milliways_bar | May. 31st, 2007

May. 31st, 2007

tall-dark-and.livejournal.com

There is a Riku in the bar. He's sitting by the fireplace, his cloak tossed over a nearby chair. He's examining a book that looks pretty old and crumbly; dust or edge pieces of the paper come off every tme a page is turned. He hasn't been in the bar for awhile, but he still has to do his work.

But he's keeping an eye out for someone he might know. Looking up at the door every so often, keeping track of who enters.

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

OOM: Summer is the time when one sheds one's tensions with one's clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit. A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all's right with the world. ~Ada Louise Huxtable

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

The howling started on the Wells farm last night. Small surprise, that. Annie kept her usual vigil and was awake when Harry and Spoon and Muldoon made it back to themselves. She's getting good at that by now.

She's also getting good at sleeping at odd hours during this time of the month, and at making her internal clock come 'round right again by judicious application of Milliways and its odd effects on time. That's why she's here this morning with a pot of strong tea and a great many forms to fill out for a place calling itself Teesdale Way Sarplaninac Kennels.

Several of the forms are attached to pictures of very fuzzy puppies, so that may be noticeable to the casual passer-by.

works-in-space.livejournal.com

Captain in the bar. There's coffee at hand, as well as a datapad that is keeping Jim busy, but not unreasonably so. Come say hi.

[ooc: ETA: Busy with work now - will resume when I can]

scurlock

There is a poet sitting by the lake.

I should clarify. There is a cowboy attempting to write poetry, sitting by the lake. He has a pencil and a small notebook, as well as a bottle of root beer -- the good, old-fashioned stuff. He's trying very hard to come up with something that flows nicely.

(It's not going too well.)

Eventually the cowboy gives up. He's taken his left arm out of the sling, but it's still kept close to his body. He doesn't want to irritate healing muscles and tissue, after all.

He settles for throwing pebbles into the lake instead, watching the ripples.

Feel free to come join him.

[Edit: Mun is back for awhile longer.]

berryberryraz.livejournal.com

And lo, there's a Raspberry in the bar, relaxing on the couch. (She's even managing to keep cohesive enough not to drip on it! Hooray!)

Come talk to her - there's plenty of room to sit down, and she's never been one to mind company.

[OOC: Warning for some serious language in the thread with HK-47.]

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

OOM: Summer keeps turning, and a mother makes a mistake; but begs a favor anyway.

The door opens and ten dogs spill in, followed by a white woman who was not expecting this place. Golden eyes are not so wary as they once were, but this does not mean that she is not wary. She has things to do, which should be done, and she made a promise.

A child is lost.

Yet time does not flow, here, and there is opportunity to adjust. It was one thing to hear, in bits and pieces around corners and through doors, that name. It is another to hear it to her face.

She is not the Moonwoman. She is someone else.

poisonwine

Today, Belle is in Bar again. She just got word that Julien has (finally) arrived in New Orleans. So, even though she isn't quite sure the Bar is safe, she would prefer to be here than there.

She has a tall beer and a hamburger, which she's sort of picking at. The beer gets only slightly more attention.

What has all of her attention is a heavy tome resting on the Bar. It's bound in something that looks like very pale leather. Up until you realize that the words on the binding aren't dyed but tattooed on.

It's written in Creole, as well as assassin shorthand, which only makes sense to codebreakers or those who grew up with it. Belle writes and reads this everyday. It's like pig latin, in a way.

She looks much better than she did four days ago, though there are still big yellow blotches on her face and shoulder where the bruises have healed. Come distract the nervous assassin?

(Shall be in and out all day. All tags will be answered, but slowly)

hero_farmboy

[OOM: It's Thanksgiving in Smallville. Clark and Chloe try to prepare Riley for, well, everything. It more or less goes downhill when Lois interrupts.

Millitimed to very recently.]

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

Garion is outside, doing some sword practice. He'd thought over what Silk had told him, what he himself had found out... and he'd discovered he was a bit rusty, as if he hadn't been keeping in practice for a few months. Hence, he's outside, doing sword forms.

He really had to find someone one of these days to spar with. Perhaps he'd look up Ryan again...

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

Depending on when you would catch him, Draco was either having a brief, troubled meal in the bar. Or out back, trying to focus on sword practice instead of other matters. Like kidnapped people, people who are away. And let's not forget, still wandless.

geeky-agent.livejournal.com

[OOM: Just before dawn, Chris receives a call she never expected.]

organicmeatbag.livejournal.com

Sitting outside with his back against a tree and a datapad in hand is Revan. On the ground before him is a small pyramid shaped object – a Sith holocron for those that might recognize the technology – from which a holographic image of a talking dark hooded figure hovers.

No, Revan is not turning back to his old ways. He had found the holocron in the Jedi Library on Dantooine and had "borrowed" the item in hopes of getting some information about the True Sith from the thing.

Truthfully though, he's just attempting to keep busy and stop worrying about everything else that's going on at the moment.

venemous-driver.livejournal.com

[ Previously, in Texas. ]

--and wound up in the completely wrong place. Anywhere that isn’t that hospital is the wrong place to be in this nurse’s outfit. It doesn’t help that the place she’s in now is utterly foreign to the layout of a hospital, especially when that layout naturally deigns that a door should open to a hallway, not a bar.

