milliways_bar | Nov. 20th, 2005

Nov. 20th, 2005

honest-johns.livejournal.com

[OOM, millitimed to last Sunday night: After Susannah tells the ending of her story, it's Alain and Cuthbert's turn. Susannah's tale has spoilers for DT7 up to but not including the Epilogue and Coda; Alain and Cuthbert's story, from post-Mejis through Jericho Hill, is largely millicanon and extrapolation, but contains copious amounts of woe.]

steak-man.livejournal.com

Cypher's pretty much in the same place he was last night when the bar was relatively dark and quiet, even though it never really is all dark or all quiet.

There seems to be commotion going on just out of his reach, and he hasn't added to it, probably because he can't move at the moment. He's still playing the last-drunk-in-the-bar role, and rather successfully. Glasses and bottles everywhere, and his bald head's a bit wet from lying in a puddle on the counter.

He might be conscious. I bet you could find out.

a-fell.livejournal.com

Aziraphael comes into the bar, large white wings pulled in close against his back because it's cold out there, and colder still in Scotland. He could have stopped off for a cup of tea at the flat, of course, but somehow it felt rather more important that he should be here.

Tea appears on the bar before he even opens his mouth, and he takes it and tucks himself into a corner booth, fingers tapping restlessly against the sides of the mug.

Current Mood: cold

honest-johns.livejournal.com

[Lilly and Alain's last morning together. It's time.]

honest-johns.livejournal.com

Endings are heartless. Say true.
Death is before me today
Endings are mercy. Say thankya.
Like the recovery of a sick man
Ka blew them here, like a prairie wind, and none may stand against its force, they say in Mejis. And, as is ever the way of ka, it has brought joy and pain, love and sorrow, dear friendship and bitter grief.
Like the going forth into a garden after sickness
Reunions, and partings.

You needn't die happy when your day comes, fathers taught their gunslinger-sons in Gilead-That-Was. But you must die satisfied, for you have lived your life from beginning to end, and ka is always served.
Death is before me today
What is before them today is death. What is before them today is love, and reunion, and rest longed-for.
Like the odor of myrrh
What is before them today is peace.
Like sitting under a sail on a windy day
The doorknob turns in Cuthbert's hand. And what is on the other side...

Oh, how can I describe it? You know it. It's the dream of your waking heart. It's the quiet, still place at the core of you. It is sunlight and morning mists, and green leaves unfurling, and fresh clean air; it is birdsong, far off, and the hum of bees and the heady, breezy, sleepy smell of summer. It is wildflowers tumbling, and the scent of water nearby, and the lazy warmth of the first morning of the world. It is a path winding among the tall trees of a forest clothed in green spring.
Death is before me today
It is a woman, small and slim, stark white skin and black tumbling hair in the middle of that warm-lit path, with a tiny squiggle beneath her eye like the sigul char in the High Speech of Gilead. She is the realest thing you've ever seen, and she is smiling, and she is holding out her arms.
Like the course of the freshet
It's everything you've ever yearned for. It is grace.
Like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house
The four figures at the door stand hand in hand, for a moment. They stand straighter, stronger, heads lifting as all the weary strain that has bent and faded them falls away to nothing. Just looking. Drinking it in, like red wine.

And then a last brilliant smile over their shoulders, bright with tears and love. We love you, those smiles say. We love you all, so much. Don't grieve. We'll be waiting for you.
Death is before me today
And then Cuthbert Allgood takes the first step beyond life and death, over the threshold. Susan follows, and Alain, and Sheemie, the four of them falling into step without thought. A golden haze swirls around them, a halo of motes shimmering and dancing, thicker and thicker, until the whole of the forest path glimmers green-gold.
As a man longs to see his house
Don't grieve, do ya please, I beg. For they go to their peace, that's been denied them for many and many a weary year.
When he has spent years in captivity.
They go to parents, siblings, all the friends that were lost; they go to a place without pain or want.

