Oct. 1st, 2008
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 12:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wheatencrownDemeter enters with her head down and a black shawl over her head as she moves to the fire.
She knows this is Milliways, but doesn't care, she didn't think she was ready for people yet and her feet are mud caked as she watches the flames.
Tiny tag: Demeter
She knows this is Milliways, but doesn't care, she didn't think she was ready for people yet and her feet are mud caked as she watches the flames.
Tiny tag: Demeter
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 02:32 amriver_meimei[OOM: Two days ago, immediately after an encounter with Wilbur Whately, Duo calms River down.]
OOM: The Path of Vengeance
Oct. 1st, 2008 09:53 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
redcatalina.livejournal.com[[ Venice, September 30th, 1523 - New clues on the whereabouts of her enemy... ]]
[ Catalina Erantzo ]
[ Catalina Erantzo ]
It's been a while...
Oct. 1st, 2008 09:55 amautocommander.livejournal.comBut with that odd noise, Optimus Prime enters Milliways. There's something odd, though: he seems a bit nervous. He's got a very wide briefcase in one hand, which he sets down on a table.
The table may, in fact, have creaked a little.
His next stop is the bar, where he lays his hand gently on the Bar (no tapping for him), and says, "One Atlantean, please."
Getting the glass, he goes back to the table, sits in a chair, and contemplates both the briefcase and the glass of liquid.
The table may, in fact, have creaked a little.
His next stop is the bar, where he lays his hand gently on the Bar (no tapping for him), and says, "One Atlantean, please."
Getting the glass, he goes back to the table, sits in a chair, and contemplates both the briefcase and the glass of liquid.
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 10:24 amgone_byebye[oom: October in New York: it starts...]
Ray is not and has never been an advocate of early morning drinking. Fortunately, Ovaltine does not count. "Bar?" Ray says as he ducks through the door. "Just how big of a mug can you give me today?"
From the look of things, the Tasmanian devil-printed mug holds four cups' worth of the stuff.
"Thank you. Keep it coming? I'm going to need it. Oh, and, um, the usual cereal? But with marshmallows? Please?"
Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs can't solve everything, but he sure as heck intends to try them anyway.
Ray is not and has never been an advocate of early morning drinking. Fortunately, Ovaltine does not count. "Bar?" Ray says as he ducks through the door. "Just how big of a mug can you give me today?"
From the look of things, the Tasmanian devil-printed mug holds four cups' worth of the stuff.
"Thank you. Keep it coming? I'm going to need it. Oh, and, um, the usual cereal? But with marshmallows? Please?"
Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs can't solve everything, but he sure as heck intends to try them anyway.
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 11:04 amsliceitwithwind.livejournal.comXaldin walks above the back grounds of Milliways, between eddies and swirls of wind that hold up bits of electrical equipment. He's fussing with something that looks a little bit like a DS, switching tools as he paces past the one he wants next.
[Wild is the tag: Xaldin]
[Wild is the tag: Xaldin]
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 11:57 amscurlockIt had been an interesting morning.
After all, it wasn't everyday he came across a noble steed standing in the middle of the stable staring at him expectantly (or perhaps indignantly, as there was obviously no way said horse could possibly be responsible for the mess, the missing feed, the chewed on leather glove...and Doc was obviously wrong to assume such a thing) with saddle and stirrups still in place.
With several choice words in regards to who whoever would just allow such a fine white horse (though why anyone would want a white horse is still beyond him, given the fact that white would stick out like a flashing target against brown earth and sand) to wander about, he sets about finding a stall, feeding and watering all of the stock, cleaning up the disaster area and reorganizing everything on his desk (which was when he had found the missing glove covered in teeth marks and saliva, and there were more choice words to be heard) to how he had it.
Now he is back in the bar (and even through it's already afternoon and lunch should be what he gets) he asks Bar for breakfast. She's provided him a box of cereal, a bowl, spoon, and milk.
There is also a piece of cardboard sitting next to him, propped up against the box, and a polaroid photo of a very dashing (who knew horses could be dashing?) white horse taped to it. Four words: Is this your horse?
Mmm. Chocolate flavored cereal with chocolate flavored marshmallows. If he eats enough, we think he might be willing to let go of the morning's events.
[edit: 8:30 PST -- watching baseball, but here and accepting tags.]
After all, it wasn't everyday he came across a noble steed standing in the middle of the stable staring at him expectantly (or perhaps indignantly, as there was obviously no way said horse could possibly be responsible for the mess, the missing feed, the chewed on leather glove...and Doc was obviously wrong to assume such a thing) with saddle and stirrups still in place.
