room, with a small red circle marking the spot where he paused to tie his boot laces. The line disappears before Indy can focus on it. He gives a small grunt and continues over to the bar, the line blinking back on as soon as he turns around. As he pulls out a stool and sits down, the tracer fades slowly out of existence *

* Once he has perched himself comfortably, the rugged adventurer attracts the attention of an idle wait-rat. A few minutes later, he happily curls his hand around a short glass of bourbon and looks around *