Apr. 14th, 2006

mogget_cat: (Default)
[personal profile] mogget_cat
*There is a cat pacing up and down the keyboard of the piano, thinking of Scarlatti.*
called_lioness: (Default)
[personal profile] called_lioness
There's tea, two books to choose from, this is enough that Lucy is content, if a bit bleary-eyed, in a corner of one of the couch.
[identity profile] janetsdaughter.livejournal.com
Cassie goes over to the bar, looks around very mysteriously, asks for a piece of paper and pen. One appears and she hastily scribbles something on it. She then takes the piece of paper, folds it, places it on Bar and whispers "I'd like one of these, please." She cups her hands as the object materializes and scampers upstairs to room seven.
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/_wonder_girl_/
Alice is curled up in a chair near the fire. Having joined the ranks of children from pre-milkshake times to have discovered that Bar makes really good milkshakes, she's currently sipping a strawberry one.

She also has a book, also provided by the bar, and seems fairly absorbed in it.
[identity profile] sheila-nagig.livejournal.com
Sheila comes in through the front door - she's not changed much since last time. Far too busy with clients and redecorating her apartment to bother dyeing her hair or getting it styled or anything. She just looks... same as last time. If a little smilier.

She makes her way to the bar, orders a glass of Baileys and some ice cream before heading to a booth and curling herself into the corner and pulling out a tattered, worn copy of Interview With The Vampire and making herself comfortable.

But feel free to interrupt; Louis' whining gets on her nerves sometimes.




David's actually asleep in the booth next to Sheila, his arm draped over his eyes. Amadeo's whining gets on his nerves because it's really there. He's taking a break.

But very very pokeable. Go on. You know you want to.




Amadeo's also taking a break from complaining. His throat's sore and his head hurts and he's sitting at the bar with a Bloody Mary.

He looks pissy, but it's just a front. He's really very cuddly. And in need of cuddles.
[identity profile] missginnytonic.livejournal.com
Ginny's in the bar.. YAY! feel free to talk to her..
[identity profile] smart-sam.livejournal.com
Sam's in the bar!

Amazing news.

She has blue jello!

Even more amazing news.

She's tinkering with something that looks complicated!

...who would have thought.
blue_ajah: (Default)
[personal profile] blue_ajah
[OOM: In the forest early this morning, Moiraine and Puck have an interesting conversation concerning recent events.]

At some point in the evening, she leaves the bar for her upstairs study and is gone for some time.

When Moiraine returns, she is carrying a hooded cloak of light blue velvet and a patterned spring dress, also in blue, folded together to make a neat bundle. A faint, barely discernable gleam of silver-white may be visible about the lining of the cloak, interwoven subtly and deftly with the fabric itself in order to give the illusion and the feel of saidar about the wearer, such as that which might be felt by an Aes Sedai near a woman who could channel.

Moiraine murmurs to the Bar, "If you would please accept this in care for Puck?"

The clothing vanishes into the wood, and the Aes Sedai glides swiftly from the room.
[identity profile] homeless-pard.livejournal.com
[As Mun awaits AIM download...*whistles impatiently*]

Khemrys is often up and about at an early hour, today being no exception. The mist is burning off the land outside, the sun peeking over the horizon, and she's off to take inventory of the old and overgrown herb garden Svava had told her off.

It's only a moments strangeness that she's a leopard, after all, she can still tell herbs apart...

...and at least she's managed to talk herself into sleeping indoors in Pard form now...

It had been strange to run alone, after so long spent in some form of pack, strange for the moon to find her without a wolf on one side, a leopard on the other, and Yrael facing her with a catish grin...

But...she understands. She is well used to hunting alone...and the hunt had gone well.
withamagicword: (Default)
[personal profile] withamagicword
{OOM: Movie Night: Billy and Stephanie spend time on the Rock watching an old classic. Warnings for schmoop and silliness and Romantification.}
[identity profile] b-hawkins.livejournal.com
[OOC: Since mun is dumbass and may have forgotten. OOM: Ben and Antigone have a chat, slowtimed to about two months ago. Prior to Sweetplot, post Hilliways.]

Ben Hawkins, booth, food. Sausages and Sauerkraut, an unopened bottle of mystery Cola. The staples of Carnie life. He doesn't look much cleaner than usual, despite his relative captivity.
[identity profile] oldromansaint.livejournal.com
[OOM: Hair isn't just a musical.]

Santino strode into the bar with the same calculated, well-placed dancer's footsteps. He was dressed in his usual attire- a new leather jacket this time, one that reached half-way down his thighs. Remeniscient of the modern wars, perhaps. Stiff-collared shirt, unbuttoned at the top to reveal chest hair. No watch, nor jewellry. Hair cut woefully short, each strand trying to deal with the absence of its brethren by going which ever way it pleased. Messy, but far from ugly.

A seat, a table out in the open. There was at least one empty chair.
[identity profile] not-one-drop.livejournal.com
Mal snuck down from the room earlier, and has managed to procure a smallish cup of coffee. She looks far better then she has before, if still a little ill, pale and tired, but the bloody scarf is gone from her neck, replaced by a red and purple one covering delicate white bandages.

She's curled herself into a chair near the fire, craving the warmth to combat the poison still deep in her body, but she'd not mind a bit of conversation.
[identity profile] me-phistopheles.livejournal.com
Mephistopheles entered the bar with the look of amazement. "I have never seen this place before" he thought striding in. He looked back at the door. An image of a un-finished pentagram flashed on the door. "Wait!" he screamed but it was too late for him; the door has disappeared. The last time he saw an un-finished pentagram he wasn't allowed to leave the building. It had to be finished before he can leave.

