milliways_bar | Apr. 30th, 2006

Apr. 30th, 2006

foxy-l33t.livejournal.com

[OOM: Sunset, Sunrise]

Laini and Duo set off on a trip, to the Himalayan Mountains for the simple purpose of seeing a sunset and sunrise, on Earth. Getting there is half the fun, though quite a few portals (with many worlds on cameo), and stopping to pick up supplies along the way. Many other canon jokes, references and meta abound- even if the two of them don't know it.

No rating other than PG for perhaps some language, the muns can't even recall themselves, as the OOM took that long. But it is lovely and over all just fun!

curlys-boy.livejournal.com

[OOM: Two love birds and a few cases of beer.Warning: Mild Smut alert. If you can't vote, you shouldn't read.]

Something momentous has happened. Kyle's been able to drag a certain werewolf with him back to the bar. He's carrying a bound book in his arms, while Warren's got a case of beer. They've got to make at least one stop off to a friend, then will find a table to sit at.

[Feel free to plop down at their table if you want.]

eldorne-girl.livejournal.com

[despite the implications of the icon, Delia isn't actually hungover]

[she just...doesn't tend to like mornings, much]

[thus, she's at the bar herself, drinking coffee and trying to wake up]

transgenic-max.livejournal.com

X5. Open flame. There are so many ways in which this could be a not-good thing, even if she is outside rather than in the bar itself.

At least it's just a welding torch, and she's taking proper precautions. Mostly. Her protective gear is a little lacking.

Those with a discerning eye might wonder why Max appears to be putting together the chassis for a flying saucer. At night, no less. She is open to questioning, though sneaking up would be inadvisable.

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

Angela sits at a table, with her vegetarian meal and a milkshake.

And odd combination? Maybe. There is a small camera beside her, but she's not paying attention to that right now.

She's also working through a volume of Pablo Neruda's poetry, and making notes...and sometimes just reading, especially the love poems, wondering if anyone would ever love her that way.

Not that she's in a rush.

Just that she wonders. And she's had a really long day today and is kind of out of it.

Anyway, she'd love conversation.

rigthegames.livejournal.com

Sands and Mal stumble away from their table and through the bar, mouths smeared with blood and his hand dangerously tight around her wrist. People may notice them, but they don’t notice people, weaving through the tables with dazed expressions and one destination clear in mind: the door out to the lake.

[ooc: Is full of sex and naked and gratuitous blood, yay!]

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

[ooc: Tequila, tipsiness, terrifying sartorial near-tragedies, and sexual tomfoolery. Rated for adult readers. :D]

Current Location: Yelapa, Mexico

mouse-shadow.livejournal.com

Paul has lost his recent good mood. Being pinned by an Aes Sedai whils standing in the middle of the Bar can do that, but a night's rest (and relatively endurable dreams) have tempered his rage somewhat. He's taking ridiculously large doses of ale innabooth, so he's not likely to stick his nose in anybody's business today. Don't get on his bad side, though.

Unless you really want to.

aj_crawley

[NOT-ACTUALLY-OOM: HOKAY SO. This was meant to happen, like, two weeks ago, but muns/timetables =/= OTP. SO. Millitimed to... yesterday, why not, Crowley. And Niska. Whee?]

loyaltyinmotion.livejournal.com

Jason is curled in a booth, staring at a book without really reading it. Having to rely on Ivanhoe is something he's not had to do in awhile, and as a result he has only the coffee and not the whiskey he wanted.
Fucking rats.
At least he still has his sword, and while he can't use it at least he can use it's threat value. He'll get alcohol somehow. Care to take his mind off it until he does?

aj_crawley

OOM

SEVEN DAYS AGO:	'Twas the eve of St. George's, With mist all about, Cloaking wheelings and dealings At the old Riddle house... *[ A N T E ]*
TONIGHT:	On the second return, Something darker begins. Want begets downfall; Original sin. *[ M E N S R E A ]*

general-lando.livejournal.com

Lando sits in a corner of the Bar, reading his book on Earth casino gambling. He's quite intrigued by many of the games, and also curious about sports betting. What a wild concept, betting on how much a team will win by. He wonders if he could find a way to use that at home some time.

