(no subject)

[creator_raven]

Raven is settled in an armchair by the fire, legs sprawling over one arm, head tilted back across the other.

It's better than stretching, in some ways.

He's holding a plate of cookies on his belly, and occasionally eats one.

The rest of the time he hums, fingers picking absently at the unravelling sleeve of his coat.

Comments

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

You know those claw drop games one finds tucked in the corner of most video arcades? The one with the really nifty gifts inside that you just can't quite seem to grab before time runs out?

Clink

An open grappling claw lands on the plate of cookies, attached to wires leading up to the rafters. It shifts slightly as the wires are tugged on, and then the claw closes, carefully, around the edge of a cookie.

Whrrwhrrwhrr

And yea, the cookie did ascend on high...

[creator_raven]

The sound Raven makes it not entirely unlike a snore.

And his eyes are clo---

No. No, they aren't.

And at the moment he's peering up into the rafters, one hand hovering protectively over his plate.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

Shutting the barn door once the horses are out, huh?

The cookie sways in a cross-breeze as it is winched up into the rafters. There is, perhaps, one bit of space above the rafter that the cookie is headed towards that is more dark and solid-like than the rest of the space.

Maybe.

Ace is being sneaky, yes.

[creator_raven]

Raven sends another cookie arcing up toward that space.

It is fortunate, perhaps, that cookies are crumbly.

They do not hurt very much when they hit.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

A chain of events is set in motion.

1) The thrown cookie, unnoticed by Ace, hits Ace in the head.

2) Ace, surprised and startled, jerks on the winch.

3) The cookie, which is attached to the winch, and really isn't meant for stresses like that, crumbles.

Cue the cookie bits showering down on Raven.

[jackdriscoll.livejournal.com]

It must be doppelganger night at the fire, because Jack's seated there, too. Thinking.

[creator_raven]

Raven blinks at him, tilting his head a little.

It looks funny on someone who is lying down.

[jackdriscoll.livejournal.com]

Still thinking. Still looking into the fire.

Perhaps Raveh should hit him with a cookie.

[creator_raven]

If only Raven were seated on the couch, he'd hit Jack with a pillow.

As it is he just laughs, quietly.

"Better if your face does not stick so, yes?"

He would say this even if Jack had no expression at all.

Because Raven is an ass.

[jackdriscoll.livejournal.com]

Jack closes his eyes and raises his eyebrows. "Hello, Raven."

[misterparker.livejournal.com]

"I'm serious," Parker says, suddenly in the chair across. It'd be like magic, if magic had been trying to get Raven's attention for the past few minutes with hand waving. "Oatmeal chocolate chip. You'd love 'em."

[creator_raven]

"I would have to obtain them first, I think."

Raven blinks at him from his prone position.

Comfort is vastly underrated.

[misterparker.livejournal.com]

Parker blinks and twists his mouth, weighing beer and cookies. Sighing, he thinks outside the box.

"PBR and oatmeal chocolate chip?" he asks a passing waitrat.

[creator_raven]

Raven grins.

"You are required to spell?"

[misterparker.livejournal.com]

"The beer?" Parker grins. "Best beer on Earth. Pabst Blue Ribbon." He says it firmly, the way he would say Mary, mother of Christ.

[last-adam.livejournal.com]

From somewhere, who knows, really, likely their room back in the staff quarters, comes an antichrist. Not particularly happy or sad or anything, really, but he sits.

He doesn't even need a cookie because his mun already had some.

[creator_raven]

He gets one anyway.

Hello, Adam's midriff.

Meet airborne chocolate chip.

[last-adam.livejournal.com]

Oof.

Cookies don't go into bellies through the skin. Well, they can, but it tends to frighten the mundanes. Instead, Adam catches it and pops it into his mouth.

"Thanks."

[creator_raven]

Raven wrinkles his nose.

"You are welcome, perhaps."

[last-adam.livejournal.com]

"Just perhaps?"

There's a wink, there, and a grin.

[theravenboy]

Bran approaches, harp cradled in his arms. He is not likely to let go of it today.

"Hallo, Raven."

[creator_raven]

Raven looks up, grinning.

"Bran. Things go, I hope?"

[theravenboy]

"Things, as you are saying, go," Bran agrees. "How do they go with you?"

[creator_raven]

Raven considers this very carefully.

One hand is still idly toying with the threads on his coatsleeve.

"Well enough for going on with, perhaps."

For now.

"This place is too small, sometimes."

[theravenboy]

"I know." Bran does not miss Raven's twiddling.

After a moment, he says, "It is a lovely evening at home tonight. Not too cold, and the sky is clear. I have promised before that you could come flying."