milliways_bar | Dec. 8th, 2005

Dec. 8th, 2005

righthandwoman.livejournal.com

[OOM: Millitimed to last week. Zoe fills Wash in on a certain conversation with Ace.]

shang-dragon.livejournal.com

Liam.

Ham sandwich.

A battle for the ages.

Coming to a table near you.

river_meimei

River steps into the bar, with a quick glance over her shoulder into the empty corridor as the door closes. She's wearing boots for once, and wrapped in Roland's duster; this is a good thing, because she heads straight out the lake door into the snow.

She returns a while later, boot-buckles and duster's hem flecked with caking snow that melts swiftly into dampness in the heated bar. She's not quite shivering, but her hands are red and her face pale with the cold.

She glances at the bar, swiftly, and then veers away instead, curling up under the table of an unoccupied booth in a dim corner and resting her cheek on her knees.

ardens-guard.livejournal.com

And because Amberites seem to be in vogue this evening - here's another one. Julian, if you haven't made his acquiantance before. He's neither as friendly as his brother or as firey as his nephew - but he's there all the same. Sipping at some unidentified drink and not eating his salad. Come bother.

stilljustandrew

[Author's note: This sequence and following takes place during and immediately after the Angel season finale, "Not Fade Away", and owes a debt of inspiration to

stakebait's fic Cormallen Road.]

*Andrew's been in and out the front door most of the evening; most of the time it opens onto a back street in Los Angeles, sometimes onto a quiet hall in the Dreaming.*

*About ten minutes ago, while he was stepping in, Illyria and Faith brushed past him on their way out. He's been looking fairly grim since then, and was popping in and out even more rapidly, about twice a minute, until five minutes ago when he stepped out and hasn't stepped back in since.*

*Until now. There he is, grim and purposeful and with a determined light in his eyes -- and looking around for his volunteers.*

All right, people, it's on.

*He opens the door again, holding it open on the hall.

http://users.livejournal.com/_fisshes/

oom: A sort of peace.

The door opens. It's filled, from top to bottom, with sea.

Smeagol walks in, dripping horrendously for a few steps before spontaneously drying off. The door shuts on the ocean, and Smeagol walks across the bar, purposefully looking for someone.

captain-emerald.livejournal.com

[OOM: Room 168; why he's been not seen for days.]

anthy-rosebride.livejournal.com

Anthy is trying to see if she can make people think she's a wax figure.

To further this nefarious end, she's sitting perfectly still, head tilted toward a hanging painting that might not have existed yesterday.

latino_menace

Ramon is in a booth.

His mun was totally thinking up an imaginative entrance post for him earlier - and then promptly forgot it when she saw a shiny thing.

So. Ramon Salazar. Coffee. Booth. Reading.

It'll have to do.

milliways_sawyer

Sawyer steps down to the bar for a quick drink. A note appears along with his glass. He reads it through as he drinks and pockets it when he is through. Glancing around the bar to make sure Claire isn't around, he walks back up to his room.

stilljustandrew

*The front door swings open again, and a large group of Milliways regulars -- bloodied, bruised, filthy, soaked -- start filing back in.*

*Andrew's among them, with blood on his forehead and chin (his own) and ichor splashed halfway up his arms (something else's).*

*He's barely managing to keep his feet, as the exhaustion of the entire mission has chosen this moment to catch up with him.*

[ooc: The last few bits of this plot are still being slowtimed, but the gist of it is complete. Hope you enjoy it as much as we did.]

perfectblue.livejournal.com

Directly after this, Illyria walks through the bar, still covered in blood and dripping rainwater in a trail behind her as she makes a beeline for the door to the lake.

It's cold there, frozen over, the blades of grass sharp with frost. It means little to her. Nothing, really.
(You will pay for your mistakes, God-King.)
The battle had been a victory. Spectacular, even.
(How dare you grieve for him?)
But she'd failed.

Again.

She'd destroyed herself tonight, and yet here she was, still.

At the edge of the lake, a blue former goddess falls to her knees by the lake, digs her hands into the sharp-bladed frozen grass, closes her eyes, and lets out a noise somewhere between a wail and a scream into the cold, silent night.

