(no subject)

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

Svava makes her way down from the guest rooms, pausing for a moment on the threshhold to the bar. Its busier than she's all seen tonight, and she looks through the crowds for a familiar face. Any familiar face.

A faint smile of relief, with someone found. She heads over towards Liz.

(no subject)

[bobby-gadling.livejournal.com]

OOC: Out of Milliways (Hob & Lucifer)


note: in the bar, two days before

(no subject)

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

*Bernard stands up from the angel's table, his face mottled with rage. His arm is smoking; there's a sizeable burn.*

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO MY BAR? WHO DID THIS?

(no subject)

[bisley.livejournal.com]

Tim isn't quite sure how he got here. Is he really at a bar at the end of the universe, or is it just a drug-induced stupor? The presence of more than a handful of people he's usually accustomed to seeing in the pages of comic books, on posters on his walls or dotted around the comics and sci-fi shop in which he works doesn't help matters at all.

But what the hell. When in Rome... wear a toga. Going with the flow is probably the best thing he could do here.

He self-consciously adjusts the woollen hat upon his head. There are a number of people here dressed rather more smartly than he is. Then again, there are a number of people for whom "scruffy" is practically a job description; and compared to him, he thinks, that's saying something.

The one thing he can be sure of, though, is that he could do with a pint. Although he's rather less sure of how he'd go about asking for one.

Introductions

[kiamanawanui.livejournal.com]

Paikea, eyes so firmly fixed on the horizon of the ocean is surprised to see that she is no longer on the boat with her tribe, that she is now presented with a door which she cautiously opens entering into a strange bar setting. A lanky twelve year old Maori girl stands confused at the entrance, at first hesitant to ask where she is, slightly overwhelmed with the transition of her surroundings.

(no subject)

[green-eyed-luck.livejournal.com]

*she appears in a dark corner of the bar, casually stirring a green drink... but the way her gaze keeps flicking towards the door, the tightly clenched fist in her lap show she's not as relaxed as she first appears*

(no subject)

[the-player.livejournal.com]

*The Player looks around the bar for someone she knows. She is slightly drunk and now wearing Paul's sombrero. Seeing Indiana she heads over to say hello*

(no subject)

[muddypetticoats.livejournal.com]

Her conversation with Peter concluded, Liz has returned to the bar, and is seated at her accustomed table. Once again, the writing implements are before her, and once again, she is unable to find the proper words to put to paper.

Frustrated, she puts her pen down and reaches for her cup of tea, only to find that she has neglected to obtain a fresh cup. Pinching fingers about the bridge of her nose, she sighs.

In the same moment, however, she feels an surge of happy emotion, the precise form she is unable to label. She knows that it does not originate in her, and smiles as she realises the feeling comes through the link with Morpheus.

"Good for him," she murmurs.

(no subject)

[cirdan-quendi.livejournal.com]

*the door to the bar opens, and the ship-wright looks in, curious. He steps aside, and another figure staggers into the bar. The two are dressed not dissimilarly, but whereas Círdan's raiment is of greens and greys and silvers, the second figure is clothed all in black. Círdan's countenance is noble, and he glows with an inner presence, but the black-clad figure is pale, drawn. He seems blurred around the edges and, perhaps, just slightly transparent.

Círdan holds the door to the bar open whilst the second figure steps back outside. He reappears shortly, leading behind him a large grey horse. It is not coming easily - skittish, eyes rolling. As the black-clad figure drags the animal towards the back door, muttering under his breath, he nods his thanks back to the ship-wright. Círdan smiles and, as the second figure disappears out towards the lake, looks around the bar once more, shrugs, ducks back outside, and closes the door after him*

(no subject)

[aj_crawley]

*Crowley walks back in from by the lake, and, seeing the elf gone, turns to the bar. He orders a glass of Atlantean, which he downs.

Pale, tired, and... seeming somehow slightly transparent, he does not look what one might call well. However, he looks better than when he came in, the colour gradually returning to his cheeks.

He glances down at his clothes, and, rather more slowly than might be expected, they flicker back from elvish attire into his habitual garb*

(no subject)

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

[OOC: Post Milliway's entry]

(no subject)

[missing5th.livejournal.com]

As Anton Vowl gasps his last, his first sight is that of not a light, but of a door. His hand grasps a doorknob not of his own volition, and swings it outward to grant him a vision of what is within.

