milliways_bar | Mar. 22nd, 2012

Mar. 22nd, 2012

At least Black Pike's installed showers for them, which is something that didn't happen at his first mining job out of high school. Back then he'd go home and scrub down out back before he'd be let inside the house. Now, though, he finishes a thirteen-hour shift, scrubs down, and he's a free man until his next shift. He's off for the next four days, and the amount of time stretching in front of him is a prospect he doesn't find too enticing.

Boyd's looking squeaky clean at the bar with his whiskey. He's wearing horn-rimmed glasses tonight (cheap ones). He's made it through his first week down, and he wants a drink.

There's something to be said for drinking around strangers. The prospect of not having to endure stares or whispers about the Crowder clan -- how the mighty have fallen -- entices under such circumstances, and as such, Boyd's mood is bright enough, though he's bone-tired.

no_vampires_plz

The Milliways cleanup continues apace. There's still a lot of work to do, but the end is in sight. Twilight can even budget herself some time to relax.

And how does an anal-retentive nerd of a unicorn relax? With a good book, of course.

Thus, we find Twilight Sparkle curled up on the couch with a heavy tome propped up in front of her. The text is unreadable for most patrons, but based on the woodcut illustrations, it's a book of medieval history... only with more equines.

[tinytags: THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE]

missmarybennet

[OOM: There's really no telling the sorts of things that will attract a person's interest.]

kitchen_maid

[OOM: In which there are several introductions, plans to go on a picnic and stay all day, and possibly a slightly excessive amount of general adorableness. It's a hazard of a visit to Ambergeldar, really.]

hecu_marine

Shephard knows he really ought to be outside clocking flight hours in the big ol' flying robot lion thing from the Milliways garage. Smooth a ride as it is, it's still a flying machine and it gives him the bahoogies by its nature. He's trying, oh, he's trying to get over that, but- flight. Never did like it before. Getting shot down over Black Mesa did not help that any. At all. At least the lion responds well and doesn't leave him feeling like the slightest mistake at the controls is going to leave him a pile of scorched hamburger. He's got the Mongolia assault coming up. He should be flying.

And, you know, normally he's really good about his shoulds, but today it's just not gonna happen. Winter's broken, spring's here, and the Bar grounds've got a really sweet array of animals that aren't subject to seasonal hunting laws. He's thinking game birds, maybe, but there's nothing wrong with those fire breathing rabbit things as targets; Mrs. Wilson usually goes for the meat and he makes fair use of fur and bone himself. It's all good.

So there's a man in Marine Corps urban camo fatigues out on the Bar grounds, tracking demon bunnies with an osage orange longbow and a bunch of stone-tipped, goose-feathered arrows. Not like he's gonna waste the good ones on anything less than a bullsquid.

death_gone_mad

The recent sparring match with Zeldagiss has reminded her of just how disadvantageous using a close combat weapon made entirely of metal is for a magic user. Well, it wasn't disadvantageous for Zeldagiss, obviously.

It also reminded her that there is a much better weapon that she could be wielding in such fights, one that is far more accessible to her than most people.

The Staff of Light

It's two great tastes that shouldn't work together, but somehow do. A magic staff topped off with a blade that could be a sword by itself. Still, the magic of the staff affects the blade like any magic from her world would, but the construction of the weapon as a whole conveniently reduces the vibrations to a nice audible hum.

So if it sounds like the redhead outside is practicing with a light saber, fear not. She hasn't gotten a hold of one yet. At best it is a naginata with a reciprocating blade, if you ignore its usefulness as a magic staff, of course.

igetthatalot

Varric generally finds that the Hanged Man suits his tastes just fine, but every once in a while the place gets problematic beyond even his ability to tolerate. Today was one of those days. The details wouldn't make it a whole lot better; suffice it to say that while Milliways is a little big and weird for him, it has the definite advantage of no templars, no mages, and nobody talking trash politics about the blasted Qunari.

Honestly. If he hears the word 'oxmen' one more time somebody's going to get a bottle up their nose.

"Messere Bar," he says, "I would really appreciate some reasonably priced spiced wine just now. And a promise that we won't be seeing any templars finding this place today- and while you're at it, my very own pet bronto would be nice. Named Snuffles- but I'll settle for the wine."

That, at least, he gets.

"You have my thanks."

balancingminds

Charles has been taking advantage of the fact that time stops in Milliways to do work and learn more about the people who pass through here. There's such a variety to the minds and experiences that if he didn't have to finish his editing, he'd probably spend most of his time with his eyes closed and just listening.