[ooc - vaguely plotlocked. If you want to interact with her, let me know,I really don't mind! But she's about as breaky as she's ever going to get and thus a tad unpredictable.]

dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com

Following this.

Quietly the Front Door opens, and a man comes into the bar. He takes several quick steps over to a nearby booth and leans against it to keep from falling down.

Dizzy and confused, he reaches down to his gut and seems surprised to find it's not bloody, no longer slashed open to feel the chilled, cruel air of Cyvus Vail's dining hall.

He shuts his eyes and whispers: "Not over. Why am I not surprised?"

Death wasn't the end for Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. And he doesn't seem especially happy about that.

undignified

Is that--? It does seem to resemble--

At the Bar, with a glass of Whyren's and seeming rather happy -- though only if you don't know him, of course -- is Wes Janson.

Not for any reason.

Just there.

He's got cookies!

[ooc: oh em gee Cati is back ... for uh, twelve hours, and regularity on Monday, but still.]

hands-unclean.livejournal.com

Bar has given Lady Macbeth a tiny wind-up robot that marches around and shoots sparks out its mouth.

She is absolutely and utterly engrossed, on top of being highly entertained. That it is machinery and not magic, she is satisfied, for she has seen how metal pitted against metal can create a show of sparks in a forge.

If you ask Bar for one and take seat, maybe you can have a war. Come on, it'll be fun.

still-michael.livejournal.com

KNIGHTMARES, Part One.

A concussion causes Michael to lose his memory of his time at the Foundation-- and Kitt. (And Milliways causes canon to shift, more than slightly.)

timsbooks.livejournal.com

Because he should be, Tim is there.

Bug him if you wish, he seems rather focused.

milliways_sawyer

[OOM: Upstairs. Claire has some pretty dang big news for Sawyer.]

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

She is sitting in front of the observation window watching the universe end. Having gotten a good nights sleep she is recharged and ready for conversation. There is also a shimery blue drink sitting in front ofher half empty.

COme poke at will.

randomsbastard.livejournal.com

Martin, the bastard son of Random, makes his way into the bar from upstairs and talks to Bar for a moment.

An exchange of money afterward, she provides a sturdy wooden case with 48 small bottles in individual compartments for the blond Amberite.

Another exchange gets him dinner. Steak, potatoes, salad, and scotch. Its a good way to feed yourself, isn't it?

((This thread is, like all of Madb's threads, an open thread. Don't know me? Don't know Martin? Want to? Ping on in. Talk to him. I will be gone for a couple of hours, but come on in anyway. I'll be back.))

inquisitivehero

Hank bustles out of the Infirmary, looking rumpled and a little tired.

He makes a bee-line for the Bar and gathers in an extremely huge mug of coffee, whose fumes could probably cut paint, and then heads straight back for the Infirmary.

You could probably catch him if you tried and he would welcome conversation for a little while.

(ooc: and real life strikes. Slowtime must be called, but any tags will be answered when I return)

rebelheartalien.livejournal.com

Somewhere near the front door, Maria is clinging to Michael, not caring who's watching.

Because he may be bruised, bleeding, filthy and exhausted, but he's alive.

He'll go get patched up in a minute, unless someone comes to him.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

After returning, Sharpe heads for the stairs to see to his cuts and clean himself up.

Feel free to intercept him and send him to the infirmary, rather than doing his own first aid.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

One year, bar-time, since she first walked through the door.

She's learned a lot, done a lot, lived a lot... and despite the fact that she's hardly on the upswing right now, she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Ace at the Bar, enjoying her breakfast of cinnamon toast and blueberries. Happy Milli-versery, Ace.

(Ooc: Despite my brain protesting, I've decided to go to the class what wastes my time, so. I'll be back, hopefully in four-ish hours, maybe five. Maybe three. Three'd be nice. Doubtful. But nice. So we'll say four. *sighs, trundles off*)

not_that_spike

It's taken a bit of negotiating and sharing information back and forth -- that travel guide to the Solar System of great use -- but finally, finally, Bar produces what Spike's been asking for. And it's all Elaine's fault, really, because she was talking about the greenhouses, and that led to him thinking about things from Mars, and that gave him the grand idea because really, the one person he cares about beyond all others in the universe, including himself, is Beth.

