milliways_bar | Feb. 18th, 2006

Feb. 18th, 2006

witchy-rebel.livejournal.com

Unlike most of the other females in the bar, Morgan isn't currently suffering from that time of the month...due to the fact that she's six months pregnant (so, instead of being moody once a month, she's moody all the time).

Now that that's out of the way...

Morgan is sitting at a table, with multiple books and her snake. Hair falling out of her loose braid, dress plain and servicable, and ink-stains on her pale fingers.

The Iliad seems to stand out from all the magic books, but it's her reward for finishing the letter for Thea. That would be the letter she's currently trying to hash out.

She comes from the late fifth century - letter-writing isn't a course for princesses yet, they aren't supposed to be able to read and write.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

There is, perhaps, not as much of the odd smell as there had been last night. Thus, Sergeant Wells feels a little less ill at ease. He's still wary as he orders his dinner, and he still takes a table with a clear path to the back door, but ultimately it doesn't worry him as much to be in the Bar right now as it did yesterday.

If you don't mind wary and slightly twitchy in green fatigues, he's really quite approachable.

creator_raven

There is a booth in the bar, unsurprisingly.

Perhaps similarly unsurprisingly there is a plate of cookies on the table, and a glass of milk.

The least surprising thing about all of this, if one is paying attention, is that the booth is occupied by a Raven.

And a tangle of string.

transgenic-max.livejournal.com

There is, as is often the case, a Max curled up in a booth, sipping at a cup of coffee. She's not reading today, though, or writing, or planning (at least not outwardly). She's people watching, with a fair bit more intensity than is normal.

Come poke the X5?

just-a-soldier.livejournal.com

By special request, with the mun lying like a dog, is Aeryn on a stool. See that big box next to her. The one with the sign that says:

'DO NOT KICK! EXPLOSIVE CONTENTS!'

She's not really watching it. But do you really want the Bar to explode?

Current Mood: moody

song_tra_bong

It's not so much that her ears were burning as she wanted a drink. She's been up in her room thinking for long enough. Most of the details are finally sorted out.

Mary Anne picks up a glass of sangria from Bar and takes a seat in her usual booth.

Just because she has things to do (people to kill) doesn't mean she can't take time to enjoy the little things.

[ooc: plotlocked, say thank ya.]

abotticellilady.livejournal.com

And by the fire, there is a Bianca. Jeans and gypsy top, hair braided with pearls and a cup of soup in her hands.

Calm, slightly dreamy-expression, as normal.

Hmmm...

gorlim.livejournal.com

[Millitimed to just before midnight on Friday]

Gorlim comes down the stairs into the bar with a sage-green burlap sack slung awkwardly over his right shoulder. It doesn't look like it contains much or is very heavy, but he still seems a little unbalanced by it. Well, take a backpack or large purse and sling it over the opposite shoulder from the one you usually carry it on and you'll see why. His left arm hangs at his side, bandages hidden under his sleeve and cloak hiding the wound he received from Ramon last night.

He heads to the bar and leaves several letters and a package with Bar, who magics them away and delivers in return a small pill bottle and a modified first aid kit containing fresh bandages and antiseptic soap. Gorlim shoves the box into his sack quickly, picks up the bottle and looks around. He soon spots the person he's looking for, and heads over to where Random is leaning against a booth wall drumming his fingers against each other.

"Ready?" Random asks. "Everything taken care of?"

Gorlim nods. "I spoke to Namo and Ellie, left notes for everyone else." He shifts the bag uncomfortably on his shoulder. "Got some clothes and herbs Ellie sent me with. Could you keep these for me?" He hands the bottle to Random, who peers at it and then pockets it carefully.

"Fabulous. Let's get out of here." Random reaches for Gorlim's hand. They touch, and are gone.