"This is not fair" the fallen angel thought. "I can't leave this place. Maybe because I lost the bet with god. Oh well at least there is beer." He looked around. This was the first time he ever felt lost, but he knew that he had to keep his cocky attitude up or someone will find out his weakness.


[ooc: This little devil is looking for some guidance and maybe some lady friends!]
[identity profile] fathers-cleric.livejournal.com
Grass and Verdant fields. Outside, bar is peaceful and what John Preston wants is peace.

He'd initially come outside to practice the Kata but he's stopped, taking a seat on a rock.

He's studying the lake.

[Mun reserves the right to vanish unexpectedly if she suddenly feels the need to go to class. Please! Don't let that dissuade you from tagging!]
[identity profile] sorrowfulmisery.livejournal.com
There is a bio weapon in the bar. Her eyes seem to have taken on an odd color to them. Or as Alice likes to call them. Her Umbrella Corp eyes. Either way it goes. She's in the bar. But it seems as if the woman is ready for a war. Which... in all reality she is. Because today... well, today she plans on returning home. Returning back to the zombies that she planned on fighting. She was going to confront Umbrella Corp even if it meant it would get her hurt... or worse... dead. But at the moment she doesn't care. Even with the people she's met so far caring is the least from her mind. Taking out Umbrella Corp... well, it has taken the forefront to things.
3nanashi: (Default)
[personal profile] 3nanashi
Trowa returns to the bar, unperturbed and cradling a cup of tea.

He scans the room without really appearing to. Says nothing. Takes a seat.
lvpd_sidle: (Default)
[personal profile] lvpd_sidle
[OOM: Sara receives a visitor. Rated G for guilt-ridden geeks and U for unwelcome possibilities.]
[identity profile] trurabblerouser.livejournal.com
It's the same every time, the same trepidation and the same suspicion. Thus it is with the same step that he makes his way down, the cautious and untrusting gait more like a nervous horse than that of a man of Matt Truman's bravery. A moment's glance around in the hopes of catching Dick about but when he doesn't find him with that passing look, he heads for the bar to order himself a breakfast.

He had work to look for today.
[identity profile] bloody-awful.livejournal.com
John Constantine is in the bar. He's sitting in "his" spot, the farthest barstool with his back to a wall and a clear view of the front door and the door to the kitchen. As usual, he has a pint of Guinness and an overflowing ashtray, but instead of his usual Silk Cuts, he's smoking a narrow brown cheroot. He's playing with a deck of Tarot cards -- flipping through them, shuffling them, examining a card here and there. And he's chuckling to himself.

That's right. John. Constantine. Is. Chuckling.

WTF?
[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com
[OOM: August, 1958. Aftermath. Contains vague spoilers for It. Also, to be on the safe side, contains no actual violence, but references it.]
[identity profile] noble-samurai.livejournal.com
Jack never really has a good day. When you've been flung ages into the future, into a world of corruption and greed, a 'good' day usually means you were only attacked by thieves or bounty hunters two or three times.

Today is most certainly not a good day for Jack.

The samurai pushes open the door and walks in, sandals clicking on the ground. He holds his sword in one hand, and the blade is covered in some sort of dark liquid. At first glance, it looks like blood. At second, oil. The trained eye will notice that it's both.

He makes his way over to a booth, dripping blood and oil along the way (the cleaning crew will hate him) until finally he sits himself down. All in all, he doesn't look too beat up. His clothing is a little torn, his hair down, his breathing a bit on the heavy side. Most of the damage was done to his attackers. But that sad look in his eyes, the one he has after every battle that leads nowhere, still lurks.

He orders something to drink, and to eat, places the messy sword on the table, and lets out a long sigh.

It's been a long day for Samurai Jack.
[identity profile] mysterious-seed.livejournal.com
On a remote table, all by its lonesome, sits a spherical object in shades of red and white. A black band encircles its diameter, broken only by a tempting white button. Doth it contain something adorable, or some fell and monstrous beast?

Do you wanna touch it?
[identity profile] bad-businessman.livejournal.com
[Pre-Milliways]

"...well."

The letter flutters easily to the floor and lands ... on the floor. Not on the cracked, ash-black cement that lines the front of his complex, not on the threadbare grass that grows between the gaps.

Puzzling. There has never been a bar on his front step before.

It's finally happened. I've lost my mind. No, that's far too simple. I've died on the front step. Slipped up and cracked my head open upon the stone. Yes, that must be it.

Oskar Schindler does not always deal well with change. Which might explain why he picks up the letter quietly, stands, and leans haphazardly against the wall. The only thing that may tell the passerby that this is not in fact a calm man is the manner in which his hand clenches the letter as if he is trying to squeeze the life out of it.
[identity profile] twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com
Quinn took care of Ross this morning and got himself cleaned up; around here they appreciate that sort of thing more than back home, and he's still got supplies to buy, so there's no sense pissing off the possible sellers. When Bar gave him lunch today, she was in an 'expand your horizons' mood.

Quinn had meant to work on prioritizing the shopping list for supplies to take home, but he's still a little thrown by just how difficult it is to get the seeds out of your teeth when Bar insists on giving you a peanut butter and blackberry jam sandwich.
[identity profile] not-broomboy.livejournal.com
He sits, his face turned to the side. There's a glass of water in his hands and those dark from a life lived in the sun. The light isn't dim but it seems to catch the vibrant blue of the diamonds across his skin especially well, the color bringing out the deep apricot tones in his complexion. The clothes hang upon him as they always had and the boots are somewhat scuffed, looking well used but also well cared for.

A man who knew the value of things, he appears.

He does very little, however, except sip occasionally at the glass and look around curiously, as if still unsure that where he was truly existed, or perhaps whether he truly existed where he was.
[identity profile] the-silver-lady.livejournal.com
Celebrían is down in the bar, working steadily on that tapestry.

