Jul. 31st, 2007

notjustnarrator.livejournal.com

[ooc: Not totally locked but please ping me before tagging. Please.]

It's late afternoon when Nick emerges from his room and very promptly flops into a chair near the fireplace.

Talking a 7-year old into leaving "the greatest place in the Universe" for her "boring" home is a very, very difficult thing to do. Nick succeeded in doing so, however, and is now exhausted from what turned out to be a 2-hour argument full of pouting.

A waitrat scurries over with a cup of tea -- Nick's new favorite, which isn't surprising! -- and some toast.

Nick, however, would much rather nap than drink or eat.

supaahiro

Time keeps going.

The door still hasn't returned.

That leaves one hell of a stranded time traveler with a lot of time to think. Sitting at the Bar, he looks over the the sake cups and realizes it's really too early to be getting sloshed.

It isn't too early, however, for Bar to suggest an alternative. A small pile of brightly colored paper.

How long has it been since you folded something, Kaylee had asked.

A long time.

His fingers -- calloused from combat and kendo -- touch a paper that's patterned with blue and gold swirls, before he takes it up and begins to crease it slowly.

wizard_dresden

I climb up onto the bar (I'd hop, but that would result in the cracking of my skull on the floor and I'm not quite ready for additional trauma just yet) sneakers soft on the wood, making me far taller than any human ever should be (we're adding, what, four feet to my already almost-seven?), put fingers to my mouth and I

WHISTLE

"I hope everyone can hear me. Incidentally, there was a strange occurrence in Chicago a week or so back and I will provide dinner for anyone who can fill me in on the details."

I jump back down - I'm better at down than up - and it's time for the specials:

Specials
Cement Mixer
Yellow Parrot

"Order up."

kitchen_maid

"Bar," says Amy, "I need to ask you to make some deliveries, if I may. This letter is for Bernard. And the stable ledger and this letter needs to go to someone named 'Josiah' -- I'm afraid I don't know him, but I trust you do. And this book needs to go to whomever has care of the library. Thank you, dear."

That done, Amy finds a table, orders tea and ginger cookies, and settles in to watch for people she needs to talk to. Or for anyone who might want to talk to her.

ana-pascal.livejournal.com

It wasn't her kitchen table, but the table that Ana is sitting at is in a state of organized disorder. Her dark hair, spiky in the front and flattened in the back suggested either a new hairstyle or typical case of bedhead. So did the clothes. Button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and thready denim shorts. A pair of China-doll slippers are lost under the table so that she could have her feet tucked up beneath her.

There is a stack of a few books: The Universe in a Nutshell, Wuthering Heights, and the Joy of Cooking. There is a cup and saucer half-filled with Spanish cocoa. A true hot chocolate so thick that it has the consistency of pudding, and Ana discovered the Bar had made a wonderful version of (and provided churros along with) it.

All of these items were pushed away so that she could write. Bowing over a beaten black-and-white composition notebook, writing in the margins. Violet ink. Annotating an older recipe with some current ideas for it.

Current Music: Train: "Drops of Jupiter"

maid-of-astolat.livejournal.com

Elaine is leaning against the bar with a tray, looking for people to serve.

It seems to be a quiet night tonight.

But she'll be happy to wait on whomever needs to be waited on.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is looking a little smarter than usual. Suit, tie, no pockets full of cat biscuits.

He's sitting near the infirmary, attempting to do something about his hair before his interview. Having attacked it with a comb in an attempt to teach it the meaning of gravity, he's now trying to flatten the resulting near afro.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

The narration desperately wants to bellow something along the lines of the where there is love song. It is being physically restrained from that.

Suzi, however, is settled in and perfectly willing to spread love around in the good, old-fashioned way. No potions/philters/pheromones or anything else, just clean channel everyone-appreciation. She's settled in with a mug of tea (the cup says SIME ONLY on it), a plate of Doritos (blame Rachel), and her knitting.

She's knitting fingerless gloves in teal with salmon-pink insets.

awesome_lilly

[OOM: Lilly was just going to have a somewhat mopey night, but unfortunately for her, Kyra was having a twitchy night.]

Staggering into the bar wearing Coyote's shirt would ordinarily be Lilly's idea of a good time, but given that the shirt in question has been torn into strips and tied around the deep stab wound in her left side... not so much this time. Coyote would seem to agree, given the uncomplimentary things she's muttering under her breath.

Lilly's leaning heavily on Coyote, her side burns with every breath she takes, and there's still a steady flow of blood soaking the homemade bandages.

This sucks.

[ooc, eta: Okay, this wasn't plot-locked and then I ran the hell out of time. But not acronyms. Top thread is plot-locked, feel free to leave reactions to it below!]

spooky-shrink.livejournal.com

[After this.]

The Front Door to Milliways opens.

And Malcolm is back.

He looks around the bar and breathes a deep sigh of relief. He can't remember when he last felt so glad to find himself somewhere.

