milliways_bar | Oct. 27th, 2006

Oct. 27th, 2006

Kim comes into the bar wearing sunglasses and playing with her iPod. She's so intent on finding the right song that it takes her a few moments to realize she's not in LA anymore.

When she finally looks up she walks over to Bar and orders a basket of fried paradoxes.

Something tells her she might need them tonight.

kitchen_maid

[OOM: Millitimed to last week or so: Lady Ingress of the House of Arch and HRH Princess Susan of Ambergeldar are introduced. But not nearly that formally.]

not-broomboy.livejournal.com

[Upstairs: After the arrival of Candle and everything that happened there, Liir heads upstairs to talk to Trism. A touch of madness, panic by the cupful, and a pinch or two or three of twelve of confusion make for a disjointed bit of discussion and eventually, sleep.]

[warnings for language, uneasy stomaches, and random paranoia]

blue_ajah

[OOM: It is said that "only the phoenix arises and does not descend." Everything changes, and sometimes things end.]

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

It's not so much the voice, the singing, or the mystery that bother little Hotaru Tomoe so much anymore.

It's the feeling, the memory. Like...

Just today, she was walking home, happy, and suddenly a memory filled her being as plain as reality,

walking home, sad. Wearing dark tights and dark long sleeves.

Having no friends, and misery...

It's the feeling, the memory, of...

Lying asleep. Lying cold, and asleep. Sleeping for... so long. Watching a civilization collapse.

She shakes those things off. "I'm a different person now..."

But it's the feeling. It's the memory of taking the stone staff of that cruel weapon in hand that comes to mind most often these days. It's the memory of reveling in the destruction even as she mourned the losses she was creating.
Or did she? Did she ever really mourn them?
The memories, and the intensity of the feeling when they come, disturb her.

She's standing on the grass by the lake outside of Milliways Bar. She's standing barefoot (despite the cold) and watching the dark waters lap against the lake's shore.

She is starting to feel that something is not right. What exactly that something is, she couldn't say just now.

action-antihero.livejournal.com

For some reason unbeknownst to him--and much to his annoyance--Jack's been Bound since the last time he came in. At least Bar's been giving him whatever he's asked for: coffee, more chocolate, the mix CD Chris made for him transferred to his iPod...

...And an electric guitar, along with a book and a DVD.

Of course as he's had nothing else to do the last couple days, he's been spending a lot of time with the guitar and the lessons. From the sounds coming from the corner booth, though, it hasn't been anywhere near enough. About the only good thing is that Bar hasn't given him an amp as well.

Yet.

Someone head over and brave the cloud of cigarette smoke to remind Jack that he's tone deaf?

tibetanmethod

[Out of Milliways, and into Twin Peaks:

Yesterday, Harry Truman went calling.

And today, Harry Truman and Dale Cooper get organized. Something's coming.

No Albert Rosenfields were harmed in the making of this production.]

iustus_rex

"Tea, please," Edmund tells the bar.

A mug of frothy hot chocolate appears, and he blinks at it. "Er, thanks," he tries, rather tentatively, because he remembers other times when Bar's magic went on the fritz for one reason or another, "but I'd really prefer tea. If it's all the same."

Can wood look sulky? Bar makes a decent try of it. But the hot chocolate disappears, and tea (sans chocolate) appears in its stead. With scones (also sans chocolate.)

"Ta," Edmund says, patting the bartop lightly, and carries tea and his sketchpad to a table.

talkback.livejournal.com

"Grrrrr..."

"No, no, give it here, c'mon girl, drop, drop..."

"RRR!"

These are the sounds of a boy and his Raptor playing tug of war with a length of rope. It looks like fun, really, and it's good exercise.

twostandingby

[OOM: After this, Winter goes back to room 181.]

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Kirk got a note with breakfast today, telling him that Suzi was okay, and with Whistler on his Earth. He had been a bit concerned, given that her time was almost up, and was relieved (though curious as to if the shapeshifter Garion did indeed save her).

Heading to a booth, Kirk took his coffee, sourdough biscuits and Roughing It - he's still in a Twain mood. He took his daily Look for the Door, and wasn't surprised to not see it. He wasn't giving up, but he knew that it was close to the point when he'd need to create an exercise regimen and maybe a daily schedule to keep himself in top shape. Just because he was in disgrace didn't mean he should let himself slip out of lifelong Starfleet habits.

He took a sip of coffee, donned his glasses (repaired by the Bar) and began reading. Not that he won't stop reading to talk with people.

sistersxkeeper.livejournal.com

Anna's at the bar, sipping at a cup of hot chocolate, a scarf wrapped around her head. S'cold outside, y'see, and Anna's been out there. Hot chocolate warms the soul.