Her movements suggest carefully controlled worry and sorrow, but she would be welcoming of company.

Entrance

Apr. 14th, 2006 12:12 pm
[identity profile] tachikomachan.livejournal.com
The door opens.

What comes in does not walk in, it rolls. On wheels.

One car-sized, metal, blue... spider(?) inna bar.

For a moment, it's eyes whirl. Then, in what must surely be confusion:

"Wooooooooooo-weeeeeeeee!"

...It's up the wall and hanging on the ceiling. Just like that.

It'll come down once it's sure it's safe in here. Until then, who knows what it's looking at.

You, maybe?
[identity profile] sorrowfulmisery.livejournal.com
[OOM: Zombies die, a Licker dies, more zombies die and nerve gas is administered. Alice wakes up in Umbrella Corporporation's research facility attached to machines, she hears talking but is soon sedated again. When she wakes again she manages to cause herself a little pain before crawling to the door of the place and getting out, collapsing]

There is a collapsed, almost naked bio weapon in the doorway of Milliways. She'd get up if her legs didn't feel like they were a sack of lead or some kind of heavier metal. Either way it goes, she's not moving. Alice probably couldn't even if she'd tried to. The honey blonde lets her eyes look around for a moment before they close. Even without feeling it she knew that her body had been injected with more of the T-virus. And her war wasn't over but that was quite alright. It wouldn't stop her from returning to end it at some point. Just not so soon after this time.
[identity profile] im-a-whatever.livejournal.com
There's a furry blue... something in the rafters.

Swinging from the rafters, to be more precise.

Gonzo always appreciates a new perspective.
gonna_live: (Default)
[personal profile] gonna_live
[Out of Milliways: At the beginning of this week, Kaylee rescues a picture Mal gives Kaylee a picture, and a Plan is revealed.]
[identity profile] goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com
It was quite possible that Clive hadn't slept since his last dream, that would explain the lack of anything even vaguely gothy about him, except for the usual shock of dyed-black hair.

He was near the observation window at the moment, sipping his chai and watching, scribbling occasionally in one of his notebooks.

Someone should probably talk to him or something.

(Mun is on lunch at work, got about fifteen minutes, then patchy afterwards, slowtime is love)

Arrival

Apr. 14th, 2006 01:11 pm
[identity profile] needsnewtoaster.livejournal.com
In the corner of the bar, a soft white light starts to glow, getting stronger. Then, with a flash of light that leaves residual light spots in the eyes of anyone watching, it disappears, leaving a young naked man curled up on the bench fast asleep.
[identity profile] wereoutofajob.livejournal.com
[Post Attack]

It's really hard to stay still when there's a juvenile Rex in your world that's probably contemplating eating you for a snack.

At least he's not in pain anymore, or at least not much. His shoulder's still a bit sore and the wound still makes him wheeze, but it's better.

Grant's found himself a booth situated amongst the main population, staring at where the door's supposed to be. For reading material-
His own book.

Grant's learning to take everything here with a grain of salt.

Palentologist with a sub sandwich. Despite its resemblance to This this is not the product infringement that you're looking for. No really.

He's also got a rather thick Tome titled "Lost world of Dinosaurs" By-
Doctor Alan Grant.

That's right. The man's a celebrity.
[identity profile] majereblack.livejournal.com
The Door opens, unusually quiet; whisper thin, there is -- a strange scent and sound behind it. Something comforting, like mom's homemade cookies and the bark of the dog you had when you were eight -- had you a dog, anyway, or a mother who made cookies. It's a resting place from which Raistlin Majere comes, and it comes with happy dreams and pleasant memories -- which he rolls off his shoulders like a duck does water.

As soon as the door shuts, the tap of his staff and the rustle of black velvet and the cloying scent of roses, some unknown spice, and rot accompany his every step; he moves to the bar, and extends one hand from a voluminous sleeve -- golden fingers against the wood, he does not bother to speak. Bar gives him his mulled wine and he takes the glass and turns his eyes across Milliways.

It's been a long time; but when has that ever mattered to the Master of Past and Present?
mnt_raph: (Default)
[personal profile] mnt_raph
*At some point there will be spring. At least, that's what Raph says to himself as he tromps in from the lake area, slightly damp from today's scattered Scottish showers. He turns and gives the Lake one last look before closing the door. He mutters.*

Even New England didn't have weather this shitty.

*With a sigh he heads to Bar for a Brew.*
[identity profile] hollywdcockroch.livejournal.com
There's a Carl in the bar! Looking a bit Grumpy (New York's got Rain) but all thes ame-

Call the press! Alert the Media!

And please, don't ask him why he's dressed in a Native American Headdress

Or perhaps you're curious.
[identity profile] ncdcas-cable.livejournal.com
{OOM: Mayhem, Medicine, and Care: Alice returns from her world somewhat the worse for wear. She is treated by Doctors Sandhu and McCoy. A few hours later, another warrior comforts her. Warnings for light schmoop and mentions of violence.}
[identity profile] scion-of-amber.livejournal.com
There are many couches by the fire-place, and one has been claimed by Fiona. Yes, all of it. A couple days in Vietnam with Mary Anne, and a long shower and then bath later, she's not that inclined to move for anyone.

Well, maybe her brother.

Anyone else should pay attention to the axe resting against the pack on the floor, as she knows how to use it. She probably won't kill anyone over the couch, though - she doeesn't want any blood on that little white dress of hers.
[identity profile] jackdriscoll.livejournal.com
There is a Jack. A Jack in a booth. A Jack writing a script. There is also a cat. But mostly, Jack.

Yes, mun feels minimalist today.
[identity profile] spark-girl.livejournal.com
Agatha is still in the 'OMG SO COOL' stage of planning, and has a stack of diagrams and design details piled next to her on Bar.

