milliways_bar | Apr. 16th, 2008

Apr. 16th, 2008

milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com

Wells currently stinks of fire and fuel and something not unlike burning hair. He's been doing farriery today. Olivia, the Percheron from two farms down, needed her feet trimmed and then re-shod, and they're the size of fucking dinner plates. It takes work dealing with a horse that big. The temptation to growl until it goes into submission or flees is something awful.

But now he's here, and he can get a drink and relax. It's all good.

yoyo-fanatic.livejournal.com

Milliways is humming with it's usual activity - people from all sorts of places and times gathered in one area. All with their own energy and their own voices. Bridget is sitting on a couch, eyes half closed, with his head tipped to one side. He's listening, for what, he hasn't quite figured out.

Kanon has explained tuning to him, or. He tried to, or he did, even now, Bridget isn't very sure. But Akito once told him you can hear a sound from everything if you're listening. So, while he waits for Kanon, Bridget is trying to listen.

And he's trying really hard, too!

[Plotlocked! Sorry!]

nothawkingbird.livejournal.com

(OOM: "It's all right, darling,
We can do this together.
It's all right, darling,
I can think of nothing better.....

Am I yours? Are you mine?
We'll find all we're meant to find.
In your life, in my life,
There are secrets too dark
To let out, to let go of,
To get over."

A hard practice and much need silliness and love to combat the encroaching darkness. Usual warnings apply for a couple in love)

Current Music: Kate Bush - Be Kind to My Mistakes

mycursedface

Today is...not a good day. Last night hadn't been a good night, either, the kind with nightmares and crying and insomnia from mightnight until now, but today is not a good day.

It happens.

So the Gorgon is outside on a rock, knees hugged to her chest and looking out over the lake. Inside is...well, she'll work up to going back inside. At some point. It's easier to breathe outside, out in the sun and the gentle breeze.

Much easier.

Not that she would be be adverse to company. As long as they didn't want a hug.

irredeemableant.livejournal.com

Eric sits at the bar, eating a chocolate chip cookie. He's not sure why the bar gave him cookies and milk when he asked for a snack, but he takes it in stride.

He's prepping himself, mentally. As much as he hates it, he probably should head back out the door soon.

[tiny tag: Eric O'Grady]

watching_you

Veronica enters the bar without intending to, today, which calls for some quick thinking.

She doesn't dive under a table this time – no, she learned that lesson the hard way, and has the scuffed knees to show for it. Instead she decides to tuck her stack of mail under her arm and go for the rafters.

... Now, one might think that spending time in the rafters is easy, considering the percentage of the bar's population that seems to spend most of its time up here. That assumption would be wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

This is not to say that Veronica doesn't make it, eventually. She does. But once in place she quickly decides that for the sake of everyone below, she should probably do her best to sit very, very still.

So: low-impact activities today.

Like opening mail.

[tinytag: assassin]

were-needed.livejournal.com

A large, tied-up sack is thrown into the bar.

It makes an 'Oof' sound as it lands.

A few moments later, a very tiny periscope nudges its way out between the rope at the top and peers around. It disappears back into the sack.

Then the sack rolls over towards the bar and, with some difficulty, mounts a barstool.

After a few mumbled instructions, the sack is provided with a small knife. Part of the sack reaches and grabs onto it after a few false starts, then attempts to cut the rope at the top.

A little help, anyone?

mit-probie.livejournal.com

It's a very bad day. When the door to the Bar opens McGee walks in bandaged from a dog attack.

"Oh, not now" he sounds exasperated at seeing the bar but the door has closed and when he tries to open the door and it's locked. With a deep sigh he moves to the bar and orders a coffee.

Looking around the bar his eyes keep falling back on the door. His head hanging low after Abby's scolding.

acts_of_gord

[OOM: Best. Safety. Orientation. Ever.]

Today was a good day at Black Mesa- a very good day. It shows. Gordon's got an air of definite satisfaction about him as he steps into Milliways, this time from somewhere in the New Mexico desert with the stars just coming out overhead. The Bar gets an only mildly surprised look; there's very little that could dent his mood right now. And, well, what better place to celebrate? The facility has its own recreational areas, even down to a couple with liquor licenses, but this place has really good beer.

He's just going to find himself a place to sit for a while and go over the day's events while he waits for the animatrons to bring his order. Oh, and for the record, he's still in the Why Yes, It Is My First Day At A New Job outfit he started out in this morning. Nerd in a business suit, dead ahead.

[tinytag: Gordon Freeman]

candied-rabbit.livejournal.com

Momiji, when he last left Milliways, honestly intended to spend a good, long time just relaxing and enjoying some time at home. Mostly because there was a decidedly large python chasing him at the time.

It turns out, though, that, after about a month of hanging out in Bar, suddenly being faced with a quiet day at home on the Sohma compound can be...well, somewhat lonely.