And everyone that loves them -- everyone who watches the door or turns away, everyone who tastes salt tears, everyone who feels the raw and gaping loss --
To everything there is a season
They'll meet again. And they'll be well-met.
And a time for every purpose under the heavens
What's loved, lives.
A time to be born and a time to die
The door swings slowly, as if reluctant to block out that sight. But every end must come -- say please, say sorry -- and every door must close.
A time to kill and a time to heal
The last sound, before the latch clicks, is the peal of Cuthbert's laughter, boyish and sweet and free.
A time to mourn and a time to dance
And then silence.
A time of war and a time of peace
Each story owes an ending. This is theirs. Give them peace.

aj_crawley

Tea is comforting. It's a constant.

So is whiskey, but it's not time for that. Not yet.

A subdued-looking Crowley slips into the bar, with a mind to acquire the first, and with a very definite option on the second.

There is, for anyone who thinks it looks familiar, a delicate jade rose hanging from a leather thong around his wrist.

fathers-cleric.livejournal.com

Preston's found himself in the bar.

Only instead of wall there's a Door.
Heart in his chest he goes upstairs and gathers his thinks, dressing and reloading his weapons before stepping downstairs and-
Trying it.

The familiar smell of a Liberian night greets him and makes him shudder. Cold stinging his cheeks.
why am I crying?

Comments could be made about being a petulant child, however they won't be.
Instead, Preston swallows hard and looks back toward the lively bar and the color.
...I never noticed how colorful this place is.

Songs playing in his head he nods firmly to himself and goes back to the bar-asking the mysterious device, the inanimate object yet animate for paper and a pen.

( Dr. Stanz. )

Holding his guns, he leaves the bar to it's grief (for he knows it's grief, he's seen and caused enough of it) and exits.

inquisitivehero

Hank McCoy makes his way to his usual table, just outside the Infirmary, settling on a chair and placing his laptop down first, following it with a large book, and a plate of dinner. How exactly he balances these things prior to setting them down is a mystery perhaps best left unanswered. However that happens and whatever the secret is, it is not what is on his mind today.

Today, Hank is instead thinking of the contrast between consistent practice of traditional medicine and medical procedures versus his own more altered approach of mixing said traditions with advanced and alternate medicines and technologies.

He pulls up a document on his computer in which he has taken some notes and scrolls slowly down the pages there so far, refreshing his memory of the already written notes. When he reaches the end, he thinks for several long moments and then begins to type, food forgotten.

Interruptions are welcome as always.

skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com

After this, Svava's at the bar. Getting a drink. Its highly alcoholic.

Yes, she understood.

She is still going to get rather drunk right now, with the (very high) possibility of a crying fit sooner or later.

((omg placeholder because the mun just got off of work. Slowtime tags are love, and will be answered in the morning most likely.))

witchy-rebel.livejournal.com

It’s too noisy inside, sometimes. Not a matter of people, just the other stuff. Magic and emotions. Gets crowded and time starts dancing around her so Morgan’s outside this morning, outside and reading and possibly waiting, though possibly not.

Dressed in a tunic and leggings straight from the Dark Ages, the girl is starting to actually look pregnant now – it’s easier to hide in a Roman dress then a Celtic tunic, and the cloth strains slightly.

She still needs to eat more, though.

http://users.livejournal.com/_the_empty_one/

If the young Emperor currently attempting to drink a cup of tea in an out-of-the-way booth looks like he hasn’t slept, this because he hasn’t. He normally looks like this - after all, having nightmares about the fiancee you had murdered night after night doesn’t tend to encourage sleep - but today he looks worse.

This is because aforementioned murdered fiancee is in the bar. And still loves him.

Which is currently torturing the hell out of him.

‘Zakath’s eyes aren’t dead at the moment, but haunted and alive with self-loathing. He is still an Emperor, though, and will make a valiant attempt at normal conversation should anyone approach. Unless, of course, you are a certain Sorcerer from his world, in which case he might demand same answers.