-------------------------

LETTERS:

( To Lee Castle )

( To Guppy )

( To Abs Denham )

( To Malcolm Crowe )

( To anyone else who might have cause to notice Gorlim's absense or be looking for him )

[OOC: Gorlim will be speaking individually to a few other people in millitimed threads. The mun apologizes for unforeseen circumstances that prevented her from threading these tonight.]

aj_crawley

imperfecthero01.livejournal.com

[OOM: Heero gets deeper into his mission.]

knight-sparhawk.livejournal.com

Sparhawk is out in the stables, taking care of Faran after a morning ride, and enjoying the cool of the morning. He has been up for a few hours and has enjoyed the ride and the quiet he has encountered thus far. As he takes care of Faran, he talks to his horse, quietly.

called_lioness

[OOM: Some females aren't troubled by this time of month at all.]

equivocal-miles.livejournal.com

Sleep having abandoned him at an entirely unfair hour, Miles is in the bar, seated at a table far enough from the main thoroughfares to allow for a slightly reduced chance that it will be jostled by random passersby. He is playing with toy soldiers in the self-conscious way that a man of thirty tends to reclaim a childhood hobby: sheepish but resolute. It is not playing, it is modeling.

He is modeling a ground assault on his otherwise untouched wine bottle.

go-between.livejournal.com

Richard shuffles into the bar to write a few letters, and is surprised to find one for him.

He reads it, scowls, reads it again, and sits to write a response.

( Read more... )

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

After this and this...

Angela comes down the stairs, back in her baggy black clothing and her heavy makeup again. She hasn't slept, and her eyes are red-rimmed.

She contemplates food for about a half-second before she goes over to sit in front of the fireplace, curls up in a chair, and stares listelessly into the fire.

She never comes downstairs this early. She's not feeling terribly well.

knight-sparhawk.livejournal.com

After finishing the task of looking after his horse, Sparhawk is inside, eating a late lunch and watching the Bar. He is still feeling a little overwhelmed at all that has happened in his world, with losing his friend and having to kill a God and coming into possession of a powerful artifact. However, several days of taking in the atmosphere here at Milliways have slowly eased his tension, and the weight upon his shoulders and he sits a little higher today than he has since he arrived this time.

onetruth-sleuth.livejournal.com

One shrunken teenage detective inna bar. He's buried in copies of old newpapers from his homeworld, and sipping idly at a coke. Other than the usual issues, the young boy is in a relatively good mood...Generally speaking, of course.

Sitting at the bar is one not!Kikyo, naturally...pissed off. Being a girl SUCKED! She's got a cup of hot tea before her, though it goes untouched. So much for helping her.

One messy blond adept, Isaac, sits at a booth off in a corner, whispering softly with Flint, his Djinn.

And, last but not least...One little five year old Superheroine! Finally, one of the rare females in the bar that WON'T bite your head off at the moment! She's smiling as she does some college-level arithmetic as she sits at a table in a booster seat.

Tag one, tag all...And make me regret saying that... ^_^*

(OOC: Mun has been pulled away, but will gladly slow-time any taags late tonight...)

petraarkanian.livejournal.com

Its morning time, yet Petra is still asleep. Maps and little toy soldiers make the table look like a game of Risk gone awry. Her head is right in the middle of North America.

Anyone wanta wake her up?

Kit is taking a snooze under her chair.

theprettiestone.livejournal.com

Alex wanders in from the House of Arch, dressed in sparring gear with a practice sword belted at his hip.

[ooc: not plot-locked, but if you're in the Desh-theire plot and planning to mistake Alex for either Arithon or Avar, please to be pinging theabbreviated first. :)]

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive, still boa-ed, was sitting at one of the small tables near the observation window, back to the destruction behind him, top hat firmly in place, filming occasionally, but mostly doodling.

Somehow he'd managed to get a chair where the seat was high enough that his feet didn't touch the floor, ankles crossed, feet swinging idly. He had one earpiece in, listening to music and the Bar at large at the same time.

(twenty minutes while on lunch, then nothin' until I get home, 'bout five hours from now. Tag away ^^ )

jackdriscoll.livejournal.com

There's a Jack. At a table. Filling out a crossword puzzle. With no visible signs of breakiness. He's just filling out a crossword puzzle. Six letter word for a river in Egypt, anyone?

not-broomboy.livejournal.com

A tisket, a tasket
A Liir in a basket
Set out for Hell, no, he's never done well.

