milliways_bar | Jul. 10th, 2006

Jul. 10th, 2006

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

It's been a while, two weeks or so, but Ichigo walks into the bar today, as if to prove he hasn't fallen off the edge of the world. ~~Of course, coming to this place is sort of close, but...~~ He's stiff, sore, but looking pretty good considering what he's been doing for the last week or so.

No, not that. Don't be sick.

Running a hand through his hair, he makes his way over to a booth and flops down there with a sigh.

It's nice to be back.

namo

[OOM: Mary Anne and Námo spend some quality time. There is drinking, angsting, awkward kissing, then a slinking home by the Vala. Millitimed to Saturday night. No warnings necessary.]

Tonight, Námo is in the bar. Gabriel is asleep upstairs under the watchful eye of Nerdanel, and so the Vala takes the time now to curl in a booth and nurse a drink. The brief, half-drunk, half-asleep conversation with Gorlim the previous night was only vaguely mulled over. Luckily, he'd been too drunk and Gorlim had been too asleep for any sort of true discussion to occur.

Hopefully, Gorlim had chalked it all up to half-remembered dreams.

For the time being, Námo listened to his iPod, having missed music (as artificial as the iPod was in musical depth). It was better than being in his room or making decisions or making mistakes.

Bother at will.

yuppie-trash.livejournal.com

[Out of Milliways: Patrick Bateman. Sweet dreams are made of these.]</small]

latino_menace

OOM: One step forward, two steps back

namo

They had agreed to keep their rooms in the bar. Best to do that, in case they, for some reason, spent a night here or needed to make use of a bathroom and spare clothes.

Most of Gabriel's toys had been packed, as had their clothes and necessities.

It was odd. Leaving this place. Almost a year he had called it 'home', though it was only home because Gorlim was here.

And now... even Gorlim's presence... did not make it home. It wasn't safe. It wasn't what was needed.

There had been no 'goodbye' to people. They were not leaving forever. Just... giving up calling it 'home'. Somewhere, Gorlim was with his family. Námo glances at the stairs.

Things should be easier for him now. No interloper. No one to draw attention. No one to mope or brood or draw him away from what was important.

"Are you ready?" Nerdanel asks quietly. "You'll be back. We'll be back. Visiting is better. Better until other arrangements can be made..."

Námo nods. "I know."

She had Gabriel on her hip and a bag in her hand. Námo carries the rest of their bags.

The door is opened onto her living room, where it always opens for her, and she ducks in where her sons and parents wait. Námo sighs, hangs his head a little, and follows.

The door shuts.

Life goes on.

iambetadraconis

[OOM: Rabastan spends his first days at home mulling about time, its nature, and how Azkaban's altered his view of it.

It's a lot better than thinking about the possibility of encountering one's death in one's own world at least...]

Current Mood: contemplative

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

[OOC: Sorry didn't mean to post part 1 in the back room. So here is Part one and Two. More to come]

Nothing unusual just Amanda on the run Part 1 Just the begining. Then she has a narrow escape in Part 2

oldestcharmed1.livejournal.com

Prue is in the bar and she has three cats. Or rather two kittens and a cat. The cat many may recognize as Scampi while the other two only a few know (Fire and Ice) are Amanda's. Why is Prue playing with these three. You'll just have to ask, Or perhaps you are interested in talking with the witch herself. Either way she is available for conversation.

magius-unlocked.livejournal.com

Magius walks along outside, reading a scroll and thinking.

He isn't really walking, more like pacing back and forth near a large Rock at the lakeside. His usual bright demeanor is somewhat dimmed as he concentrates on the scroll. He is committing a new spell to memory, a task which always takes concentration and time.

He is concentrating, but even so, would not be overly bothered by taking a break, if interrupted.

lucky-coyote.livejournal.com

((OOM: Johnny hitches a ride back to Vegas with an old friend.))

The door to the Bar swings open, and Johnny steps inside, beaming. The smile fades ever so slightly as he looks around, then widens again.