Might.

doc-venkman.livejournal.com

Peter didn't know of the news in the bar. He never had a chance to meet any of them.
But where they were headed.
That place.
For a brief moment, he saw it too.
He feared it, but briefly, he felt its call.
The call of eternal peace. For the Clearing one day shall call all, say true.

And he knew it was not his time. Not yet. His day was not over. He was needed.
Life moves on.
And he had a job to do. Time to save the day again.
Who you gonna call?

And so it was there was another Ghostbuster out practicing by the lake, a proton pack on his back for more blasting of foam targets.
But first, he was practicing moves with the bamboo sword. Similiar thinking to Ray, they'd be wearing these into battle, and needed to be prepared for either combat. Needed to adjust to the extra weight.

badinlatin

[OOM: Mal goes home and talks to Inara.]

slayer_fray

(Morning Vice)

Millitimed to this morning, Indy interrupts Mel at the Playstation to gripe about her coffee, and to talk about many things, including Steph. Many things are Not Mentioned, most notably Delia. Rated B for our little family's all brokeded.

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

At some point--perhaps late tonight after Susannah sleeps and Eddie is still restless; if not, in the morning--Eddie comes out and has a quiet discussion with Bar.

When Anthy next comes into the bar, she'll be presented with a package containing three pairs of toe socks--the kind with individual toes.

No two socks in a pair match.

One is elephants and kangaroos, one is crocodiles and monkeys, and one is frogs and roses.

There is a card, frog-shaped, that hops when you push on the back-end. Inside it says,

You really saved the day.

Eddie

And then away.

jack_inthegreen

Jack opens the door from Las Vegas and looks around, his face unusually serious. He has said goodbye more times than he cares to count, and he knows he will say it more.

That does not make it any easier.

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

Arithon enters, flipping through a book on weddings. He is, to put it mildly, very confused. There seems to be a different kind for every country on Earth, sometimes many, and even only looking at the Catholic ones...

help?

forthsdaughter.livejournal.com

[Upstairs, Nefret dreams.]

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

There's an Ace, in the bar, curled up on the couch, by the fire, sleepily making her way through her favorite breakfast of cinnamon toast and blueberries, with a mug of cocoa steaming away on the coffee table. She's a little worse for wear, after the night's grief, but she seems content enough now. Possibly, you won't get an explosion if you poke her.

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

After a night of painting on the lake with Mercutio, Jack's in the bar.

Looking extremely pleased with things in general.

sheila-nagig.livejournal.com

The door opens, and for the first time since Hallowe'en, Sheila steps into the bar, looking half asleep.

Which she is.

She scrubbing at one eye with the back of a hand, yawning, with a toothbrush in her mouth.

"Huh."

She turns, walks back out, and returns a moment later minus the yawning, eye scrubbing and toothbrush.

"That was strange."

It's Milliways. It's really not.

a-fell.livejournal.com

[ooc: Back at the bookshop]

Current Mood: sad

abotticellilady.livejournal.com

[Post-Milliways: after this, a certain vampire and her masterbard fiancee go to her beach for some privacy. Not...exactly sex.]

ratspeakergirl.livejournal.com

She hasn't been visible in a while.

Doesn't mean she wasn't here. Do people notice the rats?

Even if they're similar size to a girl in her mid-teens?

Rarely.

They do more when rat-speakers go up to the bar and ask for some food.

Cat, specifically -- and Bar provides it, grilled.

Anaesthesia smiles.

gone_byebye

Yawning and rubbing at sore places, Ray makes his way down to the Bar in search of breakfast. The bowl of oatmeal has a note alongside it; Ray picks it up to read, forgetting the food.

He turns the note over and over in his fingers for some time when he finishes; after a while he goes back, and rereads it a second and a third time. Eventually he asks the Bar for a pencil and paper.

