milliways_bar | Aug. 14th, 2006

Aug. 14th, 2006

[OOM: In which Tom doesn't quite learn what happens when he goes out-of-town, and Door decides she can live without sleep.]

precocioustilda.livejournal.com

Tilda.
Bar.
Book.
Minimalism.

steelartisan

[OOM: We are all greatful for the mass media and politics.]

http://users.livejournal.com/_chappy_/

It's another night spent watching the door.

He doesn't think his daughter is coming back, he's almost certain she's not, but this is the only place he can stand to be right now. At least till he has enough alcohol in him so he can sleep, wake up tomorrow and repeat the process.

[OOC: Plot-locked to Kim. Sorry!]

kayip.livejournal.com

[OOM: Behrooz wakes up to learn about what's happened from Lyrae Addam and Kim Bauer. Warnings for brief awkwardness and mostly Woe]

namo

[OOM: Vairë helps Námo let go. There is hidden text in there. Highlight to see. No warnings necessary. Just breakiness for me and my puppet.]

withamagicword

Billy is once more outside, laying on the lake... or, at least, laying on air, on the lake. He is watching the sun rise and the sky turn a deeper blue as it does. He smiles as the wind whirls past him above, and fish swim past underneath, occasionally bumping his raft of air. Later, he has an appointment, but for now, he is just resting.

A nice morning for rest and thought.

fallen-april.livejournal.com

April's inna bar.

Apple tea in hand, curled up with some sort of romance novel.

A girl's gotta dream, y'know...

[OOC: I welcome any and all threads - all will be slowtimed, sadly, unless you catch me on my lunch break or something... but I really need to get April back into the swing of things.]

finn-beginagain.livejournal.com

Riley wandered down from upstairs. His hair a bit messy as he hasn't gotten a chance to brush it this morning. He wandered over to Bar and ordered some breakfast. He sat down in big comfy chair #5 and began eating. He might seem a little stressed out and only beginning to relax to anyone who cares. Come distract the government demon and vampire hunter?

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

OOM: Knox talks with Vicki Vale about a certain millionaire

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

Knox arrives in the Bar from the chill of Gotham, and tosses his coat over a chair as per usual. Today he has a few files to review, most with the names of local mobsters, one with the name "Bruce Wayne" on the tab.

He orders a beer, and gets to his reading. But of course is happy to talk with anyone who's around.

tragic_mask

Melpomene has spent the weekend dancing, being horribly drunk, and subsequently falling asleep and having really trippy dreams. And then she woke up with no voice.

She has her voice back now, but she's not using it at the moment - she's in an armchair by the fire, feet propped up and dozing.

slayer_fray

There's a voice that keeps on calling me
Down the bar is where I'll always be

Every stop I make, I'll make a new friend
Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again.

Maybe tomorrow, I'll want settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.

Down this bar, that never seems to end,
Where new adventure, lies just around the bend.

So if you want to join me for a while
Just grab your hat, come travel light - that's Slayer style.

...luckily she's not actually singing it, but because she's walking barefoot among the glasses littering the Bar's surface, there's an almost permanent connection to Mikey going on.

And he's got it stuck in his head. Rutter.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

Mark is sitting at a table in the bar, drinking an over-large glass of iced tea, and whistling to himself. Those who know such things might recognize the song Celluloid Heroes Do feel free to bug him. He's extremely cheerful.

[ooc: ~~Mun is here until likely about three or four central time. Things will be slowtimed until tomorrow after that time, but mun rather needs some thread.~~ Mun now gone. Leave a comment if you'd like a slowtime, though.]

alwaysroomforhope

Steph's in the bar, looking very happy about something. She's got a booth, a Smoking Mountain, and her feet on the table; what more can a girl want, aside from company?

Steph's mun is at work, and has limited (aka no) internet access once she leaves in a couple hours' time. Short threads and slowtimed threads are very welcome though! Just plz excuse erratic tagging.

shall-go-free.livejournal.com

The front door opens, and Xas moves quietly toward the bar, fetching a glass of wine.

He settles himself in a booth, back pressed to the wall, not quite slouching.

It's a near thing, though.

At least the color of the wine is good, and it tastes sweet. Things could be worse.

watcher-g-man.livejournal.com

After his voice was returned, Giles went home, and now? He was lugging several bags of books, and notebooks, filled with notes.

On his way to the library to drop off a lot of research and information from his world.

But first, some tea and a bite to eat.

So, Watcher aka skerry picture guy with the info in the bar.

