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Mar. 21st, 2008 12:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
river_meimei[OOM: Several days ago, not long after this, River and Simon discuss the education of one Mary Lennox.]
Mar. 21st, 2008
river_meimei
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Mar. 21st, 2008 05:15 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
lostworldhunter.livejournal.com[OOM: Just when things start looking up, they take a nasty turn for the worse.]
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Mar. 21st, 2008 11:50 amlonglonghairToday her dress is blue. She even has a little handbag, and the scissors inside appear to be made of gold, or gold plated. Interesting. She's kind of enjoying the change of attire around here...centuries of long skirts, and then one day it became passe; it's a shame.
She tucks the strings of the purse into the belt on her dress, and takes a seat that the bar and orders a coffee and a Gotham Newspaper.
Care to join her?
[[ooc: Had to run out unecpectedly. Will answer all tags upon return!]] Back!
She tucks the strings of the purse into the belt on her dress, and takes a seat that the bar and orders a coffee and a Gotham Newspaper.
Care to join her?
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 02:46 pmlissla-lissar.livejournal.comOOM: Memory.
At least there is no screwing around today. Lissar enters and is in the vaguely-military white uniform thing that she managed the last time she came in rather than another dress. After the trio of breakdowns of the last three days she would probably simply have walked out again. After a long run around the lake she stands and stares up at the mountains.
They aren't her mountain. This is mere fact. They aren't her mountain...but it might be time to climb again.
At least there is no screwing around today. Lissar enters and is in the vaguely-military white uniform thing that she managed the last time she came in rather than another dress. After the trio of breakdowns of the last three days she would probably simply have walked out again. After a long run around the lake she stands and stares up at the mountains.
They aren't her mountain. This is mere fact. They aren't her mountain...but it might be time to climb again.
First...Entrance?
Mar. 21st, 2008 05:43 pmdevil-blue-eyes.livejournal.com[OOM: The battle may be lost, but the war isn't over yet]
The sky had taken on a slightly sudden chill to it on the process of falling through it. Maybe the elevation change from where on Kolvir he had taken that slippery little step down to whatever portion of the mountain he had just gotten to next. He could hardly remember or really tell with everything flying by. In a way he had to laugh at the whole scene- he just hoped that his brother had managed to get to the top.
Passing through another cloud Bleys clutched the deck closer to his chest as he felt the sudden tingle of something approaching. He was expecting a rather nasty landing on the ground quite wondering if he'd make some sort of impression upon impact instead feeling the sudden jolt of cold water sucking him deeper. Somehow, he wasn't sure when or how he had managed it after what seemed a lifetime, the Prince of Amber found himself resting on his back on the shore of a lake. The wather was chilly warm with the first hints of spring while it had been fall back in Amber. Somehow he had managed to find another Shadow? or was this Heaven?
Give him a couple of hours and he might have the answer. But for not all he wanted to do was sleep...
[tinytag: Bleys of Amber]
The sky had taken on a slightly sudden chill to it on the process of falling through it. Maybe the elevation change from where on Kolvir he had taken that slippery little step down to whatever portion of the mountain he had just gotten to next. He could hardly remember or really tell with everything flying by. In a way he had to laugh at the whole scene- he just hoped that his brother had managed to get to the top.
Passing through another cloud Bleys clutched the deck closer to his chest as he felt the sudden tingle of something approaching. He was expecting a rather nasty landing on the ground quite wondering if he'd make some sort of impression upon impact instead feeling the sudden jolt of cold water sucking him deeper. Somehow, he wasn't sure when or how he had managed it after what seemed a lifetime, the Prince of Amber found himself resting on his back on the shore of a lake. The wather was chilly warm with the first hints of spring while it had been fall back in Amber. Somehow he had managed to find another Shadow? or was this Heaven?
Give him a couple of hours and he might have the answer. But for not all he wanted to do was sleep...
[tinytag: Bleys of Amber]
first entrance x 3
Mar. 21st, 2008 06:35 pmsrsdrinker.livejournal.comFirst impressions are what matter most, in any society, situation, or upon the first meeting of a stranger. You have no idea who it is that you are about to come into contact with, and when image is everything, it is crucial to look your best and project the image of dignity, power, and grace.
The door flies open with a loud sound as it bangs on the hinges against the wall.
First through is a man in a fine blue tunic, pistol drawn, and scarf wrapped around his head to hold back his hair. He trips and with a shout, tumbles to the ground.
Close behind him is another man, sword drawn and shouting, also dressed in a fine blue tunic, who trips over the first and curses upon hitting the floor and his friend.
And closer still, behind him, is a third man, dressed the same as the two before him. Who trips over the first two and lands with a thud atop the others.
There is a moment of silence, before Aramis speaks, "...Athos...why is there..."