He sips at his stim tea, and wonders how a magic Bar can be down for maintenance.

Come say hello.

[ooc: mun is around on and off during the morning Eastern time]

futures_of_ash

Rachel's in a tree, sprawled more like a child of ten than any woman of centuries. Long legs dangling back along teh trunk, hair equally gravity pulled amongs green, green leaves...

She's watching clouds.

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

[[OOM: Molly’s Lament ]]

Molly comes down the stairs in the bar and pauses to look around.

No sign of either Cain or Bruce. One she wants to see more than anything, and the other she knows she will have to face, eventually.

She considers getting a cup of tea or some breakfast, but her stomach vetoes that idea, despite the fact that she hasn’t eaten in a couple of days. She bypasses the bar and goes straight out into the gardens. Some physical labor is just what she needs to occupy her, and keep her from thinking too much or too deeply.

She takes her tools out of the shed, and prepares to start turning the compost pile when she hears it: A strange sound coming from the direction of some thorny bushes up against the side of the building. It might simply be Bulbasaur, or even Teyfera spying on her, too shy to come out, but the past couple of days have taught her caution, if nothing else.

She approaches cautiously, cursing her broken wand, and approaches the bushes. She’s got a pitchfork gripped tightly in her hands, and she pauses when she hears the sound again, mentally analyzing it. It sounded like a groan. She hurries, then, and lets out an ear-piercing shriek at what she finds.

Cain. Lying bloody, with his limbs at odd angles, tangled half in a thorny bush, and barely recognizable under the bruising and swelling. The giveaway is the mark on his forehead, and Molly’s tears come then, to see it. She tosses the pitchfork aside, and runs to the back door, wrenches it open, and shouts at the top of her lungs:

“Somebody HELP! I need a healer out here NOW!”

She doesn’t wait. She goes to kneel beside him, tears leaking from her eyes. How long has he been laying out here like this? Who would have done this to him?

action-antihero.livejournal.com

[Millitimed to late last night]

There are notes left under doors, and there are notes left in the security office, and they all go

( something like this: )

Now, there's also a man standing by the front door, his hand on the knob, his expression wary. Slowly, Jack opens the door, peering outside. Outside, an empty parking lot, a sunny day, and a light breeze. No cops, no fire trucks, no sirens, no activity. At least it looks like the right place.

Double-checking that he has his keys, his wallet--everything that he came in with except his ruined clothes--he takes a deep breath and steps out.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

Sharpe stumbles sleepily into the bar, not noticing his surroundings immediately. He has no shirt on and has clearly just got up.

The grizzling toddler in his arms might explain why he's reluctantly awake.

sansa-stark.livejournal.com

Sansa Stark is sitting at the Bar, wearing a simple green dress, looking tense. She can't order her breakfast. That means she'll have to talk to the rats.

She does try. Just now she managed to open her mouth when one walked by - but that's about it. A lifetime of having 'rats = diseased vermin' drummed into her head will do that to a person.

Come help?

faithful-slayer.livejournal.com

Faith's in the bar, slouched in a chair in front of the fireplace with a cup of coffee.

Feel free to chat.

awesome_lilly

[OOC: After this.]

Lilly comes through the front door yawning, wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday, and absently trying to untangle her hair. Three guesses ~~who~~ what she's been doing. She disappears up the stairs towards her suite, intent on a hot shower and some coffee but otherwise looking pretty content with life.

[OOC: She's just passing through, but reactions (if anyone would actually have any?) are welcome.]

almost-arabian.livejournal.com

Lawrence is not sulking.

Really. Not sulking at all. He is sitting at the fire, curled up on the floor with blankets and a warm glass of whiskey.

