milliways_bar | Oct. 5th, 2005

Oct. 5th, 2005

She's at the end of the bar, on her favorite stool, drinking a White Russian.

Maybe she's always been there.

[ooc: dial-up, yo. Be gentle with me.]

river_meimei

River is in the bar.

She's not wearing Roland's duster.

She's sitting in a booth, breaking a handful of twigs into smaller and smaller pieces. Not quite glowering at the pile of fragments.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

[OOM: Mark is getting frustrated.]

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

( Secrets and plans... )

[OOC: Delia confirms Indy's suspicions about Adam and Alanna, but refuses to give up the secret of her amazing coffee. She does give up something though. Poor oblivious Mike. Contains implied oral sex.]

shadowsusannah.livejournal.com

[OOM: After this, this.

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

[OOM: After this, this.

inquisitivehero

OOM: Night Reading
(ooc: highlight for whitetext in OOM)

A disheveled looking Hank McCoy comes down the stairs, with a large tome in his hands.

His feet trace an unerring path to a booth, where he settles into a seat. A waitrat delivers a large mug of coffee and without looking up, a hand snakes out and grabs it, lifting it to his lips. He drinks and then sets it down, his eyes still on the book.

If you look closely, he is pale and slightly trembling, but reading nonetheless, rather fiercely.

The book's title?

The Memories of Hank McCoy.

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

Arithon Is me I am, yes? No? Perhaps someone else, what is going on am I why here I should be locked up... enters the bar. Barefoot, in jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt. No sword, no knives. Just...Arithon. If I am who I think I am.

no-more-chianti.livejournal.com

Clarice heads downstairs in her usual jogging clothes: shorts, sneakers, t-shirt. Today, however, she's added a gray hooded sweatshirt to keep out the morning chill.

"Water, Bar?" she asks with a smile, and drinks it down as quick as she can. She's thinking of crisping leaves and the silence of the trees.

When she reaches the door, she hesitates for a moment, then turns as she usually does to the door out. It's a habit, maybe a ritual, down to the maybe-I-won't pause. Today, she turns the knob.

Gray morning light greets her as it opens.

Oh, my God.

It's Quantico, but it isn't the same almost-spring scene she left-- no, the leaves blowing across the concrete are browner, the sky is that flat gray found only in the autumn months.

Six months ... a little more ...

Oh, my *God* ...

[OOC: Slowtime necessary, as I'm at school, but do go ahead and poke the suddenly Unbound girl! Xander'll be in later.]

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

Amanda walks up to the bar and orders a cup of coffee and a croissant. She takes a seat at a booth and continues to her reading. She looks a little uncomfortable but that doesn't necessarily mean she is in a bad mood.

Come and have a chat.

kindred_spirit

[oom: On Monday, in (and just out of) Room 203, Caspian and Amy talk, Gilbert and Caspian meet, and Anne makes a cameo appearance. Because the muns are quite possibly insane, and why use two pups when you can use four?]

prettyhelen.livejournal.com

Helen's in the bar, at a booth, with a large volume in front of her. To her, the book is quite possibly one of the most fascinating things ever. Come ask what she's reading!

(ooc--mun may have to slowtime, due to class, but feel free to tag anyway!)

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

Garion trots downstairs, looking rather presentable. He's in his good doublet and hose, though the sword is still strapped over his shoulder as it has been since he saw Torak in the bar, and his hair is actually somewhat in order.

Something, as they say, is up.

fire-of-mahal.livejournal.com

Those who are looking for peace and quiet out by the lake will generally find it, unless they approach the stone building whose sign proclaims it the smithy of Gimli, son of Gloin. And even then, they will likely find more of it than usual today. The great forge-fires are not running at full strength, nor is the mighty bellows being worked as powerfully as usual. The smoke from the chimney is less- not absent, but less.

On the other hand, if one listens at the window or the door, one will get quite a good education in the very, very bad portions of the Khuzdul, so that may affect the local peace and quiet just a bit.

red-mare.livejournal.com

Having slept well away from the woods this night past, Jah-lila shakes herself off this morning and heads down to the lake. There is much to be seen here, and much to be considered, as usual.

And then, since she has yet to encounter one of the pards of her home, there is running to be done.

auntie-di.livejournal.com

A pile of green confetti, three mouse traps and twelve marshmallows are sitting on a table.

And Diana is in the bar, trying to bait the traps.

