milliways_bar | Jan. 12th, 2009

Jan. 12th, 2009

nneverwas.livejournal.com

[OOM: We are secrets to each other,
each one's life a novel no one else has read;
even joined in bonds of love,
we're linked to one another
by such slender threads.]

You haven't seen this man around before.

You think you have, but you haven't.

He's not dressed like Aaron (plain black T-shirt and blue jeans, with nothing of that uniform quality about them), he doesn't sit where Aaron sits (a table in the open, full view of the Window), and he doesn't move like Aaron moves (confident, always confident, with an open, unselfconscious grace).

And as long as you don't go mistaking him for anybody, he'd be plain delighted to make your acquaintance.

tiny tag: aaron stampler

(OOC: ~~I'm only up for about another fifteen minutes, but~~ this post is open indefinitely and slowtime is my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Have at!)

stillbecoming

[OOM: It's getting awful crowded in my REM.]

Current Mood: whedonian

ever_lovin

Ben at the bar thinking heavy thoughts. What sort of thoughts? Well the little black velvet ring box that he is staring at might be some clue but you'll have to ask him yourself.

Be careful though, he really seems distracted and Ben isn't one of those people you want to startle.

[[Ever lovin' tiny tags: Ben Grimm, Demeter]]

Current Mood: thoughtful

kinshou-kitsune.livejournal.com

The thing about snow and foxes was they went hand in hand.

In spite of the white flecks that are falling from the air, the white kimono-clad kami was out standing close to the lake. Two large fans resided in each hand as she danced causing them to swirl about her in their own special way. A soft smile resided upon her face as she moved stepping into each movement with a flowing grace that matched the delicate flakes.

Come close enough and she may talk to you or give you a surprise. Kitsunes and their tricks you know.

Current Mood: calm

hapan-heiress.livejournal.com

[OOM: i wanted to walk through the empty streets
and feel something constant under my feet,
but all the news reports recommended that
i stay indoors]

[ooc: i promise, this one is happierish. :D?]

scurlock

Given that the time of year outside of his door and the time of year don't match up at all - it's a midwest summer out in Kansas, and a Scotland-ish winter out the back door - Doc's decided to take the easy route between the two and he's settled himself inside, at a table. It's somewhat out of the way.

And given the fact that spread across the table are the various pieces to a (currently stripped down) 7 1/2" Colt Single Action Army (as well as a leather gun-belt, cleaning kit, box of cartridges) he chose the table for a reason.

That doesn't mean he's not botherable. Just that his hands are a bit dirty from gun oil. The observant patron might notice (if they are paying attention to anything besides the revolver) that lunch was a piece of chocolate birthday cake, the last few bites of which are still on the plate at the edge of the table.

(Just because he's already 24 in his world doesn't mean that Bar was going to let him get away with trying to avoid the date in here. She's sneaky like that.)

[ooc: Post is open. Mun is AFK for about 2 hours, should be back just after 5 PST. Tags are still welcome!]

chime_ra_tilt

Every day, Zelgadiss comes downstairs and tries his door. It never works, so he almost always gets a drink at the bar afterwards, then goes outside where there are fewer people.

Today, though, the knob turns in his hand. He hadn't expect it to. He can see the other, much less reputable inn where he had been staying before Milliways took him, through the doorframe.

Finally.

Vaguely, Zel wonders how his circadian rhythm is going to be messed up; it's morning in Milliways, but to judge by the windows in the connected inn, it is still the night in which Zelgadiss was transported to Milliways.

With the utmost care, he closes the door, careful not to let it close all the way. A coin fits between door and frame, held snugly by the spring mechanism of the doorknob and successfully keeping the door from fully closing. That done, he turns and dashes up the stairs to gather his small collection of belongings, soon coming back down the stairs as he finishes sheathing his sword at his side.

The bar is briefly visited to pay off his tab, the doorknob is turned, the falling coin caught, the door opened, walked through, and closed behind him.

gone_byebye

Ray promised an only partly-there woman the other day that he'd get his old PKE beacon out of the closet and work on it again to give her a better crack at holding onto self-definition until she could be restored to her normal self. He spent all of yesterday working on it in Room 2342, also known as the Geekcave, but today- well, you can only work under those Sumerian and Babylonian geomatic sigils for so long. So now he's in the Bar at a large, well-lit table, surrounded by quite a lot of overly complicated machinery and a small stack of First Alert smoke detectors.

... no, really, he knows what he's doing.

