milliways_bar | Jan. 13th, 2007

Jan. 13th, 2007

Raziel found the rabbits all good and all but nothing was quite as good as a demon. He walked into the bar after running after the damned rabbits again. He knew he needed to get back to the time line but he didn't want to. He walked over to a table and sat down making sure his ruined wings fell over the back of the chair he was sitting in. He looked around with his glowing eyes for a familiar or interesting face.

velocitygirl

[OOM: Inyri Forge needs to get stuff from upstairs, since she's got a new house to fill up on Corellia. A not so good-ole-friend shows up and minor violence ensues. And before he can let Inyri go, there's always a price to pay, and tonight, Inyri seemingly pays it willingly.]

vaapadmaster.livejournal.com

The path to redemption starts with pain

[[Mace and Petra give Bonzo a mental and emotional beating; Bonzo realizes that the means do not justify the end.]]

cheevy.livejournal.com

Bassett-eyed, slightly tipsy Miniver sits -- or rather lounges -- staring at the window to the end of the universe.

It's just started a new cycle.

He's trying to draw a life lesson from this. Depending upon which way it goes, he may either laugh at it or start crying. He can't decide which it is just now. The thought process is a journey fraught with hills and valleys. And ice cubes. He's also nursing his second whisky-on-the-rocks and wondering where he's going to sleep tonight.

"Here" doesn't sound like such a terrible suggestion.

mop-jockey.livejournal.com

Instinctively, Lenny looks around for a broom as soon as he gets downstairs. When he realizes his mistake, he chuckles to himself and writes on the Specials Board.

Hey Folks. The name's Lenny and I'll be your wait-guy for the morning. Lemme know if you need something, I'm here to help.

A friendly pat on Bar's top and he's ready.

runmakitarun.livejournal.com

Despite having a room, Makita is more comfortable sleeping in the bar itself. Even at night there is activity, and she finds it soothing. Being alone isn't something she's used to. She's got her coat back so she used it as a blanket last night.

Now she has a piece of paper and a pencil from the bar at her booth and she's sketching.

There are a number of things that Makita is good at: shooting, sneaking, blowing stuff up. Unfortunately, drawing is not on the list. Which serves to explain why the eraser on the brand new pencil is mostly gone and the picture she's working still isn't very clear.

She has a recent issue of the Galls Tactical Equipment catalog, open to a picture of a modular equipment vest. The frequent glances between her sketch and the picture are really the only reasonable indicator that she might be trying to design her own because an examination of her work certainly won't help.

She's not in any hurry so company would be welcome, and she's feeling pretty good so criticism might well be tolerated.

futures_of_ash

Rachel drifted down the stairs like a flickering ghost after another bad night. For a moment she seemed more Flame than Flesh as her gaze swept the room...

Then she shrugged gently, her usual, weary smile sliding onto her face as her foot hit the last step. Bar didn't offer any new trials in food this day, no, she offered a mug of steaming broth to the woman, and a small dish of...peaches.

The brief, grateful laugh felt like broken glass against the skin, but she patted Bar's surface with a gentle hand and leaned back with her broth "I'm okay" she assured the enchanted wood. The dish of peaches was kept close to her elbow, a promised treat after good behavior.

Rachel was in the Bar once more, security badge firmly in place and ready to face the world.

[~~All tags welcome. Mun is here for a while, but eventual slow!~~ Slow!]

mendanddefend_archive

A few minutes ago, Bob asked Whistler something, and he said 'yes.'

Bob immediately ran back up to Room 503. Now he's returning with a duffel bag under one arm and a guitar slung over his shoulder. "Bar? I need a pen and paper, real quick." Bar provides, and he writes a note.

Going to visit Whistler's world. Back in a few days.
--Bob, Guardian 452 of System Mainframe

He tacks it up on the bulletin board, and heads over to where the Sime and Gen are waiting for him.

ghost-x-present.livejournal.com

The Ghost of Christmas Present was fumbling around her apartment trying to wake up. She had a dumb smile on her face as she fixed herself a cup of coffee, still in her pink pajama shirt that reached to her knees, she floated to out of her kitchen and into Millaways. Looking around she realized she wasn’t in her living room. She stood in the doorway, a few bubbles following her in from her place, the cup half way to her lips observing the bar.