A tasket, a tisket,
He tries and tries, and yet
An unmade mind's the hardest one to really find.

A Witchlet, a hatchlet
A constant-lit cigarette
Lessons unlearned and yet everything burns.

A hatchlet, a Witchlet,
Has he figured out yet
To open the door or to stay here for more.

...

Liir's at the bar, cigarette burning in the ashtray as he sips on coffee and nibbles on toast and honeyed apples.

twostandingby

There is a still-rumpled, tired Tycho sitting at the Bar with a glass of water and a datapad procured from Bar. He is scrolling through and intently studying some blueprints and specifications that will look pretty complicated if you happen to read over his shoulder. His concentration isn't total, though, as occasionally, he'll glance up fast at a loud noise or voices; still a bit skittish about Milliways, this one is.

alwaysroomforhope

There's a Steph. She's never been more thankful for being dead and free of biological misery before.

She's curled up small in the shadowy corner of a shadowy booth - but one where she has a decent view of a large part of the bar. She's deep in thought.

About what, is a question best not asked, really.

[ooc: mun will be here for HOURS AND HOURS, but also has to attend to other things at the same time, so tags will be slow but constant, la.]

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Outside it's a little above freezing, with snow and rain moving in. Sarge reckons he has a few hours left this afternoon in which to get in some decent football practise. For now, though, he's got a pint, lunch- falafel, he's been avoiding meat for a while now- and a notebook. The notebook's being largely ignored in favour of the former two items.

Its time will come.

beauty-marred.livejournal.com

[OOM: Sikozu hunts down Kevin Fawkes and then takes him to the cells, where he tends to Narcissa's injuries. Some time later, Draco visits his mother.]

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

Arithon s'Ffalenn, prime target of Desh-theire's malice, enters the bar.

He's still got no clue, no clue at all.

cywyllog

[OOM: Cywyllog receives an unwelcome surprise.]

redhorserider.livejournal.com

A slinky red cocktail dress and and red stilettos are accompanied by a beautiful red-headed woman sitting at a table in a dark corner of the room.

She's got her usual glass of red wine.

[ooc: plot-locked. if you wish to tag, ping me at doppleganglander on AIM]

not-a-redshirt.livejournal.com

Castle in the bar. Unlike his mun, he is not suffering from a violent stomach flu, and has not been going to bed every night at 8:30.

So he's just draped over his usual couch, playing with Zeke the cat. Bother at will.

sanguimmuno.livejournal.com

Simply put, Salazar Slytherin is back in Milliways, after an extended holiday in some mountainous region north of Romania.

He's reading some books, writing in some scrolls, and occasionally?

He talks to himself.

Crazy? Possibly.

Don't mash noodles in his hair, okay? He's gotten enough of that with the new sprog his 'aunt' brought to the manor the other day.

It's possible he still has some in his beard.

imperfecthero01.livejournal.com

[OOM: Even when one is careful, someone might discover what has been done. And in the end of it all, on one dark night a mission fails. ]

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

[OOM: Mark gets arrested.]

skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com

Svava, sitting at a table, with tea.

She has seen quite a few notices up, both out here and in the Security Office. Quite a few of them are giving her things to think over- and the subjects are not happy sorts. You can ask her about them, of course. Or pester her on anything else- either her Security Badge or her likeness (plot!) to a former Vampire. Just saying.

the_antiangst

The bar's hormonal-rage epidemic seems to have subsided, so Angel's back to messing with people's typical gender perceptions.
When he asked Bar for dinner, he also got a book. On further inspection, it turned out to be a catalog for some people calling themselves Brute Force Cybernetics. Dinner's long since done, so now he's over by the fireplace, flipping through the catalog.
It's a pretty entertaining read. And if nothing else, he knows what Bar meant about the Milk of Amnesia thing at Happy Hour the other night.

(OOC: Will be disappearing around ten EST, for... an as-yet-undetermined amount of time. Likely depends on the music quality at my school's own tribute to fuzzy gender lines.)

alwaysroomforhope

Steph's sitting at the Bar, having recently discovered that being dead, she's no longer subject to age restrictions on alcohol service.