With several choice words in regards to who whoever would just allow such a fine white horse (though why anyone would want a white horse is still beyond him, given the fact that white would stick out like a flashing target against brown earth and sand) to wander about, he sets about finding a stall, feeding and watering all of the stock, cleaning up the disaster area and reorganizing everything on his desk (which was when he had found the missing glove covered in teeth marks and saliva, and there were more choice words to be heard) to how he had it.
Now he is back in the bar (and even through it's already afternoon and lunch should be what he gets) he asks Bar for breakfast. She's provided him a box of cereal, a bowl, spoon, and milk.
There is also a piece of cardboard sitting next to him, propped up against the box, and a polaroid photo of a very dashing (who knew horses could be dashing?) white horse taped to it. Four words: Is this your horse?
Mmm. Chocolate flavored cereal with chocolate flavored marshmallows. If he eats enough, we think he might be willing to let go of the morning's events.
[edit: 8:30 PST -- watching baseball, but here and accepting tags.]
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 04:48 pmroyalty-dahling.livejournal.comIt's been a long, long while since Dahlia was in the Bar, but, when she swings the door open today, she looks overwhelmingly relieved at the sight of it. Without a moment's hesitation, she steps in and slams the thing shut, barely managing to keep hold of the small but very disorganized collection of papers she's holding to her chest with one arm. Then, with a look somewhere between relief and extreme exasperation, she heads over to the Bar and tosses them down haphazardly.
There's a pause, as she takes her seat, and then, without prompting, a little glass of some amber and presumably alcoholic liquid appears on top of one of the pages.
"...Thanks," she intones, almost managing to sound amused.
One kinda-sorta former Traveller in the Bar, tonight.
There's a pause, as she takes her seat, and then, without prompting, a little glass of some amber and presumably alcoholic liquid appears on top of one of the pages.
"...Thanks," she intones, almost managing to sound amused.
One kinda-sorta former Traveller in the Bar, tonight.
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 05:14 pmjv-034.livejournal.comJohn's back near the Observation Window again, reading a book on meditation. He needs some way to clear all of this stress over Gordon and his door out of his system, and as Revan pointed out, it helps in more ways than one.
The problem is, he just doesn't get it. It sounds so simple, yet breathing his thoughts out through his nose? Is very, very difficult.
Especially with that hunk of plywood staring him in the face. He fingers his Brass Rat uncomfortably. This is going to be a long evening.
[Tiny Tag: Dr. John Vattic]
The problem is, he just doesn't get it. It sounds so simple, yet breathing his thoughts out through his nose? Is very, very difficult.
Especially with that hunk of plywood staring him in the face. He fingers his Brass Rat uncomfortably. This is going to be a long evening.
[Tiny Tag: Dr. John Vattic]
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 07:01 pmfirstcptjack.livejournal.comJack has brought a book with him tonight: it's on DIY cabin-building.
Plans. Yay for plans!
Tonight's Specials
Name your own special!
Bartender is out of ideas.
"Welcome to happy hour! What can I get you?"
Plans. Yay for plans!
Name your own special!
Bartender is out of ideas.
"Welcome to happy hour! What can I get you?"
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 07:22 pmborn-running.livejournal.com{OOM:Part Deux: The One With The Betrayel.}
What Luke was expecting upon going through the door: a bathroom, with very dim lighting plzkthnx.
What he gets: a Bar, with much noise and lights and ouch.
Therefore: four-month-old fourteen-year-old, eyes shut tight and hand going to the nearest solid object (the back of a booth) for support.
{Plotlocked, sorries.}
What Luke was expecting upon going through the door: a bathroom, with very dim lighting plzkthnx.
What he gets: a Bar, with much noise and lights and ouch.
Therefore: four-month-old fourteen-year-old, eyes shut tight and hand going to the nearest solid object (the back of a booth) for support.
{Plotlocked, sorries.}
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 08:06 pmostro_gothTeja is sitting by the fireplace, with a large clay cup of mulled ale.
He is fletching arrows, with trilobate arrowheads and black feathers.-
He is fletching arrows, with trilobate arrowheads and black feathers.-
First Entrance!
Oct. 1st, 2008 08:11 pmwhatsatisfiesme.livejournal.comThe door opens, tonight, with a sudden, insistent force, the pale, somewhat dainty hand on its knob barely keeping it from slamming as it swings forward. Even without the slam, though, there is noise in abundance coming from the other side of the portal - noise, in this case, in the form of a particularly vulgar stream of French curses, hurled so indiscriminately and with such rapid pace that it is hard to make any sense of them, except to conclude that the person on the giving end is presumably very angry.