And...your hands. Botherable.

Over by the fireplace is another person trying to warm up. The Exile sits in front of the fire, in striped sock feet and leggings and a sweater, for once not in her Jedi robes. She's scribbling on a datapad and sipping at the caffa that sits beside her legs. Also botherable!

gone_byebye

Where Ray got the free time to duck into the Bar he doesn't know, but he's not about to question it. He heads straight for the Bar proper, Francis the robotic dog at his heels, and grabs a sandwich and a large glass of his usual green stuff. When the dog WHURFs at him, he sighs and pats the Bar again. "I'm gonna need a tug of war rope with a variable strength neodymium switchable electromagnetic in the knot, please... thank you."

Lunch is going to be spent attempting to eat with one hand and play with the robot dog with the other, it looks like.

thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com

Remy was still around, though he was dressed again, the same long coat he'd first arrived in, eyeing the door from his booth, a playing card flicking back and forth over his fingers.

He was getting ready to go back, at least for a while, to see what had happened and how long he'd been gone.

But for the moment he was still around, with the usual coffee, still too hot to drink, set on the table in front of him.

fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com

Judging by the look on the Brigadier's face, Milliways was not where he intended to go when he opened the door- but he's not objecting. In fact there's a definite downward motion to his shoulders as he lets out a sigh of considerable tension. "It's been a while," he observes to no one in particular. "Might I get either a meat cleaver or some form of. . . oh, some sort of acid capable of dissolving plastic as efficiently as possible, Bar?"

mnt_mike

[OOM: Those on vigils still need visitors.
A milli-timed thread starring: Lilly Kane and Michaelangelo.]

a-fell.livejournal.com

[OOM: Or rather, not, quite. Aziraphael and Crowley don't actually make it that far.

Millitimed to last Friday night, please note warnings for mature content.]

hands-unclean.livejournal.com

OOM: Being a heroine is overrated. Lady Macbeth dreams of a city. Rated F for Whose fantasy is this, anyway?

obligatoryass

Logan has been busy.

Actually, that's not at all true. He worked hard at living the life of a leisured man, surfing and drinking and playing poker. There may have been a second trip to Las Vegas, sans his divorced sibling, for some high-stakes Texas Hold 'Em.

But that was as much as a month back, and now he's just coming out of a friendly game with Dick Casablancas and some other friends.

No, Weevil was not invited. That's probably why Logan won, and he's feeling flush. Hence the good mood.

dreamer_fray

[OOM: In Haddyn, Harth...

Does what he always does. Like it or not.]

undignified

You know what's the best thing in any galaxy?

REMOTE-CONTROLLED TOY X-WINGS.

Or at least, Wes would tell you so, or perhaps demonstrate; he's sitting up on a table, feet on a chair, flying the little starfighter around the bar. Up among the rafters and down almost low enough to annoy the waitrats and just at the right level to go right over people's heads.

Honestly, the chocolate? Just adds a bit of focus.

loveinalocket.livejournal.com

Shiori is here, again with her Gameboy. This time, however, she is not playing Shadowgate. Bar gave her a copy of Pokemon Crystal when she asked for something new. Raising monsters is much less frustrating than wandering around ancient castles in search of artifacts to destroy the Warlock Lord.

yuppie-trash.livejournal.com

[Out of Milliways: Patrick Bateman says the words that a woman wants to hear. Warnings for crude language and mention of Neil Sedaka.]

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

On the bulletin board, the Co-Head affixes a sign:

ATTENTION

If you have received chocolate from Bar in the last week or so, be advised that you may be enchanted in some way; she's playing a prank. Those who haven't received chocolate ought to keep their eyes open for suspicious behavior from their peers.

Thank you.

--Mgmt.

After Bernard turns his back, and walks to the usual table to join his family, tequila and tea in hand, the sign... alters, a bit.

It now reads:

ATTENTION

BERNARD MICKEY WRANGLE IS A KILLJOY AND A TOTAL DRAG. EVERYONE SHOULD MAKE FUN OF HIM TO HIS FACE AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.

THANK YOU.

--BAR

Of course, anytime Bernard turns towards the Bar area, it changes back.

turned_captain

Will does not take any of the chocolate that appears at the bar along with his breakfast. Mostly because he doesn't have a sweet tooth, but also because he decidedly doesn't trust food given to him for no obvious reason.

Instead he takes his bowl of oatmeal and the bacon on the side and sits at a table in the middle of the bar, looking around briefly for Elizabeth or anyone else he might know.

Not that he's specifically waiting for anyone, just happy for conversation.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy comes out of the infirmary, where he has just finished working on Tersa's antivenom.

He stops at the bar, who obligingly gives him a bar of chocolate with his tea. He thanks her, and begins eating it.

