(no subject)

[aeons_crackshot]

(OOM: Reunion Possibly not safe for work.)

Annabelle is working on her weapons again. Weapon maintenance is important you know! Feel free to ask about any of the weapons, she'll be glad to tell you all about them.

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

[Out of Milliways: The Apostles of Eternal Light have been dealt with, but the Brotherhood of Steel still has some business to settle....]

(no subject)

[braveomaticaya]

The resident Na'vi of Milliways hasn't been seen for a while, but he's back now at a table with several beaded projects in front of him, and a dozen or so plastic vials of more miniscule beads on the table. HE's already finished one necklace and is wearing it around the base of his throat for the moment, but he's steadily working on a much larger, much more complex piece in shades of green glass and light wood.

You might be successful in getting his attention away from the delicate and painstakingly slow work, or you might not, but you never know until you try, right?

(no subject)

[no_vampires_plz]

[OOM, Millitimed to immediately after this thread with the Trickster: Twilight Sparkle makes sure her new feathered friend is well taken care of.]

Happy Hour

[7twistedwishes]

There is a face people have not seen around for a while.

Oh, some were happy with her absence, no doubt, but some people might have missed her; so there we have a Devil in a slinky red cocktail dress, perusing the Big Book of Drinks.

Behind her, the board reads in elegant handwriting:

Specials:

I put LSD in one of the bottles, and forgot which one.

...probably it's a joke.

Dare you?

(no subject)

[mogget_cat]

Over the ebb and flow of conversations, the endless background static of the bar room, there is the soft sound of a violin being played. Its tone is is sweet, nearly to the point of pain: that ancient, deep yearning for something forever out of reach. The slow, winding half-tune insinuates itself among the sounds of the bar, as subtle and inexorable as the flow of time, each twist and trill like the minute, nigh-unnoticed changes of light as bright daylight slowly fades towards dusk.

Yrael's skill is great; that much is obvious, and the the violin is both well-made and well-kept. But it is not mere skill that nestles the sweet melody amongst the disturbing thoughts kept pushed to the back of the mind, the thoughts that remind you that every morning must have its night, that every life must eventually end. That every brightest day will have an equally dark night.

No, not mere skill.

If you've a mind to come and listen, please do. He might even sing to you, if you are very lucky, or perhaps if you are very unlucky.