milliways_bar | Jun. 22nd, 2007

Jun. 22nd, 2007

not-lazy-steph.livejournal.com

Stephanie blinked awake from her curled-up-nap on one of the comfy chairs near the fire: "Wow, I must have fallen asleep in... this... uh..."

She shook her head, scratching at her brow, "I don't know." It was slowly dawning on her that she couldn't remember her name, she did remember, however, that her favorite color was pink, and that she kept a diary.

Unfortunately the latter was back in hre room in LazyTown, and of no use in determining who she was.

bring_a_sponge

"What the--?"

There's a Man in Black at the bar, looking wildly all around him. He hasn't had that expression on his face since the morning after the St. Patrick's Day kegger at the Delta Tau Chi house when he woke up right next to Emily May Praeger and the stuffed head of a moose.

He remembers that morning painfully well. It's just about everything else that he's having some trouble with.

song_tra_bong

Mary Anne has no mind altering fruit; Mary Anne needs no mind altering fruit.

She's got s'mores.

And judging by the size of that plate, she's got enough to share. Just try and ask nicely.

necessary_child

So. Sam ate an apple, earlier. (You'd think, with his history, he'd know this was a bad idea.)

Compared to most people, Sam's got a few millennia more memories to wipe, and also has Weird Stuff that make his memory harder to affect in any case. So he didn't completely lose his memories... just most of them.

Post apple-eating, Sam fell asleep, leaning on Bar.

And when Lucifer woke up in this very strange place he realised he was in completely the wrong clothes altogether, and that Jehovah would absolutely kill him if he was not in uniform. Since presumably he had some kind of mission, but he can't quite remember what just now.

Bar helpfully provided said uniform, though, when he asked. It had been a rhetorical question, really, but still.

So there is now a bemused-but-cheerful young man at the bar dressed all in white robes. He looks, somehow, younger, a little more naive, perhaps, than Sam does. He's also nibbling absently at another apple, though not an amnesia one this time.

It's a red one.

[OOC: Um. As you can probably tell, this is not so much Sam as Lucifer. Pre-fall Lucifer, at that. Emo would be bad, so please to not tag with anyone who'd freak out really, really badly at being introduced to Lucifer. So hyper-religious pups are probably a no, say sorry. Unless you ping to plead at me really nicely, and possibly offer me cookies.]

omniscient-pa.livejournal.com

There is a dazed and confused young woman sitting at the bar.

She's frowning and munching on an apple. Very diligently. And there's a bit of a pile of apple cores on the table.

When one has no idea who one is, one must concentrate on what one knows. Like the yumminess and nutritional value of apples.

lichvell-r.livejournal.com

And Ravin is again at the bar, with a book. Not a book on magic, no, this time it is a different subject of study: Knife Fighting Volume 1: Self-Defense. Nice cover picture of people fighting with knives.

Some people might even be more worried than when she was tinkering with the arcane.

turned_captain

Will and Elizabeth have a sword lesson.

As they always do. Every day. Which just shows how much has changed in their relationship.

no_justice

Death has often lamented that he has never quite understood how humans forget. He understands why, now, but the how is still beyond him. He remembers everything, he once said, like it was only tomorrow.

So he's rather bemused by this whole thing, nursing a drink at a booth and watching everyone.

He remembers, you see. But he thinks this might be a game. That humans do for 'fun'.

mago_sonriente

Old and wild magic. And that tells this wizard (this brilliant, intuitive, and all together unarmed wizard) that it's time to head home.

Besides, he's got work to due soon enough; he and Dresden would be doing that training camp in New Mexico in a week or so and he had to get things arranged for his absence since the camp, unfortunately, was not as forgiving as this bar. Priests to talk to, hedge witches to warn, a couple of seances to check...

All in a days work. And all things he'd put off long enough.

Hence, after getting a bit of breakfast, he gives the door a smile and heads that-a-way, out a moment later.

Don't worry, Milliways, he'll be back. You won't have to do without the Ramirez charm for too long.

iambetadraconis

[OOM in the outside-the-bar kind of way: Rabastan gets in some shapeshifting practise. We think he rather likes being a horse.]

