milliways_bar | Apr. 10th, 2007

Apr. 10th, 2007

weeper-of-blood.livejournal.com

There is an envelope addressed to Sarah Jane Smith for whenever she next heads to Bar.

Inside it contains a greetings card. Pictured is an unhappy looking bear with a bandage on it's head and other equally tacky designs that are expected on such cards.

The print on it simply reads 'Get Well Soon'.

It's also signed with love from Le Chiffre.

No one has ever said his humour was tasteful.

robbie-ross.livejournal.com

[OOM: Millitimed to Sunday evening -- following a meeting with Draco Malfoy and another one with Miniver Cheevy, Robbie returns home and goes hunting. Warnings go to the OOM for implied sex.]

gone_byebye

Ray opted to stay in the Bar last night; he's got a room upstairs for a reason. Oh, sure, Winston was waving pretty impressively when Ray tried to leave the convenience store last night, but time is stopped outside the door. He'll still be waving when Ray leaves. Right now Ray's sort of trying to wrap his head around the prospect of meeting with the adult Deep Ones that Ost-h'ryth and Laken-Makai had promised. That should be interesting.

He makes a mental note to determine what the appropriate equivalent to 'anthropological' is when you're dealing with sentients who're native to Earth but part fish, and heads out back with the training remote to get in some serious lightsaber practice. Just because March 23rd isn't over back home doesn't mean he gets to slack off practice on elapsed days.

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

The girls at the Slayer Academy are getting good. On pure technique alone, they're winning some serious points in Wells' book- they must've achieved critical mass recently or something. That, or Kennedy let 'em in on his little silver allergy and they're reacting in kind. Either way, Wells approves of the results, even if they do mean some extra time with the hot-water bottle. Right now, though, he's taking a breather away from the school. The Bar's great for that.

Our apologies for the fact that he smells vaguely of Aspellin. External approaches to bruising, he's found, work a good deal better for him than internal ones.

azure-mercy.livejournal.com

Zhaan's first night in Milliways was not comfortable. The accomodations Bar provided her were not the problem: they were pleasant, if simple, and even came with clothes and some items like the ones she left on Moya. She wonders if such things were provided to everyone who had rooms at Milliways, or only people who had next to no prospect of leaving.

After her first day in Milliways, though, she found it difficult to sleep. Her own thoughts - and the thoughts of others, leaking in - kept her awake for a long time, and gave her troubled dreams. She needs to find a way to cope with her new senses, and keep from being overwhelmed.

Right now she is outside the bar, wandering the grounds. There are people out here, but fewer of them, and she has an opportunity to keep her distance. It's much quieter. And the blooming and budding plants, the wind and the sun are soothing, though unfamiliar. It's a good place, with rich air and soil.

Curiosity eventually draws her back from the lake and the woods to the garden, closer to the bar. She is curious about what kinds of things people grow here. And even with the attendent risk, she is curious about the people themselves.

Definitely botherable, especially by gardeners.

Current Location: In the garden Out Back

dingdongdoodily.livejournal.com

Pickles left the bar after the second night staying, but it didn't seem to be long... at least Barwise.

He came back in what felt like a week to him, in a new ridiculous outfit.

You'd think it was Halloween or April Fools by the way he's dressed, but no, he was on his way to an album signing. "This ain't Empire Records." He assessed as he walked in.
Beat.
"Wait, this place again? Can't it pick a time I ain't dressed like a hooker to drag me in here?" He dropped himself into a seat and ordered copious amounts of booze to compensate.

doctor-weir.livejournal.com

It was a normal day. As normal as that gets in Milliways. For Elizabeth Weir, one of the bar's quieter denziens as of late, this means coming from the library down to the main bar to retrieve some variation on a Greek salad for lunch.

She smiles politely at several patrons, some she knows and some she doesn't. No point in being shy, Elizabeth's always thought.

After procuring lunch, Elizabeth picks up her plate and picks a table pretty close to the door. She lifts up her fork, and ---

The door.

The fork clatters to her plate and Elizabeth stands, moving immediately to the entrance she hasn't seen in seven months.

Feel free to gawk at the crazy woman feeling up the door to make sure it's actually there. She might be there awhile.

[ooc: Random edification available here.]

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

It's a good day to be out and about, as far as Belar's concerned. He's been getting the hang of using selyn for healing miracles, and he got all his Alorns' prayers answered before dawn this morning, and the herds of the Dorbed family group he's currently traveling with are reproducing like whoa. He's starting to get an idea of how Mara can get so worked up over the whole process.

Sounds to him like a day for a nice relaxing lope around the lake. Man, whichever of Earth's gods came up with the short-faced bear? Belar totally owes them a village's worth of thanks. They're way cooler than any of his designs.