There's not a lot she wants and needs and in that sense she's kind of like him more than they're different. But still, he likes to surprise her every now and again because she's so precious to him. She deserves nice things.

And so Spike tucks the travel book with its full-color holographic pictures and the nicely-wrapped bouquet of waxy, odd-colored Martian flowers under his arm and turns to wait for Beth, who said she'd meet him after her shower. His eyes don't stray from the door leading upstairs: not while he moves to their usual table by the fire, not while he pulls out the chair and sits, not when he sets the bouquet down on the table to fish for and light a smoke, and not when he puts the lighter away.

magius-unlocked.livejournal.com

Sitting out by the lake is a wizard in white robes.

Magius sits on a rock and watches the waters ripple across the span of the lake. His face looks somewhat beaten up with smudges around his eyes, but otherwise he has recovered from the battle and using so much magic. Such use tells on him when he does it, but it also strengthens him.

So a contemplative wizards sits, watches, and lets the world go by.

(ooc: and real life strikes. Slowtime must be called, but any tags will be answered when I return)

bloodyrockgod

Charlie has a routine: yoga, shower, breakfast, music.

This morning, there is yoga and shower as usual; and he sits at the bar as usual for his waffles with strawberries. But in addition to his breakfast, Bar gives him a small cupcake with purple frosting.

"Thank you, dear," he says, beaming, and strokes her top a moment before taking his waffles--and dessert--to a booth with a good view of the front door.

[ooc: will disappear periodically for work-shaped things.]

ton-phanan.livejournal.com

How a teeny-tiny Iron Fist amidst a starry sky turns into a freakin' bar is beyond him.

Nothing he can do about it, he supposes, except take a seat somewhere and drink.

If this is the Afterlife, then the Universe has some explaining to do.

At least the shiny new (non-cyborg) body seems to be a bonus...

Current Mood: confused

theyounger.livejournal.com

Gary is in the bar, paperwork in hand with a mildly worried expression. A cup of wine sits on the counter in front of him, inbetween a few bits and pieces of paperwork, but his eyes lift from the work every so often in search of someone.

He feels horrible enough that he hasn't been able to come til now, but despite the fact that a few more minutes couldn't possibly count for much, he feels as if they do.

book_bound

On Tuesday, Moiraine and Destiny have tea and talk of things to come.

Last night, Destiny speaks with a fallen angel, who burns his book--and things change.

lastczarnian.livejournal.com

Main Man. Bar. Ale. Grin. He seems to be waiting for someone, and enjoying his drink.

Damn, it was a GOOD fight. And he has another just lined up.

Life is good for the Meaner Bastich in the Universe. Have at, while his mood lasts.

teirnan.livejournal.com

There's Teirnan, sitting in the bar.

Vaii is also in the bar, because where Cheysuli warriors go, lir follow. Most of the time.

Teirnan is looking pleased. It's possible that it's because he's a paid user now and has new icons to ~~flaunt~~ use, or it could be that he's prepairing himself to be pleased about something that has yet to come.

He is also enjoying a honey brew.

He's in a rare good mood, so he's happy to talk with anyone.

Current Mood: chipper

valehero.livejournal.com

A flash of bright light burst from the forest out back, and in walks one messy blond haired adept, finally back to his old self. Bar is nice enough to give him back his old clothes upon entry, including his very-much missed sword. He walks over to his usual booth and sits down with a relieved sigh. Sol and Luna knows how much he has missed being himself.

Isaac inna bar, the beginning of a new chapter in the young adept's life. Feel free to bother.

iamnotstorm.livejournal.com

Sarah was in the bar, she wasn't working on beadwork, or loomwork, or decopauge, or anything really today, she was just sitting at a table near the observation window with a notebook and a cup of coffee, she'd apparently been working on whatever it was she was working on for some time, as there were a number of crumpled pages around her, some more written on than others.

Go ahead and interrupt her, even though her mun is posting from work and may randomly slowtime

kindred_spirit

Gilbert Blythe stayed late today, flipping through compositions without actually marking them, until in grew too cold in the White Sands Schoolhouse, and then he gathered them up and set off for his rooms.

Only the schoolhouse door didn't bring him to the school yard today, but rather to the bar at the end of the Universe.

He doesn't exactly look thrilled to be back.

