http://path-that-rocks.livejournal.com/ (
path-that-rocks.livejournal.com) wrote in
milliways_bar2006-03-12 10:02 pm
First Entrance
A tiny poof of ... smoke? mist? ... appears on the bartop. It resolves into a perfect three-inch-tall replica of one of the Milliways tables, with two chairs to scale.
In one of said chairs comes an even smaller poof of white cloud, dissipating to reveal a tiny white-robed figure with little feathery white wings, a halo, and a golden harp roughly the size of a Sacajawea dollar (circa early 21st century America).
In the other, almost simultaneously, comes a poof of flame, dissipating to reveal ... a tiny red-jumpsuited figure with little spiky red wings, horns, and a pitchfork that an ordinary human-sized patron might easily mistake for a salad fork if it weren't barbed.
Both of them are looking around in startlement. The red-clad one gives a short, dry laugh.
"What are the odds?"
In one of said chairs comes an even smaller poof of white cloud, dissipating to reveal a tiny white-robed figure with little feathery white wings, a halo, and a golden harp roughly the size of a Sacajawea dollar (circa early 21st century America).
In the other, almost simultaneously, comes a poof of flame, dissipating to reveal ... a tiny red-jumpsuited figure with little spiky red wings, horns, and a pitchfork that an ordinary human-sized patron might easily mistake for a salad fork if it weren't barbed.
Both of them are looking around in startlement. The red-clad one gives a short, dry laugh.
"What are the odds?"

no subject
"Nope. Sorry."
no subject
This is horrible. This is even worse than getting summoned before his hair's done.
"I, uh....I gotta go," he mumbles, sounding a bit choked up, and vanishes in a *poof* of white cloud.
no subject
And the other one vanishes in a *poof* of flame.