( For Cleric John Preston. )

He folds up the letter and the photograph, puts them in a Bar-provided envelope, and entrusts the note to the Bar's care before going back upstairs to work on some things.

liz-imbrie-.livejournal.com

[OOM: ...like apples of gold in pictures of silver. Also known as, Liz reads the papers.]

Liz Imbrie looks a little tired as she drops off a few rolls of undeveloped film at Bar. "For Miss Giry and Miss Kane, please," she says, "and would you see that this note accompanies the film?"

( Note for Lilly and Meg )

She gets a cup of tea from Bar and curls up in one of the darker booths. She's not trying to avoid people, she's just -- tired.

[[OOC: Only here for an hour or two at most, but slowtime, love, is, etc.))

faithful-slayer.livejournal.com

Faith is curled up in a chair near the fireplace, her feet tucked under her, a cup of coffee in her hands and a thoughtful expression on her face.

She's missing her friends, but not grieving, really.

Conversation is welcome.

blue-star-badge.livejournal.com

There was an Adric at the bar, probably the only one around really, and he was arguing, quietly, with her over aprons, because as far as he was concerned, the ones she kept providing were just silly and he was attempting to convince her that he was just going to be washing dishes in it, and only needed something plain.

Someone want to help him out?

the_seafarer

[Millitimed to late last night]

[OOM: In the stables last night Caspian makes some changes to the Stockline Record and the Employment Record.]

just-a-soldier.livejournal.com

Aeryn.

Bar.

Bebe.

Only one problem, Andrei won't stop crying. She's tried everything, singing, playing, changing, feeding. Nothing's working and she's starting to get a tiny bit worried.

"Do you miss your daddies? Please stop crying." Add pleading to the list. She may have natural mommy instinct, but she could use some skill/knowledge. Help?

[OOC: ~~Will be here all day probably.~~ May have to go for a while. Feel free to slowtime.]

from-topside.livejournal.com

[After this...]

Gary slips from the bar, pint still in his hands, and heads for the door.

And quietly, walks out.

That's out, folks. There's nothing else to it.

the_antiangst

Angel inna bar, to say nothing of the skirt.
He's over by the fireplace, with tea and paradoxes, alternating between watching the fire and watching the other patrons.

from-topside.livejournal.com

OOM: "Home" Again

[warnings for adult situations, adult language, and massive angst]

awesome_lilly

[OOM: Last night, after the gunslingers left, Lilly and Dream left too, for his realm. And once they arrive in the Dreaming, he gives her a hell of a present.]

gravity_shifter

Table. Alien. Lots and lots of little mechanical pieces, meticulously being put together.

Feel free to ask what's up, just don't lose anything.

alec-or-alonzo.livejournal.com

Phil is at a table, sipping some tea and putting some new ribbon on one of her better hats. It's actually turning out rather nicely, if she does say so herself. If it turns out properly she just might be able to wear it to Alice Greene's party next week, and wouldn't that be fun.

But as interesting as that is, she's sure to welcome some company. Come say hi!

gorlim.livejournal.com

Gorlim is in the bar, curled up on a couch, reading about birds.

He may actually be looking at the pictures more than reading.

Come talk to him!

[ooc: mun is not here long and will disappear in about an hour, but will be back... er... hopefully before 2 a.m. EST. e.e]

Current Mood: cold

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

After This

Amanda is sitting at a booth drinking a now half empty bottle of whiskey. Her gaze doesn't seem to be reaching past the otherside of the bottle.

Come chat. She wont bite.

saint-aequitas.livejournal.com

MacManus.

Booth.

Dead (not literally, mind you) to the bar.

avonlea-girl.livejournal.com

It's a quiet evening, tonight, and so Anne is thoughtful as she steps down the stairs and into the bar proper, looking about before going to order her tea, placing a small pile of books on a table and seating herself.

The table is near a window, and she looks for a moment with a rueful smile at the reflection in the dark glass with her book--Plato--lying open and ignored before her.

