milliways_bar | Aug. 29th, 2006

Aug. 29th, 2006

The bar can't fall apart. It just can't.

It would be the end of - so much. Too much. For Veronica, it would mean saying goodbye to friends; it would mean, she realizes, never seeing Lilly again. Too many things that she could never bear to do.

She stands by the window, and watches it, for the first time looking at the glass, instead of through it.

"Damn the clock," she says, beneath her breath. "You better hold. Hear me? You better hold."

not_that_spike

( Room 8: we'll get right on that... but later. )

not-de-la-vega.livejournal.com

They say that there's no rest for the wicked.

As a point of fact, the wicked sleep quite well, it's the masked heros that don't get any sleep, at least, that's how it would seem, given that one particular masked hero was back in the bar, bandaging an arm before polishing a short knife, taking a stone to the edge of it, brow creased in concentration.

He'd likely welcome conversation all the same.

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

Amanda comes down from upstairs looking a bit cranky and her mood doesn't improve when she sits down a bar and a birthday cake appears with the number 1186 on it. Not her usual breakfast and not what she was in the mood for either. So she sits there watching the cake as if trying to will it away.

rebel-jaffa.livejournal.com

Jaffa in a booth.

bother at will.

pretty-nagisa.livejournal.com

The door to the bar opens, with one rather pissed off twelve year old talking to herself softly. She stops upon seeing the inside of the bar, as the world behind her is that of her bedroom. With a glance back, she blinks, then turns back to step through the door, closing it softly behind her.

Slowly, Nagisa begins to step through the room, looking around blankly. This...was definitely not her closet.

Nagisa inna bar. Feel free to tag.

(OOC: Mun can only play for a few hours, or so, I'm afraid... ^^*)

treadingturds.livejournal.com

If you asked Jocasta Wiggs why she hasn't been seen around that much recently, she'd tell you that she's just been.. elsewhere. Outside, she'd say. With the horses. Or training. Or in her room reading.

That's not the real truth. The real truth is that she's spent most of her time in her room feeling sorry for herself. She's not been sleeping well since entering the bar, and the recent Discquakes have really ruined that for her. Last night she even threw up from the shakes. Or maybe that's this nausea that's been getting worse. Jocasta's really been hit by it badly this month. Myabe it's because of the weightloss she's just beginning to notice.

The quake is certainly to blame for the patch of wall that fell down in her room, filling it, and covering her black clothes with fine white plaster dust. Unable to get much sleep after that, the Assassin slipped outside to actually do some training.

Now she's in bar for a very early breakfast, or rather, to poke at a bowl of porridge while drinking her juice.

grovecj.livejournal.com

OG, Bar.

Maybe looking for someone.

Maybe its you, maybe not.

Find out?

(And work calls, slowtime is much love. see you peoples later.)

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

[OOM: In London, 2006, misfortune strikes the cast and crew of Tarzan- again.]

Last night's Bar-quake was absolutely horrifying, but at least it led to interesting consequences. Understandably, Quinn's just a little nervous about going under a roof after a shake like that. He is, however, hungry- and he's in no mood to trap anything in the woods, thank you very much.

Here's hoping Bar is functioning enough to get something to eat, eh?

clockarmageddon.livejournal.com

One way or another, it's the last day the Clock will be in Milliways.

One way or another, it ends tonight.

One way or another, it'll find you... it'll getcha getcha getcha... oh, wait. Forget that last part.

The Clock is bearing down on twelve. Those with the power and the will to leave have already done so by now. How do you react? Do you hold onto your hope and belief that all will be well? Or do you make your peace and prepare for the worst? Do you encourage others to follow your lead, whatever it may be? Or do you prefer to remain alone, afraid to watch the hopelessness in others -- or afraid to let others see yours?