The quite air is occasionally torn by a snap and a sharp yelp.

Because there are some things even Keepers can't manage.

lt-naraht.livejournal.com

The Door bangs open and in glides a visibly pissed off boulder carrying a slim, metal case.

"With all due respect, Commander," it calls over its metaphorical shoulder. "Not only is Commander Scott's and Dr. McCoy's request to check calibration on the transporter biofilters ahead of you in the queue, but I would think it also has a slightly higher priority than your subspace ripple sweepers given that we're heading into a possible plague situation."

Only when the Door closes does Lt. Naraht realize that hir is no longer on the Enterprise.

"Good. I needed a break."

The Horta heads over to the Bar and pulls a credit chip out of the box. "A good thing I thought to store this with my tools. I believe this will recover the remainder of my tab and then some, Bar my dear."

The chip disappears and the tally next to Naraht's name on the tab board changes from negative to positive. "Thank you. And if I could trouble you for some white or pink marble? I'm in dire need of relaxation."

The order appears and Naraht bobs a bit in a sketchy bow. "Again, my thanks."

And so, our intrepid Horta takes hir treat to a certain low-standing table for the purpose of forgetting certain extremely irritating superior officers.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

Dr. Mal is in the bar, looking a bit confused because--(his mun is Millitimed liek wo)--time is shifting on him a lot lately, and he's not sure whether it's morning or evening.

Right now he's sitting at the bar, trying to decide if he should be ordering a coffee or a scotch.

Helpful suggestions welcome.

(ooc: slowtime, anybody?)

gone_byebye

It's a good morning. It really is. Ray got eight or nine hours of sleep last night, and there were none of the freakydeaky dreams he gets around here from time to time. He found his Incredible Hulk slippers right away without having to wake anyone up or step in Cthulhu by mistake. When he practiced his Sumerian in the bathroom, his accent sounded all but perfect, and he could remember all his incantations backwards, forwards, in his sleep, blindfolded, and with one arm tied behind his back.

You probably don't want to know how he tested that.

Anyway, he's not one to waste a good morning like that, so he heads downstairs to the main Bar with a spring in his step and a tune ready to be whistled- those who would know such things might well recognize the sound of "The Last Saskatchewan Pirate", as he's whistling it to himself when he comes in. Today, he thinks, he'll get the install done on Eddie. He'll talk to Andrew or Giles, either one. And- who knows? Maybe he and Sooty and Eddie and Garion will be able to get started on their mission, and he'll have a good crack at going home.

Ah, home. How he does miss the hydrocarbons and volatile organic compounds of New York. It'd do his heart good to smell the city's reek, even if it's not his New York, and so he opens the front door for a whiff of Central Park West. . .

And for a moment stands there, just stands there, utterly paralyzed by the sight of what lies beyond, before slamming the door shut and pinning it closed with his back. A quick observer would notice hints of a blackened sky, but only hints. The gigantic white marshmallow LEG filled the doorway too much to make out more than that.

October 5, 2003 was Gozer day.

It's no longer 2003- the clock in San Dimas, as it were, has finally caught up.

Congratulations, Dr. Stantz.. It's a Milliversary retrospective!

k_in_black

K strides in through the Front Door, slipping the shades off and into a pocket as he takes a seat at the bar.

"Bourbon, please, Bar."

*bamph*

"Thank you, darlin'."

(ooc: slowtime anyone?)

trustntheharper.livejournal.com

[OOM: Harper's Ritual.]

lvpd_sidle

It was cold when Sara went outside for her morning run. So now she is curled up by one of the fireplaces, drinking cocoa and thumbing her way through her scrapbook.

She is not adverse to interruptions.

cywyllog

Cywyllog is in the bar today, sitting by the fire. She's not as depressed as she could be, but also not in quite as good a mood as she was forcing herself to be in yesterday.

In order to stave off boredom, she has asked the bar for some embroidery supplies, because every self respecting princess knows how to sew. It has, however, been a few years since she's attempted it, and frankly she was never very good to begin with, so she's struggling a bit. But at least she's keeping busy.

Feel free to distract her.

xan-shaped.livejournal.com

Xander is in the building.

This is not, perhaps, news.

However, Xander is downstairs in the building, actually in the bar and looking like he's in the mood to socialize.

He might do something productive later.

armoralchemy.livejournal.com

Al likes delicate work.

