milliways_bar | Jan. 29th, 2006

Jan. 29th, 2006

the-calcium-tm.livejournal.com

Jimmy Connelly's been known to frequent the odd tavern, he's just not known for drinking anything in one. Anything alcoholic, at any rate. It's not often you can order a pint of milk without a bit of a chaser, and frankly, Jimmy's had enough of being chased, yeah?

That, and press conferences, but that's probably a different story.

Ah, well. Least it looks friendly enough and quite welcoming. One of his favourite characteristics about something, welcoming is. Hopping inside's no trouble at all.

Current Mood: cheerful

merenthan.livejournal.com

There are many things within the Forest.

A bar, however, is not one of those things. And yet somehow here's a bar.

Tarrant had really hoped he had seen the last of this place.

twiststheblade

A tiny Japanese girl, on rollerblades, slips through the door. Over her shoulder, there is a dim impression of rain Before the door closes behind her. As she slides through and lets the door slip smoothly shut behind her, one perfect willow-leaf eyebrow raises a scant millimeter. This is. . . larger, than she had expected. Richer, somehow, and older.

A gentle push with one foot, and she is rolling smoothly towards a table at the side of the room, near the fire. She slips off a short black silk kimono, that she had been wearing open, and hangs it on the back of a chair, nearest the fire. Water begins to drip onto the floor and shortly there is a small puddle under the chair. The kimono begins to steam slightly.

She pulls a chair back and spins it sideways so that she is sitting with her back to the wall and the table on her left, and sits. She pulls a sash with attatched scabbard, a japanese saya, over her head and shoulder, and inspects the saya for rain damage. Satisfied, she slides the tachi out of it's holder, and places the saya on the table, as far away from the fire as possible. It must not dry too fast. She pulls a scrap of white silk from the back pocket of her tight black jeans, checks that it is not damp, and begins to slowly and carefully polish the sword dry.

callmefelicia.livejournal.com

Adam is in the bar, with a vodka tonic.

Come say hi.

that-valentine.livejournal.com

There is a quick pulse of flame, and a rather rumpled man in a wrinkled doublet and hose, jacketess and with one sleeve rolled up, is standing in the centre of the floor, right in the middle of an intricte design that appears to have been charred into the wood.

He looks carefully down at the design, then steps slowly away from it, checking over his shoulder that it remains. It does. He seems comforted by this fact.

“Excuse me?” His voice is very small, and perhaps it wavers a little. “Perchance can anyone tell me where I am?”

He does not notice the design slowly fading away.

aj_crawley

It seems to be a recurring theme for Crowley this weekend, the bad mood. It's certainly evident on his face, as he slinks irritably down the stairs from the guest quarters.

Yes, he'd gotten his flat keys from Adam. He's just... he just doesn't...

Not yet.

Crowley pauses, undecided, torn between a dark corner booth for brooding, or an armchair near the fire for warmth.

Hm.

latino_menace

Ramon is a man with a hangover. He thinks this is hardly fair, as he'd got none of the benefits of being drunk yesterday but has still been landed with the headache.

So, he's doing the only sensible thing. Drinking more. Anyone is welcome to come share the booze.

song_tra_bong

After doing a little wandering earlier today, Mary Anne is back in her booth, this time with a book of poetry.
I have my dead and I have let them go
She's also twirling a knife in one hand; it's an unconcious habit, really. Some people spin pens--she prefers something sharper.
and was amazed to see them so contented
Don't let the book or the weapon be an impediment to talking with her. She just got tired of staring aimlessly at the room.

realmrsreynolds

The first thing an observant bar patron might notice come through the door is a weathered and tanned hand, clutching a washcloth.

The rest of the person's body walks in shortly thereafter - all silver hair and blue eyes and muslin apron.

Sallie Reynolds doesn't exactly looked shocked so much as greatly surprised. This is very much not her pantry at home.

"Well then. This is new and...terribly disturbing."

Welcome to Milliways.

