(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 08:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
immortalthiefIn a strange twist of events Amanda is sitting in front of the Observation Window, knitting.
Hey at least it's a change of venue.
Bother at will.
Dec. 7th, 2007
immortalthief
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 09:58 amgone_byebyeRay made it to DC safely once he got back to his world. Congress and the Secretary of Defense want to speak to him tomorrow, separately, with the doors closed and the cameras off. This terrifies him on a level that the books in the Restricted Section at Miskatonic never did. Because, well: CONGRESS. It's humans. Ray stinks at dealing with hostile humans, and in his book Congress is hostile by definition. The Secretary of Defense, he can handle. But when it comes to Congressional meetings we're talking facing down people like John Blutarsky, Alex Keaton, Lacey Davenport, Tom Wright, and Bill Frist. They're scary.
Well, if nothing else, twenty-five years on Mythos Earth teaches you to deal with scary. Those of you who might be interested in talking to Ray are going to have to go outside to find him. He's bundled up against the Scottish cold and booted against the Scottish muck and slush, and he's practicing with his lightsaber against the training drone, which gives the appearance of having been fed a combination of WaterJoe and a great deal of guarana.
Well, if nothing else, twenty-five years on Mythos Earth teaches you to deal with scary. Those of you who might be interested in talking to Ray are going to have to go outside to find him. He's bundled up against the Scottish cold and booted against the Scottish muck and slush, and he's practicing with his lightsaber against the training drone, which gives the appearance of having been fed a combination of WaterJoe and a great deal of guarana.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 03:09 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
rt-5478.livejournal.comArtie's in New York for at least another night. He would have left sooner, but Caliban wants to meet him back in Poughkeepsie--although the ex-demon wouldn't say why he wanted to talk in person. Artie, for his part, is still reeling from his unnerving encounter with Dr. Razrazhatsya, and needs some time to decompress. Thus, he's currently sitting at the Bar, nursing a beer and looking pensive.
[ooc: Will be fleeing at 5:00 PST for a company Christmas party.]
[ooc: Will be fleeing at 5:00 PST for a company Christmas party.]
Between Sea and Sky: A Multi-Pup post
Dec. 7th, 2007 04:05 pmdragonofgrey.livejournal.comToday, outside, there were two men whose morality tended to shades of grey, one of water, one of air.
One, light of hair and eye, and young was by the water's edge, black wizard robes billowing behind him in the chilled winds of late autumn. His hand stretched out before him, though there was no wand in his hand today as he focused silently. On the shoreline, a white wolf cub slumbered under the shade of a nearby tree, keeping watch, if somewhat sleepily. The wizard, Draco, whispered the words of a water spell, and so far, was rewarded with his hand slightly feeling damp.
This, was going to be a knotty problem to figure out indeed.
---------------------
Overhead, the other man, older, dark of hair, and slightly darker eyes was flying amidst the clouds, trying to get his mind off of matters that laid behind a still invisible door. Nathan still didn't understand how he could fly still, but tried not to think about it as Logan had suggested. He didn't even care who saw him now. Just thinking of how good it felt up here with the winds, and sky as he soared around, leaving lazy looping contrails in his wake.
Amazing how one explosion can change so much outwardly, and also inwardly.
(OOC: a multi-pup post, but felt like going thematic with elements today with the rain outside, just indicate which you want to speak with in your tags, and remember: Only you can prevent tagless posts.)
One, light of hair and eye, and young was by the water's edge, black wizard robes billowing behind him in the chilled winds of late autumn. His hand stretched out before him, though there was no wand in his hand today as he focused silently. On the shoreline, a white wolf cub slumbered under the shade of a nearby tree, keeping watch, if somewhat sleepily. The wizard, Draco, whispered the words of a water spell, and so far, was rewarded with his hand slightly feeling damp.
This, was going to be a knotty problem to figure out indeed.
---------------------
Overhead, the other man, older, dark of hair, and slightly darker eyes was flying amidst the clouds, trying to get his mind off of matters that laid behind a still invisible door. Nathan still didn't understand how he could fly still, but tried not to think about it as Logan had suggested. He didn't even care who saw him now. Just thinking of how good it felt up here with the winds, and sky as he soared around, leaving lazy looping contrails in his wake.
Amazing how one explosion can change so much outwardly, and also inwardly.
(OOC: a multi-pup post, but felt like going thematic with elements today with the rain outside, just indicate which you want to speak with in your tags, and remember: Only you can prevent tagless posts.)