He does in fact look rather grumpy, though. Feel free to prod him anyway.

liz-imbrie-.livejournal.com

[OOM: Over the sea and far away. 30 April 1940.]

When she steps in, she pauses in the doorway; the bookshop is brighter than she would have thought, and far more crowded, and noisier, and it smells not of ink and paper but --

and her face lights up.

Milliways.

She leaves a shopping bag and her purse in a booth for a moment and heads over to the Bar, looking around for friends. "Champagne, please," she says, and looks very confused when the usual glass doesn't appear; but only for a moment, because her gaze has settled on the sign tacked up. "Oh," she says, and slides off the stool, to find a waitrat.

She'll get back to the booth in a moment, but dammit, this deserves champagne.

Current Mood: happy
Current Location: London, England

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

Mal slips down to the main bar, a curious combination of emotions on her face. A sort of slightly goofy happiness is primary, followed by slight worry and resignation. She moves over to Bar.

"Sweetheart? Can I have a bottle of tequila?"

No answer.

"C'mon, hun, just now?"

No answer.

"Fine. A coffee, then?"

No answer.

"Did I offend you? Please, tell m- oh."

The sign is noticed.

"Right."

So she goes to sit in a booth, feeling slightly sulky, the high from Sands wearing off fast. Bother?

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

Molly goes to the bar with her note, and tries in vain to get the bar to accept it. When she finally sees the notice saying that the bar is not working at present, she tacks it to the notice board and returns quickly to the infirmary.

[[ooc: anyone who sees the security note, and knows Cain or Molly can go and talk to Molly, but Cain is unconcious, and unavailable for threading.]]

lvpd_sidle

Sara.

Couch by the fireplace.

Coffee.

Origami?

She's bored.

not_that_spike

( OOM: Europa's exotic. It's sexy. It's beautiful. But so is Beth. )

rebel-falcon.livejournal.com

Han clatters into the bar, and sighs. Seems this place is determined to have him, even if he ain't payin' his bills yet. He tosses the hydrospanner he's carrying back into the Falcon, with a clank, and then as a second thought the toolbag strapped around his waist goes too. Just in case he needs his blaster.

Bar still won't serve him. That's nothing new. He's really going to pay his tab soon. Just as soon's he gets a job. Another heaved sigh, and he heads over to drop into the nearest armchair.

blackbanthaboy.livejournal.com

ATTENTION PILOTS.
PLEASE TALK TO

FACE LORAN

THIS IS IMPORTANT.

Yep, that sign's still up.

Face is lounging below it, drinking firewhiskey. It's not his first of the morning. But then, is it ever?

Face has become slightly lax on that whole military-discipline thing, it's possible.

ten_of_swords

Again, Ruin is in the bar.

He's eating sushi, quite contentedly.

The card likes food.

Come bother at your own risk.

dukeorsquire.livejournal.com

Terence comes in and makes a face. He was kind of looking forward to fishing this afternoon, but he can't deny that Milliways is not an entirely unwelcome prospect for an hour's time.

cywyllog

OOM: Cywyllog and her husband discuss her condition. Well, OK. She does most of the listening.

notanormalfox.livejournal.com

Mulder.

Beer, Booth in the corner, Tapes of the Knicks-fallen asleep.

Mun.

Most uncreative enterancepost evar.
Feel free to wake the man up, especially if his feet are up on the table.

pat-rin.livejournal.com

OOC: OOM: Pat Rin updates his logbook upon leaving Milliways last evening, as is his habit.

Pat Rin steps through the front door, looking down at a sheaf of papers in his hand. He glances up after a moment, and a rare smile briefly appears on his face.

After taking out a Timex watch and noting the displayed time, he steps away from the door and looks about for a place to sit and have a drink.

clumsy_auror

The front door opens, and the Tonks-Wrangles step back into the bar from a somewhat cloudy afternoon. They're looking rather relaxed (if still slightly hungover), a little pink from the sun, and are laughing and talking quietly as they close the door behind them.