(He can worry about Garion's situation and the thing in Karanda later. Garion knows what he's doing, as far as any human ever does now that the prophecies've ended. Besides. Karanda is Eriond's territory now.)

most-holy.livejournal.com

Ow.
Cerebus' head really hurts. A lot. It also appears to be stuck to the floor with some sort of fluid.
Cerebus tries to stand up.
Why is the world spinning?
Cerebus collapses back to the floor.
Ow.
Cerebus' nose hurts too now.
Good floor.
Nice floor.
What's that smell? Ah. It's Cerebus. Smells like someone's been using him as a toilet.
Actually, it smells like Cerebus has been using himself as a toilet.
What was Cerebus doing last night? He hasn't had a hangover this bad in weeks.
That's right. He'd found a new bar, and had a couple of buckets of whisky with that sissyboy who reminded him of Prince Keef.
Cerebus manages to lift his head off the ground.
Cerebus wants to die.
Cerebus wants everyone else to die.
Right. That's a plan then. Cerebus will just try to kill as many of these people as he can til one of them kills him first.
But first he'll just try have one little scotch to settle his head.
One little bucket of scotch...

cheevy.livejournal.com

Miniver is in the bar today with a bird.

Let's be honest for a minute here.

This bird... it has a face only a mother could love. But boy, does its mother love him. And by mother, we mean Miniver.

Granted, its looks will improve significantly once it molts and gets its adult plumage, at which point the bird's mother may even be able to tell you what kind of bird it is. But right now? It's kinda fugly. In a cute, unnaturally blue sort of way. It does have one thing going for it: the beak? That thing could be potentially lethal. Cute, small, deadly. Well, Miniver does know it's some type of falcon (though it might be a hawk, or then again, might be something else entirely; at any rate, raptor is the key here), and as such, scraggly hippie mommy is feeding it tiny bits of ham while the scraggly, poofy thing sits on the table and makes tiny peeping sounds at him.

Awww.

dats-dildoes.livejournal.com

There was a rockstar in the bar once again.

Though, in all honesty, it was quite possible that he'd slept on the couch, he was bundled up in the Murdertrain print blanket that he'd 'borrowed' from Toki, and glowering at a glass of orange-pineapple-guava juice with no less than four crazy straws in it while he chewed at a slice of plain buttered toast.

A slice of toast that he used to cover a yawn partway through chewing.
Maybe someone should tell him that he can't just will the drink to have alcohol in it and/or burst into flames?

supaahiro

The thing about destiny is it works in strange ways. What you think is what you're meant to attain may not be exactly what you're getting. After all, destiny is a mixed bag-- maybe you're going to be the girl that saves the world, or maybe you're going to be the boy with the scar and the daddy issues, or maybe you're going to be--

Hiro Nakamura, going through his comic pull, and wondering just what to do next... A couple of guides to Vegas and some newspapers in English are on the table, but... he's not reading them. Not right now.

Not when someone is being Totally Four-Color Awesome, and he can go oooh and sugoi a lot.

white_flowers

When she comes in today, she is smiling, and looks very pleased-- with herself, or perhaps it is with the world, or something else entirely, who can say?

Soon afterwards, the woman in the white dress (known to some as Blodwen Rowlands, and to others as Angie North) is seated at a table near the lake window, looking thoughtfully out at the greening spring.

[ooc: not plotlocked, but as the player is multitasking, please be aware that responses may be a touch slow. thanks!]

mogget_cat

You would do well to fear tonight, as there is a not'cat and a fiddle in the bar. Yrael may be lounging comfortably, stretched out to take up far too much of the couch than should be possible, but there is something in his grin tonight that would make those who know him tread carefully.

His green catseyes watch the bar from their vantage points above his bright-toothed grin.

Want a tune?

princeinexile

The prince returns -- not with fanfare, but with two huge dogs that flank him, shoulders to his hips. They keep him upright with their strength, and he drops hands to curl into their fur once the ring that has brought him from the safety of Etna back to Milliways has been replaced on it's chain around his neck; it rests against a collarbone that shows too sharp at the opening of his robes.

He moves toward the bar -- spying people he knows, people he doesn't -- and then looks over what Bar has for him: a confirmation of the message sent and received.

"I suppose this means we're on our own," he says to the dogs. They have no answers for him. They can only stay close when he goes to collapse into a chair by the empty fire place.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

Suzi's original three kitties are on a table, and she's knitting her way through a second set. It's something to do while she's waiting. She's more than dimly grateful that Whistler is around, because she's dead certain she wouldn't have eaten in the last couple of days if he hadn't been here reminding her.