“ Must have gotten a little lost, “ she said with a shrug , “ I wonder where I am now.” Her high-pitched, singsong voice sounding as silly as ever. She took a sip of her coffee.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

He's been around, really, you've probably seen him and just not realized it, after all, he's been Bound since before christmas, and doesn't seem that he's going to be let home just yet.

You've probably also seen the goth (and apparently transvestite) kangaroo he's currently in the company of, he was given into Clive's care shortly before christmas, and it's likely that the boy doesn't know the Kangaroo's rightful owner is back just yet.

At the moment however, gothboy with breakfast and GothKangaroo with an evening gown innabooth, g'head and bother!

hatchingviper.livejournal.com

Wesker has found a booth that, without being off in a corner or something equally obviously worth checking out, provides lines of sight to noteworthy doors and still lets him sit in a fairly unobtrusive, not-worth-examining way.

He's got a notepad and a book, and appears absorbed in his work--although he does look up suddenly sometimes just to see if anyone's paying attention. He could be bothered, easily, but there's no actual reason to notice him. He's a boring booth chameleon.

Wesker is, sadly, unaware of the off-duty waitrat leaning against the booth wall outside and practicing its juggling, pausing only to bow to observers and passerby.

Come warn him before a crowd gathers.

silvia-broome.livejournal.com

Silvia was drawn into the bar while still wearing her pajamas. That accounts for why she is barefoot, her hair disheveled--and why she is eating a tasty-looking breakfast of fruit and pancakes at a table. As for why she's reading the newspaper, chalk that up to her curious nature.

dontlooklisten.livejournal.com

Whistler comes down the stairs with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He's found it's easier to take his stuff home from this place if he has both his hands free, or at least as close to it as he's going to get. "Bar?" he says, finding his way from the stairs to the Bar. "Can I get, oh, a six-week supply of my and Suzi's supplements, please? I don't know how long we're going to be gone this time."

He pays for the bottles when they appear and starts going through his wallet while he waits for Suzi and the puppy.

kingmickeymouse.livejournal.com

Mickey is near the fire. Mickey has cheese. Mickey also is quite botherable.

thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com

He wasn't shirtless today, too cold for that even by the fire. He was, however, entertaining himself with a game of solitaire that he was fairly sure he'd invented, and even if he hadn't, he could certainly claim he had.

He had the usual cafe au lait and the usual plate of beignets, these dusted with cocoa powder instead of powdered sugar, more than likely he would share, there was quite a heap of them after all.

velocitygirl

Inyri's in the bar, staring at a cup of caff. Glumly.

Her good mood from yesterday seems to have worn off. Botherable.

the_antiangst

Angel's taking a break from yesterday's sewing project at the moment. It started as a lunch break, but he's moved on from that to folding laundry.
Well, and hanging it up, if it's a skirt (which a lot of it is). But the general idea holds.

(OOC: Going AFK for a while. Will pick up tags as necessary when I return.)

dead_hooker_2

[OOM: An Echolls Family Christmas, 2006. Ghosts of Christmases past, ghosts of Christmas present, and a less-than-encouraging outlook for the ghosts of Christmases yet to come. It's like Dickens, if Dickens wrote noir soaps. It's the Echolls siblings, so this should go without saying, but just to say it, warnings for angst and discussion of unpleasant topics.]

abar-starclog.livejournal.com

So Whistler and Suzi are headed out. That's no surprise, as Whistler let Carl know last night.
The surprise is the bit where apparently, they're taking company. The way the note's signed is making him wonder if this is the same Bob that Suzi mentioned the other day. Odds are, he'll find out once he heads back himself.
...And either way, there may be no living with Mother after this.

(OOC: Going AFK for a while. Will pick up tags as necessary when I return.)

slayer_fray

Mel's running flat out when she hurtles into the bar and throws her weight on to the door as it slams shut behind, where she waits to can her breath.

In one hand her gun hangs idly, and the other rests against her forehead. Around her wrist is a large cool metal bracelet, with eventually she focuses her eyes on, and grins.

Someone's pulled off their biggest grab to date.

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

[oom: After some time spent gone, Jack and Parker meet again and resolve some issues. No real warnings.]

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

Outside the world is white. Ice, and snow, and the woman who glides through the trees blends in quite well, between boots and trews, tunic, gloves, and coat, all of white leathers and fur. Her skin and hair match her clothing as well, but there is blood that covers her gloves.

