EP...

[sea-in-a-sieve.livejournal.com]

Several brightly coloured vessels approach the shore of the lake. Each one is tied to the one after it, and oddly, all the vessels are between eight and twelve inches across. They are round with shallow sides and do not look like any ordinary kind of boat. Each one has a mast proudly jutting from the centre, although each sail is a scrap of cloth that looks as though it has been salvaged.

If these are odd vessels to sail in, then the occupants of the vessels are even more odd. Each one is small, most not bigger than eight inches high, although there are a few gangly members of the group, as there are also shorter ones.

There are about thirty in total, although they move quickly, sometimes running along the rope between two neighbouring craft, taking care not to touch the water, so it is difficult to acertain a definite number.

They chitter to one another, guiding themsleves to the shore, their blue scales sparkling under the odd light, green hair windswept back from their faces.

They reach the shore and one by one carefully get to dry land to help in the hauling of the crafts, which, now that they are on dry land, look remarkably like sieves, the bottoms being riddled with holes.

They look around themselves and chitter excitedly.

"Where have we come to now?"

(no subject)

[spooky-shrink.livejournal.com]

Malcolm is at the bar, nursing a scotch and a big book of Hippocrates, which Bar assured him dates from about 300 B.C.E., though if that's true, Malcolm has to wonder how this perfect translation into English happened.

Not that he's complaining. It's a lot better than trying to learn Greek first. Even if he does know someone who could help him out with that.

(no subject)

[badinlatin]

[OOM: Simon does dishes; Mal talks.

Simon also talks; Mal does not also do dishes.

What? Captain's prerogative.]

(no subject)

[gotham-knocking.livejournal.com]

Knox steps into the Bar, looking dappled and drowsy and ready for a beer. How come? Because he just got home from one of those things that never, ever happens in Gotham: a free concert in Robinson Park, apparently held without incident. He still can't understand what possessed Paul Simon - born in Gotham, but raised with his buddy Art Garfunkel in Metropolis - to hold a free concert in Gotham. But tonight, Rhymin' Simon sang, Gotham swayed, and everyone (upwards of 400,000) seems to have had a good time.

Which means Knox needs to write up the night for a special column for tomorrow's paper. As well as that beer, since the night was just a bit steamy (as usual). And if he's humming "Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard," don't be surprised.

[ooc: inspired, of course, by this]

(no subject)

[flail_victoria]

And then part of the wall turns into a wooden door, it has bullet holes in it. The door opens on what looks like hell. The mansion behind the gore covered girl is littered with debree and human bodies. The report of a gun can be heard as well as the groans of those that are zombies and dying.

Seras stepped through and looked back at the carnage. He boots covered in brain matter and her eyes are still red from her frenzy.

She looked like she might cry.

(OOC Slowtime as the mun has to run out the door.)

(tiny tag: Seras Victoria)

(no subject)

[firstcptjack.livejournal.com]

Jack has a book with him in case it's slow (today it's Hero With a Thousand faces) and takes a moment to ponder the specials:

Today's Specials
Tequila Sunrise
Tequila Mockingbird
the Perfect Margerita

"Welcome to Happy Hour. What can I get you?"


[tiny tags: Maj. Evan Lorne]

(no subject)

[badinlatin]

[OOM: The captain you know and love sometimes is less than sensical.

But does that apply to everyone?]

The door to the bar at the end of the 'verse opens, just like doors do. What's different, here, is who ends up walking in: well groomed, light slacks and jacket and tie. Salt-and-pepper hair insinuates that the dark hair would be close to black; here it's actually more towards a light brown. The eyes in the man's expression, though -- clear blue and sharp as hell.

The old man's steps -- a trio of noises, including the tap of a canetip against the floor -- are heavy, and as soon as he realizes this is nowhere near where he'd planned to be, the cane flies up through his fist. (He was otherwise unarmed, today.)

The confusion evident in the man's stance and expression subsides.

"Oh my god. Milliways."

Maybe he isn't so different.

[OOC: Please refer to impending backroom post for details.]

[Also OOC: Slowtime. :D :D :D There will be definitely more entrance posts, but if you prefer to tag here I will be picking up tags tomorrow.]

(no subject)

[tom-lefroy.livejournal.com]

[OOM: Tom is forced to go on a walk, which proves to be a lot more interesting than he expected.]

(no subject)

[graycloakdlight.livejournal.com]

Luccio's outside, with a flashlight and a picnic basket, as well as her usual gear(i.e., weapons).
Yes, she has a room here, and it's where she usually spends her evenings.
Not this one. The weather's warm enough for camping out, so she will this once. There's no sign of rain being imminent.

The demon bunnies aren't going to bother her. She can manage a ward-off against those; they're lightweights, compared to Red Court. And werewolves won't be a concern for a couple more days.

The spot she picks is out of the bar's line of sight. She clears a patch of ground for a campfire. Soon, said fire's burning. She sits, seeming to stare into the flames and not pay attention to anything else.

(no subject)

[shadowsusannah.livejournal.com]

[Letters:

Moiraine

Kaylee

River

X-23]

(no subject)

[m-antonivs.livejournal.com]

Mark Antony is seated on a couch by the fire, brooding over a cup of wine as he watches the flames. He has taken off his fur cloak, as it is much too warm for that here, but he still wears his fine leather armor--it helps to hide the ravages of the starvation-in-defeat diet he and his men have been enduring since Mutina.

There has to be a way. A way that will not cost him many more of his men than he has already lost, and that will not wind up with his own death.

Well, imminent death. No one lives forever.

He would not mind company, especially company bringing drinks.