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 04:22 pmcandied-rabbit.livejournal.comWhen Momiji bounds into the Bar, today, he's come prepared - he's bundled up in fall colors with a fluffy, deep purple coat and hat and a warm, orange scarf. All of this extra covering doesn't seem to have drained his energy much, though. He'd had a lot of fun digging out his winter clothes from the closet, and now he wants to play!
This might not be in the best interest of the Bar's other patrons, however, since, soon, he's scampering around, darting all over and looking for someone to rope into his games.
This might not be in the best interest of the Bar's other patrons, however, since, soon, he's scampering around, darting all over and looking for someone to rope into his games.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 05:00 pmvisible_sarielSome days, regardless of how much you love your job, are just plain god-awful *long*.
Sariel's curled up on one end of one of the couches, a datapad in her lap and a mug held in one hand. She looks more than a little tired, and if the way she's leaning into that sofa's corner is any indication, looks are spot on. That pad's screen is showing a handful of names; someone's trying to make up a Christmas list. Accent on the trying--right now she's concentrating more on not spilling her tea than anything else.
Come try to see what you might be getting in three weeks' time?
Sariel's curled up on one end of one of the couches, a datapad in her lap and a mug held in one hand. She looks more than a little tired, and if the way she's leaning into that sofa's corner is any indication, looks are spot on. That pad's screen is showing a handful of names; someone's trying to make up a Christmas list. Accent on the trying--right now she's concentrating more on not spilling her tea than anything else.
Come try to see what you might be getting in three weeks' time?
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 05:34 pmgreatestgenius.livejournal.com[OOM: What Washuu doesn't know is likely to kill her and several others: Kagato's program is taking some liberties and thinking for itself.]
Washuu is back in the bar, and back to her more common twelve-year-old-appearing self. It's just so much simpler this way, and being older just makes it hard to think clearly, not to mention the other distractions implicit in an older form. She hasn't slept yet, though.
She's deleting files with an air of relief, drinking tea and sitting by the window on her hovering cushion. This is one project she doesn't mind ending early.
In other words? Botherable.
Washuu is back in the bar, and back to her more common twelve-year-old-appearing self. It's just so much simpler this way, and being older just makes it hard to think clearly, not to mention the other distractions implicit in an older form. She hasn't slept yet, though.
She's deleting files with an air of relief, drinking tea and sitting by the window on her hovering cushion. This is one project she doesn't mind ending early.
In other words? Botherable.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 07:08 pmdust-to-order.livejournal.com[OOMs: Sooraya heads to Afghanistan in search of a missing person. It doesn't go well.
Her search takes an odd turn(millitimed to before she last spoke to Ray Stantz and Barbara Gordon)
Meanwhile, back at the Institute, bad news is received]
Her search takes an odd turn(millitimed to before she last spoke to Ray Stantz and Barbara Gordon)
Meanwhile, back at the Institute, bad news is received]
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 08:19 pmis-out-there.livejournal.comMulder chews idly on the pencil in his hand, taking it away from his mouth when he realizes he's bitten into the eraser; a brief look of disgust crosses his face as he picks the errant bits of eraser particles from his tongue. He's also surprised at the numerous bite marks he's chewed into the writing utensil. Clearly, his focus was erratic at the moment. And it was a lovely pencil too, pity that it's now marred from his incisors.
Mulder places the pencil down and folds his hands. He's working on a crossword puzzle, but he's not terribly absorbed with it. At the moment, he's glancing at his door. He really is planning to go home soon, he has some holiday shopping to do, after all. But he's still a bit reluctant to leave. It's warm and buzzing with pleasant noise in the bar tonight, and he'd rather be among strangers than alone with his thoughts.
So...FBI agent, possibly trying to work out the answer to four across. But he wouldn't mind a reason to disregard the blasted crossword puzzle, and the pencil which has gallantly sustained unwarranted war wounds.
Mulder places the pencil down and folds his hands. He's working on a crossword puzzle, but he's not terribly absorbed with it. At the moment, he's glancing at his door. He really is planning to go home soon, he has some holiday shopping to do, after all. But he's still a bit reluctant to leave. It's warm and buzzing with pleasant noise in the bar tonight, and he'd rather be among strangers than alone with his thoughts.
So...FBI agent, possibly trying to work out the answer to four across. But he wouldn't mind a reason to disregard the blasted crossword puzzle, and the pencil which has gallantly sustained unwarranted war wounds.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 08:24 pmundignifiedLook at that -- there's a pilot behind the Bar.
Wes has chalked up a helpful DRINKS on the Specials board.
He's also put out a bowl of mini chocolate-covered Oreos, even though they probably won't go with most drinks. It's the thought that counts.