His first opinion is that of shock. "What? My soul's passing brings it to a bar, a pub? No choir? No pitchforks? What sort of post-mortal vista am I caught in?"

Back already...

[sharpe-as-ever.livejournal.com]

After some time last evening Sharpe had finally eased into Milliways and decided that it wasn't bad at all. Maybe Harper's suggestions were worth listening to after all.

He's decided to return again, this time sitting down by the window in order to keep an eye on Harper and the Chosen Men, whom he has been forced to leave outside. That's not a particularly strong loss, however - perhaps it's safer inside this way...

He finally relaxes and removes his greatcoat, again hooking it on the back of the chair, and contents himself by sitting at his window table and reading a letter from his wife Teresa as the familiar strains of Hagman's fiddle can be heard just outside.

(no subject)

[silverageflash.livejournal.com]

He comes down the stairs, in costume, after what seems like a particularly long nap. Maybe more than a nap. Looks about the place, and gets the sense that he's missed a lot.

Taking note of a bit of a mess, he pitches in. In about thirty seconds, dirty dishes are in the kitchen, chairs are back at tables, and whatever denizens of the place are sleeping off too- much-to-drink on the floor are placed on couches and chairs. He picks up a dozen or so pirate hats and takes them to the back of the kitchen, not sure why they're there or what to do with them.

"Bar, a Swiss and American cheese omelette, two eggs, well-done; a cup of Sumatran decaf, light, three sugars; a glass of orange juice; and the August 23, 1977 sports section from the Central City News."

The bar produces breakfast, but it comes up short on the sports section. All Flash gets is a photocopy of the story he was looking for, about a particularly exciting baseball game he recalled between Central City and Star City. He takes his meal to a table and reads the story, and wonders what other reading material - if any - he can get.

Waking up...

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

There's a creaky measured tread from the stairs as a lean young man in hard-wearing and hard-worn clothing comes down from his room. There's a hat cocked back on his head and a thin blonde beard spread over his cheeks. The poncho and the gunbelt he left upstairs.

Joe treads over to the bar and glances at his tab. The gold peice he'd handed over would have been worth about twenty dollars in Sante Fe and it looks like he's been offered a fair exchange. After two shots and a bed for the night he's down two dollar and a half. Fair enough, for the service, he guesses. Time to put a bigger dent in that though, his stomach tells him.

"Uh, bar? You know what the Last Breakfast at Millie's in Kansas City is?" he rasps. There's no reason to assume it will, but no real reason to assume it won't either. It does.

A thick earthenware plate appears, then a bed of flapjacks, a layer of home fries, then a steak in the middle of this nest. Two fried eggs go over the steak and a rasher of bacon over the eggs. A thick cut of ham on one side of the heap, grits with syrup on the other, and a huge hunk of bread with butter and a pot of thick bitter coffee round things off. A minute later, a mug, a fork and a steak knife appear next to the plate.

He watches five dollars spin off his credit with no regret whatsoever. He's starving. "And cigarillos, please." A cellophane pack appears, nothing he recognizes, but when he pops the carton open he knows what he's looking at. An ashtray and matches have also conveniently shown up.

[OOC: A bit of wish fulfillment... had all 4 wisdom teeth out just recently and I'm going nuts on bananas and pudding.]

(no subject)

[blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com]

::Brennan walks into the bar and goes over to the corner table, avoiding looking at people. He's not very happy with himself right now::



[[OOC: responses will be slow for a few hours]]

(no subject)

[maydaybrat.livejournal.com]

A stranger walks into the bar, smoking casually and not looking that surprised to be here. Mordred Pendragon had always been good at hiding his emotions, and being dead only helped the matter. Silently padding over to the bar, he finds a seat.

"Vodka, if you would be so kind." The voice is a soft one, but the kind one obeys.

(no subject)

[garcon-dor.livejournal.com]

There was a ringing in his ears, a hum of voices and the occasional shout that reminded him of the battlefield he had left...

...but it had been night, then.

Galahad opened his eyes and looked around, hand straying nervously to a sword that wasn't there, oh, yes, that had fallen into the grass after he had heard that Mordred -

Mordred

His eyes didn't get much further than that.

[OOC: Must be what, the tenth new character tonight? Veritable explosion of us, it seems.]