The first stop is the Bar, of course. Bernard sets down his carryall and rests his palm on the smooth wood, nodding at his wife once before closing his eyes.

Nymphadora pulls out her wand and sweeps it in a wide arc -- "Servete Bernard!" -- and a shower of coppery sparks trails after.

Bernard lurches a bit, as though jostled by an invisible passer-by, and pales. Still, half a second later a smile creeps across his face as he holds a brief conference with Bar. She's glad to be back, and glad to see him. The feeling, of course, is mutual.

With that, Nymphadora takes Bernard's hand, and they set off down the hallway to greet their family.

rigthegames.livejournal.com

It’s a familiar scene.

The door opens, and Sands comes in, Mal limp in his arms, drying blood smeared across both their faces. He carries her through the bar, drops her onto a couch without ceremony, and then lowers himself down next to her. A hand clutches at his shoulder and he closes his eyes, face drawn and breathing shallow.

If it’s any consolation, there isn’t as much blood this time.

[ooc: 2 pups, 2 muns. You know the way it goes.]

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

Mal has perched herself on a barstool with a shotglass and a bottle of tequila.

She's going to get drunk, tonight. And possibly pass out in the bar. And the best thing? She won't care.

Because really, tonight, drinking herself into oblivion sounds very, very good. Bothering could be dangerous.

curlys-boy.livejournal.com

[OOM: It's a round trip, plus time for a journal entry.]

Kyle walks down the stairs, heading home in the same clothes he wore last night. He's left a few needed things at the house. As the door closes behind him, it seems that he's gone only an hour, before he's struggling with two clothing bags, one backpack, a laptop case, and a mouse habitrail. This is one of those times that he wished that he didn't have so many clothes. He struggles up the stairs, heading back to room #107 that he and Warren are sharing.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

It seems Ace has finally come back down to Earth (in relative terms, anyway), as instead of madly dashing about or chasing some thing or other tonight, she's very calmly carving by the fire.

...

Of course, 'calm' and anything involving handling sharp knives might be a contradiction in terms, but for now, she's quiet.

Sleepy, even.

A bit of temporal madness does tend to take it out of one, you know.

politestpirate.livejournal.com

[OOM: Room 75]

Sharpe goes to kidnap Wellard to go along on Archie's bachelor party- but then does not.

agnes_nitt

Agnes has a new appreciation for clothing in this body. Instead of using it as a way to cover up, she's learning to use it as a way to show off.

Which is why she comes downstairs for dinner in a slinky black dress, sleeveless with spaghetti straps, and slit up to the thigh. Her old witch hat was too big for her, so she's going without. Instead, her hair is swept up off her neck and pinned back.

She feels more than pretty tonight. For the first time in her life, she feels sexy.

But she'd still love it if someone else told her that, too.

mortisbelle.livejournal.com

After a short talk with Mal, there is a shadow by the lake. An angry shadow, with claws, red eyes and white fangs, pacing back and forth, cursing profusely in seven languages. Three of them dead languages. And hissing. And growling.

Approach at your own risk.

tragic_mask

Melpomene sits by the fire-- the technical term for her present activity is "sulking." Mostly because things haven't gone the way they were supposed to the last few days.

She also has a headache. Incredibly enough. So she stares into the fire and hopes it will go away.

notboundnow.livejournal.com

Probability would indicate that where there's cigarette smoke, there's Prometheus. And fancy that -- there's the Titan at the Bar, flipping through an issue of Reader's Digest from circa 1972.

What? He likes the pictures. Come make fun of him. He would.

elrond-healer.livejournal.com

Elrond is outside in the night. On a small open flat space, a firepit is laid, surrounded by stone.

There, Elrond dances. It is not a normal dance, but one of war and of movements long forgotten by most. It is a memory of his childhood, oh so long ago and he dances and he remembers in the firelight.