Current Mood: happy

agnes_nitt

At some point in the morning, a sign is added to the bulletin board:

IF YOU HAVE LOST YOUR MEMORY, READ THIS!

Here are some important things for you to know.
1. You are perfectly safe here.
2. This is Milliways, the Bar at the End of the Universe.
3. Don't look out the Window just yet.
4. Since I know you just did, it's all right; don't panic. See point 1.
5. You are likely the victim of a Midsummer magical spike gone wrong.
6. I said don't panic.
7. Most events of this nature wear off naturally as the level of magic returns to normal.
8. If you're still panicking, come see me, and I can give you some herbal tea to relax you.

Signed,
Agnes Nitt, Witch.
(I'm the overweight girl in the pointy black hat.)

Said overweight girl in said pointy hat is sitting at a table not far from the board, taking notes from a book she borrowed from the magical library. Every once in a while, she gestures at the book, and it turns the page itself.

gone_byebye

Ray wanders into the Bar, humming cheerfully to himself. Yeah, they've had busts left, right, and center across all five boroughs the past two or three days, but they've been bearable. The one at the IKEA in Elizabeth was scientifically fascinating, too, even if it did involve poltergeists commandeering everything in the ball pit that wasn't bolted down. Venkman's just a whiner when it comes to being pelted with ectoplasmically charged brightly colored plastic.

... somebody has no clue whatsoever about all y'all with the amnesia issues. Possibly he ought to get filled in.

parkerlee

There's a young woman floating in the lake.

Face up, for the record. And wearing a fairly conservative flowered swimsuit.

Parker is a good swimmer, and has no real worries about being out in the water alone. The Milliways lake is certainly calmer than the Pacific Ocean. And though it's cool, a half hour of vigorous swimming has taken off the chill.

Now she's drifing in the shallows near the shore where she left her tote bag, watching the sky swirl overhead.

[OOC: Slowtime may be necessary for work.]

notjustatoaster.livejournal.com

She awoke in a daze sitting at a booth. As she glanced around she realisd that she was obviously in some kind of Bar. There were a lot of people milling about and a sense of confusion in the air.

So there's a pretty Asian girl sitting in a booth, she is wearing a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt with the logo Vera Wang on it. She has no idea who she is or how she got here.

Maybe someone should help her find out.

(ooc: Replies could be sporadic as my internet is not working so great just now)

gorgonfondness

~~Sleeping Beauty~~Mia Gorgon, sometimes called Number 5, had wandered her way upstairs and found her room last night after some pleasant meals with some pleasant young men.

In most cases, her room would have at least a little paperwork, all about her job, her city, her life away from ~~Avalon~~Milliways, as the sign had called this place. She brought all of it home, however, on her last trip.

As it is, her room yielded quite a few bricks of clay, some paints, a few more presents in boxes like the crystal dancer figurine(Imagine her joy at finding a gorgon figurine!), more apology cards, a napkin with the message Idiot. But he means well. written on it, and one hedgehog in a rose nest who was happy to see her.

She's hoping the hedgehog, the clay, or the change in what she is unaware is more normal clothing will help jog her memory, so she is currently sitting at the bar with all three. After the initial shock the sign gave her and the lesser shock of getting yet another bouquet, gift(this time an ear cuff), and apology card, she had a meal and set to work on making a sculpture of the hedgehog.

"So I'm an eccentric sculptor working at a restaurant at the end of the universe, where I have an admirer who wronged me and is trying to apologize......."

The hedgehog makes a sound like glass shattering.

".......and a most peculiar pet hedgehog."

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

Unaware of the amnesia issues that so many people appear to be having, Annie Wells stayed at the Bar last night. What's Harry's room upstairs for if not to provide them both a spot to stay? She has no intention whatsoever of missing his return from the horrifying space monkey hunt, so until Harry and Spoon and Cooper turn up, here she is and here she shall stay.

Her room, alas, does not have a kitchen attached. Thus she cannot slake her irritation by baking. The alternative is studying up on things she hasn't got time to study back home. Just now that's goat cheese and cultured dairy products, and the production thereof.

goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

The fashion designer was back.