Her movements are not that of the wounded, nor of the worried. She is seeking someone, the golden eyes still wary but no more than always.

cute_bruiser

Molly Hayes is flying a huge purple bunny-faced kite outdoors by the lake, and trying not to get pulled off her feet by the wind. As she's not exactly the biggest twelve-year-old ever, this is proving somewhat problematic. Anyone want to come help (or better yet, come play) before she winds up in the lake?

Sam Linnfer has managed to appear in the Bar whilst still in his pyjamas, these comprising a clean-but-old black t-shirt that's several sizes too big for him and (clean, happily) black boxers. Whether this is because he is a lazy arse and didn't get out of bed til 5pm, or because the mun bent Millitime like there was no tomorrow, is up to you. Anyway, he's curled up in a booth somewhere near the back of the bar, trying to sleep and eat toast at the same time. He's mostly succeeding.

Tansy Williams goes back to Aberystwyth University tomorrow, and has therefore been out to give her wolfhound Fflur one last long walk. Only her front door, for the first time in quite a while, opened on a bar. So now there's an extremely windswept, slightly soggy red-haired teenage girl happily sipping Coke, with an enormous grey wolfhound on her best behaviour under the table at her feet.

And Esther Cohen has also found the bar unexpectedly. Unlike her first and only previous visit, she's much more composed this time her kitchen door opens on somewhere that is not her home, and accordingly sits primly in an upright chair to order a nice large milky coffee. Good news for the welfare of the still-steaming sponge cake she's carrying, and also good news for anyone who wants a slice of it. Thieves, however, will be thwapped.

pointed-spoon.livejournal.com

There's a pinch (crab claw headache) between his brows.

The universe seems exceptionally loud today.

Exceptionally, achingly loud. The lighs are bright, too.

b-a-summers.livejournal.com

[OOM: She's a student...]

lilbridgetjones.livejournal.com

Good grief. My bedroom has turned into a trendy wine bar.

Is this one of Vati's weirdo transvestite thingies? Does he come here with his apron? I bet he does, I bet he turns my bedroom into a bar and wears his apron here with all his aprony friends and their ... aprons. Oh my God! He's not in Kiwi-a-gogoland at all! He's in my trendy bedroom wine bar wearing an apron and growing a beard and singing Rolf Harris songs!

Does that mean we're all really moving into my bedroom winebar instead of Kiwi-a-gogoland? I'm already here, though. Noooooo!!! Must -- escape -- back -- to -- Sex God! Must -- where did my bedroom door go? THERE IS NO DOOR!!! Vati has kidnapped me to his Kiwi-a-gogoland bar and locked me in! Forever! Jas will be a wreck already, I am certain.

The girl stands facing the blank wall, staring at it mournfully (and vaguely wishing, in the back of her mind, that she was dressed in something slightly more glamorous than her pyjamas and dressing gown, since this is a trendy wine bar after all).

"My life," says Georgia Nicolson out loud (in an indefinable English accent), "is over."

sword-heart.livejournal.com

[OOM: Yesterday, Kenshin arrived in Tokyo. Today...]

Kenshin had been trying to find a spare practice sword for Kaoru-dono. Past tense is key, there.

"Oro!?"

He'd no idea Kaoru-dono had a bar in her storage building, you see. Anyone want to explain things to the confused rurouni?

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

Jack slips into the bar, this night (he's losing all track of times, the world has started whirling by here. He'll leave a week and find it's only been a day.)

He thought it was morning, but apparently not, and sets about buttoning his shirt because he'd not thought this was here. He'd thought this was the hotel room he was escaping the thunderstorm in.

Strange things happen.

organicmeatbag.livejournal.com

On the outer rim planet of Korriban, Revan walks the halls of the Sith Academy and treads the uneven ground of the Valley of the Dark Lords. A little over a year ago, Darth Revan walked those same paths. Today, a door opening to a tomb enters to Milliways and the Revan that some people might have met or been accustomed to seeing in the bar is not the same Revan that walks in now.

This Revan is dressed in full armor, covered in black from head to toe, and wearing a mask that hides his expressions. It was definitely no Halloween costume though. His presence alone screams power and control and the Force, so very strong in him, is tainted with the Dark Side.