She'll make a trip to her world and get around to factual research soon enough. But for now, she's having a grand time geeking out.
[identity profile] lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com
Legs crossed in front of him at the ankles (bare ankles), glass of something drinkable on the table next to him, and a book in his hand, the King of All Night's Dreaming is dressed casually and relaxing in the more-or-less physical presence of others.

Other people are physical, that is. He is only more-or-less physical.

He isn't wearing his robes, jeans and a T-shirt do just fine. No socks, no shoes. Two silver snake rings on his left hand (ring and pinkie finger).

No shadow.

If he wasn't interested in conversation, he wouldn't be manifested.
[identity profile] silvia-broome.livejournal.com
In another stroke of minimalism, there is a Silvia at the piano. She has a sheet of music before her--Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2. The second movement.

Why, no, this is not what the mun is listening to right now.
[identity profile] sky-high-max.livejournal.com
She's wandering around the bar after a long brainstorming session. If she looks a bit rumpled, this is why.

She'll talk to most anyone, but in particular, she's looking for one Duo Maxwell and one Angelina Johnson.

She's been thinking, you see. That's what that brainstorming session was about. And well, she has evil plans that they might like to know about.
ext_442691: [icon by me] (Default)
[identity profile] yuppie-trash.livejournal.com
[Out of Milliways: Patrick Bateman and his girlfriend have an unexpected conversation. Warning for yuppies at play and discussion of violence.]
[identity profile] maydaybrat.livejournal.com
[OOM: The White Rider contacts Mordred in a dream, and a promise is made]

Mordred, rubbing at his eyes, stomps down the stairs and into the bar. Fuck appearing, really, walking makes everything real. Looking drained and tired, he finds his way over to a table and just...spreads out across a chair.

No badge, no sword, just a tired expression.
[identity profile] not-one-drop.livejournal.com
Mal has been everywhere today. But she's back where she was first, now, curled into a chair in front of the fire, sipping a coffee. She's a little tired, and still looks rather ill, but there's a smile on her face.

She'd love to chat.

Entrance

Apr. 14th, 2006 02:42 pm
lady_moon: (Default)
[personal profile] lady_moon
[Pre-Milliways]

The full-orbed moon with unchanged ray
Mounts up the eastern sky,
Not doomed to these short nights for aye,
But shining steadily.

She does not wane, but my fortune,
Which her rays do not bless,
My wayward path declineth soon,
But she shines not the less.

And if she faintly glimmers here,
And paled is her light,
Yet alway in her proper sphere
She's mistress of the night.


The door opens, the sound of the rushing sea and a cool, salt-scented breeze rushes in with the mildly petite woman. Sharp green eyes look around the room, a small smile coming to her lips. Bare feet, lightly dusted with pale white sand, soundlessly move completely through the door, followed by a white wolf and a soft brown one. After all three come through, the door shuts quietly behind them.

Yes, this was something new, which was exactly what she had hoped for.



[OOC: Shifters governed by the moon need to please read Moon's info or contact the mun at orchydconstyne before tagging.]
[identity profile] mr-shipbuilder.livejournal.com
[OOM: Futility.]

Time seems to have slipped by, unnoticed, while Thomas spent the days alone in his room. Even still, he's not unaware of what day it is; hence why he has an uncharacteristically large glass of fine brandy in front of him. The fact that it hasn't been all that long since he entered is why he's still working on his first glass.

That, and the books in front of him.

He'd laid all the money he had in his wallet on the bar, ordered his drink, and two large, coffee-table books had appeared with it. At the moment he's too enthralled with the printing of the books and their illustrations--too enraptured by the technological marvels pictured in each--to let their content affect him too much.
[identity profile] ridethecamel.livejournal.com
((Pre-Milliways))

The door to Milliways opens and a quite attractive woman with her hair in a ponytail wearing a well tailored suit enters...on a camel. She looks around for a moment clearly confused

"what the fuck?" she asks as she kicks the camel sending it further into the Bar.

Patrons of the Bar may wish to fear, Sue White has arrived.
[identity profile] sansa-stark.livejournal.com
Sansa Stark - Alayne Stone, to most people in Milliways - is sitting at the Bar, in a plain brown dress of lambswool.

She's currently peering at the straw Bar gave her to go with lunch her lunch of beef stew and a glass of milk. The straw in her milk is red and plastic. Poor, deprived Westeros, with its lack of straws.

Anyone care to explain?
[identity profile] dukeorsquire.livejournal.com
There is a Terence playing cat's-cradle on the couch. His clothes are steaming gently.

Cat's-cradle does not require much concentration, even the horrendously complex variety that Terence is doing, and he glances up frequently.
[identity profile] liz-imbrie-.livejournal.com
Liz Imbrie is at a table, today's Philadelphia Daily News, yesterday's New York Times, and a week-old Times of London spread out in front of her; she's clipping articles with a nail scissors.

A cup of coffee that smells suspiciously of whiskey is at her left hand.
[identity profile] street-sparrow.livejournal.com
Gavroche comes in from the House of Arch, looking subdued and worried, and heads to the bar for a drink before his stable shift.
[identity profile] thatdamnedliche.livejournal.com
[Pre-Milliway's post. Hooray.]

In a dark corner of the bar, seven strange, green runes begin to inscribe themselves onto the ground, accompanied by a strange female voice speaking in a long-forgotten language. The summoning circle completes itself with a flash of green light, and Pious Augustus appears in all his skeletal glory. He leans against his trademark staff, which seems to be constructed of two human spines with a pelvis fashioned on the top. Sporting the latest in black Roman armor, it's needless to say that Pious is making quite a fashion statement.