He'd boxed up the skirt and top he'd been working before, and now he was working on what he knew best, bodices and shawls.

Well, the bodice was on the dressmaker's dummy and he was working on a shawl, big wide paisley crochet, black of course, with fringe, and an interlocking spider-shaped silver clasp sitting on the table to get stitched on once the shawl was finished.

He wasn't surly, he was just concentrating, and he hadn't had lunch yet.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

The first Friday of interviews. Suzi is settled back with tea, knitting, and her sign stating that she's giving interviews today.

Suzi knows exactly who she is, thank you. That's going to stay that way.

waylostandfound.livejournal.com

Nathan had run into a pale young man with a numbered tag as well who was calling himself Timothy Black. They spoke briefly, with the young man thinking he's possibly a wizard, and Nathan wondering if he was a superhero or someone who's been experimented on. But hadn't seen anybody else with strange powers so that wasn't looking likely.

He found a few things in his room. More family pictures and some newspaper articles that revealed that he's actually a politician running for Congress. That and his father recently passed. None of this really helped with his memory though.

He briefly noted the new sign. Magic? Seemed kind of silly, but probably no more silly than a bar at the end of the universe, or a flying man. But at least somebody know something about this.

So number 4, Nathan Petrelli was sitting at a table, and poring over his notebook and newspaper articles for more clues about himself.

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

Well, he was able to get a room for the night. Of course, the only effects with him were an ornate dagger, a rapier, and the wand. Plus, a small purse with various coins, mostly gold. And the clothes he was wearing seemed quite fine, also suggesting money. So he's rich, or well to do at least. But he didn't know what to do with the wand, other than make random sparks or colored smoke come out of the end.

But at least he can get some tea. He also took note of the sign. He had panicked initially at the Observation Window, but then got it under control when he realized it couldn't affect them inside. Still tea is good for the nerves. He was even given a sweet strawberry tart to have with his tea. With a dollop of cream.

So the pale young man sat at a table, with a numbered tag declaring that he was number 7, Timothy Black, still struggling to remember. Occasionally he fiddled with the ring on his right hand.

queenofmay

After talking to Agnes and getting a Rum & Coke --

The girl known last night as "Mary" and "1", now not wear a large proper gown but instead a pair of very well fitting blue jeans and a long sleeve grey top, is sitting at a table with a very big sign.

Memory Loss Investigation

Have you lost your name and memories in the last twenty four hours?
You are not alone. Please, help us get a feel for a enormity of this event.
We are working to get to the bottom of this.
Take a numbered tag and tell us what you do remember.

Also, there is scrawled below it now

Did you have an apple near you when you woke up?

The woman is sitting there happily, sipping her drink which she makes odd expression as she learns it (again?). Also, her nametag has change, now having ~~"Mary"~~, and under it is written "Marian".

[First number available from here is 19. Mun will be in, out, and around all day and night, so feel free to tag at any time until it's noted as closed.]

berryberryraz.livejournal.com

Yesterday, Raspberry lost all her memories. It's going around. A nice fellow named JC gave her a trenchcoat, of which she is still in possession. She's more or less entirely gotten over the memory loss, and is now cheerfully installed on a rock outside by the lake. It's a nice big rock, big enough that she can stretch out on it and soak up some lovely sunlight without any part of her hanging off the sides.

As always, she would love some company. If you catch her in the right moment she might even be wearing the trenchcoat. (Anything is possible.)

politestpirate.livejournal.com

Wellard knows who he is. This evening, that may be a bit unusual, given events in the bar.

However, he does not know of these events- he has come inside to grab a couple books (one on ship building, one on carpentry in general) to look up something that is giving him a bit of trouble with the hull of the ship he is working on outside. Of course, since he is trying to search through a book for something while he is heading for the back door, Wellard is not moving so fast as he cannot be caught, if needed.

undignified

It's a rather shifty-looking Wes behind the Bar today.

See, he hasn't actually been behind the Bar for over two months now (and he's trying to forget that last shift anyway). To be fair, he hasn't been in Milliways ... but most of that is still his own fault, and so, he might feel a tiny little bit guilty. Like his mun.

