(no subject)

[calmhrtprevails]

After the monstrous struggle with the Enclave and the wild deathclaws of Olney, and the ultimate recovery of the Tesla coil from the ruins of the Powerworks, Ellen told Fawkes that she needed a brief Milliways breather. The mutant had no objections to this. On their side of the door their mission will not wait- but that is on their side. Here, time has no real meaning. And here, Fawkes once got lost, and found a wondrous room indeed. He's been meaning to locate it again ever since. This morning he did.

It's something of a miracle that he ever came out. Probably it had to do with the lack of reinforced chairs in the library. It's easier to sit down here and concentrate on the difficult task of turning the thin, fragile pages of his newly acquired book- today it's The Autobiography of Malcolm X- with his massive fingers as he reads.

If you are going to interrupt the eight-foot-tall mutant, please do so when he's in the middle of a page, as being startled while he turns the page may end up causing damage to the book. And we wouldn't want that.

(no subject)

[a1enzo]

[OOM: Users and Userspace: an overview]

(no subject)

[cloneofarc.livejournal.com]

Joan is currently lying on the bar floor underneath a table with a video camera. The only thing that would give her away are her boots which are currently sticking out in the aisle a little. Don't worry, she's not taping anything perverted or trying to come up with something for Candid Camera or America's Funniest Home Videos. That might actually be interesting. No, what she's doing is far more boring than you possibly could imagine. She's filming the bottom of the table. A stationary table. That's it. Just the bottom of a table. Pretty weird, huh?

Feel free to step on her or stare at her. Narration doesn't really care too much. Joan might mind but hey, that's her problem.



[Tiny tag: Joan of Arc]

(no subject)

[two-to-the-head.livejournal.com]

Corazon swaggers in singing a wordless song with a reggaeton beat. She stops, surprised. "Hey! It's that bar! Hola, bar!" At least she seems happy to be here.

Since her last visit, she's acquired a really badass pair of sunglasses and a small fortune in caps (the latter courtesy of a little bounty hunting). She goes up to the Bar, puts her backpack on the floor, and gets up on a stool. "I want a steak," she says. "Not gecko steak. Real steak, from a cow. And some really good whiskey."

The Bar obliges, and Corazon digs in with an enthusiastic lack of table manners.

Caribbean inlet, early afternoon

[scots_wolf]

Urquhart is sitting in the sun, bare-chested and sprawling on a picturesquely fallen palm tree trunk, a large bottle of drink and a basket of food by his side. He's spread a towel in the sand, but Franz the dog is lying on that, snoring peacefully. Urquhart has brought a book as well, but at the moment, he's just looking over the lake, the sun on his face, and doing exactly nothing.

Life is good. Even though it's the afterlife.


[[OOC: Recycled post is recycled]]