(no subject)

[claudiometer]

In the end, she caught Lauren before she took off to the hospital and got her to get the keys to the handcuffs. Not that Claudia plans on telling Artie that; she's more than happy to let him assume she worked some kind of mechanical escape-artist magic.
What's weird, though, is that Mrs. F's turning to her for the case report. She guesses it makes sense - after all, Artie was writing bad poetry for half the case, and she's the one who carried the load - but still. How's she supposed to write a serious report on the matter of Mata Hari's stockings without it being a solid page of 'o_O' and similar faces?
She's in the bar, with her laptop, trying to figure out just that. She's also got a six-pack of ramune, ripe for the sharing should someone want a bottle.

(no subject)

[kitchen_maid]

[OOM: It's a fine day to christen a fair vessel. Even if there are no fairies in attendance.]

[OOM]

[1nv1nc1ble]

[OOM: Mark returns to the Guardians of the Globe tryouts and finds that Rex has gotten some small bit of karmic feedback.]

AND

[OOC: In spring, a young man's thoughts turn to fancies of World History.]

(no subject)

[hadyougoing]

Ava still kind of hates everything.

Seriously, did that happen? Did she sing-- okay, croak-- ABBA in the company of Sameth, Nick, and Riley Freaking Poole while doing a dance, and then have Nick get really mad at her and stomp off to go hang out with said Riley??

She should be trying to move while maintaining good posture, or stalking targets like a cat. That'd be a productive use of her time.

Instead, she is curled up on one end of a couch, wearing the coziest sweater she could get her mitts on and drinking peppermint cocoa.

She does not look pleased with the multiverse.

(no subject)

[cutting_edgex23]

X slips in through the front door, laptop in hand.

She pauses to attach her Security badge to her belt, then settles at a corner booth, flipping open the laptop and getting to work.

There are rumors of a Facility outpost in the southwest, maybe New Mexico, maybe Arizona. That is a lot of ground to cover, however, so X is attempting to narrow down the possibilities.

Then there will be a road trip. Kind of.

In the meantime -- a Security shift, dinner, and reading a note from Alanna. In that order.

[ooc: Open until it scrolls!]

(no subject)

[always_the_moon]

There's a new face in Milliways tonight.

A young female human, no longer a girl but not quite a woman, with sea-green eyes and dark wavy hair that cascades down past her waist. She's dressed in blue, black, and silver, with an ebony tiara on her head.

Those who watch her for any length of time will notice something... off about her. Maybe it's that her posture isn't quite right. Maybe it's the way her hair moves all by itself every now and then. Maybe it's those eyes that are a little too large and a little too deep.

A few, particularly those with a sense for the supernatural, may be able to see past her altogether to the equine moon-goddess hiding beneath the surface.

[ooc: Princess Luna is currently sporting an illusion spell to make her appear human--she's not actually shapeshifted. Pups who can sense magical or supernatural activity should be able to tell it's an illusion, and may even be able to see past it, at your discretion. Open until it scrolls.]

(no subject)

[noteful]

The thing is, she knows he was trying to be helpful.

Which is why Meg has left the yarn Alain rewound for her in the ball that he wound it into.

Even though she had already wound the yarn into the ball she wanted.

And even though he did it wrong, and it's wound too tightly and that's not good for the yarn, and she's pretty sure some of these knots weren't in it when she wound it the first time, and the whole thing is now that much harder to work with.

Because he was trying to be helpful and thoughtful and nice, and do something for her that she had mentioned (five days earlier) needing to do.

Which is something she reminds herself of again as it gets away from her and goes rolling halfway across the bar, leaving a line of deep brown yarn (and a couple of annoyed waitrats) trailing along as it goes.

Darn it.

(no subject)

[balancingminds]

Charles found a book on transformations in the library, it covers a great variety of them and is informative and interesting.

The author seems to be from a magical world and decided to interview as many people who experienced shifts either due to their species or a curse as they could. The style reminds him of some of the science books from the 1800s with the same mixture of formality and adventure writing as well as beautiful illustrations.

He's in a chair near the fire with a cup of tea that has a drop of Scotch in it and will occasionally look up from his book to observe the Bar when a stray thought catches his attention.

(OOC: Charles is passively listening to the thoughts around him, which means they're on the same level as background conversation for him. Please include your character's thoughts in your tag and let me know if he wouldn't be able to read your character and why. Thank you and this is open until it scrolls.)

(no subject)

[sees_them_too]

Easter break is over. And while Hogwarts had been slowly starting to percolate with resentment against the High Inquisitor before the holiday, things have now progressed to full on, barely reined-in rebellion against one Dolores Umbridge.

The most glorious example of which is, currently, the swamp in the Charms corridor, courtesy of Misters Fred and George Weasley.

Of course, it does make getting to class a bit of an adventure. Especially when the classroom door decides to plop you into Milliways.

The door opens, letting in a small flood of stagnant swamp water. Luna, wearing a pair hip waders and holding her books on her head with one hand, quickly steps through and shuts the door against the brackish deluge.

She’ll deal with the not-exactly-small puddle she’s standing in in a moment.

(no subject)

[ellectrical]

They didn't lock her in, but it was still three days before Elle opened the door herself.

When she steps into the bar now, she's in a knee-length black skirt and a black sleeveless top, her hair tied back and nothing on her feet. There are also small sparks constantly snapping over her body – flashing at her wrists, crackling along her legs, jumping between her shoulders. She's still for a moment as she takes in the noise of the bar – much more noise than she's heard in those three days – and then immediately heads for the door to the grounds outside.

Once outside, she walks along the grass, occasionally leaving blackened footprints and keeping a safe distance from both the lake and the woods. There's no grace to it this time, she's not practicing – just pacing back and forth, her nerves apparent in her quick and slightly trembling steps, and the increasing number of sparks crackling along her skin.





[ooc: Open 'til it scrolls.]

(no subject)

[battle_butler]

[oom: A week can be a long time, in business.]