Sweat drips from him as he drives himself even to the limits of his own endurance, and still does not stop. Tonight, he honors those past and those to come, what has faded and what is yet to be born.

Tonight, there is the dance.

scion-of-amber.livejournal.com

[OOM: After Fiona falls into Milliways on Wednesday night, Julian takes her to his room to attend to her injured feet and get her to sleep. The next morning, they Talk. Or...at least Julian attempts to, and Fiona is evasive despite a certain confession. The Talk stalls to an awkward stop before Fiona finally falls asleep again. All three threads carry an incest warning, and millitimed to Wednesday night and Thursday morning.]

cywyllog

When Cywyllog enters the bar today she looks relieved. This is, for once, exactly where she wants to be right now.

She settles at the bar and orders a pot of apple tea, fully intending to get through it - and posibly another one - before she even thinks about going home.

Yay for procrastination.

balletrat

*Meg is sitting on a stool, her back against the bar, watching the rest of the room; there's a half-empty cup of coffee in her hands.

She looks . . . on edge.*

walker-cain.livejournal.com

{{OOM: After his fall and being found and taken to the Infirmary, Cain wakes to Hank McCoy and Molly Prewett at his side. And they are all in for a shock. Later, Molly shows him to her room to sleep. And sometime in then night, they both wake, and talk some more, before sleep claims them again. Warnings for Weirdness, nakedness, and possibly touchy mental subjects.}}

lady_moon

Moon is out by the lake.

In the dying light.

She is dressed in filmy fabrics that flow and cling and move with her. She's dancing. Welcoming the night in her own way. She loves to dance, black hair fanned out behind her as the white of her dress flares and glows. Her bare feet make no tracks in the still-warm ground near the lake, but they are touching it, twirling and whirling as she laughs at the fading light.

shakenstrfaith.livejournal.com

Scully had some coffee by her, and was poring over her notes and observations. There likely some strain on her face from recent conversations. That ol' skepticism been taking a serious beating the longer she remained here. She thoughtfully tapped her pen against her notepad again.

gone_byebye

[OOM: A lead gets followed up on. It does not work out as well as one might have hoped.]

alec-or-alonzo.livejournal.com

Phil is lounging in a booth this evening flipping lazily through the latest Canadian Monthly, but it really isn't very interesting. After all, she already knew that stripes were fashionable again. Perhaps Canadian Monthly should be keeping up with her.

And so she is contemplating getting a cup of tea.

nita_callahan

Nita has acquired a chair by the fire and is gazing thoughtfully into the flames, hands wrapped around a mug of tea.

She's been around, in a quiet sort of way, but often only on her way through the bar to the House of Arch from a walk around the lake, or vice versa. Tonight, though, she seems to be taking some time to relax.

[OOC: Ping UndeadWriter1488 before tagging? Not-overthreading-Adiva-on-a-school-night is love.]

explorertruman.livejournal.com

Truman dealt with the bar being out of commission yesterday well enough. He spoke with some of the waitrats instead, and almost seemed to have a conversation going with them. So he didn't realize the Bar was back to normal yet. He tried squeaking to one of the rats, even though he wasn't entirely sure what he was saying. It could be saying hello or asking for a chocolate malt milkshake, or telling them off. The rat seemed to think he meant the second option, and went to get him one.

He was sitting at his usual table by the Observation Window, though he alternated from watching the view outside, and watching the bar at large in equal fascination.

saint-aequitas.livejournal.com

Irish Catholic fraternal twin out at the stone wall.

Has been for a while now, though you wouldn't know it from the number of intact targets.

leftthecradle.livejournal.com

[OOM: The terrorists strike the Gevak colony...but the Ranger is ready. This OOM is rated E for "eeewwww!"]

The Door opens and an encounter suited person enters.

