milliways_bar | Feb. 19th, 2009

Feb. 19th, 2009

It is night.

Tanya is at the firing range, her skeet launchers positioned along the space, with timers, speed and angles set to random.

Just for a change, she is using a carbine, not her pistols: a soldier needs to be proficient in several different weapons, after all.

Her perfect accuracy did not suffer with the change of firearm, if anything she hits the targets with a new, deeper cold precision.

She will be killing soon. A killer has to exercise.

[ Tanya Adams ]

eirenikos

There is a goddess in the bar today, settled at a table in one of the various corners, armed with popsicle sticks and glue. She's been there for a while, as anyone seeing the half-completed Leaning Tower of Pisa can probably guess.

A stack of oreos and glass of milk rest off to the side, occasionally prompting Eirene to nibble on one before she goes back to her project.

Old friends and newcomers alike are welcome to stop by.

tiny tag with a flower: Eirene

[ooc: Open until falls off front page]

hell_in_highheels

River goes back to the Library for another arm load of books and CAL is happy to see her.

Current Music: Dave Matthews Band - The Best of What's Around

time_dancer

Val's sitting near the fire with a cup of Mexican hot chocolate and staring at a nicely polished stone which has glowing Japanese characters on it. If you can read them they represent her name.

"If you can't get me out of here," she says to the stone, "then I wish I could see at least one of my family and only if it wouldn't get them trapped here." She doesn't know what to expect but nothing seems to happen.

With a deep sigh, Val takes a drink of the hot chocolate and looks around the room. And no she is totally not trying to blink away tears. Really. Its the steam from the hot chocolate, or something.

mr-v-and-mr-c.livejournal.com

Everyone's least-favorite duo--everyone sane's, at any rate--are sitting by the fire.

"Have you ever noticed, Mr. Vandemar, that fire is not a substance? It's there, you can see it, but you can't keep it. You put your hand in it, and it's not there."

"Hurts, though."

"Naturally it hurts, it burns you. But it's still not really there. A process, not an object."

"Funny to stick people in it, though."

"Yes indeed. I concur totally and absolutely." Croup smiles a horrific smile. "Who do you suggest?"

"Oh, no one in particular."

"It's been a while since we saw someone burnt at the stake . . ."

The munagement dares you to join in.

Current Mood: relaxed

ikissdhimbck

[OOMs:

All the muscles tighten in her face
Buries her soul in one embrace
They're one and the same
Just like water

The fire fades away
Most of everyday
Is full of tired excuses
But it's too hard to say
I wish it were simple

Nightmares. Drinking. Comfort. Speaking. Millitimed to Sunday night/Monday morning.]

WARNINGS: White text. Language. Angst. NSFW.

[tiny!tag: Miss Katherine Barlow]

Current Music: "Other Side of the World" - KT Tunstall

scurlock

Even though it's not spring, yet, Doc's been out back doing a bit of cleaning.

The sun is out, most of the stock has been turned out into the various paddocks, the barn has been cleaned to his standards (not like he ever allows it to get bad, mind you) and he's sitting on a bale of straw set near the open door. There's a pile of tack at his side (reins, bridles, other various leather odds and ends) he's got a rag in hand and a tub of leather care stuff resting on one leg, working on minor upkeep of stuff.

(It's really just an excuse to sit out and bake in the sun, but who's telling?)

He's got his gun at his hip, and yes, he's botherable if anyone wanders by and wants or needs to talk with him.

[tiny tag bearing treats: kate warner]
[tiny tag with a black hat: ben wade]

aeons_crackshot

Annabelle is downstairs performing maintenance on all of her weapons. This now includes: a sawed-off shotgun, two pistols, throwing knives, and a whip.

Feel free to boggle at the amount of weaponry, or just stop by and say hello.

(OOC: tinytag! Annabelle Newfield Open until I make another entrance post)

mendanddefend_archive

There's a gold-colored electric guitar propped up in the seat of an armchair near the fireplace.

It appears to be playing itself.

Got any requests?

Current Mood: musical

notagagagirl.livejournal.com

For the record, Fury is the worst worrier she's ever met. And while the number she's met may not be long, she's pretty sure it's a record that won't be beat for a while.

So yes, she's downstairs. She's even dressed warmly! Warmer, anyway, with a sweatshirt sort-of thing that she got from bar. It's fuzzy, on the inside, and that's all she cares about. Well, that, and it's not pastel. Red. With black trim. It's nice. Not very stylish, but nice.

She also got a box of tissues from the bar because her nose is on rebellion from the rest of her face, it seems, and frankly, she thinks this might be the most disgusting thing ever. But she's sick of the bed and sick of being sick and so she's downstairs on the couch reading her music book she got from the Medic and she'll scowl at anyone who tells her she ought to be doing otherwise.

So there.

*sniffle*

ikissdhimbck

[OOM: A Dream is But a Dream]

She woke up screaming.

Startled, Doc had tried to soothe her, to find out what had happened, but the second she saw those gray-green eyes she had bolted from the bed, shouting a "Don't touch me!" as she rushed to pull on clothes. That had only concerned him more. He asked her where she was going.