[ooc: It's almost 2:30 am here, but Lynne is an enabler and here I am. I'll last a couple hours; go for it!]

oneman_onevote

And down wanders Havelock Vetinari, possibly not for long.

But nevertheless. There he is. Discreetly luring in a corner.

Habit, don't you know.

qsilver-md.livejournal.com

Kevin is sitting at the Bar, with his usual very strong coffee.

whitest_witch

Tom Riddle visits Jadis in the infirmary. They have a brief converstaion. Hopefully, Tom leaves slightly reassured.

namo

[OOM: Námo and Gorlim spend the evening together. Gorlim succeeds in clearing Námo's mind from his gloomy thoughts. Much schmoop, much smut, so beware and tread only if you dare. :)]

whitest_witch

After another nightmare, Jadis wakes up screaming and talks withy Hannibal Lecter.

tea-and-honor.livejournal.com

Ako is back in (or still in) the bar. She may be considering the merits of a poll.

Of British people.

About pants.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

OOM:
Knox ponders the Bar, among other things.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive came wandering in from outside. He was bundled up, red velvet coat, top hat, scarf he'd gotten from bar.
It was possible that he smelled a little like smoke, but what of it?

He headed for a different booth than he'd been occupying as of late, mostly because he wanted to get a different view for filming. Yep, he had his camera back and wasn't scribbling away in notebooks. He'd kept the lyrics that sounded most like him, or that he could remember writing, the rest had just finished burning.

Suffice to say, Clive, booth, camera, possibly filming you, why don't you ask?

conflictedhero.livejournal.com

A reading Bruce Banner sits at a table. The table is covered with piles of flimsies and papers and magazines. Bruce is catching up on his science reports, those he missed while on the run and on the road in his universe.

Somewhere under that mess is a sandwich and a mug of coffee, but where is anybody's guess. He occasionally uses his glasses when perusing something in small print but mostly just sets them down, where they promptly try to hide under paper and flimsies.

The floor next to his table is free of mess, however, as Bruce would never so cavalierly treat information... well, maybe not.

walker-cain.livejournal.com

The Door opens often and people come and go from Milliways. It is something unexplained, something unheeded many times by those who walk in Milliways' unusual world. Today, the Door opens and Cain comes walking.

Cain, looking bedraggled, tired, and somewhat startled, was not expecting this place. It is of note, perhaps, that after a few moments of staring around wildly in surprise and startlement, he grins, shakes his head, and proceeds to walk to the Bar, set down his bag and look for a barman. His hair is swept forward, hanging over where his mark would normally show. Bangs, thick and long enough, should obscure it from ordinary eyes.

Cain has walked a very long way in his time and seen some very odd things. Hell, he has caused some very odd things. So, rather then spend time going "But-", "Why-", "How can-", or any other such thing, he simply sits down his gear and waits. Providence, he has discovered, generally brings an explanation with the weird stuff. You just have to be willing to wait for it. And after a few thousand years? You generally get used to waiting for things.

(ooc: warning: implied sexuality and adult situations in the Cain-Abby thread)

theyounger.livejournal.com

Gareth of Naxen (the younger) is in.

He's deep in a corner booth and nearly blocked in by paperwork, but he is in. If you'd like to know why the stack of papers is swearing viciously, feel free to drop by.

http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

He's up in the rafters, long skinny legs swinging. There's no real reason why he's up there, but he's enjoy it nonetheless.

born-on-monday.livejournal.com

In a corner of the bar near the door, Solomon Grundy sits and munches happily enough on half a frog. A few feet away, Jack Knight sits with his son, feeding him a delicious brunch of strained squash. Teddy seems to disagree on the delicious part, but Jack's nothing if not stubborn.

Too bad Teddy takes after his father in that respect.

Solly offers his half-of-frog and Jack shakes his head before patting Solly on the shoulder.

It's practically domestic.