Old friends are more interesting than philosophy, anyway.

kayip.livejournal.com

A boy is sitting near the fireplace again, this time with his knees pulled up to his chest, watching the flames with a somewhat mesmerized look on his face.

Occasionally he looks away, when his face feels too warm or there's a loud sound from somewhere in the bar.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

( Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge... )

[OOC: Alanna joins Indy for some bush burning emotional catharsis, some reflection and some hints as to his plans for the future.]

fathers-cleric.livejournal.com

[Preston's world apparently moves a hell of alot faster then milliways. The Cleric has saved a lil' puppy hooray for him.

It takes him a few moments to collect his thoughts.
One moment he was in the parking garage and the next he was back in Milliways.

Questions can wait for now. All he can see in front of his face is the vague image of captain valentine, a man he'd never met until tonight dying beneath his gun. That and the rest of the sweeper team left for dead in the nether....it makes him sick.

Favoring the gash on his arm, and wondering if his coat's been damaged, he looks for a familiar face-or at least a free table. The former might be difficult considering the dark blackeron-black stain he's now sporting and the look of, 'I've just killed a bunch of people, don't screw with me' that he can't seem to wipe off his face.
But he doesn't really want to be hurt, and he's just a little on edge. Just a little bit.
John Preston and one very wiggly, very alive puppy in the bar struggling to get out of his arms and go exploring.

Help?

mistressmaryquitecontrary

Mary Lennox isn't a child who smiles often.

But today, as she walks in through the back door, her smile is open and happy.

This may have something to do with the dirt that covers her hands, and the fact that the greenhouse - which she'd last seen shattered - is now repaired, and things are growing in it again.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

Mark. Bar. Camera. Add a few conjunctions and perhaps a verb, and you have an entrance post. Oh, alright. He's actually working on the camera for once, not filming things. Do come say hi. He probably could use a distraction.

farmboyrebel.livejournal.com

There are some people who are just around. They're in the bar, but never make an awful lot of noise. Considering that he's a dead pilot, it's actually quite surprising that one of them is Biggs. However, he is at a table in the bar, sipping a lum and watching people go by. Oh, did I meantion the garish orange flightsuit? Do come talk to him. He probably could use someone to talk to.

armoralchemy.livejournal.com

Al. Bar. Not studying, or working, or anything in particular.

It's night in Amesteris, and he never knew how long the night was until he couldn't sleep. He never got used to the dark and the quiet, waiting while Ed slept for light to come back so that he wouldn't have to be alone anymore. He told his brother he didn't want to be alone at night anymore, and Milliways helps.

He tells Ed about Bubbles, and Blossom, and Chemical X, and Ed believes him now, and tells him to go to the Bar he can't visit, because he doesn't want Al to be alone any more than Al does.

He's standing in a corner. Looking, but not for anyone in particular. Just for someone to not be lonely with.

velocitygirl

Inyri's sitting at a booth, reading the holonews, with a Whyren's in front of her.

Across from her sits Lujayne, who is making faces at Wynssa the puppy and drinking some orange juice (not that she knows it's orange juice).

Come and chat. It's rare these two are together.

holy-oats.livejournal.com

Mightily Oats is downstairs once again, this time sitting by the fire. He doesn't have much tolerance for cold, sadly, as Omnia is rather more like a desert than it is like Scotland.

Tonight, he has tea, and is surprisingly Bible-free. Even his ultra-starched clerical collar is a little laxer than usual, as if it too is enjoying its relaxation time.

He's been making a lot of holy water. He can probably hook you up if you ask him nicely.

underwater-owl.livejournal.com

Random is sprawled comfortably on a couch.

He is what we would call 'blissfully unaware.'

What is he unaware of?

Don't ask him. He doesn't know.

seker-pride.livejournal.com

The laptop sits idly on the table as Strahan stares at his meal in silence. The book he's come to see as the Grimore of Computer Magic sits on top of the laptop, but he's not thinking about either.

