milliways_bar | Jul. 13th, 2007

Jul. 13th, 2007

Edmund is in the bar, with tea. Because he is, in some ways, quite predictable.

He's facing the front door -- perhaps it's accident, perhaps not -- and sipping his tea slowly.

And trying not to think about... well, many things. Most of which he is, in fact, thinking about.

(Most of them have to do with Aslan's green country, and the peace on Tirian and Eustace's faces. It was never quite there in life.)

called_lioness

It's soon, is the thing.

That's agreed, and that's true, and that's just as it must be.

The worst part is that she's not sad about it.

Sad about the people she can't take with her, but not the leaving. Which, she supposes, is proof that it's time to truly go.

That doesn't make any of it easy, just right.

She hasn't told the dragons yet, of all things; she doesn't know how.

It's funny that some people are easier to deal with than twin purple menaces.

...But not most.

regan_tam

[OOM: Gabriel and Regan Tam have a quiet family breakfast, and discuss some upcoming plans.]

night-hibiscus.livejournal.com

[Dreaming]

There are chocobos in the stable, not exactly the species Yuna knows, but big yellow riding birds, regardless. They don't, precisely, belong to anyone, which means from a certain viewpoint they belong to anyone who is not afraid to ride a big yellow bird.

That viewpoint is one currently held by Yuna; a viewpoint moving at a breakneck pace, in and around the woods. The nice thing about having the world rocket at your face at that speed is, you have to spend your time reacting instead of thinking.

There's plenty to think about, and not one thing she wants to, right at present.

gone_byebye

Ray's encounter the other day with Matt Parkman was distressing. Ray's encounter yesterday with Hiro Nakamura was downright disturbing. If he were at home he'd be grabbing Ecto and heading for the Marine Air Terminal at LaGuardia to watch the planes take off and land, since a little father-daughter bonding always seems to cheer him up, but home's not an option right now. Not while he's still got technology to finish* and test** and distribute***. He'd end up in the animated continuum again or something, with his luck.

There's a line from an otherwise hopeful song stuck in his head at the moment- and in the evening, after the fire and the light / One thing is certain: nothing can hold back the night. It's not the kind of thing that he normally gets stuck in his head. His usual persistent worries can generally be dealt with by means of the right pajamas and a plushie Hound of Tindalos, because when it comes to emotional baggage Ray pretty much only has carry-on. This is different, and he's worried about it, so he's doing what comes most naturally to him when he's worried: repetitively, almost compulsively, playing with the kind of toy he didn't get as a little kid because his parents were afraid his sister would swallow the parts or chew on them to the point of splinters****.

There is a fairly impressive model of the Outerbridge Crossing taking up most of his table. The likeness to the actual bridge is only marginally dispelled by the fact that it's made entirely from Tinkertoys, some parts of which have been cut down or otherwise kitbashed.

*The de-digitizing device, which despite his best efforts with Seamus Harper, has been proving insanely tricky- not that he expected anything less of an artificial philotic resomorphic reverter, since smacking a much of data really hard and shouting "SNAP OUT OF IT!" is one thing but making it stick borders on scientific sorcery

**The trans-door data squirt, which he's pretty sure should work, but can't test without a little assistance

***The suspensor harness- working with the technology of Atton Rand's galaxy and time for parts has made this UNBELIEVABLY easier

****Not that they didn't give him all kinds of other toys he wanted, but My First Electronics Breadboard and the Li'l Alfie Nobel Chemistry Set ("Over ninety compounds and pure elements in every box!") they could at least trust him to keep in his basement lab, as opposed to things that belong in the toybox

mago_sonriente

He trots up to the bar from his booth, placing the brass lock on top of the note before settling on one of the stools.

"Give that to Andrew Wells, mi vida? Gracias."

It disappears accordingly, which leaves him grinning, and then he's down to Serious Business.

"Breakfast before I leave, if you please. I'm going back to the ravening hordes for the day."

Carlos has to admit: the only one who makes better fried eggs and bacon is his mother. It might be better, but he'll never admit that. Some things are sacred and his mother's cooking is one of them.

"Gracias, mi vida."

And lo, there is digging in.

sylvie-barker.livejournal.com

Sylvie comes in, and blinks...
Shaking rainwater from the hood of her jacket, she walks to Bar.

"Again? Are you going to do this every time I try to enter another club or bar? Or is that just coincidence? Which I don't believe in, FYI."

Silence.

"Okay. Might I have some brunch, please?" She fishes her wallet out. "Vegetarian omelet and orange juice."

Getting it, she goes for a table that'll let her watch the rest of the room.

runmakitarun.livejournal.com

[OOM: Guns and Dolls. Millitimed to mid-May.

Goldy takes Makita out to learn about guns that you use to shoot people with from distances at which they can't see you. A good time is, of course, had by all.]

dr_temperance

The unconscious half-smile that Brennan has worn on her last few trips into the bar is noticeably absent today as she contemplates the view outside the Observation Window. And the cup of coffee balanced on her knee is cold and still full.