He seems to be reading from the datapad he carries, which he looks up from when the sounds of the scenery – no longer the howling of wind through dead fields and tombs but the vibrancy of a cantina - changes so drastically, and he stops in his tracks to stare around.

The Sith Lord will not be here for long, he'll turn, black cloak billowing, to walk out the door soon enough, but, for the moment, he's here.

captainryan.livejournal.com

Ryan's been upstairs in Suzi's workshop for the past couple of days practicing both his metal craft and meditation that Philippus suggested. It seems to be going well, but he hasn't exactly spoken to anyone to test his control.

That may be why he's lingering in the bar proper tonight.

He's also playing with a crude looking dagger that he made during his own time. It's a little on the thin side and would probably snap during its first use, but it's not a bad start.

Not that he plans on testing it.

b-a-summers.livejournal.com

[OOM: She's a construction worker...]

Current Mood: aggravated

fugitivehamster.livejournal.com

Hodges has encountered his first demon bunny. He's normally pretty unshakeable, but he's had a rather overwhelming past few days, so if he's looking a bit twitchy as he nurses his (Irish) coffee, that's why.

Do come chat with him!

first-sixth.livejournal.com

The door opens, but Tommy's entry is decidedly not peaceful. He's struggling to get through this time, and the clawed, armoured hand grabbing at his forearm and pulling in the opposite direction indicates that something does not want him to get through, either.

"Get OFF of me!" He kicks at whatever it is a few times until it disappears with a screech and a crackle of green light into the sky just outside the door. The sudden lack of opposing force is enough to throw Tommy off balance and he falls backward through the doorway and into the bar itself; he flips back onto his feet and looks around to make sure the drone really is gone before relaxing.

"Jesus Christ..."

It was too close for comfort, but he decides that it seems more like a whimsical attack rather than the prelude to something big and nasty terrorizing downtown. The team can wait a couple of hours to hear about it.

For now, at least, he's safe, and he looks pretty grateful about that. Some days it just doesn't pay to be a superhero, it really doesn't.

mistressmaryquitecontrary

Mary's back in the bar - with a futuristic Shakespeare text, this time, and without a cat, as Angel is busy sleeping off a heavy meal in Colin's room.

She's reading the first scene of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and frowning, a little. (A little pop-up window from the electronic text explains the background of Theseus and Hippolyta in Greek mythology, accompanied by a rather graphic painting done by a twenty-fourth century artist.)

gone_byebye

There's still debates going on in Washington and all kinds of things happening on the evening news, but right now the biggest source of stress in Ray's life is green, hyperactive, and chock full of candied watermelon seeds.

Or rather, was full of such seeds.

Ray doesn't wanna talk about it. AT ALL. He's just gonna go upstairs, wash off poor Francis the robot dog (who followed him here), get in the shower himself for about forty-five minutes, change into a clean set of clothes, and come downstairs with Francis at his heels for a drink in a relatively sane and slime-free environment.

Some days are like that.

madetomend.livejournal.com

It takes time to remember some things.

And now that Sally does remember, she is quite a lot happier about being here.

(Even if she does kinda want to go home at some point in the nearish future, considering the new arrangements Jack made.)

She sits quietly near a window, watching the snow. Sally still isn't quite sure what exactly to make of it.

[ooc: Okay, I'm going to go ahead and check out now, my connection has apparently decided to take the rest of the night off with a headache. BUT. IF YOU WANT TO TAG, TAG. I WILL PICK UP ANY AND ALL TAGS TOMORROW. POSSIBLY LATE. BUT BEFORE 24 CANON. BECAUSE AFTER 24, I WILL BE DEAD TO THE WORLD BECAUSE OF THE AWESOME POWER OF JACK THE BAUER ~~HOUR~~.]

hysteriaprone.livejournal.com

After being taken care of by Guppy, Roderick collapsed into a booth and slept for a Very Long Time. The hours he spent sleeping were not calm ones - he was plagued by nightmares and visions of Madeline; he'd twitch and moan every so often as he lay curled up against the cushions. He awoke in a cold sweat, and after a few moments of near-panic, got his bearings.

Now, fully awake, he saunters somewhat lazily toward the bar - still covered dirt and twigs - and looks about for someone.

Seeing no one, he frowns. When he looks down, however, there is a pile of fresh clothes almost identical to the ones he has on and a mug of something that he's sure he hasn't had in years.