Come talk to the boy.

iwasalevel6.livejournal.com

The man otherwise known as Anthony and most explicitly not as Tony was seated at a table near the Observation Window decked in black sweatpants and a sweater. When one was dedicated to looking nice on the set, one failed not to take the opportunity to dress down for a day.

On the table before him sat a bowl of steaming clam chowder, a glass of orange juice, and a green book titled "Three Days in Rome." Anthony shot uncertain glances at the thick novel, then, with much reluctance, dragged the object towards him and opened it.

Seconds later he shut the book and shoved it to the side, bringing his soup closer to him. His eyes remained on the book even as he stuffed his mouth full of clam chowder.

[ ooc: beware of imepending acts of sleep on behalf of the mun. ]

guppy_sandhu

[ooc: *Is swamped under the mad influx of email notifications that have been lost in action for two weeks*]

Guppy comes into the bar carrying a large parcel, which he takes outside and places in an open space. He then gets his swiss army knife and very carefully bores two small holes in the cardboard. Through these he passes a piece of string, which he knots carefully. With the blade of the knife he cautiously makes a few cuts in the packing tape, then takes the long piece of string towards the trees. He throws it over a tall branch, takes the end, stands behind the tree and pulls hard.
When the lid of the box opens without it exploding, he counts to sixty seconds then cautiously approaches the package with a long stick.
He pokes the box.
When no poisonous snakes come out he decides it's safe to poke at the contents with the stick. It comes out stuck to an iced bun.
He peers over the edge of the lid and relaxes. He picks up the box and takes it back inside, sitting at the nearest booth and opening the letter contained.

Dear Gurpreet,
I wish you would let me talk to you. I'm sure those horrible people won't notice.
You look so terribly thin and unwell that I'm sure you're not eating properly. You're all skin and bone. I made you some yummy food to try and fatten you up a bit.
Please come and see me.
Nana.

Inside the box are various types of cakes and loaves, all long-lasting, some packets of herbal tea and some knitted blue mittens.

[ooc: Mun back 4pm EST]

kitchen_maid

Amy is curled up in a chair over by the fireplace, her shoes on the floor and her feet tucked under her skirts. She has a cup of apple cider, a plate of gingerbread, and is reading the book in her lap, but she is, as ever, happy to be interrupted.

She'll probably offer you gingerbread.

rebelheartalien.livejournal.com

Michael and Maria come out of the staff quarters, with a few bags and the baby in his carrier. Michael's wounds all got healed by Holly, and he's okay.

They're going to Antar for a few days in bar-time, but they'll hang around a bit longer if anyone wants to chat.

street-sparrow.livejournal.com

Gavroche is sitting on a bar stool, swinging his feet and watching the morning patrons curiously.

youalleverybody.livejournal.com

Liam comes in through the front door, a wrapped present in one hand and leading Megan with the other.

They're here for Charlie's birthday.

gone_byebye

Slowly, hesitantly, Ray makes his way down the stairs. He's wearing a red t-shirt with a complicated chemical molecule emblazoned across it; it's several sizes too large for him, but he doesn't seem to mind. His pants aren't the usual cargoes, but instead a pair of quite loose-fitting, simple cotton trousers. And for once he's wearing slippers normal people might wear, at least if they had access to New York City's Chinatown.

He makes his way over to the Bar and rests a hand carefully on her surface. "Bar," he says, "I could use a whole lot of iron replenishment right now, without the use of anything that could be construed as a liver, spleen, or other organ of toxin removal. Also quite a bit of fluid to drink."

After some consideration, a meal is provided; there is a hamburger, a bowl of chick peas and beets, and a bunch of spinach. And there is a glass of his usual green stuff roughly the size of his head.

Well, okay, not that big, but still. It's even got a crazy straw in.

"Thank you, Bar," he says. "I appreciate it."

Now if he can just find somewhere to sit down.

henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com

( No smoke without desire... )

[OOM: Earlier today, Svava continues to try and help Indy master rune magic, with no immediately apparent success. While attempting to generate the appropriate desire to force his will, they discuss his impending departure, and Indy politely turns down more aid in solving his potential portal problem.]

scapepig

A fully grown pig can climb stairs, with some difficulty.
However pigs are not designed to climb stairs, so getting down again has proved tricky. It took Snowball half an hour to do so yesterday. Today he has been at it for ten minutes before slipping and rolling the rest of the way. He picks himself up, slightly bruised, and immediately starts thinking of ways around this problem.
He is not in the mood for sausage roll jokes.

mailorderjunkie.livejournal.com

Snake.