It's difficult to work with his hands. They're not precise, huge as they are, and without a sense of touch, certain manipulations are virtually impossible.

So sometimes he does small things, just for the practice of it - changing the shape of glass, picking it up, drawing tiny, ornate alchemic arrays, even though he's progressed to the point where he no longer needs them. Now he has a small sheet of glass, and he's practicing on it.

He claps his leather-and-steel hands and places them on the glass. A tiny, hollow ball appears in a pit on the surface of the glass. He reaches out and picks it up between his massive thumb and forefinger, but the pressure is too much and the ball shatters.

"Ah!"

nita_callahan

[OOM: Nita dreams.

Some time later, Nita and Kit confront their host. Spoilery, and long.]

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

OoM: Tom finds out that Arithon is having issues Millitimed to before Arithon goes crazy.

deserved_it

Eustace is still not quite used to Milliways.

Which is not really an excuse for being anti-social.

The mun's brain not working very well at the moment, now, that might be an excuse.

Regardless. He's at a table, considering a chessboard and playing against himself.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe is shooting bottles off the stone wall near the forest. Danny is sitting at a safe distance, watching him like the good half-grown puppy he is.

Interruptions welcome.

abotticellilady.livejournal.com

Bianca normally tries to look and act human. And, normally, she succeeds.

Tonight...she's not trying. Her movements after she walks in the front door are liquid, graceful - but no human could walk like that. No human has that bright glitter to their eyes, and most of them don't absently bring a finger to their mouth to suck off blood, either.

Tonight, at least at the moment, Bianca looks completely like a vampire.

[summary: Svava's back from Gay Paree, they go to her and Archie's apartment for B's present and then they start to tear up a little. Slowtimed. Bianca mets Billy briefly, but runs to Arithon when she sees him. They cling, and go to the House of Arch for FTB - so, mild warning?]

moroccofor1year.livejournal.com

*Penny is back down in the bar. She's about decided it's time to go home. She's stil not feeling wonderful, but she doesn't look as sick as she did when the bar decided to drag her in. She's sitting in a booth with her iPod... She's not contagious and would love some company.*

fearcrow.livejournal.com

[OOM: There are more questions, and no answers.]

There is a Jonathon Crane inna bar, on a lunch break.

Not terribly unusual, but he looks a little more collected than he did last time. And he has no desire to become slightly drunk again; the fuzz in his mind was irritating.

He keeps this in mind, and-- "Coffee, Bar?"

It appears (with food, because Bar knows him too well), and with the book Through the Looking Glass, and Jonathon sighs at it. "...thank you."

He takes these things to a table and sits back, observing the place.

forsaken-bard.livejournal.com

After spending yesterday with his mother, Joar Addam has returned to the bar proper.

He is becoming more acclimated to being alone in his head, and as such has been a touch more pensive than usual. His black suitcoat is draped over the arm of the chair as he sits in it gazing off into space. His instruments rest in their cases at his feet.

Something catches his eye.

The Door.

The little boy sits up with a start and glances at it.

(Every piece of music must have its ending, and this Door was mine.)

[OOC: Locked to Lyrae.]

sai_delgado

She's gotten a great deal accomplished today, and when she comes in through the lake door, Susan Allgood is smiling, a little, despite the chill that can't be entirely banished by the afternoon sunlight.

And so, it's not long before she's curled up on the couch by the fireplace, hot chocolate in hand-- or at hand, rather, while she undoes her braid to let her hair fall free.

on-holy-ground.livejournal.com

Darius came in and ordered a pot of hot water, a tea mug, and a rather odd variety of moss along with a tea strainer. He then made his way over to a table and settled down to have a nice cup of tea. As he let the moss seep in the water, he watched the room to see if anything of interest was going on.

Current Mood: calm

underwater-owl.livejournal.com

Amberite in the bar.

Shifting nervously.

He's just waiting.

That's all.

kitchen_maid

[oom: Last night, in Room 203, Amy gets practical about being Bound, a sewing lesson from Anne, and a new dress.]

And now, here she is. New dress, new shoes, and properly out of her room for the first time since, well, since she went into it. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, for a long moment. And then she throws back her shoulders, takes a deep breath, and steps forward. Princess and kitchen maid, neither and both.

Ladies, gentlemen, and others, ~~the Ordinary Princess~~ Amy is in the bar.