With Hannah safely home in California with her mother to take care of her, Brennan can allow herself the indulgence of worry. She couldn't before--not when she was trying to pull her young friend out of the emotional dead zone she had discovered her in by the lake. Hannah had at least been communicative again by the time she'd gone home, but Brennan is still worried about her. And about Henry--pulled into an alternate dimension, possibly with no means of return.

Brennan refuses to think of it as hell. Hell does not exist.

If Brennan was inclined toward whimsy, she'd almost think that the view from the window was mocking her on that point.

[OOC: Slowtime for work likely.]

artfowler.livejournal.com

There are many doors in Fowl Manor. Artemis Fowl the Second, of course, has known of this for a very long time and not even the hidden doors, and there were many of those as well, manage to surprise him.

In fact, he knew the two hundred acre estate quite well. It would be a silly thing not to know the grounds that you lived on, after all. But this had never quite factored in before and Artemis is...

Well, he's quite flabbergasted though his expression says little of it.

Because, you see, the arched double doors that on any other normal day lead to his chambers now leads to what looks like a pub and one with quite the view. An exceptional view, actually, and one that Artemis cannot take his eyes off of as he stands before the observation window.

Of course, he does so in such a manner that makes him look like any other person that has been in Milliways before and not, as he is, a brand new patron.

there-is-a-me.livejournal.com

Alright. So. You got into a verbal clash that resulted in a challenge which was refused, causing an automatic win by the standards of your culture. You took rank. Lots of rank.

Technically, you pwned a goddess. And took her rank. It's taken a while for this to start sinking in, really sinking in. You've talked to your parents about it, and things are settled there, but.

You just took rank. You rank pretty much everyone. Ever. And you're over a foot shorter than the next shortest person in your entire society.

Spoon has never in life been so glad that he can regrow limbs, because he's going to live in pain while losing rank.

This is why he's drinking. A lot.

stubborn-annie.livejournal.com

Annie has been busy back home with a number of things, but things have let up enough for her to come to the Bar as she usually does. She decides upon a table and lays out a remarkably large baking tray stacked with golden-brown pastries that smell faintly of chocolate; then she puts up the sign giving her bakery's name and address, the fact that these are pain au chocolat and that this is French for 'bread with chocolate', not anything to do with pain, and that she is testing recipes for her bakery. She also puts up a note stating that she has no magic whatsoever and anyone experiencing weird effects after eating the things should inform her straightaway.

That done, she sits down at the table and leans back to relax and see who's here today.

nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com

Even Ace has to work, sometimes. It isn't even really work, persay... after all, it's entirely too much fun to be work. Most times, anyway. Including this time. Ace just spent a couple weeks frustrating a bunch of alien-tech-aided revolutionaries who really weren't supposed to win anyway.

Yes, Ace spent a couple weeks prefecting booby traps. This could be why she looks so insufferably pleased with herself.

(ooc: My connection is slow, and I will randomly disappear for hours. So. Slowtime in effect)

guppy_sandhu

[OOM 5.

qsilver-md.livejournal.com

Kevin... doesn't quite know what to do with himself now. His greatest work, the one thing he's wanted to do with his death, is done.

His brother is free, and that means he is too. Free from the one true obligation he had here, and while he's happy, and the thought it worked! still circles in his mind more often than not, he's at a bit of a loose end now.

There's still infirmary work, of course, but only regular shifts of it, and that leaves him with more free time than he's used to.

So, scientist in the bar with a beer.

undignified

Specials
Amaretto Rose
Electric Screwdriver
Tropical Martini

Wes has found a new type of alcohol that he likes, apparently.

He's leaning on the Bar, chewing slightly on a toothpick and people-watching (er, that is, totally being an attentive bartender).

What can he get you?

azure-mercy.livejournal.com

Zhaan's out by the greenhouse with several capped, wrist-thick metal tubes and many, many potted plants - all hers. Normally these potted plants are inside the greenhouse, but she can't do what she has to do indoors without making the air unbearable.

What she's doing is fumigating the plants with a florescent orange, ill-smelling vapor that hisses out of the metal tubes when she uncaps them. She's working her way along plant by plant, making sure that each is properly treated before she moves on to the next. It is an unpleasant job, but having all her herbs and flowers eaten by fungus - she's already lost half a dozen plants to it - would be even worse.

The really bad part is that she'll have to swallow this orange dren in elixir form for the next weeken, because, being a plant herself, she is also vulnerable to fungus. The fungicide potion tastes even worse than it smells and has some unpleasant side effects. She really isn't looking forward to that.

Current Mood: frustrated

ladysilverwheel.livejournal.com

[OOM: Up in her kingdom, Arianrhod lets out her anger and almost shakes the entire place to the ground.]

captainryan.livejournal.com

Captain Ryan's out in the forge, scenting the air and eyeing the swords. He hasn't seen his instructor for some time now, and his scent, while soaked into the place, is old. The scent that isn't is that of a certain pyrokinetic; Zuko's scent is all over everything that's been moved. He's not sure what to make of that beyond where the boy gets off just moving things around. That he might have decided to take over doesn't occur to him, since Turner said nothing of it..