(Despite the icon, no chainsaw as well, say sorry. He's just being prepared)

e_delmar

There's a corner table, in the back. It's deep in shadows, but if you can tell, Ennis' sitting there, cigarette in hand, hat pulled over his eyes. Sure, he's hungover, but when you wake up at four thirty, it's mostly gone by this time of day.

explorertruman.livejournal.com

Truman came down into the bar, going some more info in his Guide. He gave a wary glance at the door, and debated opening it again to find her....No, not till he knew she could come here. Even though it be telling her to leave it all behind. She actually lived in the real world, and could. Might not be as willing to give it all up.

He sighed, and went to the bar.

"Fried paradoxes and a beer...uh, be creative."

So he was given some Corellian Ale to go with his snack.

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

Draco was in the bar. Not secluded at a back table this time. Dressed in wizard robes, but these seem a bit rumpled. Maybe rakishly rumpled in his case, almost deliberately so. His hair wasn't as slicked back as usual either, the pale hair again arranged with a touch of the rogue to it.

He had some tea and lunch, but that wasn't the oddest partm, actually that was normal.

The other odd part about his appearance?

He was *smiling.* Not smirking, or glowering or brooding, or looking smug.

Actual, pleased about life, genuine smile.

Dare to ask why? Or to try to ruin his good mood?

call-me-ree.livejournal.com

It's a tired-looking and subdued Irene Tassenbaum who slips in and out of the Staff Wing throughout the day, slowly building up a small stack of boxes on a handcart near her table. She's dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, with her hair tied back in a kerchief. From time to time she purchases packing materials from the bar.

It's fortunate that Susannah Dean, at least, was the type to keep a will. She's still not sure what to do with some of Eddie's stuff--a comprehensive journal of his time in Milliways, and an extensive notes on the various people and events he's met and been involved with, as well as a binder of short stories and personalized fairy tales. There's also a pretty big collection of trashy paperback horror novels and various toys. And the dust-covered typewriter in the closet, and Susannah's wheelchair--with ruthless practicality, the gunslinger had suggested returning it to Kaylee Tam to be stripped for parts, but Irene's not sure that would be the most tactful thing.

Some of the packages she leaves with the bar--

( For Anthy Himemiya )

( For Kitty Pryde )

( For Ace )

( For Moiraine Sedai )

( For Zoe Washburn-Warren )

Each package comes with a simple note on Tet stationery, in Irene's smooth Palmer method handwriting.

Susannah Dean wanted you to have this.

She's not sure what else to say. She makes sure to instruct the bar to give any of these people the letter before delivering the packages, if they haven't gotten a copy already.

There were instructions for what to do with a doll in a woven reed bag, also, but Irene wasn't able to find it.

She'll have to leave a note for the Barman about what to do with the furniture and the room itself, but she can't do that until she's finished with Eddie's things. The clothes are going to Salvation Army back in Keystone Rose, as Susannah requested.

Before she leaves, she checks the message board, and carefully moves the announcement she posted back to the top, in a visible place.

The final thing she loads on her handcart is a three-sided Habitrail-type pet cage containing a small and elderly-looking mouse. As she carries it, the water bottle magically refills itself, provoking a squeak of surprise. (From her, not the mouse.)

She sighs. Well, that's that. For now, anyway. She takes a moment to clear her mind before leaving; it's a turbulent time of year in Taos, between what happened to the Deans and the imminent anniversary of the children's arrival there. When she feels her emotions are suitably in grip, she pushes the cart out the door and into Taos.

fallen-april.livejournal.com

April has written, in her neatest handwriting, a note, and pins it up on the message board, biting her lip nervously, before going to sit back down.

To the patrons of Milliways:

I am looking for a doctor who could help me figure out whether or not I am still able to have children, since I came here when I died. I would very much appreciate it if someone could talk to me about that. Thank you very much.

Sincerely,
April Faith Cornwell.

P.S. I'm the girl with the shortish brown hair reading by the fireplace, usually. Or writing. Thanks. -AC

underwater-owl.livejournal.com

Sprawled on a sofa, and looking terribly smug, is one Prince of Amber.

Well, he has more than a few things to be smug about. Including, but not limited to, the glass of scotch, the portugese newspaper, the thin gold wedding band he's fiddling with on his finger, and the general state of relaxation.

exspdblue.livejournal.com

The door to the bar opens and some gunfire can be heard through the door. An explosion in close vicinity to the door sends a spandex clad hero flying into the bar. Arms flailing he yells out, "Whoooooaaaaaahhhhh!" He fell face first onto the floor and leapt up to his feet. He looked around and then noticing that there was no immediate danger, he breathed out a sigh of relief and plopped down in a nearby booth. He took off his helmet and set it down on the table nearby. Sky Tate, welcome back to Milliway's.

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

Angela's in the bar, once again looking worried.

However, she's not crying, she hasn't cried in days. She just looks tired.

But she promised Melou she'd eat, so she is. And quite well, too, vegetables and everything.