If you've seen this encounter suit before, it's pretty obvious that it's seen better days. All the flowing, metallic-cloth robes are burned and torn to shreds. They may even be smoldering somewhat. The ceramic-metal of the suit itself is scorched and splattered with blood and...is that charred flesh hanging off his shoulder plate?

Enter the Ranger...in dire need of a good wash-up.

He looks around as he enters and chuckles.

"Figures," he says.

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

Today's been better, or at least simpler, than yesterday was for Quinn. Still, he's not entirely sure he's up for crowds tonight, so he's taken a cue from Creedy and gone outside.

Part of him wonders if it'll ever look like this again, back home, but he doesn't want to probe into that too closely. That line of thinking is far too easily disappointed. So for now all he's doing is sitting under the first of the trees at the edge of the wood, the grass under him and the sky over.

He's not looking at the lake. Too many possibilities there.

wyrd-fox.livejournal.com

The Door flies open, and in flies a tousle-headed figure with rather famous, boyish good-looks.

I do mean flies...literally. He's soaring through the air with the grace of a well-thrown shot-put. The angry, blue-skinned djinn that can be seen through the Door just before it closes gives some indication as to how he achieved that trajectory. Particularly since said djinn iss decidedly male and is unhappily clad in a rather stylish evening gown.

FX manages to knock over three chairs and a table as he lands. And he's still laughing. Anyone want to find out why?

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

Gingerly, Annie makes her way down the stairs. The rat had given her the key to Harry's old room last night, and the sight of how bare it was (but for an old football headline and a calendar) had almost broken her heart.

She'll be taking her meals with other people for now, thanks. With any luck, Harry will come through the door... if there is a door, anyway. She still hasn't seen it reappear.

countofserenno.livejournal.com

Dooku outbacka Bar, meditating. Might be up for a break. Any takers?

awesome_lilly

Lilly's wandered downstairs for dinner. She's comfortably ensconced in a booth with a burger and fries.

And a chocolate milkshake. It was not made for her by a whore, no matter what she told Ingress.

the_antiangst

Angel's half covered one of the couches by the fireplace in a sewing project again. It's more of the dark purple material, though... this particular project looks rather less skirt-like than the previous ones have.
In any case, he wouldn't be averse to conversation.

md_donighal

The man in the gray suit steps through the briefly-burning door, orders his usual glass of Atlantean and platter of noshies (cheese sticks, buffalo wings, nachos)... and, on a whim, decides to take his evening snack out back of the bar. He knew the lake was there, of course, but he's never gone to see it and stargaze before. Now that he's getting back into the bar again, he decides it's time he corrected that.

kitchen_maid

Amy has tea, and a notebook open on the table in front of her, in which she is sketching something vaguely clothing shaped, and scribbling a lot of notes around it about colors and patterns and such.

Interruptions in the form of company are always welcome.

buriedmybrother.livejournal.com

Antigone approaches the bar hesitantly, biting her lip.

"Hello?"

No reply-- and of course there wouldn't be. There never has been, even before.

Softly, "Are you well?"

Are you awake?

And there isn't any reply.

But there is a mug of coffee sitting on the counter. It wasn't there a moment ago.

Antigone smiles brightly, reaching out to take it.

Good.

prydeful

[OOMS: First, sometime last week, Kitty ~~cons~~ asks Piotr to help her babysit. She may leave some details out, but no worries, because yesterday it's all explained, as Piotr meets the Tonks-Wrangle children. Cue glitter, markers, Sunny deciding she wants a snake tattoo, and showers that go wrong because Hiss is evil. No towels were harmed in the making of this thread. Then this morning, Piotr and Kitty talk, Anthony thinks yellow is awesome, and Sunny takes care of Hiss.]

guppy_sandhu

On a table near the infirmary is a sad, abandoned coffee cup. Cold and half drunk, like many people in mini-skirts wandering around cities at two in the morning on a Saturday.

The owner of said coffee is the young man asleep on the couch behind the table. He is probably the owner of the other three empty cups that contained coffee of the past, or depending on how you look at it, the future since they were bought before the exploding universe outside reset. Maybe this is why they didn't work.