[ooc: two pup post. tag and get one or the other]

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

Arithon enters from the House of Arch and finds a seat. Food is brought, without being ordered, because Tashka the rat does not trust the s'Ffalenn to remember to eat.

She's a smart rat.

teirnan.livejournal.com

Well.... Guess who hasn't been roaming the Bar Proper in a while?

No matter. He's here now.

The surly pig and his animal companion.

They don't bite, but the tusks are a bit sharp.

Still, they won't mind a bit of company today.

Current Mood: bored

underwater-owl.livejournal.com

Random's in.

Things are looking better. His smile, over the rim of his coffee cup, says it all.

Come on, stop by. You know you want to.

iamnotstorm.livejournal.com

Sarah was out by the lake, practicing, she'd made adjustments to her gauntlets, as she hadn't had to use them in a while. She tested the ice atop the lake before going out to set up a row of rocks and snowballs and dead wood for targets, retreating quickly to solid ground again.

So KRZAPP! and then charred ozone and muffled explosions. She's open for conversation though, sneaking up isn't advised however.

narnianknight.livejournal.com

Rilian isn't in the Bar proper very often. When you spend ten years underground and rarely see other humans without a helm between you and them, you tend to get a little crowd-shy. Even a year of being King hasn't erased all of that.

Nevertheless, he is downstairs now, in a booth with a cup of tea and a faded paperback.

door-2-door.livejournal.com

The Salesman. The Bar. A coffee.
He's considering yesterday's new arrivals, unsure whether he's pleased or concerned.

A distraction would not elicit too much animosity.

[OoC: Back]

pointed-spoon.livejournal.com

It's the End of the Universe.

Pattern
Fractured

Split
Destroyed

Did you expect this one to stay away?

called_lioness

Lucy doesn't want tea.

Lucy doesn't want coffee.

Lucy doesn't want, particularly, to ever think about ingesting anything ever again.

As it is, she's got her face in her hands as she tries desperately to make the giant stop throwing rocks inside her skull.

No luck so far.

lassotrick.livejournal.com

That girl in the corner? Still wearing an orang sweater with a cowboy hat over her face sleeping softly?

Nancy Marie Callahan. Lost in the Dreams of kinder days.

She could probably stand being woken up.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

There is an Ace, in the bar, still, despite the fact she's beginning to feel restless again. Today, she has a mug of tea, which is steaming away gently on the coffee table, and a jumble of different-colored wires, which she is weaving for easy storage. Maybe it is important. Or maybe she's just doing busy-work so she can legitimately enjoy the comfort of the couch.

golden-acorns.livejournal.com

{OOM: Ce'Nedra attempts to have a relaxing bath with her best friend. Things don't go so well.}

A tiny, child-sized body falls in through the ceiling along with a great deal of water. Upon closer inspection, she is an adult, and a very pregnant one at that. She's naked and shivering and her skin is a terrible blue-grey color. She sits up and begins to cough and vomit up copious amounts of water.

smith-jane-mrs.livejournal.com

Jane was off wedged into a booth by herself, with an incredibly healthy lunch of cheeseburger and fries, as well as a coke bigger than her head. Well, maybe about the same size, but it was a lot of soda in any case.

She was, as usual, peoplewatching, wearing a pair of yoga pants with a hot pink skull and crossbones on the hip, the skull was wearing a sequined tiara, and the words across the top were Pirate Princess.

Of course, none of this would be visible unless she was standing. John had gotten them for her for their anniversary one year and they made her laugh, she was mildly surprised to find them in the dresser of their room upstairs that morning, but wasn't going to question it because they were comfortable and kept her warm, which was what she needed.

So there y'go, assassin, booth, yoga pants, lunch, plz not to be stealing her fries.

witchy-rebel.livejournal.com

Faeries have never been a people to overly enjoy being indoors, and though Morgan's only half, she is no exception to this. Sadly, outside at this time means that it is cold, and windy.

So it is that Morgan is curled up in front of the fire, long fingers around a cup of hot chocolate, watching the flames and ignoring her rather wind-swept black hair.