Come say hello?

the_lioness

[OOC: Ramon is free, relatively speaking.]

silver_flecks

The Lady Mania

(not Del--not well--things are all wrong, and oh, she's

SO

ANGRY

that the colors are

bleeding

out of the fireplace)

enters.

"I wAnT hAnK mCcOy. NoW."

just-a-soldier.livejournal.com

Because people insist on breaking my pup, Aeryn's at a booth. She's been sitting there a long time, staring into space, or the bar, whichever you prefer. There's a plate of untouched food cubes in front of her and she seems to be pretty miserable. If you talk to her, she'll probably put on a brave face. Better yet, send someone silly to cheer her up!

Current Mood: sad

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Through the front door he walks, intent in his very movement. The time is come, and he has only one chance to make sure that it is done correctly. A quick scan of the evening's patrons, and he spots Moiraine, sitting serenly.

You will do this, Rand, he reassures himself, and makes his way over.

nita_callahan

[OOM: Interim Destinations. MAJOR spoilers for Wizard's Holiday.]

waiting-there.livejournal.com

[ooc: After this. Gren and Julia talk about their pasts in Julia's Room.]

bothbutneither.livejournal.com

( upstairs in Julia's room, the morning after the night before )

oneman_onevote

Havelock was having a peaceful cup of coffee, before he noticed the door. The door that he had not seen in months - over half a year. He finishes his coffee before going over to examine it.

When he tries the handle, it opens onto a dark, narrow street, which he looks at thoughtfully for a moment before letting the door close again. Eight months. And now he can get back.

Come and talk to the newly-unbound assassin.

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

Eddie has spent a couple hours looking for Happy Hour specials, but he's not been able to pick out a theme.

This might have something to do with the incredible tension in the room when Susannah was there, and how empty it was when she was gone.

Anyway. He's looking forward to Happy Hour, regardless; he's always been able to lose himself in performance and jocularity. But he needs a hook...

He grabs the chalk and writes:

Instant Happy Hour

Just add customers.

YOUR OWN COCKTAIL, invented on the spot.

Give me a NAME, and I'll give you a DRINK.

Stump me and DRINK FREE FOR THE EVENING.

There we go. Happy Hour is go.

gorlim.livejournal.com

Gorlim is sitting sideways on a booth bench, his legs stretched out in front of him and a cup of tea on the table. There is also an infant on his lap, again giving Eilinel a few moments of peace to take a nap in their room. She is remarkably unfussy, apparently entertaining herself with the very sparkly blue stone hanging around her daddy's neck. He's not terribly worried about this. Mithril takes a gumming and keeps on humming. And it's too big for her to get all the way in her mouth.

He is also reading comic books. That's not to say he necessarily understands them, but they have very pretty pictures, and easy to understand words (he can read, he's just more accustomed to tengwar letters), and while this world and these kinds of peoples are VERY different from his own, they are nonetheless elves, and trolls, and humans, and approximately familiar things.

So! Come have a chat, even though his mun has to go to stage crew in 45 minutes and will disappear into slowtime until later tonight.

Current Mood: cheerful

deadirishdemon.livejournal.com

And there is Pointyface, with Killian's Irish Red and a boiled potato.

Somebody's feeling patriotic, perhaps.

robinton-harper.livejournal.com

Robinton and Zair, in an armchair.

His harp is at his side, though his eyes occasionally drift shut.

Ask for a tune and he'll play you one.

gdspeedmrcarson.livejournal.com

It is a complete and utter fallacy that pilots frequent airport bars.

But for the first time in his thirty year career spanning across continents, Captain Richard "Rich" Starkweather feels the need for a little intoxication. A little "hair of the dog" if you will.

Especially since he just spent four hours talking to homeland security, another two hours consoling his newest flight attendant, and forty-five minutes trying to find the damn canadian terminal.
Newfoundland. Not one of the more exotic locales he counted among his list.

The weather outside was chilly, but Rich accepted that as par for the course considering the cold-front they'd crossed through over the Atlantic. He learned about this secondhand of course...

I did nothing to help her. And I could have. I could have prevented everything.

When someone dies onboard a pilot's airplane it gets to them. It hits them hard. Even if that person was a total failure as a human being. Even if that person was a master orchestrator.

Richard stumbles into the bar, not really recognizing any of the occupants or the decor. Moody, depressed, and visibly shaken.

A few moments later he puts his head down on the counter, form shaking.