Rather, he's thinking about numbers, electricity and other things related to computers as he contemplates the salt shaker.

And then, on a whim, he focuses his magic onto the said salt shaker, concentrating his will upon it, and before long, it sprouts legs, fur, a head and a hairless tail.

What was once a salt shaker is now an albino mouse. Which promptly proceeds to scurry about the table.

He's pleased. That trick, at least still works.

Now if only he could connect the mouse to the computer. The Grimore did mention that computers worked best with mice...

Current Mood: bored

mogget_cat

*Yrael is at the bar with a glass of wine. His mun is in the library not wanting to write on her research paper. You do the math.*

*~~Distract his mun!~~ Come talk to the not'cat.*

gone_byebye

It's been a busy day for Ray, in the sense that he's been doing tech stuff up in his room like there's no tomorrow. But he's downstairs now and he's got dinner, and he could probably use some company. So there you are.

number-ten-ox.livejournal.com

The door swings open, and there is a brief wave of chaotic smell and sound as a tall, muscular young Chinese peasant steps in. "This place again," he says resignedly. "Master Li is going to kill me."

He sets down his pack by the door and heads for the Bar nonetheless.

street-sparrow.livejournal.com

Gavroche comes in, a certain braided leather bracelet safely on his wrist, and finds a place to sit.

He's subdued, but not really grieving.

fire-of-mahal.livejournal.com

Many good-byes were said this night just past. Gimli's were not among them; he's been pursuing his apprenticeship under Mount Etna these past weeks, so that his work with mithril mail might be truly impressive when the custom starts coming in.

Tonight, though, he's back. And he's after a beer, and perhaps a place by the fire.

red-mare.livejournal.com

Behind the bar there is a black-maned, black-tailed red unicorn learning to .... well... pounce.

This may make more sense if one gets close enough to see that she is apparently playing with a small brown kitten.

maybe.

kawaiiorihime.livejournal.com

There was a face appearing through the door.

"Ano? Nani?"

There was a young woman dressed in dark robes, with red hair, and ample bosom. Orihime then smiled brightly and clapped her hands.

Milliways again. Yay!

singlesoledjest.livejournal.com

In the bar is one Mercutio, lighting up the surrounding areas with his fabulous presence.

His feet are resting on the table, his chair is tipped back, and he's bouncing a ball off the wall. Again and again and again.

He's a little bored. Come entertain him!

ardens-guard.livejournal.com

Prince Julian of Amber is not happy. Even after his release from the cells, he's still pissed about the whole thing. Of course, most people wont know that just by looking at his face but it might be an indication to tread carefully.

Still, there he is. Sitting in a booth with a glass of wine, shuffling cards lazily with one hand.

doc-venkman.livejournal.com

Peter got advised on asking Bar for some more training equipment. So it was that he appeared with a bokken, his uniform, and his proton pack strapped on for more practice out back. He walked through the door, and headed out to the target area first for some more practice before doing sword practice as well.

creator_raven

By the fire, there is a tall gangly man curled up in one of the armchairs.

He is drinking hot chocolate and watching the fire. Occasionally he blinks.

Raven is possibly a little more subdued than usual. It is equally possible that he is just thinking.

Sometimes he does that.

guppy_sandhu

~~Because the mun is stuck doing a biochem essay and is, well, bored~~ There is Guppy, in one corner of the bar, juggling.
Rather unsuccessfully. Because like his face, which is still covered in horrible-looking cuts and bruises, his arms and hands are swollen, stiff and sore. But each time he drops one, or has to recoil in pain, he picks it up and carries on.
Bother at will.

shang-dragon.livejournal.com

[OOM: River shows up for training, and Simon comes along. Fun for all ages. Millitimed to... oh, let's say Wednesdayish.]

notablessing.livejournal.com

He sees dead people.

He sees them all the time.

He was also the original person to say that, before it was a pop culture gag.

His name is Cole, and now he draws, too!