About five minutes later he suddenly gets up, goes to the nearest free booth, climbs up onto the seat and starts trying to walk along the back of the chair without falling off.

It just seems like a good idea...

mnt_donnie

The thing about arresting your boss on your first day of work is that if you have a question about the post-arrest protocol... well, you can't exactly ask him.

So, Donatello's left a note at the bar as well as pinned up in the office, just to cover his bases.

snorkacklover.livejournal.com

It’s a wonderful day to walk the dog.

Luna, unfortunately, doesn’t have a dog. But she does have a rather large and rainbow-striped umbrella.

However, that isn’t getting a walkie either. There are far more interesting matters at hand, such as the bright blue milkshake Bar so obligingly provided. She’s humming absentmindedly under her breath as she stirs it with a breadstick.

Who’d have thought an umbrella could look so miserable?

try_corsets

Near the shore of the lake, partially concealed by shadows, Elizabeth Swann munches on a piece of chocolate and stares determinedly at the Black Pearl.

(The sign had done nothing but warn her about a supposed cad named Bernard, and she took it under advisement. Should they ever meet, Elizabeth feels certain she can put him in his place -- for Bar, provider of this lovely chocolate.)

It has been long enough. Jack has yet to invite her on board, and really, can't he just let bygones be bygones? It's not as if she wanted him to die. Honestly, men can be so temperamental.

Thoughtfully, Elizabeth swallows her last bite and begins unlacing her boots. If he won't come to her, she'll go to him.

[OOC: Not plot-locked, but please ping eccofiore first. Thanks!]

twoeyesonthesky.livejournal.com

[OOM: Quinn came to Milliways pre-canon. Sooner or later, though, canon comes to find you...]

The door flies open, revealing a scene of fire. Light, heat, smoke, the awful smell of all manner of things burning-

And one human figure, clad in rippling, unnatural material- silvery, heat-resistant stuff. Save for the front of the headpiece, of course. That's smoked (ha!) glass or plastic. Not that it's there long to be seen. It gets ripped off and Quinn Abercromby stares around him, expression shocked.

"FUCK!" he suddenly shouts. "CREEDY!"

not_that_spike

( OOM: There's just one Beth tonight... at least for a little while. )

gonna_live

[Out of Milliways:

They're gone.]

not-only-wisdom.livejournal.com

Nynaeve comes in by way of the lake door, stopping by the bar to get a pot of tea and a few sandwiches. She makes her way over to the fireplace, settling herself comfortably in an armchair.

Someone might have been on her feet all day.

Or perhaps she was merely attempting not to let her woodscraft get rusty. Skirts are bloody difficult to manage in the underbrush.

Ah, well.

The tea, at least, is very good.

taishar_malkier

[OOM: On the trail.]

The man who strides through the door is tall and broad-shouldered, with a sword on his hip and the thoughtless, deadly grace of a fighter. Black hair, turning to grey at the temples, hangs to his shoulders, held back by a braided leather cord around his forehead. The cloak over his shoulders hurts the eyes to look at; it shifts between shades of brown and grey and green, never quite steadying, so that parts of him almost seem to disappear as it moves.

Lan gets one step in before his eyes narrow, and his head rises fractionally, and something in his posture changes.

(Leopard in High Grass: the walking stance used when there are enemies on all sides. Falling into that prowling gait is long habit, and unconscious.)

This isn't the Red Badger. This isn't any inn he's seen in his life; this room couldn't fit inside the Red Badger, and most of these people are wearing jarringly unfamiliar clothing.

The hows and whys will come later. For now, Lan Mandragoran's first priority is to figure out what's happened, and what kind of danger it poses, and what needs to be done.

kurosakiboy.livejournal.com

He's gone through his katas, jogged around the lake, practiced with his sword a bit, and now Ichigo's just sitting outside by the lake. He's feeling a little tired, but mainly he's just feeling good. Day in and day out, he's stuck training with barely any rest. Being able to come here, even just so he can stretch and train a bit at his own pace before lounging around, is a luxury he's certainly thankful for.

Even if the place has brought him a certain amount of grief, overall, he's glad he showed up all those months ago. It's nice and it's a place to go when he wants to get away from, say, rigorous training regimens. Or the teachers that enforce them.

Ichigo's almost smiling to himself as he lies back, looking up at the sky, feeling pleased and relaxed. Yeah, life ain't half bad, even if the next few months are going to be hell for him. May as well enjoy the time he's got.

jedi-exile.livejournal.com

{OOM: Even Exiled Jedi deserve a good dream every so often. And this afternoon's dream, while strange and exhilirating, ends on a happy note. Millitimed to this afternoon.}