milliways_bar | Feb. 28th, 2007

Feb. 28th, 2007

The coast is clear.

Zuko can come into the bar-- gingerly, his steps are stiff but he is here, quiet and looking -- worn. Every day that passes, he seems a little more tired, a little less like fire and more like ash. Today, he moves through the bar, to find a seat by the fire, curling up with a simple bowl of millet; the simplest of peasant food, beneath even rice -- only the destitute and the wretched are reduced to millet.

Or maybe, if you can't keep much of anything down, millet is simple fare, not likely to upset the stomach. Nourishment for the desperate.

He takes a bite here and there, the stuff lukewarm in his hands. If he cares about it's taste -- or lack of much, really -- it doesn't show. He just looks at the firelight...

...which dims with him near. His qi is low; and the fire in the place nearly gutters in reflection of his misery.

He's still smiling.

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

What to say about her. What's happening to her now? Nothing. Very very few things of consequence or import. She's been enjoying class, playing pranks on the teachers, skipping around in the forest after school, watching the days go by.

She's grown a little... by an inch maybe. It's all enough that she's a little off guard... more so than usual.

It's Hotaru Tomoe who enters the bar now, sleeves pushed up, ready to work on arts and crafts for Wednesday morning. It's a little much - the apron, the rubber gloves *and* the goggles, but at least she's ready for whatever challenge paper pasting has to throw at her. When she walks into the bar, instead of the living room, she gasps and stares.

"Um..." she peels one rubber kitchen glove off, and shrugs, sighing. "Oh well."

It isn't a moment after she sighs that she gets a shiver - the presence of stars. And the whiff of the scent of that woman... but she shakes her head, quickly. "I don't want to think about that right now." There are more serious things in the world... and paper pasting is right at the top of her list for best distraction ever, followed shortly by the bar.

river_meimei

[Upstairs, the morning after triageplot: River and Simon have a talk.]

creator_raven

[OOM: Immediately after triageplot--In which everyone is cranky, but things are made better anyway. Some family is good for that.]

watchmakers_son

[Out of Milliways: The morning after in Odessa, Texas. (Contains spoilers for 1x11, "Fallout.")]

mop-jockey.livejournal.com

It's Wednesday. Do you know where your server is?

It's likely this server is wandering around, offering coffee refills and free napkins.

His name is written up on the Specials Board- Lenny Inchpot.

How can he help you today?

futures_of_ash

Bar has seen Rachel in many moods. Most of them dark or terrifying...

Today? Today there was a Bubbly, Bouncy mutant. She was beaming almost from ear to ear as she danced around the stools and tables. Sure, it'd been a long night, but comparatively an easy and smooth one.

The brave, or foolish, were welcome to interrupt her!

gone_byebye

If Ray were at home, he'd be calling his sister to ask if he could come visit his nephews a little early this week, but he's not. He's not going home until he's discharged his obligations to Agent Zed and to Garion. He's just SURE that if he tries he's going to wind up in some whackjob universe where, oh, Ivo Shandor is still alive or there's a Cthulhu cult in full swing or something... yeah, not what he wants to have happen right now. So he's in the Bar instead, and he's got several fanny-pack type units of technology laid out on his table, and he's got a mug of something caffeinated roughly the size of his head, and he's looking speculatively at other patrons.

Deciding who to ask about throwing rocks is a tricky thing sometimes.

works-in-space.livejournal.com

As usual of late, the admiral was taking his coffee in the Bar. A few moments of quiet, and of Terran levels of oxygen, did him good. He wondered whether the letter to Antonia that he sent Earthward with Sarek had made it to her yet. He wondered if Sarek had begun his efforts to defend the crew. And he wondered if, when the verdict was rendered and his career was over, he really could be happy as anything but a Starfleet officer. He kept telling people he could - he had told Antonia he really dind't need to be on starship duty how many times now? - but he was doubtful.

He tried not to think on this too hard, and drank his coffee.

[ooc: The National RPG Bureau has issued a Slowtime-For-Work-is-Possible Advisory. Also, millitmed to before today's thread with Rachel Grey.]

Current Mood: pensive

the-h-star-r.livejournal.com

Homestar inna A&W, enjoying his breakfast.