Wes has chalked up a helpful DRINKS on the Specials board.
He's also put out a bowl of mini chocolate-covered Oreos, even though they probably won't go with most drinks. It's the thought that counts.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 08:25 pmoh-wowee.livejournal.comToki Wartooth was a man of progressive and forward thinking.
Which is to say he was seen as somewhat eccentric by his peers. Not every death metal rhythm guitarist on Earth was the type to love working on model airplanes or carry around a teddy bear when he was feeling particularly needy. Not every death metal guitarist ate an inordinate amount of sweets and played DDR.
Hell, not even ONE of his peers did any of those things, in whole or in part. And Toki was just beginning to realize that. He was chewing on his thumbnail, both legs drawn up to his chest as he leaned his chin on his knee, staring out through the observation window, brow furrowed in thought.
He had a lot to think about.
Which is to say he was seen as somewhat eccentric by his peers. Not every death metal rhythm guitarist on Earth was the type to love working on model airplanes or carry around a teddy bear when he was feeling particularly needy. Not every death metal guitarist ate an inordinate amount of sweets and played DDR.
Hell, not even ONE of his peers did any of those things, in whole or in part. And Toki was just beginning to realize that. He was chewing on his thumbnail, both legs drawn up to his chest as he leaned his chin on his knee, staring out through the observation window, brow furrowed in thought.
He had a lot to think about.
Multipup post -- outside
Dec. 7th, 2007 08:26 pmostro_gothBefore coming out to the forge, Teja had made sure his notice was still in place. Now, he has exchanged his armour and royal purple cloak for a leather jerkin and apron again, and is polishing a sword -- short as a Roman gladius, but somewhat narrower, two-edged, and made out of the folded steel. Now working slowly with soft sandstone, as his book says, he is getting an edge unlike any that he's ever had on a sword he has made.
***
Asar-Suti is putting up Christmas ornaments in some parts of the gardens -- little twinkling lights that nest in the bare trees and bushes. He makes them by magic and puts them in their place, to twinkle all the time until the twelfth day after the holiday. Some, but not all, of the lights are purple. Asar-Suti is actually happy -- this is home, the magic library is upstairs, the sound of hammering and grinding from the forge provides a pleasing counterpoint to the little hissing noises as his magic comes into being, and when he is done, he will go inside and pester his faun for some really pleasant hot drink.
***
Tower is by the lake, smoking a big cigar and watching birds fly. There will be no Christmas truce for fate, he thinks, watching the little purple god put up his decorations, gleeful as a child. Even the warrior king in his forge is content, he notices, working away in the belief that his story is done. But stories are never done, and fate will always hold yet another reversal for you. Tower knows that.
[[OOC: Please say in your tag whom you want! If you are tagging Tower for the first time, make sure you have seen his user info. Thanks!]]
***
Asar-Suti is putting up Christmas ornaments in some parts of the gardens -- little twinkling lights that nest in the bare trees and bushes. He makes them by magic and puts them in their place, to twinkle all the time until the twelfth day after the holiday. Some, but not all, of the lights are purple. Asar-Suti is actually happy -- this is home, the magic library is upstairs, the sound of hammering and grinding from the forge provides a pleasing counterpoint to the little hissing noises as his magic comes into being, and when he is done, he will go inside and pester his faun for some really pleasant hot drink.
***
Tower is by the lake, smoking a big cigar and watching birds fly. There will be no Christmas truce for fate, he thinks, watching the little purple god put up his decorations, gleeful as a child. Even the warrior king in his forge is content, he notices, working away in the belief that his story is done. But stories are never done, and fate will always hold yet another reversal for you. Tower knows that.
[[OOC: Please say in your tag whom you want! If you are tagging Tower for the first time, make sure you have seen his user info. Thanks!]]
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 08:45 pmnothawkingbird.livejournal.comWill and Kate had dropped by to visit Atton. It was going well with snacks and movies, until this came up. Several heated moments later, Will went in one direction, and Kate went in a different one. She was now dressed in her Hawkeye costume, and out back at the range, firing arrows into the targets. Trying to vent some anger.
ETA: And now after Atton found her, and they talked again, some understanding was reached. She's now walking around by the lake, just carrying her bow down at her side. Much calmer now, even though it reminded her how few people she's met here.
And is willing to talk, especially to anybody new.
(ooc: Have you tagged an EP today? Don't you wish everyone did?)
ETA: And now after Atton found her, and they talked again, some understanding was reached. She's now walking around by the lake, just carrying her bow down at her side. Much calmer now, even though it reminded her how few people she's met here.