Color the nice nurse lady (with the nice white eye patch) very, very confused.

unwraith.livejournal.com

Michael's alone this time, as he heads outdoors. He glances up once at the sky, before he nods and turns toward the paths that lead further into the woods. His longsword's in its sheath strapped across his back, as well as a few modern weapons hidden away in his coat.
It isn't sundown just yet, but soon enough. He's had enough of being inside four walls.

sosectu-rior.livejournal.com

Ilyana's been around.
She hasn't gone outside, doesn't need the sign to tell her that'd be a no-brainer just now. When you're seven months pregnant, walking is a chore, let alone outrunning anything. She can barely see her feet.

She's at a table, with hot chocolate and a tape recorder. The device hadn't been familiar to her, but someone had explained how to use one. She's curled up in her chair, speaking softly into the microphone. As there's no one in the Bar who understands Simelan, she's not worried about being overheard.

notjustatoaster.livejournal.com

Sharon is out by the lake at the minute she's just sitting by a tree staring out over the water. Loud sighing can be heard by anyone near by, she's very bored. She misses her Raptor, misses being able to get in the cockpit and just fly wherever she wants.

She definately needs some excitement here.

awesome_lilly

Sometime after this, a brightly painted sign appears in a very visible spot in the bar.

DO YOU KNOW THESE CHILDREN?

No? This is probably because they don't have names yet. And that's where you come in.

Name Puck and Lilly's children!

That's right, this is your chance to name Puck and Lilly's adorable twin babies. The winner receives our heartfelt appreciation and many warm fuzzy feelings. Please submit your name below at some point in the next two weeks so that Puck and Lilly may consider your brilliant suggestion(s) for the names of their children, Girlbaby and Boybaby.

Beneath the sign is a large glass bowl, scraps of paper, and a pencil. Have at, Milliways.

farmerfromhell.livejournal.com

Feels like it's been a hundred years since the war ended, sometimes, and sometimes it feels like it hasn't even been a minute. Sometimes Ellie's not sure it's been any time at all. It's not like she and Gav are safe, even in a new town and at new schools where nobody knows their names.

So when she hears noise and light down the hall, like someone's left the telly on in Gav's room ... the telly they don't own ... well, the rifle's right beside the door, where it always is.

Gavin. If those fuckers have hurt her brother again —

— Ellie kicks the door open, gun at the ready, and. and. And she stares, because this is not Gavin's room in the new house in Wirrawee.

"... bloody hell!"

She doesn't lower the rifle.

guppy_sandhu

[ooc: A reputation earned]

Guppy is in one corner of the bar, with tea and a newspaper. The newspaper is getting scowled at, a lot, mainly because the article's contents were nabbed from him sneakily and earned him a ticking off from Nathan for falling for it.

Company welcome, even if you're a journalist.

wizard_howell

[ OOM: In a land far, far away, a wizard takes his bride-to-be on a very proper date. ]

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

As much as Ace wants to stick by her mate, being stuck in a farmhouse while the lovely chorus of werewolves and enraged pig echoes outside is somewhat maddening.

It is also very, very boring.

Thus, when Ace comes into the bar tonight, she's already in a bit of a mood. Cheetahs do not do well cooped up in houses. Especially when there's hunting, loud hunting going on outside. To further follow this line of dubious logic, Ace cannot be blamed for her own actions.

Really.

Or even for her handwriting.

Ace, having scanned the area carefully, hops the Bar and picks up a piece of chalk from the rack

Tonight's Specials:

Guinness

Anything with chocolate in

Chocolate Covered Geckos (because Bar won't give me live ones)

Satisfied with her list, she puts the chalk back and leans on the bar to wait for the inevitable rush of customers. Who doesn't want geckos?

(OOC: Must crash, will accept new threads and slowtimes. Love!)

landlesslord

[OOM: In which, Guy can't sleep.]

He had been intending to go outside and get some fresh air to clear his thoughts and perhaps settle his mind enough for him to sleep.

Obviously, this sterling plan failed spectacularly and Guy steps into a decently lit and well ventilated Bar rather than the cold night air of Locksley.

Fellow insomniacs, or y'know people for who it's not night anyway, may find Guy, furnished with a dubious looking hot drink provided by the Bar, seated by the fire.

Current Mood: brooding

dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com

[OOM: It's another evening in the library for Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. But this isn't a night for translating. It's a night for contemplating one's enemies, and how one might take a first step toward destroying them.]

stilljustandrew

In New York, May 2005:
Last night, Andrew wrote this in his notebook.
And slept, and dreamed.

And this morning he woke up, got dressed, had a brief conversation with a colleague, and then left to attend the wedding of an old friend.

stilljustandrew

*The front door opens, revealing a New York City street in midafternoon, and in walks Andrew. He's smiling, right up until he steps in and lets the smile fall away like a too-tight article of clothing finally discarded.*

*It's been a long day.*

*He heads for the bar, sits down, and blinks in some surprise at the two notes that appear before him.*