But there's... no one around. It's strange, but perhaps it is a benefit of the afterlife. He can't be sure.

In any case, there is now a much cleaner and much calmer Roderick sitting near a shadowed area of the fireplace with a mug of tea in his hands, trying to decide what to do.

takiena_called

Finn's sitting at a table in the bar, with a a piece of paper and a strange wooden sort of pen that'd shown up when he asked the bar for something to draw with. He's carefully trying to draw the salt shaker that's set in front of him, and while he has a good eye he's quite unpracticed.

Elsewhere on the paper, and carefully avoided, is the much better drawn figure of a majestic lion.

torch-reporter.livejournal.com

Over at one booth is one very happy, very content reporter. With a nice, big mug of coffee and a copy of the Daily Planet, which is not being read.

Instead, she's people watching.

Okay, so maybe that's a lie.

Maybe what she is really doing is daydreaming. About a certain treasure seeker that came back here the other day.

Who is now famous. And possibly rich.

Oh god. The exclusive this story is going to make, as soon as Riley lets her interview him and his boss.

Yeah, daydreaming alright.

it_has_teeth

There is ice on the lake; winter always brings ice, though the cold of the water here is far less than that of the crushing deeps of the Sea.

Ed knows.

Ed remembers.

And, as always, Ed circles.

There is little enough else for him to do.

gonna_live

[Out of Milliways: The evening after her deeply unsuccessful encounter with Moiraine, Kaylee -- very carefully -- tells Simon about it.

About selected parts of it, anyhow.]

blackholesandrevelations

John had a lot of stuff. And this stuff was spread out over his table. There were notebooks with calculations, formulas, drawings of swirly things, and every margin of every page had a series of silly doodles.

Though, currently, John was not even paying attention to notebooks and stuff. He was eyeing his shirt which had a large ink stain and wondering how the hell he managed that one.

gonna_live

Morpheus asked Kaylee to tell Moiraine what she wanted to know.

There were plenty of drafts of the note that Kaylee puts on the bar now.

( Moiraine )

She lingers for a moment, indecisive, before requesting a cup of tea and a book -- the book shows up as a thin datapad with stylus; it's one of the mipian, the serial novels around in five hundred years -- and settling by the fire, shoes off, sock feet tucked under her.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Sirikit, the Thai Slayer, is coming along with astonishing speed now that the lessons have finally started to sink in in earnest. This is an excellent thing in Harry Wells' estimation (even if it does mean that he's got a couple of interestingly coloured visible bruises, including one on the left side of his jaw). It's worthy of celebration.

One ex-soldier, bruised but still in quite the good mood, settled in at a table with a good view and a pint of Bass. There's room at his table.

b-a-summers.livejournal.com

[OOM: Now she's some kind of ... selling stuff person?]

The door opens.

"You'd better have alcohol. I want alcoho... hol."

Okay, so there's a bar! She knows this bar, even. It serves alcohol!

However, there is also a notice tacked up, and after the week she's just had...

Really, the news that she's been offered a job here is GOOD news.

Until she gets a look at the schedule, looks at the clock (what clock? There's gotta be a clock somewhere with a day and a time and all) and goes, "Crap!"

That's when there's a little blonde whirlwind dashing behind the bar that she's barely tall enough to really see over but tall enough to serve behind apparently, and she's smiling.

"Uh... I'm not late! I'm so not late."

Smile. That'll work.

But there's a specials board!

So she sets to scribbling:

Specials:

Anything that makes me consult The Big Book Of Cocktails.

And she's set.

Happy Hour is a go!

Current Mood: nervous

cat_wth_panache

"Ha-ha!" An orange cat jumps through the front door, sword drawn and guard up. He doesn't stop when he realizes that he's in Milliways, rather he makes a quick leap to a table and across the top of it to another.

Standing on the table's top he looks around dangerously, slices his sword through the air and finally sheaths it and takes a seat.

Puss in Boots inna bar on break from adventure. Come, talk to him and he will thrill you with an epic ~~tail~~ tale.

guppy_sandhu

[oom: Who knows?]

Guppy enters through the front door, heading over to the bar with a somewhat thoughtful expression.

"Bar, I need to buy a plant or possibly several. What can I get that won't die indoors or shed bits everywhere or anything?"

Bar presents him with a book of British house plants, which he sits and looks at over a cup of tea.