And is willing to talk, especially to anybody new.
(ooc: Have you tagged an EP today? Don't you wish everyone did?)
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 09:08 pmnot-toothfairy.livejournal.com[OOM: Always use tolerable HTML code. You never know when a giant robot may be searching for information.]
The reversed THX sound can be heard from the direction of the lift that leads to the Milliways garage, but you would be hard pressed to see the door to the lift opening or closing. This is because even with the subspace compression field effectively rendering him an acceptable human height, Ironhide takes up a lot of space when he's cranky. Although that may be too mild a word, given the way his head whips around as he looks for a likely candidate...
... and then gives up, announcing to the room at large, "All right, one of you ought to know. Someone here is going to explain the human holiday of Christmas to me. Corporal Wasserman said he wasn't qualified and I intend to find out."
The reversed THX sound can be heard from the direction of the lift that leads to the Milliways garage, but you would be hard pressed to see the door to the lift opening or closing. This is because even with the subspace compression field effectively rendering him an acceptable human height, Ironhide takes up a lot of space when he's cranky. Although that may be too mild a word, given the way his head whips around as he looks for a likely candidate...
... and then gives up, announcing to the room at large, "All right, one of you ought to know. Someone here is going to explain the human holiday of Christmas to me. Corporal Wasserman said he wasn't qualified and I intend to find out."
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 09:14 pmslasherofprices.livejournal.comBar can has a Sissy Skinner? Bar can has a Sissy Skinner. A Sissy Skinner with a basket o' flowers, even*.
(Said Sissy Skinner has a confused cousin back at home wondering what's gotten into him, why he didn't bellow out a greeting and act in his usual bombastic, invasive and theatrical manner, why he, in short, was acting normal. She is not the only one in Sandford to wonder that lately.)
* No, you cannot has flowers. Not yours! Unless your name is Ana Pascal.
(Said Sissy Skinner has a confused cousin back at home wondering what's gotten into him, why he didn't bellow out a greeting and act in his usual bombastic, invasive and theatrical manner, why he, in short, was acting normal. She is not the only one in Sandford to wonder that lately.)
* No, you cannot has flowers. Not yours! Unless your name is Ana Pascal.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 09:16 pmmadolyn-madden.livejournal.comSome evenings, there's really nothing better to do than just stretch out on the couch with a book, your music player, and a pillow or two.
Which is exactly what Madolyn has elected to do. Except, she's also got a quilt of sorts, which she has hidden most of herself under. Her headphones are clamped on her ears, and she's just barely humming under her breath.
The book in question is one that Lady Bar has provided for her - Indivisible By Four.
The only thing that'd make this better would be company.
[ ooc; Sleeptime and slowtimes, please? ]
Which is exactly what Madolyn has elected to do. Except, she's also got a quilt of sorts, which she has hidden most of herself under. Her headphones are clamped on her ears, and she's just barely humming under her breath.
The book in question is one that Lady Bar has provided for her - Indivisible By Four.
The only thing that'd make this better would be company.
[ ooc; Sleeptime and slowtimes, please? ]
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 09:26 pmwill_scarlettWill is at the punching bag, he just wants Atton and Kate to be friends and now its a mess and it feels like its his fault too.
Its getting darker but he really doesn't care, it feels good to just hit and hit.
Its getting darker but he really doesn't care, it feels good to just hit and hit.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 09:30 pmwalkstheboundsJamie came back from his trip to the Underhill with Laini with three things:
One, an extremely full stomach;
Two, a round leather ball perfect for playing football - which also glows up in the dark and announces insults in a metallic voice when you kick it in the right fashion (whoever designed it clearly knew something about sports); and
Three, a set of letter building blocks - originally for the purposes of teaching. Although they are currently being used as juggling balls instead.
There was a time when Jamie was moderately decent at juggling, but it's been a while. Never hurts to get into practice again, right? Besides, the rats don't go near him while he's armed with relatively pointy missiles.
One, an extremely full stomach;
Two, a round leather ball perfect for playing football - which also glows up in the dark and announces insults in a metallic voice when you kick it in the right fashion (whoever designed it clearly knew something about sports); and
Three, a set of letter building blocks - originally for the purposes of teaching. Although they are currently being used as juggling balls instead.
There was a time when Jamie was moderately decent at juggling, but it's been a while. Never hurts to get into practice again, right? Besides, the rats don't go near him while he's armed with relatively pointy missiles.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 09:40 pmguppy_sandhu[oom: Gathering]
Guppy is sitting by the infirmary, with a notepad and pen.
He's thinking. And he's waiting for Ravin's DNA sample to finish... whatever the machine in the infirmary is doing to analyse it for him.