So, slightly grumpy and puzzled werewolf, but still willing to talk.

not-a-horse.livejournal.com

It is rare, exceedingly rare, that she chooses to leave the House of Arch for Milliways itself. But Ingress is asleep, at least for now, and Megwyn is restless -- more so than usual.

(She'd known, when she'd Chosen one so young, that it would be years before she could truly return to Valdemar. Still, there are times when she misses her home.)

She noses the portrait open and jumps through, hooves chiming silver on the room's floor. The Companion paces slowly across the room to the lake door, and soon after her cloud-white coat gleams in the dusk as she stands by the lake, looking out over the water.

(ooc: for the record, Megwyn can be intercepted at any point along her path, indoors or out.)

soapcarvedhands.livejournal.com

Harding is--well--he's shy. After looking around the bar anxiously, he sits by himself, newly habitual mug of tea in tow.

He's reading; the book is clearly well-used and far past its prime, but that doesn't lessen any of his obvious enjoyment. He glances up, ever now and again; he'd be far from adverse to company, but he's dreadful at starting conversations. He'd appreciate help!

berryberryraz.livejournal.com

Delicate Flower
At the Bar in haiku mode:
It's a Raspberry!

killitwithfire

In the dark, outside, by the lake, there is light.

Little bursts of orange and red flames, highlighting Axel's form as he moves, less a dance this time, than a kata, although there's still a lot of dance in his movements.

Fluid, and flowing, his wrist snaps out in a sharp movement, the points of his weapon slicing neatly through the air, right at neck height on the average human.

Then he ducks low, his legs spreading wide to give him a stable base, and his arms move around him, as if disembowling a ring of men.

It continues.

the_man_in_the_box

It's a bird...

It's a plane...

Actually, it's an angry magician who's only slightly less angry than he might otherwise be, because he is still on his tour in the New World.

He is nothing if not a performer. However, for now, he is at the bar having a drink.

jacks-dead.livejournal.com

When Kyra got to Crematoria, the guys who locked her up did in fact tell her that she'd never see daylight again, which had obscurely pleased her. But the novelty wore off pretty quick: Dark's just dark, when you're in it. She got sick of not seeing the sun.

Therefore, she's outside by the lake. Not doing anything in particular-- not doing much of anything at all, in fact. Just sitting on the grass with her boots kicked off, breathing in the fresh air (or at least it feels fresh, how'd they get air like this in the middle of space?) and watching as the last of the sunlight fades.

It's nice out here.

... And besides, the Will kid said that outside was the best place to find a fight, if she wanted one.

wellthrownstone.livejournal.com

The Rivan King seems to be a bit red at the moment as the only one at the bar right now is a certain Californian wizard, who's grinning like a fool. That said, the specials are on the board.
Unicorn
Green Goblin
Red Dwarf
Do stop by. Garion might actually turn red from head to toe while you watch.

son-forgotten.livejournal.com

[[OOM: Ramon and Benedict get to know each other better.]]

argyle_princess

[OOM: Motion.]

ratatouiller.livejournal.com

[OOM: Back in Paris, Remy makes a very lovely breakfast...only to be rushed by Linguini before he can even take a bite. He arrives at Gusteau's, hungry, but ready to work -- as long as that implies the two of them working together...which clearly needs a proper plan of action.

Note: Spoilers from the movie!]

dragonofgrey.livejournal.com

Draco had spoken to Potter a while back, and Harry mentioned a secret. Something horrible and evil. One that's unspeakable and unforgiveable. Worse than Voldemort himself.

He steeled himself, and asked the Bar for some.

There was a note on a napkin, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, just give them already." He scooped up the materials. If you listened closely, you could almost hear the distant voices of cackling evil laughter, and piercingly shrill squees of delight.

He carefully placed them on a table, and ordered a drink. Just from what Harry had said before, he knew he would need it.

Mr. Malfoy was learning about the evil that is HP fandom. (Though luckily, he's being spared the truly mind numbingly worse of the lot, because that's too much for most muns, much less the pup.)

Shortly into reading, there's a loud cry, "URRRGHHHH! I don't even LIKE HIM! And WHY AM I PREGNANT??"

son-forgotten.livejournal.com

Benedict's in the bar, near the observation window, watching the universe.
His head's swimming with speculation about family factions and coups in his homeland.

He could use some company.

creator_raven

The couches are very comfortable.

That has nothing to do with why Raven is occupying a booth.

Or why he is reading.

There is a notebook, too.

It is almost entirely full.

Just let him finish this last page . . .

Also hopefully someone (like the waitrats) will be bringing him more cookies, soon.

Books make Raven hungry.

highking.livejournal.com

Peter is in the bar. He has a notebook, and he seems to be making a list.

I KNOW IT'S FASCINATING. But that is, in fact, how he's choosing to spend one of his last few entrance posts. Go figure.

river_meimei

River is lying on her back on the high top of a booth, her knees drawn up and hands tidily folded across her stomach. She could be asleep for all she's moving, but she's not; she's staring up at the ceiling, or perhaps at the air below it.

Her long coat's tails hang to either side of her body, draping over the booth backs to either side with an occasional lump of a full pocket, and her feet are bare. Every so often her toes twitch.