(no subject)

[cloakandclaw]

He's... been in better moods before, but that's nothing unusual. For the past thirty-two years, he's been in a perpetual bad mood and while he feels it's perfectly reasonable, he refuses to justify it that way. That would be akin to forgiving himself his moods, and he's not ready to allow that. In the dark of night when he's at his most honest with himself, he revisits everything: his past, his actions, his decisions. Despite those decisions that weren't his, there are still things he could have done differently. More effectively, more efficiently, more in line with his Shin-Ra training. And so those things also count as failures, in the grand tally of everything at which he's failed.

By the light of day, he'd like to be able to say that the things that weigh on him seem less gloomy but... that would be a lie, and while he's perfectly capable of lying to others, he'd rather not do it to himself. Still, there are small and unexpected kindnesses: a smile from a friend, a pleasant nod from a stranger, a curious lack of Chaos struggling for dominance, a bed of living plants growing around the tree he picked on Lucrecia's hastily-drawn map over breakfast that day.

If they're hers, then he's duty-bound to guard them and so he does, sitting near them on the ground under the tree. He's not sure what he can do for these stalks he assumes -- given the way she decorated his room -- will grow into flowers, but he'll do what he can.



[Tag: Seras Victoria, Lucrecia Crescent]

(no subject)

[hellsingsdog.livejournal.com]

(OOC: this Alucard is from an earlier time then the one that is usually in Bar and is only here temporarily. This Alucard will not recall previous converstions but the future Alucard will recall these ones)

Seras Victoria opened the door and walked through, behind her a monsterous beast with thousands of eye enters. Behind him the sound of a revolver shot and he closes the door. Shifting back into his human form. Wearing the usual red victorian suit and fedora Alucard stands. He converses with Victoria briefly before venturing further into this place his creation has been disapearing to.

(no subject)

[immortalthief]

 Amanda is sitting watching the front door. Yes the door that is there, but it isn't her door she's interested in, no rather she is waiting for a friend to arrive. She isn't really she which one she just knows that she needs one of her friends. 

This time she isn't even pretending to knitt, no she is just staring, no longer is she in her modern day clothes, no now she is back wearing her potatoe sack with sash (see icon). There may be a bit more dirt on her face.

(no subject)

[baron-ether.livejournal.com]

Since Baron Ether discovered the bar a few days before, he's been feeling confident, inspired, and devilish.

Today, in a long purple frock and trousers, a silk shirt, his tall hat, and carrying his omnipresent large-handled cane, Baron Ether strolls in through the door with a smile under his handle-bar mustache.

It's time to start networking. Finding sources, like minds, allies and lackeys.

He sits at a stool at the main bar, his smile charming and handsome and most importantly, welcoming.

[tiny tag: Baron Ether]

(no subject)

[acts_of_gord]

[OOM: The possible fate of those left behind is preying on Gordon's mind.]

If Gordon is a little paler, a little shakier, than usual as he comes down the stairs tonight, he's got good reason. Not that he intends to share it with anyone; he's just got a reason.

He'll be trying very, very hard to forget about it by working on the weapons he promised Fury. This probably won't work. But it's nice that he thinks it'll make a difference.


[tinytag: Gordon Freeman]

(no subject)

[hadyougoing]

So, it's been like almost a week? And Ava's one abortive search for the laundry room ended in the parking garage, of all places. (How does anybody get a car out here?)

Anyway, some new clothes are most definitely in order. Which means that Ava, currently at the Bar, has a very serious question on her hands.



... If the Bar hands out clothes, does it do Dolce & Gabbana?

(Hey, she's heard people who are stuck here can get help with their tab. May as well go for broke.)

(no subject)

[father-sky.livejournal.com]

[oom: In 2008, Paul and Ouranos go apartment shopping in the city. Shockingly, they find a place on the first day of the search!]

[tinytag; Paul Varjack, Ouranos]

(no subject)

[vyvyan]

Vyvyan is over by the wall where the door is normally, going along it and whacking it hard with his fist.

Occasionally, when he finds a bit that sounds more hollow, he repeats with his head, but seems to have little success.

He's never come across walls that refuse to break when he smashes into them, and he's beginning to get a bit of a headache.

[tinytag: Vyvyan]

(no subject)

[guppy_sandhu]

Walk-in clinic
The doctor is in

Guppy is sitting by the infirmary, keeping an eye on his surroundings.

He wishes the whole issue with Brand would be over, partially so he could do some time cheating and bring Ani in for a bit, but mainly because he's worried for the safety for his friends and himself.

He's got a couple of small mirrors, which he occasionally uses to look behind with.

OOM: Family Matters

[alertcommando]

[[ Some things never change ]]

[ Warning for highly emotional and tense situations ]






[ Tanya Adams ]

(no subject)

[alertcommando]

The door swings open, allowing Tanya to walk in. She is wearing her formal uniform, jacket still undone, and her expression is of anger. Murderous anger.

To make it more clear, she has one of her pistols drawn, as if ready to shoot someone.

Milliways caught her at the right moment to prevent a disaster. Tanya's expression goes from anger to shock, then dissolves into a frown. The gun is re-holstered, and she walks to the counter muttering to herself.




[ Tanya Adams ]

(no subject)

[will_scarlett]

Mal is one of those men in the Bar that Will just respects so seeing him grey and of an age that's rare in Nottingham was strange.

So he's sitting at the Bar drinking ale and eating a sandwich as he thinks of where he might be when there's grey in his red hair.

(no subject)

[cpd-blackkitten.livejournal.com]

It's her office at the station this time that brings her to Milliways.

Karrin had been ready to write off the last time as an exhaustion-induced reverie, but that apparently isn't the case.

"God, not again," she mutters.