He glances around at his surroundings. He entertains the idea of disguising himself as a human, but ultimately decides that it is probably better to determine what sort of beings inhabit this realm before employing his magick. He continued to study the building, determining that it was some sort of bar. Even throughout time and in other universes, some things never changed... He hung back, determined to gather as much information as inconspicuously as possible (well, as inconspicuous as possible for a lich). With any luck, he would not be interrupted...
gravity_shifter: (Default)
[personal profile] gravity_shifter
Petite alien.

Table.

One hell of a lot of food.

And let's not forget the shiny Security badge.
[identity profile] http://users.livejournal.com/honest_iago_/
Iago has been around, here and there. Back to his own world, briefly, to determine that he is still a hunted man. Better the bar than the streets of Cyprus.

He's seated at a table, a cup of sack and sugar near to hand, watching the people with a thoughtful look on his face.


ETA: eep! unexpected slowtime needed, hopefully bbl
shufti: (Default)
[personal profile] shufti
Over on a couch by the fire Shufti is asleep. She looks exhausted, and by her position and the cold cup of tea, probably didn't mean to drop off. One hand rests on the blanket over the baby in the carry-basket next to her.
guppy_sandhu: (Default)
[personal profile] guppy_sandhu
In a booth by the infirmary Guppy is sitting, drinking tea, and staring aimlessly around the bar.

Since the alternative is filling in yet another incident report form for the latest victim of the Holby Toilet Seat Gluer, he is entirely open to distractions.

The doctor is in.
payshisdebts: (Default)
[personal profile] payshisdebts
There's a sight you don't see every day; one blond dwarf, facial scar and bicolored eyes present, working his way from 'depressed' to 'viciously angry drunk'.

Approach with caution; Tyrion's got a mouth on him, and he's known to carry the occasional bit of weaponry. Certainly, the maid he left white-faced with terror seems to be stricken by his very presence.

Which is why he's over here. Making a pyramid from shot glasses. Eventually, Bar will cut him off. For the sake of his much-abused liver.

Hopefully, before he hurts himself. Or someone else.
[identity profile] seker-pride.livejournal.com
[Millitimed forward due to time zone differences.]

Strahan had, until now, thought the full moon run the shifters of Milliways enjoy together was for true shifters. Those whose natures allowed them to shapechange - either through a curse or an inborn talent that they possessed.

Tonight that changes. His run with the Seker has convinced him that, as long as you possess an animal form, you can participate in the monthly lunar festivities.

So here he is, standing outside, trying to decide what animal to become. He's already been a few—cheetah, lion, red panda, reindeer, dog [of one breed or other], cardinal and recently, giraffe—but the question is what to be tonight?

He'll have to make up his mind soon - the shifters will soon be coming out and he won't be alone.

Better choose an animal Strahan...
[identity profile] redvampwillow.livejournal.com
*walks in, looking around her rather skeptically*

*to herself, under her breath* This doesn't look like Sunnydale. *pouts*

*puts a hand to her head, as though it hurt* Don't tell me there was another one of those weird holes again...

I need a drink.
[identity profile] sonofwhitecity.livejournal.com
Boromir has his supper, his book--the Odyssey now--and an expression of anticipation. He has news for his brother--anyone else who will listen, in fact.
[identity profile] human-magnet.livejournal.com
The doors open, and Magneto strides in, in full glory, with helmet and cape and all.

Then he stops and looks around. This certainly doesn't look like where he should be, and the familiar electromagnetic bands of the Earth aren't beneath his feet any more. He scowls at the Observation window, failing to note that what's out there is dying for the moment and only seeing black void where blue sky should be.

With his face set darkly near-anger, he raises his hands and prepares to defend himself from whomever set this trap.
bloodyrockgod: (Default)
[personal profile] bloodyrockgod
Charlie, with iPod, is dancing on the lake shore. Nothing can convince him it's not spring--not any dampness in the air, not any chill or lingering snow.

And he feels good, so he's dancing. (Badly, but happily, and that's all that matters.)
[identity profile] ms-w-harker.livejournal.com
Mina glides down the stairs, a small and contented smile on her face. She pauses at the counter to order her usual warm goblet of blood before looking to see who she knows is around tonight.
[identity profile] snapcrackleburn.livejournal.com
Roy's back in the bar again, but for once he's not in his customary booth. He's also not in uniform; that's been exchanged for a pair of black BDU trousers and a plain drab tank top. They're clothes that he doesn't have to worry about getting dirty. His gloves are nowhere to be seen, though they're probably not far away, and his feet are bare.

The reason for the change in wardrobe is apparent when one realises that Roy has taken over an area of floor near one of the fireplaces. He's put down several newspapers on the floor, presumably to protect it, and on top of them a large piece of smooth, creamy paper about nine feet square. A large circle, encompassing almost the entire area, is precisely inscribed in ink, and half of that is filled with a complex design. Roy is crouched down with a pen and ink, working on another section. A long straight-edge lies nearby, along with other assorted measuring tools and a selection of brushes, pens and nibs, and small bottles.

Judging by the brilliant jeweled tones of the array, the bottles probably contain coloured inks.

He probably wouldn't object to a break and a bit of company, but it would be wise to wait until he's paused momentarily in his labours.
[identity profile] jedizekk.livejournal.com
Zekk is bored tonight. Bored and alone and really wishing that Jaina wasn't still annoyed with him because than at least he'd have a game of sabbac going right now.

But she is, and so, no sabacc, because Zekk at least knows somewhat better than to steal Jaina's cards. See? Contrary to popular belief, he does have some portion of a brain.

So, instead, he's relaxing at a booth, sipping at a glass of lomin ale and watching people pass him by. It's not the most interesting of things he could be doing, but hey, it's something.
[identity profile] mothpapa.livejournal.com
The door swings open.