Well.

She's probably watching the flames. She's looking at that general area, anyway.

[ooc: mun is at the national library, and thus AIMless. However, if anyone wants/needs to to talk, email is ashysaki @ gmail.com]

jackdriscoll.livejournal.com

Jack Driscoll is pleased with himself. He looks the part, with his tight, smug smile; his self-satisfied eyes; his stride as he enters the bar, one hand pressed against his abdomen as he scans the bar with a victorious expression.

He's finished writing "Cry Havoc."

Current Mood: accomplished

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive had long since finished with his new vantage point for filming from and was headed outside when he slipped in a couple gallon puddle of water on the floor, that clearly he hadn't noticed due to y'know, filming.

He flailed for a moment before landing flat on his back with an: "oof!" There was another similar sound when his camera landed on his chest.

Anyone have a towel?

loyaltyinmotion.livejournal.com

Jason hurries to the Bar and sets a note down on her surface.
"See that Bernard gets that?"

He gives her surface a quick rub and hurries back out.

darling-alexi.livejournal.com

Alexi Darling's actually downstairs. Fancy that.
She's sitting at a table, with a book, tea (though she suspects it's caffeine-free), and onion rings. Yes, onion rings.
If nothing else, she's finally gotten used to not having to be AliveAlertAwakeEnthusiastic before dawn every day. That's certainly a nice change of pace.

sullen-seeker.livejournal.com

[OOM: Viktor, Thea, and Thea's demon in the infirmary. Or as I like to call it, "My boyfriend's back and there's gonna be trouble...!"]

http://users.livejournal.com/_righthandman_/

It is not often that you see a large muscly CTU agent lounging about eating chocolate-covered strawberries.

But that would be just what Chase is doing at the moment. 'Cause why not? They're yummy.

Come bother him!

street-sparrow.livejournal.com

In the House of Arch, Bianca and Gavroche talk about Asandir and the chance he might offer

inquisitivehero

Hank settles in his table outside the Infirmary, tapping at his rather odd looking laptop, his eyes intent.

He is back from his honeymoon, working, and happy.

As he works, lights flash and sounds emit from the laptop unlike anything ever seen before. Mainly because there is nothing else like this laptop.

avonlea-girl.livejournal.com

It's Longfellow, today.

Anne is curled up by the fire, cheek on her hand, reading. If someone were to come close enough, they would see her lips moving, and hear her speaking words softly under her breath. They might even hear the entirety of the poem, since Anne's concentration is utterly involved by the book and she is not likely to notice anyone standing nearby.

Longfellow tends to have that effect.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

The door opens with a loud SLAM to reveal a massive sword point wreathed in angry blue flame. The slam might even be loud enough to cover the sound of a voice roaring the word "BURST!" at the top of his sizeable lungs. One might wonder what's going on except that a moment later, Belgarion of Riva steps through the doorway looking somewhere between confused, anguished, and ready to kill someone in a slow and painful manner.

Someone just tried to drown his wife. His pregnant wife.

And then she disappeared.

While part of him prays that she's here, another part is ready to do whatever it has to to find her if she's not.

[ooc: not plot locked and this is LOUD. That being said, he's not going to want to chit chat. Ping at own risk]

a-fell.livejournal.com

Aziraphael's back early, today.

It isn't as though he's slept, and cataloguing books gets dull. Eventually. In this sort of mood, anyway.

He's curled up on the sofa by the fire, be-tea'd and be-Yeats'd. Every now and again his eyes flicker towards the stairs, certainly, but it's probably politest not to mention it.

Current Mood: cold

bartyjr.livejournal.com

[OOM: Room 202. Barty is making words leap out of his book and glow blue when Morgan interrupts. She is unhappy that some people have a strong aversion to Barty. Later, she mentions that Bellatrix has arrived.]

musical-muse.livejournal.com

*Tere is in the bar, with her almost omnipresent martini, sipping and humming and wandering. Please bother her*

saionjisenpai.livejournal.com

Saionji is sitting at the bar, drinking a cup of coffee. His pant legs are soaked with snow up to his knees, and there's a bamboo shinai laying across the Bar beside him.