Not even bothering to shrug off his long coat, he walks over to the bar and takes his time sitting down at his favorite spot. Every bone in his body aches, but for now he doesn't care.

"Bar? A Glenmorangie, please." He pats her affectionately. "Good to see you again."

action-antihero.livejournal.com

The door opens, and there's a familiar face staring in at the bar by surprise, though one that hasn't been around in a while. Jack's expression isn't that odd, though, even for a long time veteran of the place. Milliways is rather larger than Michelle's pantry, which is what he'd been expecting to see.

It doesn't take more than a moment for him to step in, though. Considering everything that's happened in the last couple weeks--everything that happened the previous day--in his world, he could really use a drink.

Therefore, Jack will be found at the bar, slouched over the bar top with a large glass of whiskey in his hand. It's not his first glass, either, though he's not even tipsy. Yet.

did-not-blouse.livejournal.com

This place is great in Perconte's opinion. It's warm, there is all the beer and food you could want and no one is shooting at him, which is a huge plus in his book. So right now he's content to remain parked on a stool at the bar, ordering things he's missed from home and stuffing his happy face.

He'll get back to Holland soon enough, his pockets are already stuffed with things to share with the fellas when he gets there, but for now this is where he's at and where he's gonna stay.

killitwithfire

Instead of staking his usual claim to the couch, Axel's chosen a spot on the carpet, very, very close to the fireplace, to sit tonight. He's sitting crosslegged, facing the flames, with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea in his lap.

His back, it may be noted, is to the rest of the room. (This does not, however, mean that the rest of his senses are turned off.)

((ooc: mun is flopping out now, but tags are welcome, and slowtime is always love.))

river_meimei

[OOM: Gabriel Tam gives a speech to a cheerful crowd, and to a few surprise guests.

And things really, really don't go as planned.]

The door slams open, and Regan Tam runs through. For once, she's neither composed nor immaculate, though she was a short while ago; her hair is straggling, her face white and eyes wild. She grabs the door, holding it open.

The reason becomes clear an instant later, from the cavalcade that follows: Galadan, bearing an unconscious and blood-drenched Gabriel Tam in his arms. Gabriel's face and chest are laid open, deep awful wounds seared black at the edges. Beside him hurries Simon Tam, taut and intent; taking up the rear comes River, her skirt soaked with red and her hands streaked with it. She scans the room with a bodyguard's sharp paranoia, as the group hurries towards the infirmary.

[OOC: They're going to be heading straight for the infirmary and not likely to change course, but this is not at all plot-locked! Feel free to notice, to try to interact if you don't mind your character getting a very distracted response, or to have your character stop by to help or stare.

Also, warnings for a fair bit of gore in the above OOM.]

bringonthewonder

Angela came in this evening, thinking she'd get a drink, hang out a bit, since her workday is done, but Hodgins seems to be determined to set a new record for consecutive hours .

(It's going to be hard to top Brennan's, but it's admirable that he wants to try. Or something.)

Angela is a little surprised when she gets a note along with her wine. She's a lot surprised when she reads it.

And then, quickly as she came in, she's gone, back to DC, untouched wine still sitting at the bar.

[OOC: No tags, please. Merci.]

ryoko-set-free.livejournal.com

Ryoko is out enjoying the night air, flying over the water. Her energy sword in hand, she's trying a sort of one-person baseball; generate an energy ball, hit it with the sword like a bat, and teleport ahead of the projectile to catch it before it hits anything. The best part is, no one is yelling at her not to blow things up. Not yet, anyway.

Laughing, Ryoko threw another sphere as hard as she could. She chased in in the air for a few seconds, then faded in mid-air. Only milliseconds passed before she faded back in, pacing the speeding sphere. The gem in her wrist glowed brightly as she reached out and grasped the bright orange orb. It flashed brightly as it lengthened back into her sword.

Just a couple more times, she thought, then turned to throw again. It's been a long time since she'd played, and the only thing missing was someone to play with.

kinshou-kitsune.livejournal.com

At a table somewhere in the bar is a kitsune kami. All around here is a multitude of colorful papers- not as bright and wild as she herself can be at times- but natural. Pastels. The color of the sun in the mornings, the deepest greens of the lands..its all there.

And around her you may be asking? Animals! Both of fantasy (at least to mortals) and real! Dragons, foxes, fish range from sizes of palm size to a good foot in lenth.

The dragons range in various hughs all over the rainbow while the foxes, generally, remain white in kind. Of course there are a few red foxes in the mix..but those are rare and few. With the fish somehow she has managed to get the colors of the koi in them down to the detail.

But something seems to be missing.

Anyone is welcome to stop by her table and ask what she is doing or make requests.

[ooc: So the fishies, dragons, and foxes are alive :D the magic won't last long and they will go back to being paper after a day. feel free to use in posts or keep one if you want! *hugs to all* ]