(no subject)

[wensley-them.livejournal.com]

*Wensley sits in a corner booth. He's pretending to read, but he's looking at the rest of the room far more often than he's looking at his book.*

(no subject)

[eldorne-girl.livejournal.com]

[ooc: Out of Milliways Post (from about a week ago). Delia-Thom conversation]

(no subject)

[empath-wiggin.livejournal.com]

*Valentine wanders into the bar, looking rather haggard and spent, but comfortably pleased. She picks up her tray form the bar and leans on it, scanning the room for either familiar faces or people needing assistance.*

(no subject)

[maid-of-astolat.livejournal.com]

Elaine was not sure just how long she had been sleeping slumped on this table, but when she woke up, the bar was empty, and it was next day. She stood up a little stiffly, and pushed her hair out of her face. She must look a mess, but she is beyond caring.

She wanders around the room, very hungry. She has seen people order from the bar, but is not quite sure how to do it. Most of the early patrons of the bar are men, and Elaine is shy of them. I do hope there is a place to sleep properly for me later...I do not wish to spend another night on a table.

Finally, Elaine manages to climb upon a barstool and sits, unable to read the menu board or any of the other signs in the bar. She chews on her lip and fiddles shyly with her death note.

(no subject)

[http://users.livejournal.com/mystina_/]

Mystina yawned as she made her entrance from her room. She stretched her arms behind her head, and gave a quick glance about. She was still sleepy, despite how she was asleep for most of the day. In fact she could have very well stayed in bed, though that would get dull very quick. As much as she was a fan of escaping reality through dreams, she was also too practicle to waste her time lounging about all day. That certainly wouldn't get anything accomplished. That... and she was hungry.

Her leather bound book was with her again, but then after she spend half the night writting in it it would be quite a shame for her to lose it now. She passed the windows, and paused briefly to glance to the scenery of the end of the world. A small smirk, "So that's what ragnarok looks like." Well not quite, but it was her own private joke.

The young sorceress shook her head and turned to the bar. Ah yes, food. She aproached it and sat down at an empty seat, crossing her legs. She was dressed in the same decorative violet top and brown leather skirt as the day before-- simply because she had no other clothes with her. She placed her book down before her and gave a small thought on what she'd like to eat. It's been a while since she was hungry really.

(no subject)

[son-of-amber.livejournal.com]

*A very morose Prince Corwin enters the bar. He is dressed in a black sweater, jeans, and black boots. The belt which bears Grayswandir has a silver buckle which is engraved with a small rose.

He walks to the bar and seats himself on a stool. "A pitcher of beer and two glasses," he mutters. When they materialize, Corwin fills both glasses with beer. He raises one in a silent toast, drinks it down, and refills.

The second glass remains untouched.*

(no subject)

[a-head-case.livejournal.com]

Bill woke up a few hours ago, slumped over the table he'd bumped into and then sat down at after arriving last night - seems he was more tired than he'd suspected. He's just been watching people since then, but now his stomach is having a go at reminding him he hasn't eaten since lunch yesterday, so he heads over to the bar.
Trouble is, even though he's hungry, nothing really sounds particularly good.
"Er... bar? I need some food. Anything you'd recommend?" He digs some money out of a pocket and sets it on the bar; it disappears and is replaced with a plate of things that look exactly like onion rings don't. He picks one up, takes a bite, and smiles.
"Brilliant. Thanks very much." That done, he heads back over to the table (why change a perfectly good pattern?).

(no subject)

[ulfin-kingsman.livejournal.com]

Ulfin sits in his usual place, looking around for familiar faces.

(no subject)

[be-holden.livejournal.com]

*standing behind bar*


To go with Gil's specials we have a 1985 Opus One Red, or a 1995 Mersualt de Beaune. I don't know what those are but the Bar tells me they are good.

Can I get anyone anything?

(no subject)

[mogget_cat]

*The white cat slinks down the bar a little ways, then lays down to make himself comfortable. He sighs and lays his head down on his paws, looking for anything interesting that might be happening elsewhere in the bar. His bright green eyes look slightly glazed.*

Two set peices in one day, I have no shame

[joewithnoname.livejournal.com]

After a big breakfast and a disturbing conversation with Angelo, Joe had spent the body of the afternoon roaming around the bar, and after finding it, the lake, which was almost too beautiful and green for eyes accustomed to the desert to handle. He'd also seen some strange creatures in the distance, though, and once again he was pre-occupied with being disarmed.