One thing's for sure. The Clock? Doesn't care either way.

e_delmar

Ennis hadn't seen so much destruction in...

well, it'd been a while, anyway. Up early and working, two days in a row. Two days ain't nothing, really, but every man needs a break now and then, and some water, so that's what he's doing, out by the fence.

harvardbohemian.livejournal.com

It's not shocking that she can't find Mark to save herself. It's not even surprising that he phoned from God only knows where to tell the crew that he was cancelling filming. What -is- surprising is that when she opened the door to Adam's makeshift office, Joanne found herself in the bar. Shrugging, she decides that this is about as good as anywhere to do paperwork. Claiming a table, she pulls a few things out of her briefcase and starts to write.

prone-to-panic.livejournal.com

Last night's bar-quake has Archie, well, shaken. Laerke is already enjoying herself at the House of Arch, treating the whole thing like a massive slumber party, as children are wont to do, and Svava... well, Svava will do what she will, whether Archie would prefer her to stay in the safety of the House or not. She has her own responsibilities, and Archie cannot keep her from them. It doesn't stop him from worrying though.

So here he is, leaning against Bar, closer to the windows than not, watching the patrons, doing his job and wishing he knew what to do to help the situation in the mean time.

gotham-knocking.livejournal.com

Enter the sunburned reporter, dressed today in his regular clothes and not that Hawaiian tapestry of a shirt. He heads to the Bar, gets a beer, and takes a seat.

fallen-april.livejournal.com

April's downstairs, because her room is a mess, her mirror's broken and there's glass everywhere, and she doesn't feel like cleaning it all up at the moment.

She's watching the clock with a bit of curiosity, and some melancholy. She's not entirely sure what's going on with it, but she knows that if the people who left don't get everything fixed by tonight... That's it.

And now she'll go back to sketching the damn thing.

gone_byebye

Ray stayed in the Bar last night, although most of the stuff in his room's been packed up. Well, except for the equations. Those are still written on the walls and ceiling. He did photograph them, though, just in case.

The important thing is that he's in the Bar, sitting at an easily-spotted table near the Door, and that he's got copies of his offer-of-sanctuary signs on his table just in case one of the dead decides they want to take him up on it. English, Russian, German, Greek, Latin, Sumerian, and Aurebesh- take your pick.

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

[[OOM: Up in her room, Molly prays and waits.]]

not-broomboy.livejournal.com

[Liir and Trism and Trindle upstairs. Things are, things change, things are considered. Parenting (and living) is complicated.]

madetomend.livejournal.com

Sally sits, nervously sewing her current project (a fuzzy pink sweater for Sansa) to her left ring finger, eyeing that-

Well. Yeah, that.

[ooc: AND, suck as it is, I have no AIM access.]

fallen-april.livejournal.com

April comes down the stairs two at a time, a thick manuscript and floppy disk in her hand, as well as a scribbled

( note )

She puts the pile on the bar. "Get these to anyone from Mark Cohen's world, okay?" They disappear. "Thanks." she puts a hand fondly on the bar. "I hope I'll see you again." she whispers, and then goes to the door where Ray is waiting for her, holding the door open to his world. April takes a deep breath and walks through.

teach-them-all.livejournal.com

Out of Milliways:

Impendet

(Which is Latin for 'Why yes, this is all coming to a head, why do you ask?')

[OOC: No warnings to speak of for this segment, but warnings for every flavor of violence imaginable apply to previous threads as well as some sexual content. Thanks to Veronica for filling in as Mesaana. Previous Traps Segments: Inludet, Exeunt, Inaestuat, Excutiant, Distorquet, Intercidet. Go on, read.]

walker-cain.livejournal.com

Urza's portal brings them home, and Cain limps away from it, slowly. His guns are out of ammunition, and he is battered and tired.

He looks around, seeing those he had fought with, and nods. As he turns toward the Bar, he casts one more sentence over his shoulder.

"Gamma Squad, drinks for the rest of the night are on me, if you want them. "

With that, he goes inside, to find a booth and Molly, and a shower... not necessarily in that order.

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

So.. two dead guys are sitting in a bar ~~a few hours before Last Call~~.

On a normal day, neither one would have picked the other for company, but today they have two things in common: they're Bound, and they're going to see this through to the end, no matter what that means for them.

The funny thing is, with that wrenching decision made, the rest is actually pretty easy.