... which is what he's doing now.

blond-bubbles.livejournal.com

Bubbles gently flips through this month's Teen Magazine, occasionally stopping on a page to read an article. She hadn't realized what she was missing as a little girl. Like on the page she has stopped on right now.

"10 Ways to Tell He Likes You"

Bubbles blinks at the page, before blushing slightly and flipping to another random page.

Come by and talk to her. She could use the company.

latino_menace

Ramon is sitting in a booth. He wasn't around yesterday because the hangover was brutal - but he's in tonight. Still got his sword with him to because he figures its about time he cleaned Namo's blood off it. Don't let that put you off though, its not like he knows how to use it or anything.

forthsdaughter.livejournal.com

Outside, in that convenient middle ground between the stables and the lake, Nefret's grooming Moondancer.

One woman, one horse, room for conversation.

supersymmetry

Fred is in the bar for the first time in a few days. She's been rather busy helping Ray put together more proton packs for the battle, and having finally finished, is now freshly showered and in the bar.

With coffee, because it's the only way she's staying awake.

Highly-caffeinated, possibly even giggly Fred, in the bar for all to pester the living daylights out of.

You know you want to!

inquisitivehero

Hank comes in the Door, looking refreshed and bouncy, and walks to Bar.

"Lady Bar, a chicken salad with ranch, heavy on the chicken please? And a large mug of my coffee?"

When it appears he pats the surface of Bar.

"Thank you."

He scoops it up settles down the Bar a bit, where he proceeds to eat and watch the Bar, his laptop(pulled out of a Pym pouch) sitting next to him.

(ooc: ~~going for sleep, but Hank will be here all night, so tags will be returned slowtime in the morning....~~Back!)

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

She's spoken with Tim. Beyond the fact of it being the most... non-informational conversation they've ever had, it gave her no hope that he was even beginning to think about what she had said. That he had even heard her.

She's finished her dinner, lingered over dessert and her glass of wine, watched the bar full of people going about their lives.

She feels intolerably old. She's hardly the oldest person here, not even in the running for that position, but... there's just been so much, so fast, and it just doesn't stop. The hard decisions keep coming.

Like this one.

"Piece of paper and a pen, love?" She asks Bar quietly. She gets a clean white sheet and a black pen, enough to suit her purpose.

( For Tim )

With a sigh, she folds the note.

"An envelope, if y'please?" One appears - plain, white. She writes his name on the front - To Tim Hunter - and slips the note inside.
Then, after a few last moments of deliberation, she puts two more objects inside as well.

A small red ruby.

A pair of rings, one plain gold, the other with a diamond, one specially cored to put a bit of nitroglycerin inside.

She seals the envelope carefully, and lays it on the bartop.

"Give that t'Tim, would you, love? Ta." The envelope disappears. Then, with a sigh, she orders up another fudge sundae, and takes her dessert over to couch by the fire, so she can mope in peace.

Sometimes, hard decisions hurt more after they're made, than before.

transgenic-max.livejournal.com

Max is glancing back over her shoulder as she steps through the door, so she doesn't actually realise immediately that she's back in Milliways. Which explains why she reaches for something, stumbling slightly in surprise as her hand fails to meet the expected resistance. The small ball of vaguely kitten shaped fluff that had followed her in mewls plaintively, realising it might have to wait a moment or two longer for dinner.

Max tenses and looks around through narrowed eyes, though she relaxes quickly enough when she recognises her surroundings. She drops her hand to her side, and rakes the other, sporting a thick swathe of bandages around it, through her hair.

Not the brightest idea, as evidenced by her sharp hiss of irritation/pain.

Current Mood: relieved

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After this.

Aeryn is curled up near a booth. She's sitting on the floor, because someone told her people don't notice you as much that way. It's obvious she hasn't been crying. She's so tensed that any act of kindness is certain to make her lash out. Because she just never thought....What if they never let me see him again? She placed her head in her hands. Feel free to kick her while she's down.