If you didn't know she'd never been here before, you might not be able to tell. She pauses for only a moment before sidling through, letting the door swing shut behind her. She isn't surprised when it vanishes.

The faces may be different, but if there's one thing this girl knows, it's that where there's a bar, there's a living. She expects someone will be along soon to inform her of why Hades had sent her here. Or, if they didn't, she was okay with that, too.

She makes her way to the bar, and again registers no surprise when a drink appears as soon as she slips onto a stool. She takes it and sips it, leaning an elbow on the bar, surveying her surroundings.

She's always open to conversation.
tragic_mask: (Default)
[personal profile] tragic_mask
Sitting by the observation window with her eyes closed and a cigarette in her hand is Melpomene.

She is smelling the air. There is something she cannot place, and it bothers her. It itches at her memory like that place on your back you just can't reach no matter how hard you try. Exactly like that.

After a while, Mel huffs and opens her eyes, and swears under her breath in various languages. She proceeds to drag on her cigarette and look darkly around the bar.
guppy_sandhu: (Default)
[personal profile] guppy_sandhu
At some point a note is left at the bar.

ExpandHank McCoy )
[identity profile] misterparker.livejournal.com
Parker likes this place. He's not sure how he got here, or where Longbaugh is, but he likes the way that people are chattering, it's nice. It gives him something to go on.

The jacket that Longbaugh stole for him in San Antonio is heavy and familiar, the smell of alcohol is attractive.
[identity profile] kingmickeymouse.livejournal.com
The door slowly opens ever still.
A ruckus from whatever realm lies behind.
Suddenly, a tiny black cloaked figure flips through the door and yells, "Healing LIGHT!"
Then....the figure blinks.
One might notice two strangely round ears and that his voice was quite squeaky.
He looks around once more as the hood falls down to reveal...

Mickey.

This isn't the usual Mickey seen in the cartoons.
While still wisened he seems a bit....
...tough
and confused.
[identity profile] abotticellilady.livejournal.com
[OOM: All threads milltimed to the 19th of March, as Ashie is a SPAZ and forgot. Now that that's out of the way...

In the House of Arch, Bianca and the cursed!Lucy have a final run in, which ends in Bianca prudently running to get help when Lucy's fingers 'slip' while firing a bow and arrow. Bianca finds Merriman Lyon, and he uncurses Lucy, who goes straight to her room. Not in the best of moods, Bianca goes into the bar, where Ramon catches her to ask about Arithon's note. She takes him back to Australia, where the getting of Tool's soul is discussed and Random is trumped in with baby!Martin. While Arithon and Random are busy getting the little girl's soul back, Ramon and Bianca (with baby!Martin) are banished outide, and forced to amuse themselves. Warning for the last being a long-arse thread with serious talk interspaced with crack as Ramon's plans to use Martin as a flirting tool are thrawted by Bianca, and then she tosses him (by mistake. No, really) into the Pacific Ocean.

So, to sum up - Lucy's uncursed, Tool's soul is brought back, and Ramon's Armani pants will never be the same again.]
[identity profile] zodiacgod.livejournal.com
Isuzu was still missing.

Akito was not happy about this.

"That bitch," he grumbled. "That whore thinks she can do whatever she wants. I'll show her. When I find her..."

Yep. Pissy semi-god at the bar.

Do something about his boredom before he does.

Entrance

Apr. 14th, 2006 08:16 pm
[identity profile] namedtheband.livejournal.com
The door to the bar swings open and a woman steps through without looking up, closing it behind her.

"Jimmy? I know what you could--"

Faye stops abruptly, finally catching sight of the bar and what happened to Jimmy's garage?

She looks back to the door only to find that it has disappeared. She spins around and backs up into the wall, her eyes wide, as her confusion starts to be replaced with fear.
[identity profile] ironside-pixie.livejournal.com
It's been a while, but you can't rush these things. Relaxing is an art, it'd be wrong to hurry it up for the sake of better company. So Kaye's lounging in a comfortable red chair, feet dangling over the edge; flip-flops are perched precariously on the end of her bare toes, waiting for a chance to fall.

She's singing something suspiciously popsy (but if you ask, she'll insist it's a rock song) under her breath and painting her nails a glittery blue. Don't make her jump, or she'll smear it.
[identity profile] beyond-therest.livejournal.com
I guess you can say no hot water in my apartment drove me to Milliways today. I got a room here, enjoyed a hot shower, and no longer I'm I covered in paint (Job #3). I'm sitting at the bar and munching on french fries and a burger, which make me regret normally steering clear of junk food. My hair, still wet, dripping and my throat a little sore.

And that's it. I swear. Nothing else really.
scapepig: (Default)
[personal profile] scapepig
There is a large pig sitting by the fire, toasting a marshmallow with a long stick.
He's seen a picture of this and is wondering what it's for. So far he's got as far as setting it on fire.
He now wonders what he should be doing next. The flame is creeping slowly along the stick, some of which drops into his bowl of marshmallows, which in turn start burning with a blue flame. He squeals and tries to poke the bowl towards the fire, hoping to dump the lot in without burning his nose.
[identity profile] morbid-midweek.livejournal.com
Seated at the bar is a pale, black haired girl. Wednesday's reading a certain book on taxidermy, while Cicero sits calmly in a see-through plastic carrying case beside her.

Since there don't appear to be any bartenders on duty, she also amused herself by ordering a lemonade from the bar. Funny how it always gets it to taste exactly the same.
young_tmriddle: (Default)
[personal profile] young_tmriddle
OOM: Earlier today, Gavroche and Tom discuss Nita and magic.

Millitimed to a couple of weeks ago, Ingress has her first piano lesson with Sallie Reynolds.
[identity profile] pretty-nagisa.livejournal.com
Nagisa is out back with a lacrosse net, idly tossing the ball up and catching it in various forms. She looks bored.