Whether she really tastes it or not is anyone's guess.

http://users.livejournal.com/_chappy_/

[OOM: Millitimed to Friday. After talking to Sharpe about the failed rescue, Ryan tells Kim Bauer the news isn't as good as they had hoped.

Later, he vents to Elaine as his worries get the best of him.]

necessary_child

A young man - at least, he looks young - all in scruffy black enters the bar from a crowded, dusty London street, a rolled newspaper under his arm. He's licking a large chocolate ice cream with a chocolate stick in it and grinning cheerfully with the half-smirky, boyish grin of someone who knows he's won something highly important. It's an attractive grin. He looks surprised to enter the bar, but not at all unhappy.

He leans against the bar, happily eating and people-watching. If it weren't for the ice cream, he'd be whistling. Albeit very off-key.

eternal-boy.livejournal.com

Estat ai en greu cossirier / per un cavallier q'ai agut,
e voill sia totz temps saubut / cum eu l'ai amat a sorbrier;
ara vei q'ieu sui trahida / car eu non li donei m'amor,
don ai estat en gran error / en lieig quand sui vestida.

Ben volria mon cavalier / tener un ser e mos bratz nut,
q'el s'en tengra per ereubut / sol q'a lui fezes cosseiller;
car plus m'en sui abellida / no fetz Floris de Blanchaflor:
eu l'autrei mon cor e m'amor / mon sen, mos houills e ma vida.

Bels amics, avinens e bos, / Coraus tenrai e mon poder?
e que jagues ab vos un ser / e qeus des un bais amoros!
Sapchatz, gran talan n'auria / qeus tengues en luoc del marit,
ab so que m'aguessetz plevit / de far tot so qu'eu volria.

One might think that the song was a bit odd of a choice, considering, but it worked for him, really. in a way. Either way, he's happy and he's bouncing on the balls of his feet as he makes his way into the bar.

un_fallen

Raguel's in the bar, nursing a beer and staring off into space. He's not brooding, for once, just lost in thought.

So much for vigilance.

ironside-pixie.livejournal.com

It's a beautiful night. Fresh clear air, the kind that only comes after rain. The wild scent of it makes her grin. Kaye is half sprawled on the damp grass by the lake, with a bottle of vodka. It would surprise you how many people leave their alcohol unattended, or perhaps it wouldn't. It's disgusting, she thinks, lacking the dignity of bourbon, or the sheer headiness of faerie wine. But she drinks it anyway, because she's past caring and it seems like the thing to do.

And if she tilts her head just right the stars spin pleasantly; almost like a dream.

[OOC: I realize there may be various ramifications with a sixteen year old drunk, my only phrase and excuse for this post is: Bring it. :p No srsly. BRING IT.]

Current Mood: drunk

gone_byebye

It's been a few days; Ray's been home all that time. He's back in the Bar now, though, for what that's worth. A little subdued, maybe, but he's back. You can't really get the green stuff back home, after all. Not to mention that the mathematicians at Columbia look at you funny if you try and get them to help you out with your six-dimensional tunneling architectural mathematics.

He's got a spot over by the door, and he's fooling with equations in the air over his holocomputer. It's something to do.

kayip.livejournal.com

Behrooz is sitting at the Bar, eating dinner. It's chicken and rice, and is actually disappearing rather quickly.

He still looks rather tired, though, resting his head in his hand, and his eyes don't raise to look around the bar very much. Maybe because he's not entirely sure he wants to meet eyes with someone else who knows about what happened, or will want to ask questions.

This doesn't mean he'll refuse conversation. Or even to offer answers.

urzaplaneswalkr.livejournal.com

[Pre-Milliways: So many worlds.]

The door does not open, precisely. It is closer to say that where the door was becomes a shimmering wall of light. From the light steps a figure, shadowed against the glare for a moment until the door becomes just a door once again.

He is no longer a young man, this figure, and yet appears even more aged than he is. Haggard and drawn, with windswept hair and tired lines creasing his face. His clothes are well-worn, little more than threads in places. Calloused hands wipe the sweat from his brow as he surveys the room.

What surprises him most is the lack of awe or fear at his arrival, to which he has become so accustomed in other worlds.

What manner of place is this, where such things are commonplace? he wonders.

And then he steps toward the bar, determined to find out.

[ooc: Not at all plot-locked! Please tag away!]

guppy_sandhu

There is a Guppy sitting in a booth by the infirmary. The stacks of paperwork are a good thing to absorb himself in, to stop himself looking at the door or displaying unwanted facial expressions.

He blinks as he pulls one sheet of paper from the pile, with an advert of two people practicing self defence. There are names annotated to the drawing, and they aren't the ones passed around the rest of the department.