And so there's at least one table in the bar today where laughter is still an option. Malcolm and Wesley aren't being too loud about it (out of consideration for their fellow patrons), but they're sharing some of their most embarrassing moments, telling a few bad jokes, and doing what they can to meet death (nothing personal!) if not with a laugh, than at least a smirk.

And, of course, if there's anyone who feels like they do--or would like to feel that way--they're welcome to pull up a chair.

[ooc: I may have to slowtime around dinner time, but consider this an open table for anybody trying to put as happy a face on the day as they can. Feel free to start your own thread--no need to wait for me!]

underdarkangel.livejournal.com

Upon the portal closing there is a very still drow on the ground out by the lake.

His swords are still in his hands though the effects of his potions have worn off.

His shoulders are bleeding badly.

If he could speak he would yell for a cleric.

The pain however has reduced him to mentally crieing for help hoping that someone near by is listening.

clockarmageddon.livejournal.com

The Clock is well past the eleven now. There is perhaps half an hour before the quake is due.

But the more interesting sight is outside. The battle-weary and wounded have returned, perhaps not triumphant against the army set upon them, but with the completion of their objective.

Urza accepts the Armageddon Key -- a crystalline sphere pulsing with the lights of the five manas -- from Gavroche and sprints in the back door, coming to stand before the Clock itself.

Now he just has to figure out how to use the thing.

[ooc: main thread is plotlocked, but reaction tags are welcome.]

terror-soars.livejournal.com

Outside is a blown apart robot. His head is separated from his body. His left arm lies a few yards away. A rifle is clutched in his left hand, held in a death-grip.

His body is still. His optics are black. His mouth gapes in a silent scream.

fighting_mad

After making her way in from outside, there is a tall woman sitting at the Bar, though maybe it's more accurately to say that she's sitting at the Bar and leaning on the Bar in order to remain upright. She is covered in dirt and grime and not a little blood, her face singed in several places, and she is struggling to clean out and wrap up her torn-open shoulder.

Still, she has a glass of something very alcoholic, and that makes everything better. Anaesthetic and disinfectant all in one! She's also grinning madly, despite the bruises and cuts and exhaustion, and despite the fact that she can't go back through the door like this. A hard fight makes everything right.

qsilver-md.livejournal.com

Kevin isn't going anywhere, until the very last moment.

Certainly not without saying goodbye to Darien, if he can help it. Not with no guarantee he'll ever see him again.

He comes out of the infirmary, glancing fleetingly at the clock.

slayer_fray

( The one with the cross dressing )

[WAFFLES IN ~~134~~ 132 RETURNS FOR A GLORIOUS SECOND SEASON. New regular character Lilly Kane is introduced, and we are reminded of our existing cast: Micheal J. Angelo, Henry "Indy" Jones, and Mel Fray. Only not all is as it seems... with special guest appearance by Bernard's brain. Millitmed to last Wednesday, of course.]

kayip.livejournal.com

Behrooz is sitting at a table by the door.

He may be wondering if the influx of injured-looking people is a good sign for the continued existence of the Bar. He hopes so, as it's taking a lot for him to ponder going out the door again.

As it is, he'd really be fairly useless when it comes to offering anything like significant medical attention, so he just sits out of the way and watches.

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

Angela is downstairs in the bar, looking for people she knows.

And also, every few moments, looking at the door.

You know, the one she can now see.

It's a weird feeling, preparing to go home.

She's not sure how she feels about it. She's relieved, but...there are a lot of people here she'll miss.

seker-pride.livejournal.com

[OOM: Rabastan and Strahan head to Rabastan's world to wait out whatever it is that will happen to Milliways itself. Millitimed to before this.]

Current Mood: content
Current Music: "I Believe" Tears for Fears

kitchen_maid

It's been almost four months, in Ambergeldar, since Amy came into the bar. Four rather tiring months, really, spent criss-crossing the country so she could be introduced to a populace. But that all ended last week, in early October, almost two months early, and she's back, looking about for her friends.