At the bar.

Sipping tea.

Looking much like a tall japanese man with green hair and glasses.

qsilver-lab-rat.livejournal.com

When in Rome...do your own thing.

empath-wiggin.livejournal.com

The door opens, and loud singing can be heard through the door. Alas, however, said singing would only make sense if one is familiar with the Twi'lek pop songs of Coruscant. It's probably slightly dirty. Val comes in the door in a towel, then blinks. Oh, frell. Val's in the bar folks. Inna towel. Feel free to laugh.

mumbling-truth.livejournal.com

There was a quiet, and semi-shy poet in the bar again.
Todd had his notebook tucked under his left arm, and was getting some tea before heading to the chairs by the fireplace again.
Only with his tea there was a piece of carrot cake with cream frosting and a lit candle sticking out of it, and a book of Shakespeare sonnets.

He smiled at that, "Thank you, Bar." He then took the items, after blowing the candle out first, and went to his usual chair.
Looks like it's a certain poet's birthday.
(ooc: very late, and mun is sick, so need sleep. Slowtime is a wonderful thing.)

gone_byebye

Ray's not in the bar this morning.

Can you blame him?

the_lioness

[OOM: After Adam's run in with Delia, Adam and Alanna argue about condoms, do not use the test, find out anyway and then baffle each other with their reactions. La! ]

notablessing.livejournal.com

... Cole Sear jumps down from the rafters, brushing dust off his pants and looking utterly bewildered.

Because he was in a loft in a Tokyo mausoleum, sneaking around with his bike, when suddenly he was in the bar, and his bike wasn't around.

A Pennsylvanian woman, a Norse god and a vampire may be angry parents if any of the three are actually concerned. (The first, not likely, and the latter two probably know where to check.)

Needless to say, he still has his sketchbook, and there's still Bar, who is still giving him coccoa.

dragon-tamer-po.livejournal.com

Five feet and five inches of uniform-clad medical officer are standing at the bar. As a collective, they look vaguely surprised.

But they also comprise a doctor, and are used to seeing strange things.

All things considered, they're taking it rather well.

Sally Po has never been to the bar before, and she's really a bit curious. Someone want to come and keep her occupied?

mortisbelle.livejournal.com

Pale woman. Chair by the fireplace.

Interesting choice of attire for the day...

Have at.

mortisbelle.livejournal.com

There is a note for Montparnasse at the Bar.

(Written in latin. Its the language Serena taught him to read better)

astral-brat.livejournal.com

Ben was outside earlier, trying to climb some of the trees at the edge of the forest, but it's cold. Absolutely freezing, to his mind. Doesn't even get this cold on Ossus.

He feels cheated by the fact that it's so cold and there isn't even any snow. How is he supposed to re-enact the Battle of Hoth, eh?

So he's perched himself on a bar stool to ask Bar for some hot chocolate. She gives him it, along with a toy snowspeeder.

"Astral!"

venusadept_2

Felix is continuing his new habit of strange new habits. Tonight, he has a bag of marshmallows sitting on the table in front of him. He is covering each in turn with many tiny dents: a scaled-down application of the Scoop Psynergy. When a marshmallow looks like a squashed golf ball, he sets it aside and continues to the next one.

If you want to take one of the pocked ones, go ahead.

gravity_shifter

Sikozu is at the far end of the bar, pacing and muttering to herself. She is, however, pacing on a wall, which may be unusual to some. For her, well, she finds it helps her think on occasion.

As always, feel free to annoy and be annoyed.

fairy-short.livejournal.com

[Not-really-OOM: In the infirmary, Holly Short is available for all your fast magical healing needs, whether post-battle or no.]

captain-emerald.livejournal.com

Rimmer's in a booth reading a book on astronavigation. Technically he's not reading it just looking at the pages hopefully that he'll remember some of it while he eats. Come bug him.