He is ticklish on his feet, which are covered only by a pair of socks with bunnies on.

desert-odysseus.livejournal.com

A half-invented world of the desert

The door opens and a man stands, his fingers pressed to the wood that was a tent flap mere seconds ago. At his back, there is darkness. Frigid air, and darkness.

And before him, a bar. Surprise registers and he takes a step inside. A man not yet knowing of all the things he will learn - but ever the explorer.

The door closes behind him. He doesn't notice. He's too busy staring around quietly, wondering what madness this is.

Man's good fortune never abides in the same place.

and-far-away.livejournal.com

The door opens and Sharpe comes in, wearing the best clothes he owns.

This seems to mean his old Rifleman's uniform, green jacket and all.

creator_raven

Raven is, at the moment, very comfortably settled on the couch by the fire.

There is a plate of cookies on the seat beside him, and one hand holds a glass of milk.

The glass of milk seems to be very determined to turn itself into a glass of blue mango juice.

This might be the fault of the little girl occupying his other arm.

Someone is babysitting tonight, it would seem.

Though whether Raven is babysitting Derry, or whether the Derry is babysitting him--well.

Most likely neither is entirely correct.

young_tmriddle

OOM Millitimed to earlier in the week: Tom discusses some worrying warnings from Merriman with Amy

youalleverybody.livejournal.com

Liam strolls in, looking relaxed and contented, and heads to the Bar for a drink.

Come say hi.

reichenbachman.livejournal.com

[Pre-Milliways: The Final Problem... Solved]

Anyone looking out the door when it opens will notice the perspective is quite skewed. The view out is straight up, but it's only visible for a moment, because a rapidly incoming form blocks the sight.

The body barrels through the door, instantly becoming subject to the new direction of gravity. The horizontal momentum is such, though, that he hits the floor quite a ways inside, and continues sliding along the ground before colliding with a table.

The man attempts to push himself up, but fails and collapses back to the ground and lies still.

kayip.livejournal.com

[OOM:Return to the woods.]

Behrooz is sitting at the bar, mixing sugar into a glass of tea. He doesn't look too tired anymore. This is probably a good thing.

There's a book open in front of him, but he appears too distracted with the tea at the moment to be reading it. The gold eyes do occasionally lift to look around the bar, though.

rigthegames.livejournal.com

Sands, smoking a cigarette, is leaning on Bar and apparently conducting a one-way argument with her.

“My gun,” he demands, begs, pleads. “Just give me my fucking gun.”

There is, of course, no gun forthcoming.

Eventually, he sighs heavily, slumping down onto a stool. “Fine. Tequila.”

It’s a good thing Bar’s serving again, or else it would have probably broken his brain.

iris-angel.livejournal.com

Methos comes in and sits at an empty table. It's been a long time since he was in the bar.

Current Mood: energetic

river_meimei

The door slides open, and River steps through, watching the ground with intense concentration. Three steps in, she blinks, her head lifting, and casts a startled glance around the room.

Then she's hurrying across the floor, heading straight for the bar. She presses her palms against the bartop, leaning her hips against the wood, and starts to smile already, but she schools her face to solemnity with a deliberate effort. "I would like a cup of tea," she says carefully to the wood between her hands, frowning a little with concentration. "Please."

It appears.

And River's face shines.

shufti

There is a young woman with a baby by the fire.

She looks like she has been crying, and is busy cleaning a crossbow as the baby sleeps beside her.

Layers of rust decades old are rubbing off under her frustrated and angry scrubbing.

maxwellsdemon02

Yawning and stretching, Duo trots downstairs and over towards the bar. There are three books under his arm, and a package in one hand.

He sets the latter on top of the bar. "These are for Mary Lennox, if you see her before I do."

They vanish, and Duo pats the bar in thanks before throwing himself into an armchair by the fire and beginning to read.