Laughing loudly, he wipes a hand over his face. "Nevermind," he grins, shaking his head. The Stardust can wait. Still smiling, he strides up to the bar for a glass of ice water and plops himself down on a stool, trying to see if there are any familiar faces about he can play catch-up with.

((OOC: Mun has to work until 7ish EST tonight, but feel free to exercise slowtime and ping ... I had a posting itch this morning. :D ))

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

The claustrophobia's setting in pretty badly about now, but you can't get tea outside, and dammit, he needs some. Thus, Wells is in the Bar proper- looking rather as if he'd quite like to chew off a leg (his own or someone else's, doesn't matter which) and flee, maybe, but he's in the Bar.

This had better be damn good tea.

futures_of_ash

Rachel stumbled as she entered through the door, blinking dazedly for a moment before running a shaking hand up through her hair and looking around. It was real this time? She was herself...

Yes, herself. The scars on her arms proved it. The door didn't disappear behind her...so this was just...a break? A moment of sanity in the midst of so much reality chasing?

She didn't care. It was home.

With a sigh and a curiously tired smile she slipped over to Bar and kissed her surface gently, getting the normal Beef broth and vitamins in answer to her current physical state. Rachel didn't argue...she knew a reprimand when she saw one.

Home

[Apologies, but mun must slowtime now.]

mommywitch.livejournal.com

Piper's in the kitchen.

Being vewwy vewwy quiet.

Souffle! And cakes and things!

Stirring. And not making loud noises.

Except when the pan falls and she yelps and instinctively freezes it.
Taking a few deep breaths she takes it out of the air and then caaalmly put it back on the counter.
More stirring. And no loud noises.
AND NO MORE FALLING PANS.

[Feel free to bother, ruin her souffle or whatever.]

doc_evil

[OOM: Mini-Me, I shrunk the slayer.]

ather-fledgling.livejournal.com

There's a vampire in the bar. He looks the same as ever, the real him not the young boy he was playing. He's shed that image for now. Though, he may have more of a human edge to him. Softer features, little healthier color, that kind of thing.

He's lounging on a couch half hidden in the shadows. He's just watching the bar, though anyone who sees him might notice that he's in a fairly decent mood. Particularly by the way he may catch someone's eyes and give a smiling nod.

beautybeloved.livejournal.com

Baldur wanders in from outside and takes a seat on one of the couches. He's holding what many patrons may recognise as a demon bunny in his lap, petting it gently.

The demon bunny's expression can be conveyed thusly:

/o.O\

(It's the ears, you see.)

In short, it has the look of a creature that isn't quite sure what predicament it has landed itself in, isn't quite sure what it thinks of said predicament, and despite itself is feeling... mellow?

fighting_mad

[OOM: On Eiattu, there are counts to argue with, and decisions are made. An engagement is confirmed. Life goes on.]

precocioustilda.livejournal.com

Here there be Tilda. Sitting by the fire with her usual shoulder-bag and some plain white paper, folding origami cranes and tossing them at the fireplace. Come bother her! She doesn't bite.

no_justice

He's in the bar. No reason why he shouldn't be. At the end of the bar, eating a curry with a huge grin on his face. This isnj't because he's particularly happy or because he enjoys the curry so very much (he does), but because a huge grin is the default expression when you don't have skin or flesh to form an expression over your skull.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

--fell to the ground, to his knees, tears streaming down his face as a long, low howl of anguish tore itself from his throat. It wasn't a human sound, not the sound of a man. It would have been the sound of an animal, but wolves possessed nothing, needed nothing. This was a sound bereft, a sound the bled through the air into the heart and down the spine.

His hands, used to washing dishes or serving drinks or signing documents, used to holding his son, loving his wife, shaking with friends... they curled into tight fists, whiteknuckled, and down they came, down onto the floor. Over and over, again and again he pounded, pounded until the skin of his hands broke, until blood ran down his arms at each lift.

