milliways_bar | Jan. 23rd, 2008

Jan. 23rd, 2008

burnedbell.livejournal.com

From the wall where the door should be for most people, a little ghost girl came running through, sobbing and looking back over her shoulder.

Mary stopped in the middle of the room with panic painted across her white face as she looked this way and that. Looking for anyone else she knew that might could help. Or anyone that might offer to.

"I need someone to help me! Please! He hurt him and I can't get him back here!"

nullofscience

"Ahrem... Testing, 1...2...3..."

At one of the tables in the bar, the scene was thus... Picture a mostly-green blobby-slug-thing - as in, a null - 'sitting' at the middle of the table, making decidedly vocal noises, as though he were about to sing.

"Me-me-me-meme-meeeee!"

Correction, he was just testing his voice. This apparent null was, in fact, Professor Welman Matrix, of Mainframe. While possessing his intelligence these days, the null of science is become...curious about his null-form. What can it do? How does it differ from that of a normal Sprite's existence? These are the things that intrigue him. This vocal-test was to fully self-examine the range of null 'voice'-tones. For instance, as the null appeared to raise its 'head' a little...

"- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -!"

The sound you have just not heard is audible to all canines, be they from Mainframe or not.

cheevy.livejournal.com

[ooc: Weeeee're gonna pretend the mun got around to posting this on the 22nd proper, instead of the 23rd. Ok? Ok.]

( A Milliways-brand paradox )

So now, after all that, there is a short, bassett-hound-eyed fellow with a mane of magnificent loose black curls and a long trenchcoat sprawled like a cat in a booth bench, munching on a cupcake and looking basically content with life, if perhaps a bit broody, and perhaps if one looks closely his eyes seem a little redder than they ought to be. But besides that, he's perfectly cheerful. Those who know his younger self -- the version usually here, not the child -- have a very good chance of recognizing him if they look for longer than a few moments. Either way, old friends or strangers, he'd welcome company.

[ooc: Because the mun was so late about posting this, just... tag all through Wednesday and pretend it's Tuesday. :P Also, warning in advance for random slowtimes.]

gone_byebye

The plane's leaving out of St. John's pretty much as soon as Ray gets out the door, so he's going to marshal what resources he can in the Bar. If by some freak of chance sanity prevailed in Russia, there's no sense in showing up with a bunch of Milliwaysers in tow, after all. On the other hand, if President Antonov insists on being very very very very stupid in the name of the national reputation, then he's gonna need to have people ready to go at a moment's notice. So, it pays to get ready here before anybody goes anywhere.

Mind you, this is Ray, and he is not a morning person, so just at the moment 'marshaling his resources' involves a bowl of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs, clothing that just barely qualifies as street clothes rather than pyjamas, and Mr. Stay-Puft slippers. Still, at least he's got his stack of notebooks, a map of the magnetic fields of the far north, and some textbooks on hand. Right?

alorn-bear.livejournal.com

There's a brief flash of blue light, and Belar is there with his usual sign on the table:

ANSWERING PRAYERS
BACK IN 15 MINUTES

SECURITY SHIFT STARTS AFTER THAT

He promptly leans back with his eyes shut and lets the amount of time on the sign start decrementing down to zero.

paragonsoldier.livejournal.com

[OOC: Millitimed to late last night.]

Shepard had the nightmare again, or at least a nightmare based on a familiar theme. The vision that the old Prothean beacon downloaded into her head comes up in her dreams with a regularity you could set your watch by. It was not a pleasant vision to begin with, and her own memories and anxieties serve to add gruesome new details to the picture.

Waking up from that in an unfamiliar place, without Kaidan nearby, drew out the terror of the dream into waking and kept it in high gear. Shepard's calmed down, but not nearly enough to go back to sleep. She takes a quick shower, gets dressed and heads downstairs.

Her initial idea is to get some extra layers of clothing and go outside to run herself into physical exhaustion, but a quick look out onto the grounds convinces her that such an endeavor would be inadvisable at best. There's a foot of snow on the ground out there, and more is coming down in heavy curtains that make it almost impossible to see more than five feet ahead. Not that visibility would have been good anyway: it's an overcast night and there would've been little if any light to speak of.

Shepard gets a strong drink from the Bar and retreats to the couch in front of the fireplace, where she sits looking into the flames with a thousand-yard stare.

[Tinytag: Commander Shepard]

lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

Lissar has mounds of durable white cloth surrounding her, piled high as she works on the seams. She's humming along with her iPod as she starts trying to get the masses of cloth to do what she wants them to do.

not-toothfairy.livejournal.com

The elevator door to the Milliways garage slides open on the THX sound played in reverse, more or less. With a grunt Ironhide stalks over to the other side of the elevator and picks up the object he left on the floor there: a GD-XR-1 ruggedized laptop computer. Without a word he stalks over to one of the better lit tables, hooks up a heavily modified mouse with enough buttons to make an air traffic controller whistle, and clicks his way through a sequence of security menus and instructions. A few moments later, the opening sounds and music associated with Civilization IV: Beyond The Sword fill the air.

He'll be playing as Bismarck of the Germans, if anyone happens to glance at the screen. If you can call fumbling through the tutorial with an air of life-or-death grimness playing.