But he's here now, in civvies and his normal jacket. He's even written drinks on the board, in his rather precarious all-caps English:

SCREWDRIVER
RUM AND COKE

Hey, it's nice to keep things simple sometimes.

[ooc: mun's internet is temperamental, but she'll be here 'til midnight gmt or later; just slow occasionally]

precocioustilda.livejournal.com

Matilda is sitting at an out-of-the-way booth with hot chocolate and a large box of assorted mechanical and/or electrical thingies. Oh, and a stack of books. (You're surprised?) She appears to be trying to make something, though it's anybody's guess as to what. Do feel free to ask.

irkentak.livejournal.com

Walking down the steps into Milliways, a tiny robot (half or completely insane, both are debatable) follows behind the Irken wanna-be-Invader Tak. Who is cursing under her breath in Irken as the SIR Unit squeels happily as it sprays anything and everything with neon pink silly string (How it discovered it is beyond Tak).

Grumbling, she goes in search for her tools in another fruitless attempt to get her Escape Pod working. Only to discover that her tools are missing. A hint, maybe, from Bar that Tak needs to relax some.

"Wheeeeeeeeee-hoooooooooooo!" Mimi screams happily as she blurs by in a glow of blue. Pink silly string flying wildly into the air before landing on the Irken.

Tak narrows her violet eyes as her antennas flatten against her head in irritation. "This is going to be a long day..." she grumbles.

slayer_fray

Milltimed to last Friday night:

Mel and Mike discuss the Zekka-killing

Rated M for being a Mel/Mike thread.

puckishly.livejournal.com

Last night was not a pleasant one for Puck.

By the end of it, he had determined that the general consensus seemed to be that a) his name was at least Puck, though possibly Robin Goodfellow and Herbert as well, b) he had been, at some point in the recent past, married to one Lilly Smith-Something-Johns-Goodfellow-Kane and was now her husband, and c) he lived here, or at least stayed here, as unfathomable as that sounded.

He has been wandering aimlessly around the bar more or less all day, attempting to discover some clue as to his true identity, or perhaps the source of his amnesia. So far no luck. He really does hope it shan't last.

In the meantime, he is sitting on the couch where he first woke up, picking idly at the upholstered arm. He is not averse to conversation.

... Though he might be slightly baffled by it.

angela-edmunds.livejournal.com

The teenage girl has decided that it's not so bad having no memory. She doesn't feel distressed, she doesn't feel off in any way, and physically, she feels well, and so she decides not to worry overmuch about it. Everyone she's met has seemed very kind and nice, and she's naturally a trusting soul--evidently.

She went upstairs and looked in the mirror and saw that she was reasonably attractive, and she's in clothing that reflects that, instead of the sloppy clothing she was in yesterday. The chain and pendant at her throat made her curious, for they seemed unique, and she wondered if she'd chosen it, or if it had been given to her.

Either way, she liked it, and was wearing it.

She'd seen the sign that was put up in the bar earlier, and it definitely calmed what few worries she had.

Right now, she's sitting and eating, looking around her curiously, wearing a lanyard with a big number '9' on it.

[ooc: as before, I'd like for her not to find out who she is yet]

soapcarvedhands.livejournal.com

[OOM: Pre-Milliways. Harding wakes up.]

Harding seems even thinner than usual when he stumbles into the bar. He rubs his fists into his face, looking for all the world like a sleepy little boy; when he takes his hands away, his eyes are darkly ringed.

"Oh, thank God," he says, and it's tinged with audible relief. He knows exactly who he is, and where he is--maybe it's because he's spent the past couple weeks utterly unsure of just that, or maybe it isn't. Probably it's because he hasn't been in any state to eat solid food lately, never mind something complicated like apples. At any rate, it's not affecting him.

He stumbles into a booth and sits there, head resting on a hand.

Appearances aside, he wouldn't mind some company.

young_tmriddle

This morning, when he awoke in a strange bed in a strange room, John - or was it really Tom? - pointed his baton - wand - at the closed curtains without thinking and they parted... as if by magic.