2nd-feanorian.livejournal.com

Down the seven ages of men that he had spent all alone among mortals, Maglor had learned many, many things no other elf knew.

Including how to play the piano.

So when he discovered that there was a piano in this strange inn between the worlds, he sat down at it and started playing.

It was a beautiful instrument with a perfect tone, and he just played away, coffee and croissants on top of the piano forgotten, improvising, playing whatever came to his mind.

Mozart segued into ragtime which turned into Beatle songs. Maglor, after all, had been there for the whole history of music.

ms-w-harker.livejournal.com

A Limited-Time Engagement: Mina in the bar. She has before her a list and yes, she seems to be checking it twice.

At her elbow, a goblet of warm blood.

just-a-soldier.livejournal.com

[OOM: After a trip to Holby Aeryn ends up in prison with no way out.]

inquisitivehero

[OOMness: After the Return from the battle on Andrew's World, Hank has been in the Infirmary, treating a few patients with a lot of help from Holly Short and Guppy Sandhu. (Most threads in slowtime still. )]

http://users.livejournal.com/_lady_death/

Lady Death floats into the bar, frowning at the deactivated lightsaber in her hand.

whitewitch-thea.livejournal.com

There's a witch at a table, with a sign and a large bag...

Make-up by Thea.

She's a dab hand with some sparkle paint and she'll do it for free.

[OOC: An attempt to meet people, dive on in, creatures, men and women are all welcome.]

maid-of-astolat.livejournal.com

Elaine comes in and tacks a note to the bulletin board in the bar.

GREENHOUSE NOW OPEN!
All are welcome to plant
But please notify Elaine Le Blanke beforehand.
Many thanks go to all the people who have helped with the reconstruction.

With that, she goes outside to said greenhouse to plant some new things.

[OOC: Feel free to tag the post in Elaine's journal if your character wants to plant anything! :) ]

theravenboy

There is soft, high harp music just behind the doorway. Bran Davies pushes the door open with one elbow, careful not to knock the harp. He's missed Milliways, and certain people at Milliways.

andmisterhyde.livejournal.com

If you're listening, outside the front door rings the sound of the revving of a very noisy and uncooperative engine. It sounds like it's threatening to crash right through the door itself before it cuts off.

The El Camino putters and comes to a sudden halt, allowing one Steven Hyde to leap out and burst in, his curly hair and shoulders covered in glitter and dust. He's wearing a bulky black sweater, a knitted scarf in rainbow colors that nearly reaches his knees (think Doctor Who), old jeans and his old Frye boots. No aviators for this kid anymore.

He stands up and laughs at himself. "Oh yeah...I'm good. I am good." Because he has an impeccable sense of timing, and he knows it.

The kid's back in Milliways for the evening. Somebody better buy him a beer.

[OOC: Thread'll be open all night, if slowtimed in parts. Don't be shy. :]

thursdayn.livejournal.com

Thursday Next steps into Milliways and shakes off her umbrella, yawning and falling into a booth.

Holy long day, Batman.

Occasionally, she taps her ear. 1

"Perkins? Something up?"

Now it's really more like she's talking to herself, too. 2

"Wait, wait, what? New Minotaur?"3

"... right." Thursday, who is talking to someone for certain, sighs. "Right, sorry. I'll be by eventually. Tata, Perkins."

1. "Thursday?"
2. "Yes. I mean no. I mean I was just wondering where you are, since there's going to be a Generic chosen to be the new Minotaur soon --"
3. "Of course. There has to be one, otherwise the story's all wrong, dear girl."

girl-of-gray.livejournal.com

There's a slight and monochromatic Nebari sitting at the bar.

Where she's been for the last several months is anyone's guess, cause her mun sure doesn't know.

no-comb-shep.livejournal.com

Sheppard makes his way downstairs, heading for the Bar. After his usual glance to see if the door's shown up for him or not yet-it hasn't-he sits down, frowning at the Bar's surface. "I'm bored. What've you got?"

A yo-yo appears, making Sheppard grimace.

"Besides that."

A beer appears beside the yo-yo and Sheppard nods, opening it and taking a drink. He's reasonably sure beer won't cause grevious bodily harm, like the yo-yo. His attention wanders bakc to the rest of the bar gradually, and he sets to watching for anyone or anything that catches his eye.

thecoolone

Every step, every advance is a small victory. Bill's not been downstairs by himself in a long time, but it's high time to be back up and moving around.