[tinytag: Jhalak (Long-Reach the Jotok), The Old Firm, Valeria Von Doom, Charles Monroe]

chime_ra_tilt

(OOM: Chance encounters.)

Minor spoilers for Slayers Try Ep. 1.

vance_prime

No one stays in Milliways forever. Few people even have that option. They have to go away to sleep, to work, to do the various activities associated with... well, life, more or less.

She doesn't have those reasons pulling her away, and so she's still here.

Oh, she could leave, there's no question of that. But that would mean facing infinity again. She can't handle that. Not now. She's starting to lose her grip on herself as it is. Her memories are getting jumbled, indistinct. She's starting to forget what it was like to have a body.

Part of her is starting to wonder if she really is dead, after all.

[ooc: See the back room before tagging.]

[tags keep on slippin', slippin', slippin': Alyx Vance, Annabelle Newfield]

sleazeoverstyle

Somewhere on the planet called Gaia, an unsuspecting but probably really friggin' deserving son of a bitch is getting killed and there might just be a lot of blood. Maybe even some guts spilling out, washing the landscape and scenery in dull red before the planet's guiding force rises up to call that sorry poor fuck back home. The Lifestream picks up around the bastard, engulfing him in a wash of green and blue and white light. Absorbing everything the guy is and was, taking all his memories with it to share, redistribute. It's a handy way of making sure no one who dies ain't ever gone for good and somewhere on the planet called Gaia, a family -- however small -- will come to know that one of its members won't ever be there any more. Somewhere else on Gaia a murderer's wiping blood and guts off his weapon, his hands, his suit, cleaning things up, congratulating himself on a job well done. Maybe even his partner's there patting him on the back, and then they go out for a drink and make a toast: To The Job.

It's happening somewhere, but today -- no matter how much he wishes he was -- Reno ain't involved with that kind of fun. Nope. As much as he yearns for the thrill of a good assignment, they don't really do that shit very much any more. All this planetary rebuilding and babysitting the boss for hours are fine for a friggin' moron, but he's a Turk. All his life, he's trained to do the shit Turks do. This nice-guy crap's a real disappointment.

Faced with all that, what's left for a guy but to head to a bar and drink? Shit, it sounded like a good idea to him, especially when he fingered that butter knife in his pocket and thought about this place at the next door he opened. That's how come his skinny butt's glued to a bar stool, his second bottle of Wutai Pale Ale in his hand and a third sitting there waiting. When he drinks, he doesn't waste time.

aaaaaaaagh_sky

As comforting as the very small room Ellen acquired upstairs is, she knows full well that she's got to get used to dealing with strangers if she's going to have any luck in finding her father once she leaves. Thus, the young woman in the blue and gold jumpsuit with '101' across the back is settled in at one of the tables, sewing up numerous rents and tears in the pants and shirts she was given yesterday. It's a slow process, not because she's no good at it, but because she's doing it as carefully and precisely as possible.

The sign at her table reads Skilled needleworker and general repair person looking for odd jobs. Very good with fabric, plumbing, furniture, robots (esp. Mr. Handy models). Other items too, possibly. Please contact Ellen Park in the blue Vault 101 jumpsuit, so she could be disturbed.

[tinytag: Ellen, the Vault 101 Dweller]

candied-rabbit.livejournal.com

There are two small, blonde teenagers at opposite ends of the Bar, tonight. Closer to the door is one Momiji Sohma, still in his school uniform, nibbling at the end of a pen, and, farther down, is Gilbert Cocteau, long-haired and looking bored. Suddenly, under both of their noses appear identical napkins, each with some form of writing on it.

"Oh, cool!" Momiji chirps, before promptly vaulting over the Bar, settling on the 'tender's side of it.

"You must be kidding," Gilbert mutters at his own napkin. He keeps muttering, for a while, and Bar keeps napkining him, until he finally heaves a frustrated sigh and slides from his own stool, trudging around to the other side of the bar, as well.

Of course, when the two boys almost bump into each other near the Specials board, both reaching for a piece of chalk, they have to stop and stare for a moment. Momiji raises the napkin he'd received, and the French teen eying him hesitantly pulls his own from where he'd shoved it in one pocket.

"...Neat!" The rabbit-boy practically beams at these strange circumstances. Co-bartending! Awesome! "I guess that means we get to do it together!"

He says "together" with a tone usually reserved for the heroes of a children's cartoon, during lessons on teamwork.

Gilbert groans.