As such, there's a rabbit-boy in, tonight, sitting playfully on top of the table at one of the Bar's booths, wearing his schoolgirl's uniform and holding his violin. He's playing energetically, a little booklet with music written out sitting next to him, and a big smile on his face - it's nice to be able to play with people around.

[tinytags: assassin!]

hathsinsurvivor.livejournal.com

Kelsier is sitting at a table, a solid block of whiteish looking small bar of ore on the table in front of him. He's got an odd array of vials sorted out, and a small box as well. As he sits there, he's working on filing at a bar of what appears to be copper, very carefully collecting the flakes that pile up in front of him on a sheet of clean paper.

He seems rather absorbed in his work.

scurlock

[oom: an afternoon's work]

When Doc makes his way back into the bar from the lake door, he heads upstairs to get himself a shower and change of clothes, before he heads downstairs again and settles at the bar to write a note. Soon after that, said note is tacked to the bulletin board:

Stablehands Wanted

Looking to hire a handful of patrons interested in working in the stables, to help with feeding, grooming, cleaning, exercising, and light repair work as needed. Some experience would be nice but not required -- I'll teach people if they'd like to learn basic care of horses and tack.

If interested, leave a note with Bar with your name and a good time to meet to talk, or come talk to me in person if I'm around. Bar can point you in the right direction.

-- Josiah 'Doc' Scurlock

That done, he settles on his stool and orders a glass of whisky on the rocks, and flips slowly through his journal, writing things here or there. Totally botherable -- by anyone, regardless of if it is related to the stables or not.

[ooc: If you want to have your pup leave a note for him or talk to him in person, either works for me. If you need to ping, hit up young scurlock if you have any questions. Open to anyone! It's been awhile since I've had an EP and am itching to play...]

ostro_goth

Teja is outside this morning; but he is not sparring with his droid, or otherwise training at weapons, but sitting on a large rock by the lake and playing -- not his harp, but his guitar, for once.

He is looking up at the sky as he does so, watching the clouds wandering by and asking himself where those come from and go to, as this little world is so very limited.

But he is not brooding so much that company would not be welcome.

burn-to-grow.livejournal.com

[In the world of Air Trek, there are winners and there are losers. It's all a matter of which side you choose to be on. It has nothing to do with the emblems you take, and everything to do with what choices you make.]

When the door opens into Milliways today, the sounds of raucous celebration can be heard in the background, some sort of afterparty of the damned from the way at least one person keeps howling. (Yoshitsune, Kazu notes for the future, is a fucking terrible drunk.)

Still, Kazu is smiling, his eyes bright and sure in a way they haven't been for ages, as he steps through the door, someone's hand clutched in his. "C'mon," he's saying, "this place is too noisy. Let's go find somewhere ... more ... quiet?"

He trails off, obviously, because he realizes where he's just opened a door to.

"Great."

[tinytags: kazu mikura ; adachi emiri]

[OOC: Assume all tags to this post take place after the one between

burn_to_grow and

airegular_girl; tags will be responded to with posting order of Kazu first, Emiri second. Have at!

&; Kazu-mun must now bid you all a fond farewell, for sleep has claimed him. Slowtime prevails. *clonk*]

seewhatyoumean.livejournal.com

While Cass has been spending most of her in-bar time these days in uniform and in the rafters, today she's in civilian clothes and sitting at the bar. Usually this would mean she was working her way through two or three thousand calories of food, but today she's simply sipping absently from a glass of water.

She's gotten a new assignment, and this one is going to require some thought.

[tinytag: Assassins]

justdidntseeit

Kate’s tucked in a corner booth, pencil in one hand, pen stuck behind her ear, head bent over some paperwork.

She’s been there for a couple of hours now with a glass of riesling.

But there’s a curious thing that happens each time she takes a sip of wine — as soon as she sets it back on the table, the glass fills up again.

She’s distracted, so she hasn’t noticed this particular phenomenon.

She is wondering when it got so warm in the bar, though.

landlesslord

Sometime last night Guy eventually finished that one mug of ale that kept him company for most of the evening. Once that one was gone, there was another and another and another and then he moved onto the wine. There was a lot of wine.

At some point, it occurred to him that if he drank enough, perhaps he would actually drown and then he wouldn't feel so awful inside anymore. Not so...filled with searing agony.

About two hours ago, he woke up, wondered briefly where he was and what an axe was doing embedded in his skull and passed out again.

Guy has managed, with some difficulty, to drag himself from his room and is sprawled in the darkest booth he could get to. He smells a bit like a brewery. A brewery made of leather.

He looks terrible to say the least. And there appears to be more wine on the menu.

guppy_sandhu

[ooc: Life support still open

oom: The other hazard of being a medic]

Guppy is out back, drink in hand, watching the lake.

He's had a couple, though not enough to be properly drunk. Not worried, a little sad. Sometimes he just wants to think less.