Athos lifts his head and eyes the surroundings, then adds, "...a tavern in the..."
And both go flying off to either side, as the man beneath stands up, excitedly and without hesitation. "...tavern?!"
"Thank you, Porthos," Athos grumbles, from where he's landed a distance away. Aramis rights himself and dusts off his tunic, then offers a hand to his fellow Musketeer to stand. Once Athos has straightened his own tunic, and Porthos has already most likely winked at a 'fine wench', the three of them stand in the doorway and look around.
"...something tells me this is not a stable," Aramis murmurs.
Athos still has his sword drawn cautiously. (They were chasing an enemy, after all.) "Something tells me you're right, Aramis."
It's Porthos who just stares, wide eyed and jaw slacked before finally managing to speak. "It's like...heaven. Only better."
Welcome to Milliways, gentlemen.
[OOC: All for one, and one for all!All three musketeers and their muns are here. Tag one, tag all, who knows who you'll get in return! Due to timezones and RL, only Athos remains, but is still open to tags. This is about five years before the canon, which is the 1993 Disney film (plus a bit of the books for details).]
The door flies open with a loud sound as it bangs on the hinges against the wall.
First through is a man in a fine blue tunic, pistol drawn, and scarf wrapped around his head to hold back his hair. He trips and with a shout, tumbles to the ground.
Close behind him is another man, sword drawn and shouting, also dressed in a fine blue tunic, who trips over the first and curses upon hitting the floor and his friend.
And closer still, behind him, is a third man, dressed the same as the two before him. Who trips over the first two and lands with a thud atop the others.
There is a moment of silence, before Aramis speaks, "...Athos...why is there..."
Athos lifts his head and eyes the surroundings, then adds, "...a tavern in the..."
And both go flying off to either side, as the man beneath stands up, excitedly and without hesitation. "...tavern?!"
"Thank you, Porthos," Athos grumbles, from where he's landed a distance away. Aramis rights himself and dusts off his tunic, then offers a hand to his fellow Musketeer to stand. Once Athos has straightened his own tunic, and Porthos has already most likely winked at a 'fine wench', the three of them stand in the doorway and look around.
"...something tells me this is not a stable," Aramis murmurs.
Athos still has his sword drawn cautiously. (They were chasing an enemy, after all.) "Something tells me you're right, Aramis."
It's Porthos who just stares, wide eyed and jaw slacked before finally managing to speak. "It's like...heaven. Only better."
Welcome to Milliways, gentlemen.
[OOC: All for one, and one for all!
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 08:14 pmostro_goth[[OOM: Chasing through moonlit woods -- but whom?]]
There is a slightly hung-overGoth Hussar in the bar. He is sitting by the fireplace, with a small cup of strong black coffee (for once), and a large jug of cold water; if asked, he will blame his glum state on his general disposition.
But in truth, Teja has been introduced to the Atlantean last night.-
[[OOC: Only very mild warnings on the OOM, for very mild hints of nudity and sensual desire. Additional disclaimer at the bottom of the OOM.]]
There is a slightly hung-over
But in truth, Teja has been introduced to the Atlantean last night.-
[[OOC: Only very mild warnings on the OOM, for very mild hints of nudity and sensual desire. Additional disclaimer at the bottom of the OOM.]]
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 08:48 pmfiery_ring[oom: Life turned the right way up]
The door opens, and a girl with wild black curly hair peeps around.
Her eyes widen. But she heads in anyway. Maybe this is the staff room or something...
Her school uniform is a simple dress, and barely changes except to lengthen a little. She looks around, confused, but not particularly frightened.
[tinytag: Carlotta Brown]
The door opens, and a girl with wild black curly hair peeps around.
Her eyes widen. But she heads in anyway. Maybe this is the staff room or something...
Her school uniform is a simple dress, and barely changes except to lengthen a little. She looks around, confused, but not particularly frightened.
[tinytag: Carlotta Brown]
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 09:09 pmstuck-mynock.livejournal.comFriday Freeze.
Fuquay Friday Night.
Fridays Frozen Mudslide.
Atton's at the bar, looking slightly bored as he cleans glasses. They're already clean, it's just that he's gathered from various people that cleaning glasses is what bartenders are supposed to do while they wait.
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 09:13 pmguppy_sandhuWalk-in clinic
The doctor is in
Guppy has a twelve week old baby on his lap, tea on the table, and a generally content expression.
At present, he's trying to get her to smile for his phone camera.
The doctor is in
Guppy has a twelve week old baby on his lap, tea on the table, and a generally content expression.
At present, he's trying to get her to smile for his phone camera.
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 09:18 pmabar-starclog.livejournal.comOther than a quick trip home to make sure Whistler had some idea of what the bar's up to this time, Carl's been upstairs.