Not much has been going on with him lately, just the same ol' same ol'.

Despite the icon, he's decided to change things up by wearing his viking hat today.

Come and say hello, maybe have some coffee with him.

*OOC: Munteorologists say that a killer accounting test of doom front has hit Homestar-mun. Come help her recover.*

callitavesper.livejournal.com

From the stairs emerges a bulky, waddling blanket person. The blanket person, after glancing around the bar, waddles to the bar, where it orders a cup of hot chocolate and soup. Having acquired food, the blanket person then takes residence on one of the couches by the fireplace, slipping off a pair of comfortable but expensive looking Italian leather shoes. It then swings what would be its legs on the seat cushions.

Perhaps you saw a glimpse of short, spiky blond hair and a pair of pristine blue eyes peering out of one of the blanket folds as the blanket person made its way from the bar to the couch. Perhaps you saw a flash of blue as you walked past the blanket person. Was it looking at you?

But one thing is clear: James is never having sex in the snow ever. again.

Current Mood: sick

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

SOME people may not like the snow, but then SOME people aren't built for it. Not their fault, Belar guesses. It's just, you know, he's not about to go back to Canada or Mongolia or Alaska or something while Garion's laid up in the infirmary, and he's really not supposed to be on Gara physically, and Nedra threatened him something awful because the last time he showed up in New York the Dow dropped by like five hundred points in the space of an hour (bears follow him, what can you do), and, well, he's gotta be somewhere, right? Right.

So he's here. And he's outside.

OMGWTFPOLARBEAR, debating whether to break himself some ice and go for a swim or to just see how far he can skid across the lake on his butt if he gets up a good gallop first.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

[OOM: Oh, I would not give you false hope / On this strange and mournful day. . . Sergeant Wells comes home.]

The door opens, and there is briefly Yorkshire on the other side as Harry Wells steps through. Then it closes, and there's only him. For a moment he stands very still, the way some people do when there is too much going on inside for them to settle on any one course or thought at all.

"Fuck," he finally says, and the mangled mingle of sentiments behind it is so heartfelt that the word itself is nearly irrelevant. It had to be said, though- and now that it's said he's moving again, straight for the seats by the fire, where he sits with that peculiar stillness all over again and watches the flames in silence.

yuppie-trash.livejournal.com

[Around Milliways: Patrick Bateman tests a human limitation.]

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

[[OOM: In their travels, Cain and Molly catch a train. Too bad it’s not meant for passengers!]]

inthetoilet.livejournal.com

Once again the door to Milliways surprises Speed, opening from one of the outer doors of the Miami-Dade crimelab. After finally nailing Danny Fisch to the wall, H's advice to Speed had been to "go home, get some rest, come back to work tomorrow". He had been planning on doing just that.

"Milliways, close enough," he mutters to himself as he sits down at the Bar. "Beer, please."

Maybe having a drink in Wally's memory is the least Speed can do for him.

----

At the other end of the Bar is an ex-escaped con, nursing his own drink. Every so often he looks up and over at the wall, looking for his door.

Rennes doesn't expect it to show up for him; oh no. He's just waiting to see if anyone else from the Cube will fall victim to the traps and come tumbling through.

OOC: [Two pups for the price of one! Both are open for tagging; just say which person you are tagging]

amanda-darieux.livejournal.com

Amanda is sitting by the fire knitting a scarf, two small cats are chasing after the yarn ball she is trying to knit with though she doesn't seem to mind. A cup of tea sits next to her as she enjoys the relaxation.

She is most approachable.

notjustnarrator.livejournal.com

Now here is a curious sight.

Nick, it seems, finally decided to ask Bar for something -- something he missed dearly and had only recently become once again interested in.

It's a flute!

A very shiny silver flute, positioned perfectly in his hands. Before pressing his lips to it for sound, he practices the motions of his fingers, which work at pushing down various keys until he's satisfied. He still remembers!

Cautiously, he tests a few notes with his lips, slowly moving to do a C scale, then very naturally begins to play a well-known tune.

Greensleeves.

Very curious indeed.

Have a listen?

mitanarchist

The bar lacked an anarchist.

Fortunately, one is walking in through the door.