The slight curve to her stomach could be the result of the fashion of her dress, or even a trick of the light. But given the way she's smiling . . . it's probably not.

Amy is back. And she has News.

doc-venkman.livejournal.com

After coming through Urza's portal, and after this, there was a tired, hurt Peter slowly finding a quiet corner booth to sit in the back of the bar.

He flopped down, hung his head down, and covered his face. After a while, there was an occasional weak choked back sob.

Current Mood: broken woe

mogget_cat

Yrael is glad the clock gave up all hope and left his home in peace. Smart of the clock, really, or else Yrael would have had to go all nuclear fission on its ass.

The not'cat on the couch yawns widely (Fearsomely! Look at those teeth!) and turns over in his sleep.

(Fearsome, I tell you!)

Current Mood: sleeping

fated-fox.livejournal.com

[OOM: Hale tends to his lir, despite having been blinded during the battle.]

the_seafarer

As anticipated, it has been a long few days.

Tequila had been found and brought back by Ennis early on the morning after the quake, and thankfully (and Caspian still breathes a sigh of relief for this) some determined efforts had regained Rofal and Cluaran, while Pistolet had trotted in by himself later on in the day, hungry and mildly annoyed that there was a distinct lack of oats out in the Milliways forest. Caspian himself had caught a glimpse of Liaffen, but the stallion had shied away before he could be caught--yet that one sight was enough to lay to rest some worries.

Still, there is more work yet to do, and he has been hard at it for the past two days, repairing splintered doors and troughs and trying to make sure the horses--when they are found or return--have a place to return to and food to eat.

Which is likely why he can be found this evening in Kiseki's stall, weary but determined, trying his hand at repairing a doorlatch. Not terribly delicate work, but mind-numbing.

With the stables, under his care, in the shape they are currently in, however--

Well. A few minutes where he does not have to think are very likely welcome.

[OOC: Okay! If your character wants to come talk to Caspian about helping out, now is a good time. He's tired and so am I, but we'll both be around for threads.]

gil-whimple.livejournal.com

Even with a depleted staff Gil had done pretty well about packing away everything other than the essentials. Spares of everything had been shrunken down and placed in boxes - plates, cutlery, pots and pans, table linen, silverware, crystal. All carefully packed. Then there was the food - dry goods used as padding for the crystal, perishables held under a 'stay fresh' charm - just as he had once preserved the body of Charlie Pace.

He could still cook. He knew where everything was. But if the order came to leave he was ready to go at a few minutes notice.

His own gear still needed to be done however so he wandered into his and Sooty's room and looked around with a sigh.

So many memories.

clockarmageddon.livejournal.com

[Elsewhere in the bar: All bad things must come to an end. Millitimed to sunset.]

ten_of_swords

Oooo.

Look.

Wounded tarot card.

Don't worry, he'll be back in order by sunrise, as annoying as ever. But, at the moment, he sits heavily on a couch with towels, shirt off. Quietly, he tends to various wounds (blade through the shoulder, through the side, slice across the gut) and occasionally looks up, looking for a blonde head and blue eyes.

Obviously the Clock was gone, which means the thieves did their thing, but did they all make it back?

ash--evildead.livejournal.com

Following a quick stop upstairs to check on Sheila and the kid, Ash is back down at the bar for a drink. He hasn't even bothered to change into clean clothes.

It's been that kind of day.

Current Mood: indescribable

action-antihero.livejournal.com

[OOM: Earlier today, Jack decides not to take a lifeboat off the sinking ship.]

He'd been halfway down the stairs when he'd heard the sound of breaking glass and machinery, and he'd nearly taken a tumble trying to get down to the bar as quickly as he could. When he'd seen the clock, its mechanism broken, pieces scattered on the floor, he'd sagged against the wall, weak with relief.

Within a couple minutes he's at the bar, sitting on a stool and ordering a very large drink; it might not be the wisest idea at the moment, but at the moment he needs it, if only to calm his nerves.

necessary_child

Sam's in the Bar, nursing the largest Atlantean that Bar would provide and glowering at the clock. He's decided he doesn't dare risk offering the Light to it, and so is in a thoroughly black mood.