That startled him awake well enough. Since then, he's seen the signs, and he knows that he faces a problem. He has to figure out who he is.

Now John/Tom is sitting at a table, writing on a notepad he found in his room. The page is titled Who Am I?.

Phrases such as 'seem to have magical powers', married to either Dora? Dorene? or Lilly (not both, surely), and 'not a conductor' can be seen by anyone looking closely enough.

angsty-spider.livejournal.com

Peter Parker had woken up at the lunch table at school. Not a good thing.

Anyway he woke up in the cafeteria at his High School. He didn't remember where he was or why he had mashed potatoes in his hair.

He stood up and while cleaning his hair and cloths off he took the remains of his lunch to the trash barrel. An apple core looked at him from the top of the can.

He walked over to the door to somewhere else. Where was he again?

A girl with red hair ran up to him.

"Peter!" she called," Hey!"

He didn't know who she was talking to. He kept walking. She caught him.

"You aren't avoiding me still are you?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, "Who are you?"

He was confused.

"Peter that isn't funny," said the girl.

"Honestly who are you?" he asked, "Who am I?"

" Peter stop," she said.

"Stop What?" he asked about to spaz.

"Jerk," the girl walked off.

He went to follow her and went thought the door and found that he was in a restaurant. It was strange.

"Where AM I?" he nearly screamed.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Ace is fine with Spoon off catching cyberized monkeys. Really. Monkeys like that need hunting down. They're just kinda freakish, and obviously someone's had entirely too much time on their hands.

But he's still not back.

She's trying to not be the worried little female, ready to scold and penalize just because she's worried.

But it's been days now.

So Ace is sitting at the Bar, stabbing viciously at Caesar salad.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

Drink Specials
Golden Apple
Silver Cloud
Copper Cocktail

The drinks are up and Garion's got company for bartending tonight in the form of his blonde, broken-nosed god. Ce'Nedra's out back with the children, so he's keeping himself busy by cleaning glasses and shining the counter and, of course, chatting with Belar.

So far, the conversation is interesting. Mostly it's to do with the current plumbing project going on in the city of Riva. Do stop by though. The drinks are good tonight.

will_scarlett

On the bulletin board is a new note, the handwriting is careful and done by someone who is still learning how to write:

Do you know how to play musick? Do you like to dance? Please find Will Scarlet, I have red hair and wear green. I think we should have a dance outside for Midsummmer. Thank you.

Will is sitting in a booth with dinner and looking at all the people trying to make sense of all the things he's been told, he has a nametag with number 3 and Will Scarlett around his neck.

visible_sariel

OOM: upstairs, in room 1701D, Sariel has a few sketchy revelations.

Rated P for waxing poetic, M for mistaken identity, T for thought processes and B for bittersweet.

hero_farmboy

It's been a really weird day. He woke up in his room - or what he assumes is his room - only to find that he didn't remember anything. That would be weird enough. After determining his wardrobe sucks (Plaid? Was he a lumberjack?), he settled on jeans and a blue t-shirt and decided he'd try to investigate and see what the hell was going on.

Going downstairs was, in retrospect, a big mistake. God, it was noisy. So much so he couldn't stand it and finally stumbled outside, where he's been walking around the lake and enjoying not getting a headache.

Eventually, he realized the noise had died down and he's since ventured back inside, claiming a table and just watching all the people for now. He has to recognize someone at some point, right?

((OOC: If you know him, please don't tell him who he is. That lovely honour is reserved for someone in particular. Thank you!))

fencing-prodigy.livejournal.com

A girl with rustled orange hair sits fast asleep at a table, her practice foil and sabre strewn on the wooden surface with a browning apple core.

She has fenced all day, and anyone who passes can probably smell the sweat and grass on her.

Care to wake her and send her to the showers?

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is sitting on one of the rafters, looking down at the people below.

It's been a confusing twenty four hours. So far he's worked out his name is probably either Atton Rand or Guppy Sandhu, depending on whether he is actually in a bar with a memory loss crisis or in an alien research facility pretending to be a bar with a memory loss crisis.