His frown deepens, he screws the paper up and goes over to the fire, where he burns it. Quickly. He mutters something extremely rude under his breath before returning to the paperwork.

bev-marsh.livejournal.com

There are days when Bev stays in her room, or hangs around outside, and doesn't spend much time in the main bar. Today's been one of them.

So when she comes down the stairs and into the bar now, it's the first time she sees the front door, clearly visible.

She comes to a dead stop, just staring at it for a moment. Then she's all but running across the room, dodging patrons and tables, yanking the door open when she gets there--and looking out at a school hallway she last saw months ago.

She almost steps through, then stops herself, closing the door with obvious reluctance, and heads back across the room and up the stairs, looking over her shoulder constantly to make sure it's still there.

A short time later, she's back downstairs, dressed in the clothes she arrived in, schoolbooks clutched in the curve of one arm. She stops at the bar, laying a room key and a folded piece of paper on it.

"Um. I don't know if I'll be able to come back, but just in case--can you keep my key for a while? And give the note to anyone who needs to see it. Thanks."

And with that, she's out the door, nothing left behind but the key and the ( note. )

shufti

Shufti is sitting near the bar in a booth, a sleeping four and a half month old baby boy on her knee.

Jack sucks his thumb, oblivious to the world around him.

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

Basic hair-cutting equipment, including appropriate clothing and drop cloth: check.

Hand-annotated guide to Indian restaurants throughout London: check.

Copy of How to Boil Water: Life Beyond Takeaway: check.

Yep, Annie's on a mission tonight. Even if it just looks like she's sitting by the fire with a stack of books (which she isn't reading), a small box, and a cup of tea.

shelley_winters

There's Shelley again, very relieved to have her voice back. She's still not entirely sure what happened, but at least it's stopped. Though imagining Elan's expression if she was unable to speak is at least vaguely amusing.

...Hmm.

Might be a thought, that.

She has to return later on, so she is accompanied by a glass of wine which has been refilled at least once already tonight, though she doesn't feel in the least merry. Pensive is perhaps best for her outward appearance, and the less said about how she feels is likely the better.

called_lioness

There are two dragons, who are trailing what used to be a pair of pants behind them, as they take it toward the fireplace.

They are attempting to build a nest in front of it.

There is also Lucy, who is laughing herself sick as she sits by the nest and watches them.

ten-feet-below.livejournal.com

The Prince enters the bar with a look of great pride on his face.

This is because - after much questing in foreign lands, and a few questions asked of the Narrator - he has caught a fish.

This is not just any fish, mind. It's a beautiful, shining golden carp, from the pond of a foreign king. Odds seem high that there's a magic ring of some sort in its stomach. It might even possibly have granted wishes at some point in its career. It's that sort of fish.

And whether or not he finds the lady to whom this fish is due - well, the bar is magic. In any case, his task is complete!

righthandwoman.livejournal.com

Zoe is at the bar.

Naomi is in her sling.

Zoe has just been given two playing cards, along with a note.

That might account for her expression.

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

Arithon enters the bar and finds a seat. His daughter is already here, but he may be caught before he notices if you so desire.

agirllost

Kim's sitting at a table and writing on a yellow legal pad.

She's watching for a few people. She also looks determined.

A cup of coffee is getting cold in front of her.

withamagicword

[OOM: The Start of Something Interesting... - In which Cassie Frasier helps Billy Batson paint his room and he shows her a few things, like flying, good movies, and cuddling. Warnings for Old Movies, Kissage, and paint Flecks.]

withamagicword

Billy sits out on the lake, pondering life and the universe, and possibly other things, as well.

It is a nice night and he sits quietly in the gentle breeze.

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

Ichigo has wandered down from his room tonight, mainly out of boredom, and because a little company now and then seems to help keep him sane. Sitting by himself in his room listening to his inner demon tell him what a fucking loser he is gets old after ten or fifteen hours. It's more or less all he can do, since the same demon seems to feel he only requires two hours of sleep a night.

Seated at the bar, Ichigo is slouched over it, resting his head on his arms. His eyes have bags under them and he's looking far too skinny under his casual clothes. Most people would drown their sorrows in booze at such a time, but he's not old enough for that yet, so he has to content himself with sitting there by himself, trying to catch snippets of conversation around him.

Such is the lonely life of a doomed teenager. Won't you come say hello?

slayer_fray

( Mel and Mike catch up. )
[Um.

WE'RE SORRY!

Not suitable for anyone with any respect for good writing]

grimy-brian.livejournal.com

Brian's been collecting for Greenpeace. He has a tabard, a clipboard, an enormous smile and a theme song. What more do you need?

"Watch out, watch out, hippies in bibs on parade, here they come, hippie-ty hoppity,
They're here, they're there, hippies in bibs everywhere..."

Oh yeah.

You need a fake 'tache.