As it is, one of his sections isn't going as he'd like and he keeps going back over a certain sentence until he's quite lost track of time.

When he finally gets it right, he looks up and realizes that took a while and allows himself a break, so he leans back in his chair and observes the Bar.

Tiny tag: Charles Xavier, Antinoos
OOC: If you approach him while he's working then he's not mentally listening except quite passively. After he's stopped working, he is actively listening to the conversations and minds around him. Feel free to interrupt him or wait until he's on a break. Please let me know what he'll encounter in your pup's mind. Thank you.

boston_bruiser

[Out of Milliways:
“They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them."

- For The Fallen, Laurence Binyon

And later: a call from a widow, redeployment, and a training session in the storm of the not-century.]

The storm’s still raging outside. It has been for the past several hours.

And there’s a soaking wet SEAL in one of the booths, eying the soiled rabbit’s foot in his gloved hands.

You want a verbose EP, you’ve come to the wrong place.

[OOC: More sociable than he looks, but the headvoice is in a mildly emo phase due to canon and some postcanon play. Lo siento mucho, mis compadres. Forewarned is forearmed?]

mightbeawizard

Cup of coffee #3 in hand, April is coming back from the local McDonald's after lunch with a Sudoku book.

She's got a meeting in fifteen minutes that she is supposed to take notes for - the Sudoku book is for preparedness.

But! Milliways to the rescue!

"Yes," April smirks. "This is perfect."

[tag: april ludgate]

[ooc: ahahahahahahaha okay i'm going to bed, but hilarity to the both of you, omfg.]

7twistedwishes

It has been quite a while since last time, so The Devil once more has a sign on her table in a 'central' booth, where it will be the most visible. Post-Apocalypse is a good time to reach out and touch someone.

...

Or, offer a hand and see who takes it.

Free Advice

Relationships, lifestyle changes, legal choices, business goals, personal goals, career goals, education goals, religious beliefs, personal growth, motivation, inspiration, no matter what, let a Celestial Entity offer you guidance on what has you worried.

No compensation of any kind is expected, no responsibility for any unfortunate consequences is accepted.

puckishly

Acting on the advice of his asshole boyfriend, Puck has procured paper, quill and ink. He is currently sitting smugly atop a table, using the inkwell like a pot of finger paint and daubing impressionistic thumbprints all over the top sheet.

The fairy looks almost as if he is daring the universe to bother him-- at Milliways, a dicey proposal at best.

He is so winning this bet.

[ooc: Robin Goodfellow, having bet Coyote he can avoid speaking for an entire week, is currently extremely botherable. Do your worst, people! As always, ask questions if you got 'em.]

brave_kreyu

OOM: During the End of the End of the Universe, Kreyu sacrificed herself to buy Milliways just a little more time.

This is what happened next.

trigger_man

Jack's been outside for his first proper run since the Allpocalypse and when he comes in from the back door he makes a beeline for the bar, a large bottle of water appearing on its top even before he slides onto a stool.

His shoulder and knee are healed, and it's probably about time he headed out to his world to...well, he isn't sure yet. He just has the feeling that something should change. That maybe instead of drifting, he should be looking for something.

He isn't about to leave just yet, though. There are a couple people that he wants to see before he goes, just in case.

[ooc: Open until Jack's next entrance! Doing podcast editing, so tags might be a bit slow, but will be around for most of the weekend.]

sunbaked_baker

Long day at the coffeehouse, today. Unscheduled tourist groups dropping in out of the blue for lunch are not a great way to make a family-run restaurant grateful to your touring company, even if you're bringing it 'so much new business!' In consolation, Rae had left the door to her bakery open so she could hear her mother and Consuela rip the touring company's manager a new one, while she hurriedly made scores of muffins and rolls, whatever took the least time to bake, to help settle the influx of people.

The very satisfactory deal regarding all future tours to the area that Rae's mother had accepted from the frantically apologizing manager would've been more satisfactory if her mother had not then given everyone else a taste of her ire. The coffeehouse staff would usually use the sudden quiet after the departure of a large lunch group to regain some sense of order and sanity, mentally recharging for the afternoon coffee and tea crowd. But instead of being able to deal with their own feelings of burnout and irritation, they all got the overflow from Rae's mother. And Rae, ever the favored lightning rod for her mother's anger, bore the brunt of it.

So there is a baker outside of the bar, this afternoon, trying to work out her frustrations by wearing herself out. She's on her second lap around the lake, footfalls still steady if not as light as they were during her first circuit. The late afternoon sun slants through the branches of the budding trees in shafts of golden light.