Guess what he's been doing?

geek_diva

Sunday afternoons on campus are dead as disco.

Which is why Daria has no problem with the fact that the door out of her dorm room opens directly into Milliways.

She grabs a slice of pizza and a coke from Bar and heads over to a table to people-watch.

slayer_fray

Mel enters the bar from outside, drying her hair on an old towel. She picks up cocoa and whiskey from the bar, along with a large Hawaiian pizza, and takes both over to the fire.
playground school bell rings againWhen there, she produces a notepad and pen, and starts writing, thoughtfully.
rain clouds come to play againYellow - lots
Red - medium
Black - medium
White - lots
Bullet vibrators
has no one told you she's not breathing?Occasionally she pauses, tapping the end of the pen against her teeth. After a few minutes she turn a few pages and appears me drawing something.
hello i'm your mind giving you someone to talk toMel's plotting something. This is never good.
hello

attic-girl.livejournal.com

Her Ladyship Fuchsia Groan is in the bar.

She's sitting at an out of the way table, sipping elderberry wine and watching everyone else in the bar go about their business. Feel free to interrupt hers, but as usual, no startling. She is skittish.

bloodyrockgod

Charlie has a look. It's a very good look, though: it's an "I know something you don't know" look.

Mainly it involves the tune emerging under his fingers. He writes down the notes with particular glee.

abotticellilady.livejournal.com

[Past OOM: Italy, 1927]

ariseinmight

There's a Melkor by the fire.

Sprawled across an armchair.

He's watching the flames dance.

They appear to be doing the tango.

princeinexile

A prince decides that eating comes over pride.

It took him quite a while to come to that decision, so he goes to the Bar, sets up a tab, and gets a small meal.

Retreating to the booth, he eats well -- but looks like the shame of a tab just cost him five years off his life.

He could use cheering. Or talking. Or something that doesn't involve brooding.

souvlakifan.livejournal.com

Schanke's back downstairs.

He's at the bar with a beer and a souvlaki.

This being dead thing isn't half bad.

New friends would be a joy.

leftthecradle.livejournal.com

OOM: Farewell to Earth

The Door opens and a tall newcomer enters. He is the size of a tall human, but the resemblance ends there. Or does it? After all, he is completely encased in some sort of armor which has a rather organic feel. Almost as if it had been grown instead of forged. Blue eyes glow eerily in his smooth head along with a red gem over his chest. A long cloak falls from his shoulders to the floor, obscuring the rest of his body.

He seems somewhat nonplussed to be in Milliways.

"Curious," he says quietly as he turns to look at the Door and the alien room it opens into. As he speaks the light from the gem on his chest seems to ripple. "Most curious. I trust this is not one of your attempts at humor, Ship."

If he recieves an answer, it's not one that can be heard audibly. He allows the Door to shut behind him and glides further into Milliways.

sf-nosferatu.livejournal.com

Two vampires sharing a booth.

Also sharing a bottle of blood-soaked wine.

Daedalus and Vachon are getting along really well, actually.

From Vachon's point of view, the Nosferatu's easier to understand than Screed, and at least he drinks human blood.

To Daedalus, Vachon's more respectful than most Gangrel, for all that he dresses like one.

C'mon and say hi. They won't bite. Tonight.

qsilver-lab-rat.livejournal.com

Darien's sitting at the couches, a large and clunky laptop on his lap. Beside him sits a notebook with a few sketches in it, another with a long list of supplies, and a bottle of Corona, half gone. On the other side of him is a plate with a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich on it, half eaten. He's staring intently at the screen, plenty on his mind at the moment as he considers every angle of the joint.

Feel free to come by an interrupt him. He'd love some company.