Feel free to come by and poke.
e_delmar: (Default)
[personal profile] e_delmar
No beheaded wooden animals tonight. Just Ennis and his drink, sitting close to the fire.

Entrance

Apr. 14th, 2006 09:23 pm
ten_of_swords: (Default)
[personal profile] ten_of_swords
This is nothing new.

The door opens.

Behind the tall figure and his dog-like companion, there is nothing but devistation. A village laid to waste. The man's eyes, stormy grey, are sad while burning with a quiet fire of one who knows his purpose despite the pain that purpose causes.

He steps over the threshold, the coyote growling softly when they stop and the door shuts.

The man, who looks exactly like another member of this bar, frowns. This was not where he had meant to be -- there was an earthquake is California he was going to...

...but he can sense he is also supposed to be here. Finally. Yes.

Welcome to Milliways, Ruin and Bane.
blue_ajah: (Default)
[personal profile] blue_ajah
She is in the bar this evening. In fact, to some, it may appear that she is there twice.

Moiraine, however, is in a corner booth-- one that offers sufficient room to spread out her work. While not hidden, she is half-concealed simply by virtue of not being at her usual table nor in a highly visible area; however, the Aes Sedai is seated at an angle that allows her to observe events clearly.

Her journal is open before her; papers are lying scattered about, and her anthology of poetry is near at hand, open to a particular page and with others marked for perusal.

There is tea, of course. As she works, she frequently scans the room.
[identity profile] sistersxkeeper.livejournal.com
Anna's at the bar, her feet swinging idly around the stool. She's eating a plate of pasta very dispassionately.

She's bored.

Because she's stuck here, without much to do, dead and bored.

Someone come chat!
[identity profile] kayip.livejournal.com
Behrooz is sitting in a booth, watching the bar with bright gold eyes. His gaze occasionally flickers to the door, then back to the patrons.

He's not eating anything. There's a closed book in front of him, but he hadn't even attempted to read. He just stares around the bar.
[identity profile] ff-ambassador.livejournal.com
Inara wanders in to the bar, smiling. It's been a crazy few weeks, but things seem in a relative calm. She walks to the bar and seats herself and grins when a pink cocktail appears in front of her. She leans back and takes a sip.

Entrance

Apr. 14th, 2006 09:34 pm
[identity profile] act-like-april.livejournal.com
April is used to bizarre things happening to her, used to waking up in strange unexpected places, with unusual beings surrounding her. That's what happens when a person has been living solely in EverWorld for the past five months, without any resemblance to earth except some crude telegraph poles in the distance.

And, well of course she can't forget about all the machine-gun clad nazis running around, off-setting the delicate balance of mythological weirdness that is EverWorld.

But April is not used to waking up sprawled on the floor of a very clean, very modern looking bar. This is very different.

This is definitely not EverWorld.

April sat up slowly. She looked around. She rubbed her head, it hurt. What was going on? April is very confused.
aj_crawley: (Default)
[personal profile] aj_crawley
[OOC: For those of you who don't watch [livejournal.com profile] ways_back_room:

a) you should, since it is the most important community after the main [livejournal.com profile] milliways_bar comm, and a vital forum for communication and mod announcements, and

b) there is one of those mod announcements up there now that you should all go and read immediately.]
[identity profile] nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com
Ace strolls in from the grounds, her hands stuffed into her pockets, whistling something that she evidently thinks is a tune. Magic trots in behind her, the stick they had been playing catch with firmly between her teeth.

It has been a Good day, despite being dampish.

In the interests of warming up some, never mind appeasing the ravenous beast that is Magic (really. Behind all that cute? Ravenous beast), Ace heads towards the Bar.
[identity profile] puckishly.livejournal.com
It walks like Moiraine.

It talks like Moiraine.

But is it, in fact, Moiraine?

The slim woman in dress and hooded cloak steps serenely into the bar and orders a cup of tea.

And glowers down at it ruefully.

Well, someone so curiously composed is bound to like the stuff, isn't she?

After all, the appearance is only half the game. Puck's younger-looking now than is his wont, the lines of his face (arguably too pretty already) smoothed down, and his eyes are an exact imitation of Moiraine's-- but if he doesn't act the part, who'll believe it?

At least the hood hides the fact that his new-grown locks are, in fact, a wig borrowed from Bar.

Somewhat sulkily, 'Moiraine' takes the tea to a table and sits.




Then he remembers to look unruffled.



[OOC: Confused? Look here.]
[identity profile] man-ofthewatch.livejournal.com
Ghost noses in first. Wherever Jon has been his brother has been there and gone. Ghost stands at the threshold a moment before wagging his tail and padding further into the bar.

Minutes later, and we do mean minutes, A youth in black Enters.

"-this again?" Jon's eyes go wide, "-Seven Hells-Ghost!-GHOST-to me!"

Man of the watch in the bar, Direwolf at his side. The Direwolf's harmless. (Well no, not harmless) but unless you're a rabbit or something small and furry-Ghost'll behave.
[identity profile] kurosakiboy.livejournal.com
The door is pushed open, and in walks a young man, a teenager really, looking quite tired. His usual scowl sits upon his face, though it is soon replaced by confusion as he looks up and notices his surroundings.

"What the hell?" This...this is not his room. He's damn sure of that.

The young man is clad in dark robes, tied closed at the waist with a white cloth, sandals on his feet. Basically, not your typical teenager attire. What stands out most, however, is the sword. On his back is a very, very large sword, in its sheath of course. It's almost as tall as he is.

This is really not turning out to be his night. First some random girl wanders into his room, then feeds him some BS story about hunting ghosts. Then she uses some freaking spell to force him into a very uncomfortable position. And after that, some massive...monster attacks his home and nearly kills his family. And after that he's forced to run himself through with the crazy girls sword so he can actually have the power to defeat the damn thing.