The doctor is in
Guppy is sitting by the infirmary, with a notepad and pen.
He's thinking. And he's waiting for Ravin's DNA sample to finish... whatever the machine in the infirmary is doing to analyse it for him.
The doctor is in
Bartending
Dec. 7th, 2007 10:19 pmwellthrownstone.livejournal.comGarion is at his post on time even his mun's internet didn't work for some hours because SOMEONE had to rearrange his room and disconnect it but the drink specials take a few minutes. He hasn't had to look at the books he'd studied years ago for some time, but this week, inspiration kept missing him.
Finally, however, he gets something up:
Drink Specials
Blonde's Death
Frothy Redhead
Cactus Berry
...that last one didn't quite fit, but it sounded good.
"Can I get you anything?"
Finally, however, he gets something up:
Blonde's Death
Frothy Redhead
Cactus Berry
...that last one didn't quite fit, but it sounded good.
"Can I get you anything?"
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 11:11 pmaction-antihero.livejournal.comThe door opens and Jack enters, though patrons would be forgiven for not knowing who it is at first. Kind of hard to tell when he's walking in while peeling off a grey, long-sleeved t-shirt, covering his face, while showing off an expanse of chest, stomach, and scar tissue.
Jack pulls the collar of the shirt over his head, blinks, and immediately wrestles the shirt back down. This definitely isn't Michelle's bathroom, and the flecks of paint in his hair and the streak of it across his forehead and cheek will just have to stay there for a little while, as the door shuts behind him. After spending hours painting the nursery in expectation of Baby Almeida's any-day-now arrival, he could sure use some coffee.
Jack pulls the collar of the shirt over his head, blinks, and immediately wrestles the shirt back down. This definitely isn't Michelle's bathroom, and the flecks of paint in his hair and the streak of it across his forehead and cheek will just have to stay there for a little while, as the door shuts behind him. After spending hours painting the nursery in expectation of Baby Almeida's any-day-now arrival, he could sure use some coffee.
(no subject)
Dec. 7th, 2007 11:24 pmcheevy.livejournal.comIf you happen to look out by the lake tonight, if you happen to wander a little ways into the trees, you'll come across a curious sight.
There's a little clearing close to the edge of the lake, separated from the water by a curtain of cattails. In the dappled leaflitter, a long-neglected pile of stones, its purpose and builder a mystery. Miniver found it. It's his now. He can't find any sign that anyone's been near it for a long, long time.
He's in the little clearing now. There's a book balanced atop the construction of stones, which is something like a small alter, but not, the lower stones blackened as if by fire. It may be this was someone's alter once, but whoever built it has long since forgotten it.
He's pacing at random speeds in random circles, practicing spells from the book. It's basic first-year magic, spells that churn the fallen leaves into brief, miniature swirls of wind, change their color, summon tiny lights like brief swarms of fireflies in the treetops, and all to some silent music only Miniver can hear. It's almost a dance, as he strikes poses, twirls about and moves his wand as if it were a sword, and says each spell over and over until it does what it ought to.
He even looks the part of the urban wizard -- the metal in his ear and the ring on his finger catching the light when he casts spells that make it, tromping around the little clearing in jeans and a red silk shirt that's been artistically torn and refastened with safety pins, and a long brown coat that loosely resembles a wizard's robes.
And he hasn't bothered to even TRY to cover the black eye.
There's a little clearing close to the edge of the lake, separated from the water by a curtain of cattails. In the dappled leaflitter, a long-neglected pile of stones, its purpose and builder a mystery. Miniver found it. It's his now. He can't find any sign that anyone's been near it for a long, long time.
He's in the little clearing now. There's a book balanced atop the construction of stones, which is something like a small alter, but not, the lower stones blackened as if by fire. It may be this was someone's alter once, but whoever built it has long since forgotten it.
He's pacing at random speeds in random circles, practicing spells from the book. It's basic first-year magic, spells that churn the fallen leaves into brief, miniature swirls of wind, change their color, summon tiny lights like brief swarms of fireflies in the treetops, and all to some silent music only Miniver can hear. It's almost a dance, as he strikes poses, twirls about and moves his wand as if it were a sword, and says each spell over and over until it does what it ought to.
He even looks the part of the urban wizard -- the metal in his ear and the ring on his finger catching the light when he casts spells that make it, tromping around the little clearing in jeans and a red silk shirt that's been artistically torn and refastened with safety pins, and a long brown coat that loosely resembles a wizard's robes.
And he hasn't bothered to even TRY to cover the black eye.