Hey, it's not every day your laptop turns into a Babbage engine, and he's finally recovered from the shock enough to have a go at the thing. There's the historical component to the whole thing, yes, but it's just as much his usual 'see how much I can do with a new system' determination.
For now, though, he's downstairs, having a sandwich and writing down some notes about the experience. At least the steampunk weirdness is leaving his little black book alone.
Hey, it's not every day your laptop turns into a Babbage engine, and he's finally recovered from the shock enough to have a go at the thing. There's the historical component to the whole thing, yes, but it's just as much his usual 'see how much I can do with a new system' determination.
For now, though, he's downstairs, having a sandwich and writing down some notes about the experience. At least the steampunk weirdness is leaving his little black book alone.
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 11:11 pmlisten-to-the.livejournal.comCoalhouse returns to the bar tonight, returning, several months belatedly, the books loaned to him in November. He considers returning to his room, afterwards, but finds himself drawn to the piano. It, too, has felt the effects of the sorcery effecting the bar, and there's very little to distinguish it from the dozens (hundreds?) of pianos he played at in his life.
A conversation only a night or two ago had lit a spark; he knows all about sparks.
(I know how to blow things up.)
He shrugs off his jacket, draping it across a nearby chair, and seats himself at the bench, hitching a suspender up as he does. His hat he sets on the pianotop. (Upside-down, a bowl to catch what it may; a flip of his wrist that is long-ingrained habit.)
He doesn't play; but he stares at the keys as if there's a message hidden in the pattern, the narrow black keys jumbled amidst the white. The expression in his face is hard to look at; sorrow and longing and fear.
A conversation only a night or two ago had lit a spark; he knows all about sparks.
(I know how to blow things up.)
He shrugs off his jacket, draping it across a nearby chair, and seats himself at the bench, hitching a suspender up as he does. His hat he sets on the pianotop. (Upside-down, a bowl to catch what it may; a flip of his wrist that is long-ingrained habit.)
He doesn't play; but he stares at the keys as if there's a message hidden in the pattern, the narrow black keys jumbled amidst the white. The expression in his face is hard to look at; sorrow and longing and fear.
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 11:28 pmsqueakersqueak.livejournal.comYou know, Kronk's not one huuuuuundred percent sure he's allowed to be using the kitchen. But he picked up his own ingredients at the Bar, so really all he's borrowing is the space!
Besides. Some nights are just really good nights for s'mores. Who doesn't love chocolatey, marshmallowy goodness?
Therefore: Kronk in the kitchen, decked out in a chef's hat and apron. He is working on an ever-growing pile of s'mores, some of which may or may not feature bonus gourmet ingredients like cinnamon, cayenne pepper, and hazelnuts.
He could probably be persuaded to share.
Besides. Some nights are just really good nights for s'mores. Who doesn't love chocolatey, marshmallowy goodness?
Therefore: Kronk in the kitchen, decked out in a chef's hat and apron. He is working on an ever-growing pile of s'mores, some of which may or may not feature bonus gourmet ingredients like cinnamon, cayenne pepper, and hazelnuts.
He could probably be persuaded to share.
(no subject)
Mar. 21st, 2008 11:42 pmriver_meimeiWhen River steps through the door, she's wearing her brown coat over a light sundress, and biking shorts and boots.
A moment later, there's a lot more... well, everything. The skirt's abruptly vanished into trousers like a cross between leggings and military trousers, and a blouse of the same yellow the dress used to be, and a heavily brocaded vest not unlike one of Simon's old fancy-dress ones. There are buttons and chains and buckles scattered here and there, although not all of them seem to have a purpose. The boots and coat have fared even better, or perhaps even worse; she's still wearing a long brown coat and tall black boots, but these now have straps and brass buckles everywhere, and discreet bits of lacing, and gears set into the heels of her boots for no apparent purpose, and there may be even more random objects in her pockets than usual. There are goggles dangling around her neck.
River blinks down at herself, and then out at the room, more than a little bemused.
A moment later, there's a lot more... well, everything. The skirt's abruptly vanished into trousers like a cross between leggings and military trousers, and a blouse of the same yellow the dress used to be, and a heavily brocaded vest not unlike one of Simon's old fancy-dress ones. There are buttons and chains and buckles scattered here and there, although not all of them seem to have a purpose. The boots and coat have fared even better, or perhaps even worse; she's still wearing a long brown coat and tall black boots, but these now have straps and brass buckles everywhere, and discreet bits of lacing, and gears set into the heels of her boots for no apparent purpose, and there may be even more random objects in her pockets than usual. There are goggles dangling around her neck.
River blinks down at herself, and then out at the room, more than a little bemused.