He feels as if it's safe.

As if he's safe to be around: he's convinced he won't hurt anybody, no matter the phase of the moon. And really, all he wants is a nice cup of tea with cream and three sugars, like he always does.

On the outside, he looks nearly perfect. He wanders over to the bar slowly, so very glad to be alive.

gone_byebye

The green stuff is only good for so long, and Ray's not really looking for much in the way of dinner right now. Maybe later, but not now. He's settled down on one of the couches by the fire instead.

Bar makes really good chocolate malt Ovaltine.

balletrat

*Meg heads downstairs and into the bar, absently pushing a few loose tendrils of hair out of her face with her right hand, and goes to collect the cup of coffee already waiting for her at the bar.

She looks a little tired, though not uncheerful.*

sendpeanutbtr.livejournal.com

Claire comes down from Sawyer's room, all smiles, for the first time in what feels like ages.

Until she sees a man she never expected to see, never wanted to see, here in the bar.

A man who let someone drive bloody sticks up her boyfriend's fingernails just because he could.

A man who was supposed to be their hero but is nothing more than a fucking coward as far as she's concerned.

She swore if she ever saw him again. . .

Well, we can blame the hormones, right?

young_tmriddle

Tom stops in the bar for a quick drink. He hasn't much time - he never seems to anymore. But while he's here, he'd be pleased to say hello to old friends or new.

(OOC: Mun has little time, too, but kinda needs to play her old favorite tonight.)

liz-imbrie-.livejournal.com

It's amazing, when you think about it. Tea, I mean. And whiskey. Tea is basically plant leaves, and whiskey is basically grass, and yet --

And yet, tea with whiskey is pretty damn good.

Especially on a nasty cold night like tonight, when Elizabeth Imbrie ducks in from 1939 Philadelphia, unwrapping a thick wool scarf from around her neck. She acquires a cup of ~~leafy water with grasses~~ spiked tea from Bar, and props her feet up on the couch near the fire.

She's vaguely watching the splodey in the observation window, but for once, she's not drawing. You'd have to look to see her camera, too.

Do come chat.

samael-diablo.livejournal.com

[OOM: Post this fascinating thread, Lucifer and Thom fail to discuss pregnancy or...anything else, really. Ji and Fahye euphemise prettily and it's all very lazy.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is in the bar, looking out for any battle victims that might not know about the infirmary. He has his sign up.

The doctor is in

Otherwise he's not doing much right now. Just reading the paper and watching the world go by.

fathers-cleric.livejournal.com

[Millitimed to after all of those fabulous OOMs that Mary and I did together. specifically Part A. Part B. Part C and The Finale]

John Preston in the bar.

Walking through the door, his face doesn't register the normal shock. Goings and Comings have become second nature to him here but...

Now?
Somehow being here brings everything back. Everything that's just happened.

Finding a quiet out of the way table he puts his head in his hands. This is a man who's experienced joy, confusion, happiness, confusion, anger, rage, horror...
But this is the first time he's experienced sadness. This is the first time he's experienced loss.
The Root of alot of the atrocities that they supressed emotion for in the first place.

Those shakings might be sobs-then again they might not.

Current Mood: melancholy

the_antiangst

Angel inna bar, with laundry. ~~Hey, if the mun can't make any progress with hers, one of us might as well.~~
He's staked out one of the couches by the fireplace; other than where he's sitting on it, there's a pile of skirts and a basket with the processed stuff in it. A pile of hangers is on the floor.
Come and help, or distract him, or possibly both.

no-prisoner.livejournal.com

Eddie's at a booth in the bar, transcribing notes into a notebook from a variety of odd media--receipts, scraps of paper, brown paper bags--anything he could find behind the bar last night.

He's trying to compile his on the fly recipes from Name Your Own Night.

There is also nonalcoholic eggnog, which no one should ever drink.

hero-jack.livejournal.com

Jack is in the bar. Gun in waistband. Drink in hand. Watching patrons.

[ooc: this is locked for Claireplotness. Jack mun has no time for long threads. sorry!]

the_seafarer

Dead Narnian king inna bar, up to something.