Amazing thing, that.

princess-midna.livejournal.com

After a strange encounter with a fellow named Sheik yesterday, the out-of-place Princess lingers around the bar.

Having now discovered Milliways back door.

The sudden open space of the field and lake surprises Midna at first. Reminding her of adventurous days traveling across the land of Hyrule. Though they were troubled, she misses those days.

Sitting next to the lake, Midna occasionally takes a drink of the newly discovered Tequila.

It's a good thing she hasn't had too much yet...

snorkacklover.livejournal.com

Here’s a sight that hasn’t been seen lately!

Luna drifts over to the bar, and writes her name up on the specials board. For reasons best known to her, it’s backwards, but the gist of it is obvious.

Taking up station at a nearby table, she pulls out a roll of parchment and a bright orange quill and begins to scribble, glancing up every so often to check if anyone’s looking in need of some waitressing.

[Sorry for lateness! Icky illness = loss of all concept of time.

eta: ~~nipped off for dinner, back in half an hour~~ back!]

iam-america.livejournal.com

Stephen's not sure why he keeps ending up at the end of the universe, but he's quickly come to the decision - after having cleared the bears of any suspicion (on this matter, at least) - that it's probably not worth questioning. If you're interested, this conclusion was reached approximately twelve seconds after Stephen discovered that Milliways is the only place in the know universe that still stocks his favourite beverage. (Incidentally, this was also the point at which he stopped suspecting bear involvement.)

"Another Nutz, Bar."

Resignedly, a bottle of bright yellow, foul-smelling soda appears. Stephen drinks with relish. That sweet, sweet taste of artificial banana nut flavouring tickles the back of his throat.

He seems to have more or less forgotten his previous, less dignified appearance in Milliways - during which he spent a panicked four or five hours frightening, annoying and/or confusing the bar's patrons before his door was finally restored to its rightful place. Whether by some mysterious and shadowy turn of fate or the bar's fervent desire to be rid of the pundit, it's not entirely clear. Whatever the case, the exit remains sullenly in place tonight.

Stephen takes another generous swig of his vile drink.

So! Come talk to an American hero? He'll try not to nail you.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Something different is with Rand as he walks down into the bar from his room. He's never been visibly armed before.

Tonight, there is a blade strapped to his hip, peaceknotted with a red silk cloth and white silk cord.

He sits unobtrusovely at the bar and flags down the bartender of the evening with his uninjured hand.

narrated-life.livejournal.com

Harold had left some time back. The leaving wasn't important enough to be narrated. Really, it wasn't.

When Harold walks back into the Bar, he had just spoken to Professor Hilbert. Still stunned by the professor's realization of 'little did he know', it took Harold a minute to realize where he was.

He looks around and sighs, flatly annoyed at the unexpectedness of everything since Wednesday. But he makes the most of it and goes to the bar.

He asks for a notebook and pen, once they appear, Harold begins to write everything the voice has said that he can remember.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

"Listen. I don't like this as much as you do, but we have to do this. I have to get home."

"And you think I can sit around a bar all my life too?"

"You don't have responsibilities."

"My ass I don't. You try running a production company."

Mark and Benny are standing in front of the door arguing. After a moment, Mark puts up a hand. "Listen, I saw this in a film once, this has to work." He walks off and returns with, from only the Landlord knows where, a metal trash can, with which he knocks the padlock off of the door.

Benny raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Now that's a full-service film you saw there."

Mark shrugs and opens the door. "We'll talk. Eventually."

As Benny goes out the door, he looks behind him. "You going to put that trashcan back?"

---

About fifteen minutes go by, and the door opens again, and a voice can be heard from behind it. "Why the hell is the bar in my fridge?"

Another voice comes through. "Just don't bring back Zuul."

Mark walks through with purple Tupperware, looking confused.

[ooc: Benny will be back, folken. Just not now.]

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

Jack hits the bar at high speed, talking to someone over his shoulder, and is surprised indeed to find himself here. This has been happening more and more recently.

He's one to make the best of things, so he heads straight to the bar for a glass of water.

were-needed.livejournal.com

The door opens to a sort of... 'PHWACK!' sound.