Someone should probably tell her it's still not a good idea to be steadily working her way through that much tequila, though.

Mun is perfectly aware that practically the whole Northern Hemisphere is asleep at this time of morning, but Steph isn't, so. *posts anyway* I'll be here until midnight my time, GMT +10:00.

mercurialist

[OOM: What Mercer's been up to lately.]

rebel-falcon.livejournal.com

And there's a smuggler space captain in the bar, legs propped up on a table, a plate of barbecued traladon ribs in front of him, and a satisfied, perhaps slightly smug, expression on his face. How unusual.

Same as below post applies - mun here till midnight Australian Eastern, if y'wanna tag afterwards I'll get back in the morning, why doesn't the world revolve around my sleeping habits, waily waily? etc. 9:55pm: Mmkay, I lied. Heading out to get ridiculously drunk and watch pretty B-grade sci-fi series on DVD - is there a better way to spend Saturday night? *grin* Still tag, but I'm no longer here, will be back tomorrow.

sister-lucy.livejournal.com

Seven-and-a-half-foot geisha inna bar.

Chair, looking out the observation window.

Fruity drink. Twirling parasol.

The usual.

gondolin-noble.livejournal.com

It is snowing still in Imladris, though there are signs that winter is losing its grip. Glorfindel strides into the bar, twirling a fallen fruit tree blossom between his fingers, looking terribly pleased with himself, and the world in general. This good mood can be expanded to include the entire bar as well.

Provided he isn't mistaken for someone else, that is. Glorfindel of Imladris, here (unknowingly) to fulfill anyone's tall, blonde male requirements.

cywyllog

Cywyllog enters the bar, slamming the door behind her. A double-take follows soon after, as she was not expecting to end up here so soon again. Not that she minds this time.

She takes a seat at the bar and orders a bottle of wine. She may be here for a while.

jaded-jedi.livejournal.com

[OOM: The Masters Skywalker, Cal Omas, Kyp Durron, one Derek Eckrir, a Senator for Naboo, and his date Ms. Valentine Wiggin-Skywalker (only going by Valentine Janson here) are seated at a table together at a diplomatic dinner. Only chaos ensues. 'Cause they don't get along very much. Rated U for UST, and HW for Hero Worship, and also some Angst and Anger. :D]

Mara's leaning against the bar, in a golden evening gown that hugged all the right places, her dainty high heeled shoes on the floor next to her barefeet, her hair swept up out of her face, save for the few whisps dangling in her eyes.

A glass of wine dangles from her fingers, just don't tell her husband. Or Valentine. Or...anyone who knows her and knows she shouldn't be drinking yet.

But she looks pretty calm (for once), and it's sort of suprising, after the night she's had. So chatting would be a good thing now.

balletrat

*Meg is sitting at the bar, with a cup of coffee that has no alcohol in it.

At the moment, she is not hungover, and in the five minutes since she came downstairs no one has attempted to abduct her or hold her hostage. This already raises her day at least two points above the rest of the week.

She's bent over a pad of paper, on which she is drawing, very intently. This is an attempt at distraction, to stop herself from thinking about the reasons why, relatively, two points above the rest of the week is still not saying very much.

(Every few minutes or so she steals an involuntary glance at the blank wall, where, for her, there used to be a door.)*

guppy_sandhu

[oom: A caterpillar can reach the leaf with hundreds of tiny steps. Time passes in Holby]

It has been a week for Dr Guppy Sandhu since he last stepped into the bar. Today he is sitting quite content with a cup of tea, a bar of chocolate (a Tesco Value 200g milk chocolate slab that he is gradually eating his way through) and an article on Jerusalem Syndrome. And he has his sign up:

The doctor is in

Come chat. He will share the chocolate.

magius-unlocked.livejournal.com

There is a Magius at the fireplace, staring at flames. His eyes are luminous, truly glowing silver, and he is singing softly, a song in an ancient language. As he sings, in front of him, on the stones before the fire, there are dancing lights that resolve into strange figures and back into lights again as he sings.

un_fallen

Raguel enters from the lake door once again, ~~sulking~~ slightly out-of-sorts. He stretches one leg in front of him as he lowers himself into a booth, sighing. A crumpled pack of cigarettes is tossed onto the table in front of him, but he makes no further move.