At the moment, survival instinct is working. He hasn't eaten in twenty four hours, mainly because he forgot he needed to but also because he doesn't know how to get food.

He watches to see what everyone else does, a large purple bruise surrounding the healing cut he got yesterday passing out onto the corner of a table.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

A stormtrooper, two venomous laser wolves, and the multiverses smallest yautja (bearing a trash bag full of skulls) enter the bar.

There is the distinct smell of blood, death, fear, and monkey poo. Mostly the first two.

"Right, then." the yautja says to the stormtrooper, "I have to find Ace, clean off these skulls, and I know a girl who needs a puppy. Do you think mum'll make biscuits tonight if we don't drip blood on her floor?"

watchmakers_son

Last night, he grabbed an apple on his way upstairs and didn't take more than a bite before getting rid of it. Not that he remembers doing that.

Gabriel doesn't remember much of anything, in truth. There was the usual trickle of customers through the shop; there was a perfunctory phone call with his mother about Thanksgiving dinner in two weeks; then there was...

Nothing. Nothing except waking up in a strange room, dressed in strange clothes he would never wear, to a quiet and disconcerting -- he can't even call it a sound, really, but something very similar to one, an awareness like opening up the body of a wristwatch except far more acute.

(When he touches his jaw and sees his reflection in the mirror across from the bed: when was the last time I shaved? Or combed my hair, for that matter? When he automatically reaches for the nightstand to his left: where did my glasses go?)

It takes some time to straighten himself up, more before he finds the stairs (and how is it possible for an empty hallway to be so loud, floors creaking and people breathing behind the doors and -- is that their hearts beating?), and it's a bar, what could he have possibly been doing in a bar, and perhaps this is why he can't remember anything but he still doesn't understand: why would he have done something like this at all?

The bizarre not-quite-noise hasn't let up. In fact, it seems to have gotten worse.

Maybe there's an employee who can help him. Gabriel rubs his temple, shakes his head, and moves toward Bar.

cheevy.livejournal.com

Miniver (Number 11, "Harry Blanc") still doesn't know his real name or occupation. However, since his chat with Mia and the hedgehog, he DID go out to the forest and learned two things:

1. He has allergies, and
2. He has a pet... very tiny hawk thing. It came barreling into his HEAD as soon as he stepped into the trees, perched on his hand, leash and all, and hasn't left him since. Conveniently, the bird's jesses have his name stamped on, so he knows his pet is called D'Artagnan. Nice how these things work out.

So now here is a Miniver in the bar. He has fashioned gor himself a kind of holster for his wand, with a wine bottle and some cleverly knotted string. It hangs over his shoulder now either at his hip like a sword, or on his back like a quiver. It's all sorts of awesome. His wand fits into it neatly, and the handle is wide enough to keep it from slipping into the bottle all the way.

Now with his bottle holster/quiver, the bird, and a few stray leaves from having been in the forest, in the hippie clothes and unkempt hair, he looks very Peter Pan-ish. Like one of the Lost Boys given growth syrum.

Since returning from the woods, once he saw that his bird was fed, he'd settled onto (yes, onto)a table to watch people passing by. He watches, mulling over the day's events, mulling and watching, watching and mulling, his eyes and mind straying where they will, and eventually something begins to become clear to him. Something that becomes more clear the more he watches the people around him. Something that is quite firmly proven at last by several experiments involving imagining the people around him in a variety of compromising situations, most of them involving very little clothing.

"Now hang on a minute," he hisses to himself and the bird perched on his knee. "I'm gay?"

The bird gives him a Look.

"Well, don't that just beat all," Miniver sighs. "So much for blondie's pretty twin sister." Alas, poor Dracoette; she will never know the love of the noble yet totally mentally unbalanced Great Wizard Harry, Hero of World's End. (It had a ring to it. He's been making up theme songs for himself all evening.)

stbethadettes

(In New York: Sometimes things go better than you think they might.)

lostworldhunter.livejournal.com

Roxton strides into the bar, obviously irritated. That happens when your housemates are at each others' throats and you're the one stuck keeping the peace between them.

God, he needs a drink.