So! She's just sitting, knitting, and adding to her pile of knitty kitties.

coming-west.livejournal.com

[OOM: Cally goes rummaging for answers and finds what might be a new direction.

not-a-surgeon.livejournal.com

The table she inhabited was cluttered to all hell - not that Bonnie cared, because all in all, there was a method to her madness.

Her laptop had a circuit map displayed, one she glanced at now and then, when she could be distracted from the magnifying lens she was looking through more often than not. Now and then, there were wisps of smoke from her soldering iron. Most importantly, though, there was a thermos full of coffee within arm's reach.

She had a lot of work to do, and this was still second-generation. The first one had... failed rather spectacularly. This one would fail possibly less spectacularly, and in a couple more generations, she'd have one that worked.

It would just... take time. And experimentation.

And coffee. A lot of coffee.

landlesslord

Guy hadn't expected to see Marian in the Bar the last time he visited and hoped to see her here again now.

Not that he had expected to be in Milliways rather than the stables of Nottingham Castle.

The peasant boy, though, he could live without.

This afternoon finds Guy sitting at a table enjoying a mug of ale and watching the denizens of the Bar.

Current Mood: content

mollyprewett.livejournal.com

[[OOM: Cain and Molly go dancing on the fourth night of the cruise, and get a wonderful surprise. Rated “A” for “Awww”.]]

bloodyrockgod

Charlie is at the piano, playing the Goldberg Variations.

Some people eat ice cream, some people buy shoes. (Some people juggle geese.) And some people play Bach when they want to feel better.

captainryan.livejournal.com

Ryan pops in the Bar proper every day to check on Suzi, but for the most part he spends his time outside. Usually that means deep in the words, hunting his territory, but sometimes when he has time, like now, he'll stay just inside the tree line, watching those that venture close.

Maybe that includes you?

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

One man, two puppies, and a game of tag enter the bar. The man is not involved in the game, the puppies are. They're also rolling, bouncing, and generally having a good time while trying to figure out who is currently 'it'. Spoon herds them gently over to Bar for his cuppa and their bowls of water. Today isn't a quiet day, but it's getting there. Things keep wanting to push up, even if he's pushing them down mostly satisfactorily.

bodiesfordad.livejournal.com

"Two rapes, three assaults, four brawl related injuries." The door opens to reveal a man, apparently talking to someone else, "No Felix, I'm not going to cover the end of your shift. I'm going to check on the last of my fucking patients and go the fuck home. That's not including the two dicks who shot each other over their car."

The man who enters is apparently deep in thought. He wears a hospital badge, sports a labcoat, a geeky pair of glasses and (amazingly enough) a thermometer sticking out of his mouth.

For a moment he doesn't notice the change in scenery, "Felix?"

He frowns. This is not his office. And this is not a door, but a smooth and solid wall. The thermometer shifts in his mouth between his clenched teeth, "......What the Fuck?"

He runs a hand through his hair, rubbing his eyes.

pyroinferno.livejournal.com

As he opens his eyes, there is a stinging bright light that fills his pupils with the daylight outside. Shielding his vision and stepping up with an overbearing headache, John Allerdyce aka Pryo, stares in disbelief at what he sees before him. Alcatraz is no longer there. No, not obliterated into millions of pieces, but physically not on the same ground as he stands now. Ahead of John appears to be a bar of some sort; small, but cozy, he almost expects this to be some sort of trick. He'd been transfered to this location while he was unconscious and beaten by an old friend.

truequest.livejournal.com

You might have missed him, but there's a young man in blue sprawled out on a chair by the fire, asleep.

A silver harp is laying on his chest, as if he fell asleep while playing.

Probably wouldn't mind being woken up for some conversation and a bit of music though...

his-sarah-jane.livejournal.com

Like most nights, Sarah Jane is by the fire place, curled up in an armchair and resting her head against a pillow she had brought down with her from upstairs. A small gauze pad is still taped carefully on to her cheek to cover the cut, and if one would look carefully, the hint of rope burn could be seen on her left wrist where her shirt sleeve had hitched up.

She's still reading The Time Machine, and reading rather intently by the look of things. After all, the Morlocks have just entered the scene.

lostworldhunter.livejournal.com

((Before: After Challenger is captured, the Expedition sets out to rescue him and is successful. Kinda. Now all they have to do is find the Manuins' king's bones. Shouldn't be too difficult, right?))

It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust to the change in light. In the end, it's the sudden noise level that has the pair of people that just entered through the Door looking around, bewildered. They're dressed in the sort of clothes you'd find explorers wearing in the very early 1920s and each is carrying an unlit torch. This was supposed to be a cave. It even was a cave, until they stepped inside. Now it appears to be some sort of pub.

"Now what?" Roxton says, sounding a shade exasperated as his eyes flick towards Marguerite.