The something might, possibly, conceivably, have to do with Christmas presents. Or maybe not.

It certainly involves tea, anyway.

latino_menace

Ramon's in the bar, sitting in a booth. When he came in he left a ( Note for Cypher )

That had been a while ago. Now there's coffee in front of him, almost stone cold, and he seems to be on the verge of dozing off. There's also glitter in his hair, but you'll probably get glared at if you mention it.

Have at. He's too tired to be too much of a pain in the ass.

clumsy_auror

There is, at this moment, a Very Pregnant Woman sitting in a corner booth of the bar.

Tonks is sore, and a little cranky, and ever-so-slightly filled with cabin fever.

[OOC: no new threads, plz! *swamped* Love to all, though. :D]

jedizekk.livejournal.com

Zekk's at the bar with a glass of Whyren's. People watching. And not thinking about incident with Val earlier today. No, really, he isn't!

What? Mun's been paper writing all day. She's officially brain dead.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe comes back downstairs, having bandaged himself up the best he could - which is pretty well, really.

The most visible wounds he has are a long cut running down his arm and one curling round his eye. Just a few more scars to add to his collection.

abs-denham.livejournal.com

"I'll be back in a minute."

Abs comes into the bar through what looks like a cupboard door and looks around for his slippers. He is limping slightly.

Not a cupboard.

In fact, the very last place he wants to be right now. As soon as he realises he turns around hurriedly to get away.

The door is gone. He feels at the wall for it frantically before running over to the bar.

"Bar, please, that's not funny. Let me out! Please!"

Wanted man in the bar. And he's stuck.

badinlatin

Mal enters the bar, with a Little Black Book, around palm-size, and he acquires a 21st-century ballpoint pen from the bar. They're easier to manage than inkpens from his time. Especially since no one really uses them anymore.

Come ask him what he's working on? It's probably not a Christmas list.

kitchen_maid

Amy is still curled up over by the fire, as it is warm and comfortable, her shoes still on the floor, her feet tucked neatly under her skirts.

She's set the book aside in favor of her embroidery. Of course, if certain people arrive, the embroidery may vanish very quickly.

Come talk to her. She'd love company.

devils-dandy.livejournal.com

Montparnasse inna bar, at least briefly.

He's still pondering a note he received earlier, which is entirely different from yesterday's note.
Seems he's popular lately.

Still, he's none to eager to humour this latest one. Come keep him company in the meantime.

avonlea-girl.livejournal.com

Anne Shirley sits at a table, surrounded by balsam and glossy sprigs of holly, weaving a wreath, rather absent-mindedly, it must be said. Her hands move with the vague concentration of someone trying to keep their mind off their thoughts, and she doesn't seem to be succeeding.

And her hot chocolate is cold.

acitizenkane.livejournal.com

-oh, has this not been the shittiest couple of weeks ever? Duncan pushes the door to his room open and-

Hey. This is a step up in the world. Avoidance ahoy.

Maybe Lilly is here too.

blond-bubbles.livejournal.com

Bubbles sits in a booth in the corner of the bar, not really doing anything in particular.

She would really like someone to talk to. Just to talk for the sake of talking.

diamndcourtesan.livejournal.com

Mun, who is in Chicago, is inspired by the mountains of snow that have been accumulating all day. It's looking more and more like exotic Switzerland with every passing hour. So even though Satine came through in the summer, Bar has graciously provided a suitable wardrobe for playing in -- ah, enjoying the scenery by the lake. She pushes through the back door and hurries inside, huddled into a fur-trimmed coat. Snow hasn't melted off her hair and shoulders yet when she sinks into a seat and breathlessly orders a mug of hot chocolate.

Perhaps it isn't so bad here -- it's quite like a refreshing trip to the country, really. And such characters! The next one she meets could be you.

eldorne-girl.livejournal.com

[Delia is actually wearing sensible clothes. Well, for her. Jeans and her turtlenecked black jumper in a vauge nod towards winter, but she's still wearing her high-heeled boots and big earrings, so maybe she's not being as sensible as she should]

[of course, it's Delia. She's never sensible.]

[the green-eyed flirt is, however, down in the bar. And without a hangover]