My, that's an interesting wood-grain there in the floorboards.

badinlatin

Mal Reynolds, Dave Lister, Barty Crouch Jr, Wes Janson, Angelina Johnson, Shelley Winters and Angelo.

All at the bar.

All drinking.

All approachable.

All Night Long.

[ooc: Seven muns, three computers, all crack. Or whatever else happens. Expect general occasional slowness due to splitting of computers.

London Millicon whut.

ETA: At 3:25 am, we are falling over. Good afternoon, good evening and good night, all folken.]

buddyofchrist.livejournal.com

Well, here's a friendly face.

Actually it's not so much friendly as surly, and possibly vaguely familiar. Biff is sitting by the fire, picking at a piece of pizza.

He doesn't look too happy.

backwardname.livejournal.com

[OOM: In which there is a suspect nobody can break, and an impossible warrant is needed.]

"We won't be gone a minute," Campbell murmured, fingering the Milliways napkin in his pocket and pushing open the door.

Once the door was open, and he and Judge slipped from what should have been the break room into what is in fact Milliways, Campbell flopped down at a booth, murmured something to Bar about Rhode Island laws on credit fraud, and then put his head on the booth.

"Fucking. Silent. Stalkers."

The man could really use a break.

grovecj.livejournal.com

Carl Johnson, and Mona Sax.

No, they are not a couple, they just come in together from the lake area, and CJ claims a booth for them, calling over a waitrat. He orders a sprunk and vodka, lets Mona pick what she feels like drinking.

[[ Not locked, but IM dapheline before tagging ]]

treading_dawn

The door did not open, neither the one in the front, nor the lakeside door.

Nevertheless, there is now a Lion curled in front of the fireplace, great golden eyes fixed on the room.

Perhaps Aslan was there all along.

chelleuncurled

[OOM: Pre-milliways]

Michelle blinks and after a moment she smiles. It's been a while since she's been here and she wonders how long it's really been.

She orders a drink, sits down at a nearby table, and looks around for anyone she knows.

Current Mood: good

maxwellsdemon02

Duo is in Milliways, fresh from work. There was a worrying message from Sally when he got home, telling him absolutely nothing about Heero, but if Sally tells you to keep an eye on someone, you damn well do it.

Unfortunately, Heero isn't back yet.

So he's fidgeted himself into an irritated sulk by the fire. Still in uniform, well, half in uniform, the tie and jacket went the way of the dodo long ago. He's apparently trying to sharpen a cheap throwing knife down to a splinter.

gorlim.livejournal.com

[OOM: Gorlim requests a temporary leave of absense. Millitimed to yesterday evening.]

transgenic-max.livejournal.com

Max is in the bar. This is likely not a surprise - she's almost always around in the evenings, these days.

Tonight, she's sitting at a table near the observation window, staring out at the universe ending. Or at least in that direction - she seems lost in thought. There is a cup of coffee cooling beside her, not entirely forgotten, but taking up less of her attention than is probably deserved.

She is wearing a t-shirt today, short sleeved, and on her right forearm are strange markings, like a tattoo in some foreign script, though one would have to have sharp eyes to notice.

She is, as always, available for poking.

reapsandcons.livejournal.com

Daisy Adair is not only sitting at a table humming, legs crossed, but she's doing it surrounded in candies.

Her evening reap was clearly at a Sweet Factory, and nobody else was in the store.

Take what you can get, Mason always preached, and this one time she was very inclined to listen.

Want some?

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

A leather bound volume of Robert Frost's poetry graces the lap of another 'Frost,' though this one is named in perhaps the more literal sense.

Jack Frost hasn't looked up from his reading, nor flipped a page, in quite a while.

He can't stop smiling, either.