This is srs bizniz.

nothawkingbird.livejournal.com

After this (Will's still struggling with memories and Kate tries to help him as he explains the rest of his sad tale)and this(It continues upstairs where he breaks down, and she offers comfort and pampering. it's Kate/Will, some warning for implied smut), it was a very long night. And today, she had the urge to do a hard practice. So she was out back at the archery range, and firing several arrows. She couldn't help imagining the targets to look like Will's captors and torturers as she fired several bull's eyes, or close to the target. Even with some trick shots. Consciously reminding herself that Avengers don't kill, they don't lower themselves to that level. But it was damn hard not to be tempted sometimes.

peerless_thayet

[OOM: Millitimed to some point last week, Thayet approaches Jon with an idea close to her heart, and thus the Queen's Riders are born.]

oh-wowee.livejournal.com

Don't mind the Rock God over at the table wearing what appears to be the most spiked shoulderpads his roadies could dredge up. Also don't mind the fact that he's covered in what appears to be blood. Or the fact that he's toting a flamethrower.

The fact that he's eating some chocolate cake is the important part. Delicious chocolate cake. He needed something to eat between setting Mordhaus on fire and going and finding some puppies to kick.

Toki's gone berserk, folks.

Have fun with him.

ostro_goth

Teja is out on the training ground by the lakeshore, swinging his axe rhythmically and methodically at a wooden target that is slowly being reduced to splinters.

He turns, swings, varies his steps and vantage points, his angles and the blades of his axe, cloak swirling, hair flying, breath steaming in the icy morning air. It is a fierce dance for one man and one long, bladed weapon, and Teja is superb at it -- due to life-long practice.

the_devi

[OOM: From a night club to...]

...a bar.

At least it was quieter here. Tara slid into an empty booth, put her drink down and rested her head in her hands.

The slow throb above her left eye may be starting to fade. Slightly.

[Tiny Tag: Devi]

candied-rabbit.livejournal.com

((Flashback OOM: An eight year-old bunny gets some news about his mother. Misunderstanding ensues.))

Anyone who's seen Momiji's five year-old self scampering about will perhaps note that the blonde boy bounding in today is, while not nearly as old as the teenager that usually graces the Bar with his presence, noticeably larger. Or, taller, at least - he's still small for his age and thin to the point of being scrawny. Gone, too, are the standard boy's clothes he wore then. They've been replaced by a colorful, girly sweater, along with a bright, pink scarf, with designs of a hopping rabbit knitted onto it.

"Here...?" He skids to stop, looking baffled as he comes in. The confusion doesn't hold him for long, though, and, soon, he's off to the Bar, placing a rather long, rambling order and emptying out a little wallet that he pulls from one pocket.

And so it is that, a few minutes later, there's a delighted rabbit-boy sitting at a table, next to a plate of warm, pink and blue frosted cookies and a sign printed in three languages.

The sign declares, in English, Japanese, and German: "Celebration Cookies!"

It's a very rare entry into the annals of "free Milliways food that won't erase your memory/change your gender/steal your soul/etc."

dr_temperance

It turns out that not only is an organic composting facility an environmentally friendly way to provide potent fertilizer on a large scale, it's also a great place to hide a body.

Brennan has been up to her knees in it (as evidenced by the current state and smell of her coveralls and gumboots) overseeing the recovery. It had taken a long time to comb the facility for the remains, and she's ducked into Milliways for a well-earned coffee break while Cam does the initial analysis of the remaining flesh.

Honestly, the smell hadn't struck her as all that bad at the time. But Brennan is noticing now that she can barely smell the cup of coffee right under her nose.

argyle_princess

Hannah is, in theory, reading Billy Budd, which her English teacher has assigned because they have to have some Melville.

At the moment, however, the book is abandoned on the table in front of her, and she is doodling spirals and hearts and concentric circles in the margins of her notebook, with a brilliant smile on her face.

She is, at the moment, in an exceptionally good mood. And no novella, no matter how boring, is going to change that fact.

guppy_sandhu

For many, it's been a rough week.

So the comfy little circle of chairs might have a few extra cushions. The table has plenty of food; the usual cakes and biscuits, paradoxes, some little sausages on sticks, and so on.

No (usual time) Miniver this week, so Guppy, who just got off work, is still setting things out.

LIFE SUPPORT
Open to all

realmrsreynolds

[OOM: Christmas Eve on Shadow, with Kate and Piotr (Jack to follow later).

It was a full house.

Good day.]

kitai

Kitai backs through the flap/door into Milliways, her arms wrapped around Tavi as she continues kissing him. She's half shrugged out of her tunic already, reaching back with her foot to find the small cot she expects is back there.

When it's not, and when the sound of clinking glasses and scattered conversations make it to her ears, she reluctantly breaks the kiss and looks around.

"Oh, here again?" she says with more amusement than surprise.

Tavi's cheeks go scarlet and he pushes Kitai's tunic back up hastily. "Apparently so."

"The beds are warmer here, at least," the Marat girl says with a smirk, starting to drag him toward the stairs.

Tavi gives a token protest before following, but the smell of all the different foods makes him reconsider. "Maybe a hot meal before the warm bed?" he offers. "It's not as if we don't have the time, now."

Kitai considers picking him up and carrying him to a room, but instead gives a little resigned sigh and gestures toward a table. "As you wish, chala."

[ooc: two pups, two muns, have at!]

adamantiumloner

Logan.

Booth.

Beer.

Feet up, kicking back.

3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com

((OOM. Goldilocks receives a note about Makita's recent loss, and she responds accordingly. Her attempts at verbal grief counseling go poorly. Booze, food and snark work a little better.

Millitimed to January 2nd... or thereabouts.))

the-h-star-r.livejournal.com

Well, look who the Bill Cosby dragged in.

A disoriented Homestar, now clean of Red Flavored Fluffy Puff Translucent Dessert Related Substance.

"Whooooaaaa..."

He collapses on a barstool and spins a little.

And then flops on The Bar.

"I tell ya, babe, that was unspeakable."

She provides a Cold One to the no-armed whitey.