Said sound is caused by a large, metallic man, a cybernaut to be precise, hitting another man across the head and neck very hard. The second of these two men is flung inelegantly through the door with the blow and lands in a heap on the floor. For good measure, someone throws in his bowler hat and umbrella behind him.

Steed stirs after a moment, rubs his head and looks around with a slightly bemused expression.

He then puts his hat on. Just in case.

Where on Earth have I ended up this time?

pwyll_twiceborn

It's not been very long since the last time he was brought to the bar - not for Paul, anyways. Those in Milliways, of course, might beg to differ.

Still, a great deal has happened since his last entry, not least of which is the transferral to a world fairly far away from the usual entrance through the local coffeehouse. And although Milliways has been something on his mind since his conversation with Jen and the Priestess that morning, the last thing he had expected was to walk through a corridor in the palace and find himself in the bar itself.

Once he checks the door to make certain he can return, though, it suits his purposes just as well to remain. If nothing else, Milliways means extra time - and there's a lot he'd like to have the time to process.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

OoM: There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good. ~Edwin Denby
Timed to the 25th

misterparker.livejournal.com

Parker walks downstairs, a duffel in hand and a slightly closed look in his face.

He shrugs and heads for a table. Might as well stick around here, since he came and all.

notagod-apollo.livejournal.com

"Except I can do it."

"I don't care. Maybe that's the way things work on planet Starbuck, but the rest of the universe doesn't see it that way. It's too risky."

"For a lousy pilot."

"For any pilot that values his safety and his ass."

"Frak Safety, it loses them, doesn't it?"

"Sure, at the cost of your equilibrium and you position of reference. You might be able to do it, but anyone with an ounce of self-preservation shouldn't even try it."

The sounds of Apollo and Starbuck's good-natured arguing float down the stairs before they're seen clattering down to find some dinner. Two muns, two pups, tag one or both.

gondolin-noble.livejournal.com

Glorfindel has spent the majority of the day hiding from various advisers. He doesn't much enjoy the managerial aspects of running Imladris, and will be more than happy once the twins have settled down enough to do it themselves. For now, however, the place needs a steadier hand than the pair of orc-hunters can bring

This, at least, partially explains his smile as he walks through the door to Milliways.

The other part, perhaps, could have something to do with a certain memory resurfacing after a millenium or two of being buried in the nightmare that was Gondolin.

mendanddefend_archive

As soon as Bob settles into a booth with his plate of chips, a familiar book materializes in front of him. Bob blinks in surprise--it's been a while since it showed up. He starts to push it away, but hesitates... looks at the cover for a long moment... then opens it and thumbs to the table of contents.

Could it be?

Is Bob actually reading the Kitsune Sutra?

morelikeasponge.livejournal.com

Peter steps in through the door and makes it halfway across the floor before he realizes he has no idea where he is. Or where he was a second ago.

He pauses -- right in the flow of traffic, and oblivious to the fact -- and looks around, plainly baffled.

[OOC: Peter has a new mun, and to make things easier on me, I'm bringing him in as though it's his first time in Milliways. But feel free to have your character remember Peter if they've threaded and that's easier on you. :)]

wheelsy_sheriff

Bill is having something different for dinner tonight. It's been awhile so he asked Bar for some chinese food. What Bar gave him may not be authentic by any means but it's what he knows and likes. Chicken chow mein, egg rolls, that sort of thing.

She did give him real chopsticks though, perhaps because she thought it would be funny. Those passing by may agree because he's having a time of it. Right now he's chasing a piece of sweet and sour pork around the plate.

Come chuckle or offer assistance, he'll try and be a good sport either way.

skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com

And then, sometime yesterday evening, there was

[OOM: A Welcoming.]

gorgonfondness

Edgeworth is fast asleep, all of her paperwork is finished (she got it done on the sly), and Mia is in the mood for some reading.

"Miss Bar? I was told that I should read the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I would also like a rememberizer. It's been a while since I've had one and there are some things I may want to look back on."

Mia leaves some silver on the counter, which Bar takes. A moment later, two small, thin, folding things pop up.

One has the words "Don't Panic" written in large, friendly letters on the cover.

The other looks like a compact mirror.

"Thank you very much."

That taken care of, Mia puts the rememberizer in her pocket and opens up the Guide.

"Could I have some tea as well?"