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

The number of dead Brittish sailors in the bar has just gone up by one. Archie's got himself a cup of tea and a slice of cake, and he's tucked into a booth with a good view of most of the area. Like always, he's got his Security badge tucked into the inside of his uniform coat.

Tea, cake, and a badge, somebody's always ready for trouble.

the_antiangst

Angel inna bar, to say nothing of the skirt. Or where in the bar, at this point; he's practically a fixture over by the fireplace.
And while he doesn't have his notebook, he's still slightly preoccupied with the whole Oscars thing.
Come and bother? He's got pizza; he'll share if you don't mind the pineapple (or the bacon, come to that). Oh, and mind the fuzzy gender line, if you're a newcomer.

iwasalevel6.livejournal.com

[ After this: ]

The small beagle fled across the bar, and the ex-CTU agent followed.

It wasn't until he found Mason barking happily underneath a booth that Tony Almeida realized where he was: Milliways. He could have laughed, and he did, scooping the silly dog into his arms and carrying him to the bar. The letter he received made his face fall a little, but he ordered a glass of orange juice and some doggie treats and went to a table to sit and catch his breath.

He might as well enjoy himself as long as he was here.

sister-lucy.livejournal.com

There's a very tall devil in full geisha regalia in the bar. Lucy is, as usual, sipping a fruity drink, twirling her parasol and looking for interesting people to chat with. Are you one of them?

capt_angie

There are three women and one doll sitting by the fireplace having a conversation. Or... what amounts to a conversation anyway.

Drusilla is there with Miss Edith, and she is the one doing the most talking, in her usual poetic style.

Helga for her part is listening to the poor, obviously disturbed girl, stopping Dru occasionally to ask a question.

The last of them, Angelina, is hardly paying attention to Drusilla, even when she segues off onto a tangent. Angie is staring in awe at Helga, her brain going 'ZOMG! Founder!' If Helga notices, she is too polite to say anything.

Talk to one, talk to all... [just make it clear who you want to speak to in the tag:)]

air-scooting.livejournal.com

Outside, Aang was lounging on the roof of the bar. Why outside?

Well... why not?

As it was, the wee monk was still upset and trying to absorb information into his brain.

He could use a distraction. Or some cheering up. Maybe a cookie. Cookies are nice.

fathers-cleric.livejournal.com

[ooc: after this]

Outside the door one can hear the pitfalls of heavy rain as Cleric Preston wandered in-almost oblivious. He shrugged out of his coat-

No good.
He was still soaked.

He jogged upstairs to his room and returned in comfortable spar-clothing, clutching a shinai sword.

However, rather then finding his way outside for practice he claimed a chair by the fire.
He's there now. Staring.

[Tags will be slow due to family's need for me-but Preston Save libria plotters might want to tag. ^^; That and I have slowtimes.]

mistressmaryquitecontrary

Mary Lennox is kneeling outside the greenhouse; her gloved hands are covered in dirt, as are the knees of her stockings. There's a steadily increasing hole in the ground in front of her.

A small apple-tree sapling, no more than a foot high, sits in a pot next to her legs.

She looks about as happy as anyone from Milliways has ever seen her; but then, not very many people from Milliways have seen Mary gardening.

csi-catherine.livejournal.com

It's a Catherine, returned from her honeymoon--glowing, relaxed, blissful, completely and absolutely happy to the last degree.

Tag so she can share the good vibes, eh?

mr-shipbuilder.livejournal.com

[OOM: The Morning After.]

Upon coming downstairs, Thomas approached the bar, and had hardly asked for a cup of coffee when a number of other things appeared with it: deckplans, pencils, erasers, a fountain pen, bottle of ink, and a leather-covered notebook. On seeing the notebook he'd patted the pockets of his Edwardian suit coat, only just realizing that he hadn't had his notebook with him when he'd entered the night before.

Now he's ensconced in a booth, the deck plans spread out in front of him, scribbling away in his notebook. The cup of coffee is by his elbow, cold as stone. Feel free to peer over his shoulder, though he might not notice you at first.