The person on the receiving end, if one assumes this to be the young man now standing in the doorway, shows no such passion on his face. If anything, he looks rather content, rather confident, and very, very smug, albeit in a markedly quiet way, so that the emotion radiates off of him rather than showing in full on his face. He is of slight figure, wearing the dress slacks and shirt of a better sort of boys' boarding school in the late 19th century, with a free-flowing head of light, blond hair that, were the rest of him a little less fragile, might be properly termed a "mane."
Also, as he swings the door shut at last, he is staring out in front of him with complete surprise. This is not the hallway of the advanced class' rooms. This is a bar. If there were a bar in the dormitories, by God, he'd know about it.
As he stands by the doorway, trying to work out this stunning change in his surroundings, he idly begins to do up the buttons to his dress shirt, which is presently left open, from top to bottom. He can, at least, manage that in his very perplexed state.
Gilbert Cocteau, the Bar. The Bar, Gilbert Cocteau.
Shake hands.
The person on the receiving end, if one assumes this to be the young man now standing in the doorway, shows no such passion on his face. If anything, he looks rather content, rather confident, and very, very smug, albeit in a markedly quiet way, so that the emotion radiates off of him rather than showing in full on his face. He is of slight figure, wearing the dress slacks and shirt of a better sort of boys' boarding school in the late 19th century, with a free-flowing head of light, blond hair that, were the rest of him a little less fragile, might be properly termed a "mane."
Also, as he swings the door shut at last, he is staring out in front of him with complete surprise. This is not the hallway of the advanced class' rooms. This is a bar. If there were a bar in the dormitories, by God, he'd know about it.
As he stands by the doorway, trying to work out this stunning change in his surroundings, he idly begins to do up the buttons to his dress shirt, which is presently left open, from top to bottom. He can, at least, manage that in his very perplexed state.
Gilbert Cocteau, the Bar. The Bar, Gilbert Cocteau.
Shake hands.
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 10:00 pmnecessary_childRumpled hair, shirt undone, draped over the maximum possible space... Sam looks very much as though he's just thrown himself bodily onto the sofa. This is, perhaps, because that's exactly what he's done.
He's been outside sword-fighting, hence the open shirt (it's red, for once - he kind of liked the shirt Bar gave him for Talk Like A Pirate Day - and well, he'd been lacking it while he was outside, and buttons are, like, HARD WORK, don'tchaknow), and also the sword dangling loosely from his hand.
So bored. So, so, so bored.
Come entertain the sulking Lucifer?
Post open til it scrolls off the page!
[Itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka dotbikini tags: Cal Chandler, Lyssa]
He's been outside sword-fighting, hence the open shirt (it's red, for once - he kind of liked the shirt Bar gave him for Talk Like A Pirate Day - and well, he'd been lacking it while he was outside, and buttons are, like, HARD WORK, don'tchaknow), and also the sword dangling loosely from his hand.
So bored. So, so, so bored.
Come entertain the sulking Lucifer?
Post open til it scrolls off the page!
[Itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka dot
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 10:07 pmguppy_sandhu[oom: Baby names, bicycles and St Bernards.]
Walk-in clinic
The doctor is in
Do you have/can you become a small-medium sized friendly dog? Volunteer required to help with phobia of dogs, will buy drinks/chocolate/dog biscuits for any help.
Guppy is actually flopped on a sofa behind his small collection of signs, reading a book of baby names. But he is totally paying attention, honest.
Walk-in clinic
The doctor is in
Do you have/can you become a small-medium sized friendly dog? Volunteer required to help with phobia of dogs, will buy drinks/chocolate/dog biscuits for any help.
Guppy is actually flopped on a sofa behind his small collection of signs, reading a book of baby names. But he is totally paying attention, honest.
(no subject)
Oct. 1st, 2008 10:25 pmblueshifted.livejournal.comWell. That shower and nap took a little longer than Barney expected. He hasn't been sleeping the entire time, but he couldn't really bring himself to get up after the string of nightmares finally subsided.
But, damn. Gordon's had to watch the door this whole time. Barney feels pretty bad, since he kinda went back on his promise.
He looks for Gordon as soon as he's down the stairs, but he can't seem to find him immediately. So Barney sits down at the Bar first. Gordon'll probably see him, and he's mighty hungry.
[[Most definitely not plot-locked!]]
[Tiny Tag: Barney Calhoun]
But, damn. Gordon's had to watch the door this whole time. Barney feels pretty bad, since he kinda went back on his promise.
He looks for Gordon as soon as he's down the stairs, but he can't seem to find him immediately. So Barney sits down at the Bar first. Gordon'll probably see him, and he's mighty hungry.
[[Most definitely not plot-locked!]]
[Tiny Tag: Barney Calhoun]