Should it be thou, he heard in that cold, horrible voice, over and over. Omnipresent. Implacable. Unchangeable. fail us not.

slayer_fray

There's a loud rap on the back door, followed by the sound of someone running away, and the distant sound of someone wheeling away heavy machinery.

Oh, and for those patrons with exceptional hearing, a stream of cursing.

"Rutting hell. I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna get big again, then I'm gonna kill that evil dickhead."

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

Ghost has found his way back into the rafters. It's almost like climbing a tree.

He's just there, laying out on a beam so he can still look down, pulling an even larger hole near the edges of his Whirlin' Disc t-shirt. Pale pale hair falls into a pale pale face but he brushes it away from his eyes, quietly serenading a drifting bit of wayward dust.

jack_inthegreen

Jack is outside, in the Forbidden Forest.

The name amuses him. The trees really are very nice, once you get to know them.

princeinexile

The wolf has found his way inside; this time with no biting or snarling-- but there's still uncertainty, skittishness--

-- and the occasional show of teeth.

He's found a way under a booth; careful, if you sit there. He may not take kindly to being trod upon.

payshisdebts

Jaime would call it a 'black mood'. Tyrion would call it being angry at the world for the fact that he is still here, still wondering --

No, no need to think too deeply on that.

The dwarf dances a coin between his fingers; a golden stag leaping between his rough knuckles; cards are taken up, and further slight of hand is practiced -- it seems a distraction for now, but he welcomes any other.

petraarkanian.livejournal.com

Petra is out by the tree again, but she isn't climbing this time. A piece of paper is hung upon the tree and she is carefully throwing a handsized knife at it. From the marks, she isn't very good. Her sling is still in place, but that is the only evidence that she is injured at all.

lvpd_sidle

Sara is not controlling the destinies of pixelated people this evening.

Instead, she is working on follow up reports.

Andrew Cain, 17, gunned down outside of residence...

Distractions wouldn't be amiss.

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

Molly is sitting at a table in the bar with a kneazle enjoying some fish on the seat beside her, and a parchment and quill on the table in front of her. She's making lists.

Of course there is tea, and always a second cup for anyone who might like to join her.

singlesoledjest.livejournal.com

Mercutio's moochin'. Looking soulful and bored. He was fencing outside, but now it's raining, and not in a fun way, in a grey and cold and windy way. So he's got a hot mug of tea, and a blanket, and caramel shortbread.

Come and entertain him.

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

Well, if it isn't a Chase Edmunds, inna bar.

Oh, he's been around. You just haven't been able to see him. Chase is sneaky like a ninja, sometimes.

Right now, he's being sneaky like a ninja who is eating onion rings at the bar and drinking an appletini with a little pink umbrella.

He looks very pensive. Come snap him out of it.

terror-soars.livejournal.com

It's a very peaceful evening.

Which is shattered by the roar of jets and the "WOOOOHOOO!" of a screechy bird-bot as he finishes a circle of the lake.

Betcha didn't see that punchline coming. Nope.

"And Terrorsaur wins!" the robot squawks as he lands on the bank. "The crowd goes WILD!"

mandercommander.livejournal.com

An Escape Artist, Bonzo is not...

collects_ears

A very cheerful George is behind the bar.

Come - share in his good mood.

He makes a few additions to the specials board, then announces:

"Tonight's drinks are Lady In Red, Lady L, Lighthouse and London Town

"What'll it be?"

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

Angela and Melou come downstairs, Angela with a small bag, dressed in rather unusual clothing for her, with her hair in two braids down her back. She wasn't quite sure how to do her hair but Melou seemed to like it, so she left it. The clothes are strange to her, though she does like the embroidery around the neckline. The ring from Arawn is already on her finger. Her hands are a little cold because she's nervous.

However, right now she's only thinking of actually leaving the bar, actually leaving to do something she wants to do because she wants to do it, thinking of being with Melou all that time...and yes, thinking of how much trouble she's going to be in when she gets back. She shoves that last worry to the back of her mind.