[OOC: ~~Mun heading out for about an hour at 9pm EST, but should be back fairly promptly at ten~~ Or not. Am here.]

diamndcourtesan.livejournal.com

That ravishing bedazzlement, that tempter of men, that diamond among women, that caged sparrow, that fallen star -- Satine, object of desire and despair -- is in the Bar.

In flannel pajamas and bunny slippers. No corsets, no heels, no hairpins, no jewelry, no makeup in sight. What she does have is a closed look on her face and a hot chocolate made with mint tea in.

She also just might be singing to herself. "Running Up That Hill," for the interested.

Yes, she'll talk to anyone. No, she probably won't tell you why. Maybe not even you, Jack. We'll have to see.

vaapadmaster.livejournal.com

Jedi master, tea, booth. Relaxing after a day of lessons and practice...

Bug him?

whitest_witch

Jadis, clad as usual in the black jeans, floppy white poet's shirt and Doc Martens that Bar had provided a few days ago, a couple of books under one arm, and bundle of cloth under the other, walks into the bar. She walks up to Bar, and rests one hand lightly on the wood.

"If I could be provided with the key to a room, that would be much appreciated." A key appears on the Bar surface, with a tag attached. "Room Sixty. My thanks."

The witch disappears upstairs, to return some fifteen minutes later, minus the cloth, and with only one book. She makes her way to one of the larger chairs by the fire, stopping to get a glass of milk, and immerses herself in her book. She wouldn't bite if interrupted. . .

callmefelicia.livejournal.com

Adam comes downstairs and sits by the Bar, not quite as high-energy as usual. In fact, he's downright lethargic.

There are a couple of bites and scratches visible above the neck of his shirt.

fire-of-mahal.livejournal.com

Here's someone who's not been seen inside the Bar in a while: Gimli, fresh from the forge and smelling of ash and coke.

... no, not that kind. It's involved in steel production.

Seriously.

Look, dammit, quit making the drug jokes and just come tag the dwarf.

always-a-liar.livejournal.com

A pretty man dressed all in black is sitting at an out of the way table calmly sipping a glass of ice water. His long black cape rakishly hangs off one shoulder, a silver chain holding the two ends. He is wearing a long black garment rather resembling a dress, with a deep, narrow neckline that laced closed across his chest. A slit on his right leg that came to his hip exposed the turned-down top of a thigh-high black leather boot embroidered with silver thread. His delicate, surgeon-like hands nearly obscured by the lace dripping from his sleeves.

He looks entirely too smug, but in his favor, he has some of the most pretty blue eyes, the observer may ever have seen.

Approach entirely at your own risk.

red-mare.livejournal.com

It is dark outside; still, there is some light. Jah-lila has gathered enough wood to keep a fire of respectable size burning when she comes here, and so she and a small brown cat are curled up beside it. The light is plentiful enough to reveal her horn, not merely give one the impression of an odd horse.

giftedthom.livejournal.com

*Thom, curled loosely against the wall of a booth, is running a finger repeatedly over his bottom lip.

It'll start bleeding again if he doesn't stop.*

loyaltyinmotion.livejournal.com

Yes, it's late. But Jason is still curled in his booth, fiddling with a cup of coffee. He looks somewhat distracted. Care to snap him out of it?

mercurialist

Sprawled out flat on his back in the rafters is Mercer, one knee bent, the other leg hanging down to swing back and forth like a pendulum.

He's flipping a coin, over and over, with a single-minded rapidness, never checking to see if it comes up heads or tails before flicking it airborne again. One flip sends it wide; before it can fall, his hand darts out to grab it, almost nonchalantly despite the speed.

And the whole time, he's whistling. Loudly. Off-key.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

He was up early this morning, exercising. He's been outside for most of the day, inobtrusive. But now he's hungry, and he doesn't plan on letting this get out of hand, so now Sergeant Wells is in the Bar with a bowl of some kind of noodles and a pint of beer.

stopped-signal.livejournal.com

Well, here's someone we haven't seen downstairs in quite a while.