He approaches the bar furtively and leans close before he speaks. "Bar... can I have a gun, please?"

When he was a kid they would go into Kansas City two or three times a year, and always in the big glass window of the mercantile was The Gun. Not a gun, The Gun. Easily twice the size of his mother's little pistol that he'd learned to shoot on, with a huge wooden stock to balance the long gleaming barrel. It was a patented revolver, and he'd known without ever touching it the tension he'd feel under the hammer and the trigger if he had it in his hand.

It was, basically, the same drive that would send kids of a hundred and thirty years later buying Nikes and Louisville Sluggers--the simple childlike faith that with the right tool skill would come not by hard discipline and practice, but descending from Heaven like a mantle of greatness.

The gun that appeared on the bar was a perfect replica of The Gun.

A perfect replica in chocolate.

(no subject)

[timsbooks.livejournal.com]

*Storms out of the staff wing, glaring around the room, specifically looking for the asshole from last night, but just in general looking for any trouble... He takes his normal seat, still preoccupied with watching the bar.*

(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

*Tonks arrives, yawning and looking a little worse for wear. She strides over to the bar*

C'n I get a shot of Firewhiskey, please?

(no subject)

[trinity-inblack.livejournal.com]

The woman with the short dark hair in the shades and skin-tight leather looked around from her place in what appeared to be a foyer of sorts. She made a short call on a cell phone, and then started walking towards the bar.

(no subject)

[spectral-skin.livejournal.com]

Angelo comes in, barefoot as is his habit, and makes for his usual corner. He doesn't have his guitar with him right now. Grabbing a beer from the bar on the way, he looks around for anyone he knows.

(no subject)

[redeemed-one.livejournal.com]

He enters from the House of Arch, having accepted Tom's offer to stay and been keyed to the charm. He looks haunted, if well rested. He has spent most of the past two days sleeping, trying not to remember.

He takes a seat at the bar and pulls a small device out of his pocket. He toys with it, looking down at the bar.

(no subject)

[equivocal-miles.livejournal.com]

[OOC: Pre Milliways post]

Taking a step into Milliways, Miles's face goes through a quick change of emotions. A mix of determination and mischeviousness morphs into confusion, as he pretty much -stares-.

This is -not- the Vorkosigan kitchen.

"Excuse me," He finally says, after a moment of silence. "Would anyone mind telling me why there's a bar here?!"

GWUMBLE CAKES!!

[terific-athlete.livejournal.com]

*Homestarrunner finaly moves after standing at the bar all night long staring out at the people. He turns to the bar and asks for some grumble cakes, which the bar gladly gives him. He picks up the plate and begins walking to find an empty table.*

(no subject)

[gil-whimple.livejournal.com]

*trots in from the kitchen carrying the usual huge tray filled with bowls of nibbly stuff and goes to the blackboard, pauses to wave at Angelo before writing*

Tonights Specials!

Rack of Venison with red currant sauce

Pheasant casseroled in red wine

Tofu burgers

Caramel shortcake with fudge sauce.

*adds in small apologetic letters*

Aplogies to the clientele of Milliways for last nights 'salmagundy'. I have fed it to the squid.

*begins tour of room, setting bowls of crisps and nuts on the tables*

(no subject)

[ff-ambassador.livejournal.com]

*The door of the bar bursts open, and Inara stumbles through with her eyes closed. She stops when she runs into Tim's table.*

Ooof! Oh gos se, i am so sorry! That was my first attempt at coming back here intentionally and I wasn't sure it was going to work.

*Gives Tim an apologetic smile and heads towards the bar*

(no subject)

[fantome-d-opera.livejournal.com]

He enters from the front door. Should someone look out, they would see a room which is only distinguishable by its lack of feature. Grey walls, ceiling, floor. A grey piano, identical in visible texture to the surroundings. Grey bench, grey cat-pillow on the floor under the piano. A few touches of color. The fur on the pillow is cream and cinnamon. Parchment is creamy yellow. A quill pen in white, black ink.

Ayesha is draped lovingly around Erik's shoulders, sleeping. He is glancing at the piece of parchment in his hand as he steps into the bar from purgatory.
( singing from the parchment )

(no subject)

[terific-athlete.livejournal.com]

*Homestarrunner finaly finds a table, sits down and sets up his sign......"COME GET SOME GRUMBLE CAKES! They are the BEST!"*