[OOC: Two new pups, one new mun, one old mun. Have at!]

princess-midna.livejournal.com

Throughout the last several days, Midna has found shards of the Mirror of Twilight in the strangest places. In the woods behind Milliways during a walk. A few hanging on the wall like a decoration (which she quickly took). The last at the bar itself.

Now the Princess is kneeling on the cleared floor in a less crowded part of the bar. The shards laid out in front of her as she tries to fit the ends together like puzzle pieces.

Fitting the last one into place, the surface of the broken mirror glows brightly with powerful magic...

Midna's ruby eyes grow as she stands to her feet in a hurry. Stepping back as the Mirror of Twilight rises off the floor. Glowing runes that start to spin inside of it. Focusing its magic on the empty wall. Forming the portal to the Twilight world.

"Home..." she murmurs breathlessly.

robbie-ross.livejournal.com

Robbie is at a table in a darkened corner of the bar. He has a glass of absinthe, his papers, and a pen.

He's writing, and for once, it isn't notes or schoolwork. It was his own stories he fiddles with now. The young Victorian looks a little worse for wear, but he's very concentrated on the writing.

He wouldn't turn away company, because he's polite and friendly. And company might wipe some of those lines from his face as he scribbles quickly.

masterofritual

[OOM: In the bowels of the castle, there is a kitchen.]

You would be forgiven for wondering what the thing that half-flies, half-tumbles in through the Door and comes to a rest cowering behind a chair, before skittering across to hide under a table that provided better cover. Steerpike resembles a bag of long sticks more than he resembles a 17 year old boy. A bag of sticks with dark red eyes that darted about looking to see where the next blow might come from.

[11.47pm BST edit: Time for bed for me. Happy to slowtime any tags or pick them up tomorrow though. :)]

Current Mood: anxious

maid-of-astolat.livejournal.com

Elaine's downstairs for her shift, in jeans and a t-shirt that says "Milliways Barmaid--Hands Off!"

It's actually been a while since she's worn that shirt or a variation of it.

She's ready to take your order!

thiefprinceremy.livejournal.com

Guess what time it is!

Half-naked Remy time!

Which y'know, is any time he feels like advertising, such as now.

In more words: Remy was sprawled shirtless on one of the couches near the fire, he had coffee, as usual, and a plate with the remnants of dinner, and he totally wasn't sleeping, he was just checking his eyelids for holes.

wizard_dresden

Shut up - I know I'm late. No, you don't want to hear about the day I've had. No, I'm not going to tell you anyway. Yes, that's my cat sitting on the bar instead of a skull. Don't ask. Just order a drink, okay?

If it's alcoholic and you don't piss me off, I'll give you a discount. That work for you?

Oh - and don't try to steal my cat. Bob makes him vicious.

[ooc: the mun begs slowtime as she has to work tomorrow, but will be 'round to tag tomorrow evening.]

stopped-signal.livejournal.com

You know, it gets hard out here for a dead supergenius hacker extraordinaire.

The little toys only take up so much time in a day, and really the posthumous commissions just aren't coming like they used to. You know ... that ... one time. Two times? The point is that Mr. Universe is just a tiny bit bored.

Not that you'd know it by looking at him. He's staring intently at the screen of his laptop, a big grin on his face. Every now and then, he scrolls down.

The word "cackle" is definitely applicable.

"Oh would you look at this," he says, to no one in particular. "This is priceless ... fight the good fight, my little grammatically-challenged friends."

Why yes.

Yes, Mr. Universe is keeping up on his internet drama.

[OOC: Hey gang! Mr. U is under new management, so if you'd like a thread please ping Merky Dee and my people will call your people. Also bear in mind that in an hour or two sleep is love. >.>]

gorgonfondness

After every thing that's happened, Mia comes to the bar with a ( note )

And in return, she gets her own note from Bar.

"If it's not one thing, it's another," she sighs.

sizzuhs.livejournal.com

Things were really picking up at the airfield with the possability of a jump in the next few days. Preparations of packing gear, checking parachutes, and reviewing plans filled up most of the hours giving way to tension and sometimes boredom.

Gene, however, wasn't going to let that affect him.

Flipping through a hastily scribbled list of medical supplies he needs to restock on the Easy Company medic doesn't even notice the supply tent flap that would have lead into a large wall tent was now actually a bar. The sounds of people talking didn't even phase him- people always talked in the supply tents.

"Spina," Roe says in his slow Cajun drawl, "got th' list Cap'n Winters gave ya? Gots t' make sure we get all th' su'plies we needs." When Spina doesn't answer Eugene looks up causeing him to blink dark eyes once or twice with a mild look of shock upon his slender face. "Uh...th's ain't th' su'ply tent no more."

Keen observation for a medic, no?

Welcome to Milliways, Eugene Roe.