Still, about ten minutes later, they've managed to put together a (somewhat schizophrenic) list of specials:

Specials!
Belinda's Fuzzy Melon
Absinthe Suissesse
Cherry Blossom
Sex Appeal
Black Cow

Of course, by the time that list is done, the paired 'tenders are glaring like they already hope they never have to see the other boy ever, ever again.

"Happy Hour!" Momiji calls loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth. To his side, Gilbert rolls his eyes dramatically.

((OOC: Open to new threads until I head off to bed, with possible breaks for dinner in the middle, somewhere.))

obligatoryass

Echolls family Christmases never go well, but they aren't usually this bad.

The chains we forge in life stay with us long after we're dead.

"You will be visited by three spirits," and the first is familiar, yet alien.

Another unworldly entity wears a friend's face and takes Logan on a tour of the present.

An unearthly spirit shows Logan a chilling future.

Awake, delighted to be alive and safe and determined not to be doomed to an early grave, Logan is arrested for theft and disturbing the peace. He doesn't care. When he's released, he takes off for points unknown.

jedi-exile.livejournal.com

[OOM: there is no such place
blasted in appearance and a composite of fearful minutes
frozen in the waking instant]

[kira finds some things on rhen var. mainly: information, a holocron and her husband.]

453-died-angry.livejournal.com

OOM

Up at the bar is a Hun bearing a fish kettle - not something you see every day. Over his shoulder is a goatskin tied off at the neck and legs and containing something that sloshes and he has a slightly squashy parcel wrapped in paper that is stained brownish red.

He looks exactly as a man does who is sleeping rough and cooking over a wood fire. However, for the moment, he is warming his old bones by a more civilised fire and enjoying a cup of mulled cider.

[tiny tag: demeter]

mapmakerchur.livejournal.com

Chur is sitting at a table with an opaque plastic box a little longer than a shoebox, a little deeper, and three times as wide, a plate of fried eggs and a rare steak of some kind of red meat, and a mug of gfi. She's eating her meal rather slowly, as most of her attention is on watching those at the nearby tables.

She'd probably be interested in talking to just about anyone (anyone not put off by the fact that she looks like a bipedal lion and is eating with a knife that looks much too sharp to be safe for eating purposes, that is). Maybe she'll tell you what's in the box?

[tinytags: Ellen, the Vault 101 Dweller]

doesnt-dance.livejournal.com

[two muns, two characters; totally open]

Two teenaged boys are sitting (rather close to one another, but who's counting?) and running lines for their school play, Hamlet, as told by Ophelia. From the looks of it, Hamlet is being played by the smaller blonde boy while Chad is playing Ophelia's brother..

"I can't believe she was going to cast me as Hamlet. But isn't it going to be weird having your sister all over you like that?" he asks Ryan, perhaps unnecessarily close to the other boy's ear.

[tiny tag: chad danforth, tiny tag: ryan evans]

windsintheeast.livejournal.com

Bert makes no particular fanfare upon entering the bar.

Instead, he slips quietly into one of the booths, accepting a glass of water from one of the waitrats.

All in all, he is pleased as punch to be here again, and more than content to while away the rest of the night people-watching.

(There are, after all, a rather remarkable variety of people here.)

[ just a couple of tiny tags in the rough: bert, kelsi nielson ]

magick-willow.livejournal.com

Willow settles herself in a quiet corner booth to think and make notes about the herbs she needs to pick up the next time she's in the real world. She grabs a fruit punch on her way in.

sawedoffsndheim.livejournal.com

Someone was visited by the period stork. You can tell, because she's wearing sweatpants and a plain shirt and curled up on the couch with hot chocolate and Cosmo and Glamour.

Someone could go distract her from feeling icky?

Wee adorable tags: Kelsi Nielson, Teddy Altman, Tommy Shepherd, the Old Firm

mogget_cat

Yrael is lazy tonight. He has hunted, he has killed (it was a very nice doe), and he is well-fed. So tonight he's lounging on a couch, picking out random tunes his guitar, trying to figure out what he might play.

Got any ideas?

nomorekaraoke

Let auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind, and the days of auld lang syne.

edited for teeny tag: Lorne, the demon, not the hawt Atlantis fellow

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is in a big armchair near the trilobite tank, with his newly discharged and tube-free son snuggled on his tummy.

They thought it would be an idea to let mum have some sleep for a bit.

Unlike the picture, a soft blanket is tucked over the baby's back. (Through the magic of Millitime, if you gave him a blanket, it's that one). Alexander is awake and sucking his thumb as he watches the blurry images of the bar go by.