He's been in his room for several months, though it hasn't felt that long to him, rebuilding a much-reduced version of his communications centre, and only coming down to get new equipment and sometimes food. But now he's done as much as he can on that, and he's venturing out again.

Come say hi to Mr. Universe.

[ooc: under new management. please be gentle?]

http://users.livejournal.com/_venus_de_milo/

Sandwich time! Looks like Ami-chan left her lunch out again. At least she's not Usagi and left half?

Munch munch munch.

still-michael.livejournal.com

So very backdated, after Michael and Starbuck meet in the cells, Michael heads back upstairs where he and Kitt discuss many things.

futures_of_ash

Rachel sighed, breath frosting into the silvery air. She was shaking, and it wasn't from the cold, no the lovely cloak Archie had given her had warming spells. No, she wasn't cold, but she was almost drowning in shadow...memories scoring through her mind like blades a she trie dto grip them, force them into making sense through the haze of pain and fear.

It wasn't going well.

It was far more peaceful to watch her own breath or stare at teh ripples in teh water near her feet. Far more peaceful indeed.

countofserenno.livejournal.com

There is a Count in the Bar. Well, he would be a Count later...right now, he's just a Jedi. And he looks like he's got entirely too much time on his hands, just sitting here and eating all alone. Someone should come bug him.

finn-beginagain.livejournal.com

Riley is sitting in one of the chairs by the fire.
Pondering life...
Pondering the universe...
...and pondering everything.
Coffee in hand and eyes watching the flames dance.

http://users.livejournal.com/_bloodyrose/

Touga is sitting at a table with his chin resting on the backs of his interlocked fingers. Just watching the world pass him by.

Or he is watching the single white rose in a vase in front of him.

One has to wonder what he is thinking of.

whitest_witch

Jadis is visited by Peter Pevensie. Words are Had.

action-antihero.livejournal.com

[OOM: In the Night Market's Sound. Jack heads halfway around the world, only to see a somewhat familiar face. In progress.]

acitizenkane.livejournal.com

The fugitive Duncan Kane steps into Milliways. He's a little dusty and tired, riding a truck through Mexico all day after several weeks of stressing out makes you stiff.

"Well," he says, looking down at his companion. The tiny baby wriggles in her pink blanket, making a soft noise.

"Here's somewhere I didn't think I'd see again." He did hope, though.

Duncan and the young Lilly take a seat in a booth to unwind.

transgenic-max.livejournal.com

Max is curled up in a booth, frowning slightly as she pages through a battered notebook. The pen is tapping lightly on the table, a complicated rhythm, though it's not taking much of her attention. Every now and then she glances up from the notebook, looking swiftly over the bar.

She's definitely not too engrossed in what she's doing to have company.

whitest_witch

Whilst still in the Infirmary, Jadis receives a visit from Caspian and Jill Pole.

qsilver-md.livejournal.com

OOM: The Past - Kevin and Darien wander away from a childhood camping trip and get lost in the woods. Includes one broken ankle and the birth of two lifelong phobias.

gentleprince.livejournal.com

Faramir is sitting at a table. It's one of those larger round ones -- the kind that surely has more than enough room for company. The prince is making certain to take up as little space as possible. The table is bare except for his teacup and saucer.

He'll probably order some cookies if anyone decides to stop by...

[ooc: Not plotlocked, but all other threads will be millitimed to before Eowyn's.]

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

(OOM: Ace reassures herself that she can still fly.)

guppy_sandhu

In a booth near the trilobite tank there are Guppy and Abs, having a pint and working out something on a piece of paper in the middle.

Over by the fire is Snowball, who also has a large sheet of paper and is working on it with a piece of charcoal between his trotters.

[ooc: Mun has to slowtime for sleep. Say sorry.]