She turns to Melou nervously just before he goes to the door, and she runs down to leave notes with the Bar:

( Note to Grampa )

( Note to anyone else that would worry for Angela )

When she's done that, she turns to him, takes his hand and he opens the door and leads her through.

The door shuts softly behind them.

mandalorianheir.livejournal.com

Bounty Hunter inna Bar. Approach at your own risk, especially if you have a bounty on your head.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells comes down the stairs a little before sundown, stalking across the Bar towards the back door at a speed that brooks no objections. He's got the woods to get to tonight, and he's not about to stick around and be sociable. The trees are a much, much safer place for him to be right now, really.

If anyone's following him, he doesn't stop to notice.

shakenstrfaith.livejournal.com

She's been around, but mostly going between the library and the infirmary.

But now Scully was in the bar with some dinner, and going over some research.

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

One very tired looking Ichigo wanders into the bar from the back door, dragging Zangetsu behind him in one hand. He flops down into a booth with a sigh and a wince, his sore muscles not appreciating the rough treatment.

Stupid body.

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

[ooc: Survivors.]

gone_byebye

It may not be a good day to be standing at the bottom of the stairs, unless you have a raging desire to get smacked in the face with an awful lot of parapsychologist. Ray's been upstairs being Studious and Researchful, if that's even a word, and then he went and looked at the clock. By the Bar's calendar this is just about his favorite holiday.

Dammit, he's entitled to slide down the banister on Nikola Tesla's birthday. Mad science represent, yo.

mercurialist

Italy was in complete and total chaos last night. It was awesome.

This does a lot to explain the spring in Mercer's step as he kicks a pebble along the lake shore, whistling "L'Inno di Mameli" quite loudly and off-key, the busted sole of his left sandal flapping. Hey, it was his home for a bit, way back when. He's allowed some national pride.

One particularly well-aimed kick (or poorly-aimed, if you like) sends the rock into the lake, skipping twice before it sinks.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

(OOM: Finally, Ace gets some answers, and longs for soup.)

young_tmriddle

OOM: Tom goes to Ollivander's

Let's say this happened over the weekend.

undignified

Wes pauses when he opens the door, not exactly expecting Milliways to be there.

Then he vanishes -- but the door's propped open with a spare datapad, which is probably a terrible misuse of what might technically be New Republic property (but what else is the government for?).

After a moment, he enters the bar again, carefully carrying three tins that could contain paint. Maybe. Possibly. It might be bright pink, too. (The datapad gets kicked back into his room so the door can shut again.)

He eyes Bar. (Bar doesn't eye back, because Bar has no face.) Then places one tin on her surface, says, "That's for Steph, uh, kriff, I don't remember her last name. Uh, Steph Robin, y'know," and grins when it disappears. "Thanks," he adds, before taking the other two up to his room. Because you just don't entrust all your prank materials to a magical sentient piece of wood.

You'll probably find him in a booth when he comes back down, lying on the bench with his head hanging over the edge, watching the bar upside down and occasionally sitting up to munch on an Oreo. Because he's Wes and he does that sort of thing.

rigthegames.livejournal.com

The only reason he’s even here is because his room was too quiet. Could be the bar is too loud, but for now, at least, there’s a Sands in it.

He’s found himself a far away booth, back to the wall and one hand

(resting on the gun safely hidden in the shadows)

holding a half-smoked cigarette.

capt_angie

Angelina hasn't been in the bar since the battle- there was too much she had to do after it, including organising her parents funerals. That happened a few days ago now. Then there's her parents house. She still needs to decide what to do with it.

With so much going on, Angelina has hardly thought about the bar at all and as such she is very surprised when the door to her kitchen leads her to the bar. It's a pleasant surprise though and she smiles a little as she makes her way to the bar.

"Butterbeer please," she says to Bar, "and maybe something to eat too?"

Bar provides the drink and a plate of chicken salad and Angelina moves to a table under the viewing window. Come and say hi!