Jan. 16th, 2011
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prydeful[OOM: Piotr Rasputin is a JERK! (...at age 19, anyway.)
Look, if you thought their love story was one that took a nice, even path, you clearly never read the comics.
And when you're 14, sometimes you can't deal with saving the world and having to see thejerk guy who dumped you every day.
So you go home to your parents' and plan to spend time with your dad. Nothing bad can come from that, right?
...Right?]
[ Note: Name: Kitty Pryde | Age: 14 | Codename: Ariel | Knowledge of a Man Named Ogun: Swiftly Impending, With Bad Things, In Fact, Coming After All--And Perhaps For More Bar Patrons Than This One ]
[Plot: She's Turning Japanese]
Look, if you thought their love story was one that took a nice, even path, you clearly never read the comics.
And when you're 14, sometimes you can't deal with saving the world and having to see the
So you go home to your parents' and plan to spend time with your dad. Nothing bad can come from that, right?
...Right?]
[ Note: Name: Kitty Pryde | Age: 14 | Codename: Ariel | Knowledge of a Man Named Ogun: Swiftly Impending, With Bad Things, In Fact, Coming After All--And Perhaps For More Bar Patrons Than This One ]
[Plot: She's Turning Japanese]
(no subject)
Jan. 16th, 2011 02:26 pmdark_dancerCata does not in the least want to consider how soon she'll have to teach again; just because she made it through the first year with little incident does not mean she particularly enjoyed it.
But it must be considered, as the Guild intends to resume that part of its operations in a few weeks, and she's going to have two levels of students now. While her plans from last year seem to have worked out well enough, she can't very well teach the same thing to the students who showed an aptitude for poisons and want to know more.
To that end, she's claimed a table (with a good view of the bar, naturally), and is attempting to hash out some plans for her advanced students. It must be said, though, that she hardly would have brought the work here if she didn't want an interruption.
But it must be considered, as the Guild intends to resume that part of its operations in a few weeks, and she's going to have two levels of students now. While her plans from last year seem to have worked out well enough, she can't very well teach the same thing to the students who showed an aptitude for poisons and want to know more.
To that end, she's claimed a table (with a good view of the bar, naturally), and is attempting to hash out some plans for her advanced students. It must be said, though, that she hardly would have brought the work here if she didn't want an interruption.
(no subject)
Jan. 16th, 2011 05:32 pmi_candozatWhen you throw together groups of people--no matter what the year or advancements made from the past conditions of the (primarily) human race--that have what are perceived to be irreconcilable differences, problems will eventually happen. It's been a few days on the other side of the door for one teenaged Pavel Chekov, going relatively smoothly as he works at studies and his running.
It had gone decently as he'd been placed into another course, rising through his chosen program with high grades. Until, of course, some of the older cadets had realized he was only fifteen. That had earned him a few insults--most of which he didn't mind, but it was the one about his mother that got to him--and when he'd returned with a very rude and very colorful snap of Russian, a fist to the face.
He enters the bar with one hand cupped over his nose and mouth, though the red of his blood is staining his cadet's uniform undershirt in splotches, the overshirt discarded already. His nose is bleeding freely, broken by the look of how he's refusing to touch it, and his eye socket is throbbing from the glancing blow of knuckles. Chekov supposes Milliways is fortunate, since he was on his way to the infirmary anyway, but this way there hopefully won't be any awkward questions. (Though really, even he doesn't believe it'll be that easy.)
[tiny teenage tag: Pavel Chekov]
[ooc: Just like before, he's still fifteen and though his icons don't show it will appear in Academy reds--like these unless otherwise noted. Also, all threads millitimed to after the Bones one, though feel free to see him come in and mention it in your tag.]
It had gone decently as he'd been placed into another course, rising through his chosen program with high grades. Until, of course, some of the older cadets had realized he was only fifteen. That had earned him a few insults--most of which he didn't mind, but it was the one about his mother that got to him--and when he'd returned with a very rude and very colorful snap of Russian, a fist to the face.
He enters the bar with one hand cupped over his nose and mouth, though the red of his blood is staining his cadet's uniform undershirt in splotches, the overshirt discarded already. His nose is bleeding freely, broken by the look of how he's refusing to touch it, and his eye socket is throbbing from the glancing blow of knuckles. Chekov supposes Milliways is fortunate, since he was on his way to the infirmary anyway, but this way there hopefully won't be any awkward questions. (Though really, even he doesn't believe it'll be that easy.)
[tiny teenage tag: Pavel Chekov]
[ooc: Just like before, he's still fifteen and though his icons don't show it will appear in Academy reds--like these unless otherwise noted. Also, all threads millitimed to after the Bones one, though feel free to see him come in and mention it in your tag.]
[ happy hour ]
Jan. 16th, 2011 05:55 pmalmosthonorableBen’s behind the bar tonight; he’s been more coaxed than coerced — as evidenced by the impressive herd of My Little Ponies littering the counter.
Opportunist that he is, he may as well entertain himself while he’s here.
He turns to the specials board, smirking to himself as he scribbles:Name a pony.
How much you pay for your drink of choice depends on how much I like your suggestion.
[ tiny tag: william evans ]
[ ooc:
(no subject)
Jan. 16th, 2011 11:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
msskagpocalypse.livejournal.comThere is a tapping sound coming from one of the tables near the door. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptaptaptaptappataptap. Believe it or not, this trip wasn't on Lilith's itinerary, if she was the kind of gal to bother with that kind of nonsense (she isn't). She's been ready to go for weeks, brings her big, old satchel everywhere she goes. It's the kind of handbag every girl needs, one stuffed full of cash and weaponry - but the door downright refuses to co-operate. So now she's tapping her finely shaped fingernails on the table and alternately sighing and giving the exit dirty looks.
Feel free to bother her. She's bored.
Tiny Tag: Lilith (Borderlands) Mordecai (Borderlands) January 2011 (Borderlands)
Feel free to bother her. She's bored.
Tiny Tag: Lilith (Borderlands) Mordecai (Borderlands) January 2011 (Borderlands)