Really not his night.

So, basically, one Ichigo Kurosaki (or Kurosaki Ichigo, if you like) standing by the door, glancing around in utter confusion.

...help?

[ooc: This entrance, which takes place right after the events of Episode 1 of the anime Bleach, is brought to you by the letter W.]
[identity profile] goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com
Clive was curled up on the end of the couch in front of the fire, head resting on the arm, watching the foam on top of his chai swirling slowly. He'd had a bit of a nap earlier, but there'd been another dream, and again he'd been sure he'd heard Gypsy, not singing this time, but talking to him, which somehow was worse than the singing.

He was starting to suspect... well, he'd suspected all along, but it was becoming clearer, that they probably weren't just dreams.

Poke him or something, especially if you've got a distraction, or dinner, he could use either.
[identity profile] loveinalocket.livejournal.com
Shiori is in the bar, looking rather happier than usual. Not in evidence tonight are the large stacks of notepaper which she had previously surrounded herself with. Instead, she has a small notebook in hand, and is scribbling industriously.
ext_442691: [icon by me] (Default)
[identity profile] yuppie-trash.livejournal.com
He's slumming in (Christian Dior pour Homme couture. Slate blue shirt, black tailored jacket in lightweight, slightly shiny wool.) style. Opened bottle of San Pellegrino at the table with a closed Filofax to the left of it. Attache sitting beside him in the booth while he reads a new, crisp-paged paperback (Jack the Ripper: The Facts) voraciously.
namo: (Default)
[personal profile] namo
[OOM: Tenants of These Peaceful Shades - Námo and Gorlim talk and cuddle in their clearing in the woods. No warnings really necessary, but there is brief, minor talk of intimacy.]
[identity profile] dead-empath.livejournal.com
A dimensional hub may not be the safest place to bring sensitive work, but having encountered on one from his particular reality on his visits here so far, Hisoka has determined that it should be safe enough. So, young shinigami in a booth, going over several printouts. His expression is somewhere between perplexed and angry.

Poke at will. Just...not literally.

(OOC: Character is empathic. Please let me know if there are particularly strong emotions he should be picking up on, or if there's something he shouldn't notice, due to shielding, power, plot, etc.)
[identity profile] gorlim.livejournal.com
Hey, look! Another one!

Gorlim would insist he is the original (and better-looking) of the pair. He has not yet encountered his bizarre double, though. He's come for a drink.
[identity profile] bev-marsh.livejournal.com
A tumult of noises floats through the door as it opens--feet hurrying, children talking, and above it all, the shrill ringing of a bell.

A girl of about thirteen steps through, two notebooks nestled in the crook of her arm. Pretty, with a light smattering of freckles and red hair in two long pigtails, wearing scuffed loafers, white socks, and a slightly threadbare skirt-and-sweater set.

She takes a few steps in without seeming to realize where she is, her expression distant, distracted. Then she stops short, looks up, and stares.

This...is not the girls' bathroom of Derry Elementary.
[identity profile] p3-premonitions.livejournal.com
Phoebe's in the bar again, looking quite a bit younger than before. Piper's reverting, and her being the oldest living sister was too much to handle. In the place of Adult Phoebe, there is a very angsty seventeen year old, hellbent on causing some trouble.
creator_raven: (Default)
[personal profile] creator_raven
Waitrats here are really very obliging.

This is probably why, bare moments before Raven actually sits at his table, one of the rats sets down a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk.

It is remarkably sweet.

Raven grins when he sees it, and settles comfortably into a chair, booted feet propped on the table.

Today has, it seems, been a very good day.
tibetanmethod: (Default)
[personal profile] tibetanmethod
[Out of Milliways: Cooper gets bad news and fashion advice, does some field work, gets more bad news but without fashion advice, and is introduced to a chess expert.]
[identity profile] middle-name-s.livejournal.com
[Pre-Milliways: More mumbo-jumbo]

The door opens, and two men enter, almost shoulder to shoulder. One of them is Dale Cooper, a vision in muted earth tones.

The other man is Sheriff Harry Truman. He's wearing the light tan uniform of the Twin Peaks Sheriff Department, and over it a dark flannel jacket with his badge pinned to the outside. There's a black cowboy hat on his head, too; they just got back from the Double R, and then Cooper promised to show him something.



He showed him something alright. The sheriff's dark eyes widen, and his expression is best described as... stunned.
[identity profile] wizard-kit.livejournal.com
Kit?

Tired with worry?

Ignoring his manual?

Taking up an entire booth like this?

No way.
[identity profile] anthy-rosebride.livejournal.com
Anthy's by the windows, slowly emptying a cup of tea.

It is not Emerald Princess tea.

Beneath her chair, Chuchu is grumpily tracing patterns in the dust.
[identity profile] dr-mckay.livejournal.com
Seriously. Rodney thought the delerium from the enzyme overdose was bad enough. But storage? Storage is worse. And he's not entirely sure he's still sane, when he walks up to the bar again.

All those blows to the head. And near death experiences. Not to mention hideous levels of radiation. He's only surprised he isn't hallucinating Colonel Carter on the bar.

"Give me whatever you've got that's strong. And I mean, really strong. Because I'd like to return to the mindless oblivion part soon, please."
river_meimei: (Default)
[personal profile] river_meimei
River was out riding Boukephalos earlier. For quite a while -- it's spring, however muddy it still is, and the breeze is warm and smells of new-budded leaves.

Now, happy and wind-tangled and maybe a little tired, she's curled up in Roland's old armchair. At the moment, she's intently studying her own fingers against the bright embroidered yellow of her skirt.