Current Mood: tired

mumbling-truth.livejournal.com

There was a contemplative poet in the bar now, idly fiddling with his food. At least the gardening work kept him focused on that rather than his worries and concerns. But now with nothing to distract Todd, the earlier stress had returned.
He wished there was more he could do or say to help, but he couldn't think of anything else right now that would work.

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

Archie's in the bar, looking tired, worried, nervous, perhaps even a bit twitchy. And his tea is growing cold. He is watching the people very carefully, he's not had the best couple of days, and he's certain that he's not the only one.

badinlatin

[OOM: Mal spends the night in Milliways. Recommendation? Millitunes as per ooc comment.]

It's the first time Mal's come downstairs all day. He hadn't really been feeling hungry. Or, y'know, capable of high motor functions.

But he's here now, and he moves, slowly, up to the bar.

"Can I have a Scotch, please? And a t-bone with some mashed potatoes?"

A glass of cranberry juice appears next to a salad.

Mal can be heard to curse something about an elephant's digestive problems as he takes his food to a booth. His mood has not greatly improved.

faithful-slayer.livejournal.com

[OOM. Millitimed to last night, Faith and Maria have a sleepover thinger. There is romantic advice, Very Old Brandy, ice cream, party games, and of course, Breakage. Because what Faiththread would be complete otherwise?]

sullen-seeker.livejournal.com

[OOM: Time passes quickly for Krum.]

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Standing from the table where he's sitting with Moiraine and Dream, Rand straightens his back and makes his way to the front door. Instead of opening it, he weaves a Gateway, which snaps into exsistance in front of him.

"The Wheel weaves..." he murmurs, and with Moiraine following, steps through to the wintry plain beyond.

loveinalocket.livejournal.com

Shiori is awake, visible, and in the bar, looking for answers. She may also be writing a letter on napkins, and has been for quite a while, judging by the piles of discarded paper around her. Come try and give her advice.

devils-dandy.livejournal.com

Montparnasse is at the bar.
And because it is a bar, he has a drink.
He's also just eaten, despite claims that the mun never feeds him.
He's been nice (for the most part) lately. And by lately we mean over a month now.
Come, take advantage of it early.

perfectblue.livejournal.com

Illyria's out by the lake. If left to her own devices, she'll be doing things like standing on her head, or battling imaginary foes, just to keep in practice.

Someone really should tell her about the demonbunnies, before that tree over there gets it.

Come interrupt her. She probably won't accidentally knock your head off if you do.

[also feel free to poke at her mun if we have slowtimes and you're online to finish them]

timsbooks.livejournal.com

"HELLO AND WELCOME TO MILLIWAYS. MAY I HELP YOU?"

Yup, Tim has his sign up.

saint-veritas.livejournal.com

Long time no entry post.

One Irish vigilante in a booth. With a protien shake and toast, because that's about all he can keep own these days.

He'd promised Sara he would try to find that doctor she'd suggested. Malcom Crowe He'd thought about asking around, or posting a notice on the bulletin board. He just hadn't gotten around to it.

puckishly.livejournal.com

Since his conversation with Morgan, Puck has decided that he's rather missed having his wings out, and thus hasn't changed out of the shirt he ripped down the back for that purpose.

He's sitting on a table now, the batlike wings in question outspread. He is also looking just a bit too pleased with himself, but this is normal and should probably be ignored.

theravenboy

Bran Davies comes in, accompanied by a blustering Welsh wind. He closes the door behind himself before the bar gets too cold.

not_that_spike

The fire's kind of fascinating. Spike likes the way the flames lick and jump and how it's always going and how he never sees anyone adding more wood to it, even though it burns down eventually if he sits here long enough.

And tonight, he thinks about the conversation he had last night with Moiraine, and about how things are supposed to be mysteries. He remembers a story Laughing Bull told him once, a lifetime ago, about people trying too hard to figure things out. It was in a sweat lodge, and Laughing Bull's guest kept asking and asking and asking about the meaning of life, like just being in the sweat wasn't answer enough, or like it gave him some right to ask, or think that his host had all the answers. And all Laughing Bull told his guest, eventually, was don't think so hard.

Spike always liked that story. It wasn't him in the sweat but it could have been.