His room is emptied, and he'll be moving out soon- just before the next quake should be. Anyone he knows who doesn't have another way out will be more than welcome to come with him, if you brave the scowl on his face to enquire.

explorertruman.livejournal.com

Truman seriously considered leaving. Hitchhiking somewhere, or going back to his world. Even if it was just to hide from the crowds.

But he didn't. Stayed just in case. In case help was needed, or things got better.

And things did get better.

He stopped by the Bar, and whispered to the wood, "Congratulations."

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

The door in Cimorene's lovely guest suite in the Castle of the Enchanted Forest usually leads to a rather large closet, but when she opens it this evening she is at first pleasantly surprised and then a little wary to discover that it opens into Milliways instead.

She considers just closing the door and going to find Mendanbar, but there are friends in the bar, and she does want to tell them about Kazul's rescue. So, probably against her better judgement, she steps through the doorway.

"Please, don't vanish," she asks the door nicely as she closes it behind her, sighing with relief when it remains present and unlocked behind her. Opening and closing it once more for reassurance she grins as she heads across the bar to meet her friends.

balletrat

[OOC: Millitimed to after this: Lilly heads to Meg's room to beat up on defenseless pillows.

gone_byebye

[From here.]

Amidst the pile of rubble and sproingy broken bits where the Clock used to be, Ray comes unsteadily to his feet. With a great deal of wincing and the utmost care in motion, he picks his way to the Bar.

"Six hundred milligrams of lumiracoxib and a pitcher of Third Rail, please."

Bar does not comply.

"I'll settle for the Prexige and as much water as I can carry."

That can be done.

"Thank you very much, Bar. I appreciate it."

With even greater care of motion, Ray makes his way towards the booths. One of them's got to be dark enough to sit in without wanting to pillbug.

missginnytonic.livejournal.com

Ginny is sitting at a table as she looks at the small purple puff on the table, Every so often she has to Swat at something. coming from the puff. feel free to ask about it

Current Mood: crazy

arjiki-diamonds.livejournal.com

Fiyero is in the bar, sprawled out in a back booth and watching the rest of the room curiously.

He's nursing ice water- because he doesn't drink alcohol unless he's invited to, and even then it's really a very bad idea.

But if he sees someone he's met, he might give them a wave.

md_donighal

The man in the (tattered) gray suit arrived with the rest of the warriors. On coming inside the bar, he looked at the front door, then staggered to a corner booth and stayed there, unmoving.

Now, he moves, heading towards the bar, trying not to look at the front door, which (to his sight) has been replaced by sarcastic graffiti:

THERE WAS A DOOR HERE
(but not for you)

"Bar, if you please? Two days' change of clothes and a room key?"

These things obtained, he heads upstairs to collapse. In the morning, there'll be time enough to tell his friends what's happened.

Current Mood: drained

the_antiangst

The door opens enough for someone to look around briefly; it closes again, and a few minutes pass.

"Oh, come on--"
And then it opens again, all the way, and Angel enters the bar. He's taking the lack of recent-earthquake evidence as a good sign. THe pile of clock parts? Even better.
Before the door closes all the way, a tortoiseshell still-mostly-kitten skids through and runs into Angel's shoe.
"...Kid, I know you like me, but you were supposed to stay home."
But the door's closed, and anyway Aunt Ophelia's a little busy taking in this weird new place. So Angel just sighs, and finds a table.

urzaplaneswalkr.livejournal.com

[OOM: On Phyrexia, a small army brings the war back to those who started it. Millitimed to between Monday morning and Tuesday afternoon.]

[Warnings for severe injury, gore, and character death.]

tibetanmethod

The very best literature, Dale Cooper thinks, is the kind

(His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead.)

that you can read, and read, and

(He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence.)

read, and get something different out of

(He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland.)

it every time. In his time in the House of Arch, he

(It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns.)

had his copy of Dubliners; and he read "The Dead" over, and over, and

(His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.)

over.

As he's doing now, at a table, with a cup of coffee.