"Outside," she said, pulling on her boots and fleeing the room, heart racing.

She was halfway down the stairs when the tears started to sting in the corners of her eyes.

Now she is outside, not having bothered with a coat, needing the fresh air and the silence to gather her wits about her. For a second, in the darkness, it looks like her hands are coated with blood.

Once she is calm, she'll make her way back inside to warm up, settling at a booth with a hot coffee.

[tiny!tag: Miss Katherine Barlow, doppelganger plot]

[OOC: Tag in or out, depending on what your preference is! Doppelganger plot! Info here and here, first to comment with an OOC note gets it.]

candied-rabbit.livejournal.com

There's a rabbit-boy behind the Bar, tonight, bustling about as if this were all perfectly normal. He's even being relatively professional about it, getting out the big book of drink recipes, lining up some of the bottles he needs for the specials he's putting up, and so on and so forth.

All while whistling "On the Good Ship Lollypop."

Okay, that part's not very professional. But it's definitely thematic:

Specials!!
Bubble Gum
Tootsie Pop
Sweet Candy Apple
Spanish Chocolate

Sing a song, get a drink free!

"Okay, Happy Hour!" he practically yells, once he's finished jotting down the specials for the night.

onceareaper.livejournal.com

The door slides open rapidly, a black-cloaked figure in a ridiculously awesome bucket hat dashes through, and the doors are pushed back closed just as quickly.

Urahara Kisuke can be brave, don't doubt it.

Just not in the face of both Nakamuras.

Especially when Tessai has taken the kids out shopping.

He'd rather take the Hollows, thank you very much.

licensed-pro.livejournal.com

[OOM: Whiskey is good.]

After a night of drinking with Jason, charlie is back in the bar, though thankfully not hungover. He's had enough of those for a while, after the last one. Anyone who's looking might find him beside the fireplace, still lazily drinking he same whiskey from last night.

cutting_edgex23

There's a little bit of paint on X's cheek as she comes in--cheerful yellow paint, at that--and plaster dust in her hair. Some of it may be regular dust, though. Clearing out storerooms is not easy work, not for X. She was not trained for this.

She gets two sandwiches, a glass of milk, a book on meditation, and an armaments catalog from Bar, then settles herself at a corner booth, one foot propped up on the seat. Just in case she needs to move quickly.

She'll pin her Security badge to her belt after about an hour, when her shift is scheduled to begin. X keeps track.

[ooc: Open until it falls off the front page.]

noteful

Meg Ford is moving fairly gingerly this evening, but she's walking on her own two feet.

No cast.

No crutches.

So far, this week is going much better than the last one did.

[tiny tag: Meg Ford]

shoeless-ed.livejournal.com

Ed is building a house of cards on top of a table. For someone as flaily and hyperactive as she is, she's doing surprisingly well. In fact, she's just placing the last two cards on top...

"Woof!" says a certain Welsh Corgi standing beside Ed's chair. Ed startles: she and the chair topple over, while cards fly everywhere.

After a couple of seconds, Ed sits up. "Eiiiiiiin," she whines, picking a nine of spades out of her fluffy red hair. "Ed was almost done!" She scowls at the dog, who is wearing a big canine grin and wagging his tail. Perhaps this was his way of getting back at Ed for all the stunts she pulls on him.

~*~*~*~

Zhaan comes in from outside, shaking snow off her boots and the hem of a long, heavy cloak. Most people would not go out into the grounds on a cold winter night if they didn't have to, but the snow cover lends a certain beauty to everything - and there's a kind of crisp silence that she finds conducive to meditation. Her enjoyment of winter is helped along considerably by the fact that she isn't as affected by the cold as most mammalian species.

She heads to the Bar and gets a mug of tea. She'll have a few minutes of botherability before she heads back to the House of Arch.

guppy_sandhu

[OOM.]

Guppy is flopped on a rug between a couple of sofas, with Alexander. He's put the baby down on his tummy and is jingling a toy octopus above him, to see if he'll lift his head up again.

He's convinced he saw it happen earlier, though whether it's imagination on his part is unclear.

evil_koala_626

Tonight Stitch's decent to the bar proper is proceeded by dark inhuman mutterings echoing down the staircase. These are followed by what is either the ugliest chicken in the known multiverse or a victim of one very thorough practical joke. It stands just shy of three feet tall and is covered from head to toe with white feathers. Traces of confetti and various pie fillings may also be in evidence. The scent of maple syrup hangs heavy in the air.

Stitch shoots a glare in Bar's direction only to snarl in frustration when it becomes apparent the culprit is not currently in evidence. The muttering continues to the underside of a Booth's table and will likely continue for some time. There will be a reckoning. Oh Yes.

(OOC: Limited brainspace at the moment. Please ping before tagging.)

fiery_ring

Carlotta is by the fire, burning some paper.

La la la nothing to see here.

[tinytag: Carlotta Brown]

lolzbombs.livejournal.com

[OOM: Get beat up, get a bomb boy mad at you, and yo-yo boys get scary. Don't try this at home, kids. Now with extra surprise drama!]

tinytags: yamamoto takeshi, gokudera hayato, bridget