But sitting here by the fire reminds him of the story, and he sips his glass of wine and watches the flames and tries not to think so hard.

no-devo-quotes.livejournal.com

One slightly sulky vampire hunter, perched on the hearth by the fireplace. She's giving serious consideration towards getting a slice of cheesecake. Cheesecake makes everything better. Especially when coupled with ice cream.

Current Mood: grumpy

blue_ajah

Two days, Rand had said, and this is the second. It will soon be time.

Moiraine steps from the Dreaming beside her usual table, dressed with elegant simplicity in dark blue wool, suitable for travel. She takes a seat, accepting the single cup of tea that Holly brings her.

Dark eyes scan the room, but her expression is one of perfect composure. Indeed, the Aes Sedai seems slightly more distant and reserved this evening.

Perhaps it is better so. Departures are often difficult.

loyaltyinmotion.livejournal.com

Jason is seated comfortably in a booth.
Bar gave him tea.
He is surprised by this, not because Bar gave him tea, no. Because Bar has found a tea that smells and tastes like coffee.
He's already on his second cup of the Mate Vana.
Compromises are love.

song_tra_bong

[OOM: Mary Anne weighs her options.]

Mary Anne hits the door at a dead run, slamming it open with her shoulder. She drops quickly to the floor, tumbling once to rise in a low crouch. Her sidearm is in her right hand, her knife in her left, and...

...and this doesn't look like the inside of a bunker.

It looks like a bar.

She barely registers the sound of the door closing behind her. Gradually, she stands up. The gun and knife are slowly put away; she adjusts the carry strap for rifle slung across her back, taking a visual sweep of the room with ever widening blue eyes.

Mary Anne Bell hasn't been surprised by anything in years, but that just seems to have changed.

Current Mood: cautious

maid-of-astolat.livejournal.com

Elaine is feeling much better today, though she's still carrying around a world of pain within herself, of course. She's absently grabbed a book from her shelves and is reading it. Sort of.

The book is A Grief Observed.

Right now, she's got a finger marking her place. She's still on the second page.

Elaine is looking absently out of the window.

mogget_cat

*Yrael is in the bar, at the piano. A multitude of notes flow from the instrument under Yrael's skilled fingers, singing of calm and of peace. The music carries feelings of contentment and warmth, like a physical wave of emotion. The albino man smiles contentedly to himself as he plays, closing his bright green eyes.*

*Come listen to the music. It'll do you some good.*

Current Mood: calm

buriedmybrother.livejournal.com

The door opens slowly, and a young woman-- scarcely more than a girl-- steps hesitantly into the bar. She blinks: this light is so much more than what she has become accustomed to, waiting in the dark ...

Her dark hair is tangled, and her dress covered in dirt; her thin, thin arms and legs are crusted with it.

This isn't what she had imagined death would be like.

number-ten-ox.livejournal.com

The door opens, and for a moment there is a terrible smell of ten thousand different things, because on the other side of the door it is the tail end of the warm and sunny season. There is a terrible noise, too- oxen and people and stone wheels and wooden wheels and dogs and birds and a dozen dozen other things.

But mostly what there is is a tall, well-muscled, very confused-looking young man in a peasant's rough garb and straw hat.

"Yau mo gau hai cho?" he exclaims; and then he adds, "Master Li?"

The door clicks shut behind him.

awesome_lilly

[Millitimed to Sunday night, Lilly has a nightmare about Veronica that wakes her and Alain and makes them decide to go to Neptune to see if they can save her, which they do after Lilly talks to some friends. (Warning for canon doom and some graphic imagery in Neptune link). They come back late Monday night, but Lilly's not doing too well and so... she leaves Milliways.]

action-antihero.livejournal.com

[Two OOMs--

Millitimed to Sept. 13: A week after the switch back, Kim helps put her father back together. Not neatly wrapped, but the important stuff is covered, and decided to fade due to RL interference.

Millitimed to last Thursday night: Kim tells Jack that Ryan's gone through the door.]

animation-inc.livejournal.com

Last night in the bar for a few nights, she sits at the table and has herself a soda.

Reading a book and listening to some music on the laptop

If you have to say something to Anita before the weekend come on up and tell her.

gonna_live

Kaylee is curled on the couch, wearing a pullover that's too big for her. In her lap is an anthology of folktales. It's not open, but her finger marks a spot.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

Indy's sitting at the bar with a pint of Young's Bitter, distractedly forking his way through a large helping of shepherd's pie. The meal is undoubtedly excellent, but his attention is far more focused on the copy of Fodor's London in his other hand.