If Ford was right about this book, she's going to be here a while.

vonschwannsee.livejournal.com

Odile may be entering the bar with a scowl on her face, and her attention quite distracted.

This would be for the simple reason that the lower left sleeve of her dress is burning, and she is patting it out and trying to smother it with her other hand.

'Displeased' and 'miffed' would be appropriate words here. Upon finding herself in Milliways, a waitrat is sent scurrying with a sharp request for glass of water.

takiena_called

Finn has a slate tucked under his arm, and a couple pieces of chalk in his hand, when he walks into the bar. His naturally solemn expression brightens with a small smile, as he sits down at a table and starts to draw.

Eventually he acquires a mug of hot cider from a passing waitrat, but until then he’s dutifully trying to capture small still-lifes around the bar on his slate (to be wiped off, when done, to make space for the next).

[OOC: This is going to be Finn’s last taggable in-bar appearance for a few months, and his last as a fairly well-adjusted teenager. So tag, if you want—I’m open to slowtimes!]

mr-ryan-wolfe.livejournal.com

Its been a hard day. One of his Coworkers shot. Some one he considered a friend. He wanted to go home get lost in a bottle then Sleep it off he had even went out gotten a bottle of aspirin for in the morning. But now in stead of stepping in to a liquor store like he had planned he's walking in to this odd bar.

Might as well make the best of it he bellies up to the bar. He is willing to chat with any one to take his mind off of it

torch-reporter.livejournal.com

[From here]

"Okay Clark, here it is. Milliways."

Chloe walks into the bar with a big grin on her face and a tall farmboy trailing behind. She turns around to beam up at him. "See, I told you it was real. Your first drink's free, you know."

Right now, Chloe Sullivan is all smiles. Why, might you ask? Because, finally, for the first time ever, her best friend is here in Milliways. It's almost surreal, but then again, Chloe wouldn't expect anything less from this place.

Clark Kent, welcome to the bar at the end of the universe.

[ooc: two muns, two pups! have at!]

gonna_live

It's been a stressful week -- overhauling the EC systems (practically the only thing to not need repairing, after the whole Miranda thing, or at least that's what it feels like) while still flying is time-consuming work, and it's something that can't be put off -- which means she's not checking in with Simon near as much as she'd like.

Add that two-pronged frustration to general feelings of exhaustion, and that would be why Kaylee is popping a couple of pills as she walks in -- she's got one hell of a headache.

Muffled, to the bar: "Water?"

She swallows the pills, makes a face -- they dissolved, a little, and the taste of them is disgusting -- and pats the bartop. "Xiexie."

river_meimei

This thread is, through a certain amount of torture of Millitime, happening later tonight.

It hasn't yet, though, so River's mood is only as subdued as it generally is these days.

She has a booth to herself, and she's lying on the bench on her back, pointed toes aimed at the room at large. She's staring at the ceiling, interested or unseeing, with her hands folded tidily over her stomach. She doesn't move except to breathe, but every so often her gaze shifts.

ladyfirestarter

Tomorrow's the flight to New York. To find and destroy something out of the nightmares of the same man who dreamed her up.

But before she goes, Charlie has a promise pending.

She's here at Milliways tonight in an attempt to keep it.

guppy_sandhu

Holby emergency department sounds noisy through the door. Someone's having a scuffle in the background, another person shouting abuse.

Guppy enters, trying to get away from it all until Security sort it out, then is struck on the head by something hard but slightly squishy.

"Ow! Oi! Cut that out!" He picks up the object and inspects it.

It would appear to be a potato.

He shuts the door, swearing under his breath. Then wanders over to the bar and places the potato in her custody.

"Idiots."

old-lizard.livejournal.com

The Front Door opens onto daylight. Cherry trees, flowering bushes, a koi pond and bonsai trees could be glimpsed behind the man in the doorway. He wears a dark suit and tie, with nothing out of the ordinary in his looks. He could be any one of a million businessmen found in cities everywhere.
He starts to walk forward, stops in surprise at what <i>he</i> sees. Behind him, the door remains visible. He doesn't look back as yet..
"When did we put a bar in the gardens?" It's not a complaint by any means. One could suspect he approves--and wishes he'd thought of it first.