A lot's changed since 1925, but some things are still very much the same.

half-sidhe.livejournal.com

Sidhe Princess, in the bar.

She's in a good mood, writing something down in what looks to be a journal.

There's a glass of soda next to her, and a plate with half a meal on it.

Come say hi

just-sacked.livejournal.com

A group of ten individuals file out of a small film studio. They are carrying all of the belongings that once decorated their work place, or facilitated them in their occupations. They file into Milliways.

There is one, very blond, very scandinavian woman wearing a bull whip at her hip. A man pushing what looks like a rolling costume rack, another with a very large box of tissues, or perhaps a box of very large tissues, and a man carrying several calendars. Best not to ask what's in them. The rest come bearing cardboard boxes. Fear the contents.

Those responsible appear very disgruntled, muttering to themselves and each other. Something about interspace tøøthbrushes and it being no wonder the moose was inclined to bite. Finally they stop and look around bewildered. This wasn't the parking lot. They set their belongings down where they stand, right in the middle of the bar and look at each other grumpily, wondering which was responsible for the wrong turn.

Finally, shrugging, almost as one, they begin hunting. They may have just been sacked, but that's not going to stop them. There they are, searching the bar for something. Come find out what, or chase these loonies out of Milliways.

terroristmoose.livejournal.com

A moose ambles through the door. In as much as a moose can look sneaky, this one does. Although there are stranger things about the animal.
CAPTAIN double-oh-Moose, infamoose ballet pirate scourge of the high seas...!
The looking-glass, for instance.
The dastardly, debonaire dude sidles slyly from his captors once again, seeking excitement and adventure in the unending quest for his nemesis, the ferocious dogooder...
And the pirate hat, perched precariously between his immense antlers.
...MANUEL POSTMARK!
Not to mention the ballerina shoes stretched over his hooves and laced up his furry legs.
Although any foul dogooder will do, really. For tonight, CAPTAIN Moose is out to commit deeds of the most wretched sort! Selling children for a hefty profit as slaves to the hallibut import industry! Beating women with broccoli! Shameless thievery and FEAR!!!
The moose tip-toes through the bar and stands by the wall near the exit to the lake, eyeing the partons shiftily.
But nobody ever catches.... THE MOOSE!

Current Mood: secretive!

cywyllog

Cywyllog has been drinking free for the majority of the evening. As such, she's a little tipsy. She's currently in a booth, back against the wall, feet on the chair, people watching and giggling randomly.

So. Drunken Welsh princess inna bar. Have at.

http://users.livejournal.com/_perfect_pixie_/

One pixie at the bar.

But this is no ordinary pixie.

At first glance, you might be dazzled by her perfect, flawless beauty. You might be enchanted by her luminous green eyes, her long fluttering eyelashes, her delicate pointed ears. You might be mesmerized--quite literally--by her musical, lilting voice.

But then you take a second glance. And you see the cruelty underneath, the coldness, the jealousy, the poison and venom running through her veins. And you feel a chill running down your spine.

Be very afraid, Milliways Bar. Opal Koboi is here.

lastczarnian.livejournal.com

Lobo, at the bar. Leather pants, and boots. Ale, and a grin. Have at.

sidhe-essus.livejournal.com

The door opens, showing a brief flash of a room done in black marble and bright metal, and a man steps through. He's tall and lean, with long hair held in a braid along his back, hair a red so dark that one might at first glance mistake it for black. His clothing is late 20th century, but the sword he wears at his hip, with an ease that could only be born of long familiarity with the weapon, is something much older.

The weight of that age sits in his eyes as well as they scan the room, grey on grey and ever so slightly startled. Wherever he had been coming from, this was not where he'd intended to end up.

He seems relaxed enough, though. It would take a practiced eye to spot the tension of his frame, the positioning of his hand which, while not close enough to the sword to constitute a threat, hovers near enough to it that he could draw it on a moment's notice.

Prince Essus has come to Milliways.

clumsy_auror

[OOC: Still not ~~king~~ healthy.]

maxwellsdemon02

Duo sits at a table, cheerfully eating a rather large pizza. It has pepperoni, and onions, and mushrooms, and green peppers. He certainly looks like he's enjoying himself.

He also has a puffy bruise high on one cheek. It's been a day or two, so it doesn't hurt any more. In between bites he hums and swings his feet.