milliways_bar | Oct. 11th, 2012

Oct. 11th, 2012

From one corner of the bar the noise are mostly scratching pens, coughing, and the ding of wrapped cough drops off a candy dish.

Tyler has acquired a blanket, a pad of paper for notes, and a home cold remedy.

Ok, that last one is a mug of hot Everclear cut with lemon water and honey but there has to be something he can take for this cold.

Botherable and slightly miserable.

bprd_agent_red

Red has not been back to the bureau yet. Why? Why should he?

He'd much rather hang out here in Milliways. And besides, something creepy is going down, and isn't that his area of expertise?

So he's here.

He couldn't sleep (bad dreams, Rasputin, Chaos Gods, fire, father), so he's outside getting some air and looking around.

Something is definitely not quite right out here, and Hellboy doesn't like the look of that fog, or the strange symbol he's found carved into the trunk of a tree on the edge of the woods.

Lighting a cigar, his cough on the first exhale has him eying the stogie in annoyance.

"Cheap ass, Manning."

Another puff turns into a coughing fit, and he extinguishes the cigar in disgust, and heads inside for a beer instead.

[ooc: slow and steady is I, but I'll try and keep up. Catch him inside or outside.]

valiantrebel

Young Harry Percy has just had a raging, bellowing, knock-down shouting match with his father. This is not unusual -- he is 17, after all -- but there are a few facts worth noting about this particular battle.

Harry's father is the Earl of Northumberland, which is a pretty big deal in 1387.

Harry himself always knew he'd have to get married someday, but to hear that the match will be entirely out of his hands is an outrage too grievous to bear for an instant.

Why think of marriage yet, when there are yet so many Scots to be driven back from the border?

By God and all the devils walking the earth and in Hell, he'll not stand at the alter with some mewling girl-child got of the Duke of York!

The aforementioned Scots have already taken to calling him Hotspur, and it's easy enough to see why, with the force and fury with which he slams the door and storms into the Bar. And it's a credit to just how surprising is the presence of Milliways in Warkworth Castle that Harry stops, notices where he is and stares, for once lost for words.

Well met, good my lord. Will anyone chance to acquaint him with his surroundings?

[tinytag: harry percy (hotspur)]

[[ooc: Open until it scrolls!]]

fireinthehole

The creepy feeling in the woods hasn't gotten much better. But time and a crop that needs tending wait for no man's jitters. And jitters are against Boyd's personal motto, anyhow. Especially when there's this much work to do. He's got a rain gauge out there in his little clearing, and last time he was out there he thought it was looking a mite low.

So to add insult to injury -- he's got a lot of work still left to do on the drying shed, which means hauling out even more supplies from the bar into the spooky woods -- Boyd Crowder is hauling gallon jugs of water out into the woods, and he's doing so without aid of a cart or a handtruck or any such device. Two are in his backpack. One is in his left hand.

(His only concession to the increasingly spooky woods is the handgun at the small of his back. This is why his right hand is free.)

Just a mild-mannered gentleman farmer, out tending his fields. That's all Boyd Crowder is.

a1enzo

The skin under Enzo's eyes is a shade darker than the rest of him.

He doesn't have nightmares too often anymore. Not as a general rule.

But the last two nights have been a collage of every bad thing that's ever happened in his life—and there have been plenty—overlaid with a persistent, itchy sensation of being watched.

He's sitting by the fire now, closer than he usually allows himself, writing up his observations. His fingers fly over the text window.

1nv1nc1ble

Mark's been tooling around the Bar for a while now, putting off going back through the Door. But he's got class, and he wants to hit the comic store after school, and he wants to talk to Eve. So, he drops a few bucks on the Bar to reduce his tab, gathers his books, and heads through the door, back to the halls of Reginald Vel Johnson High School. Just another Wednesday....

[OOC: Taking Mark out of the Bar for a week or two, real time, to finish my move. I'll be around for current slowtimes and OOC conversations, but after October 17, I'll be out of touch until the 22nd. See y'all soon.]

hadyougoing

[before:

lost in a dream
don't know which way to go
if you are all that you seem
then baby i'm moving way too slow]

Ava can't get back to sleep.

However, she doesn't want to spend the whole night staring blankly at the walls of her dark, completely empty room. So she drags herself out of bed and down the stairs.

It's God-only-knows-what o'clock, but Ava's curled up in a corner booth, wrapped in a chenille throw from her bed. She'd have preferred one of the couches-- they're softer and cozier-- but the booth affords a better view of the bar.

There's another one of those freaking symbols on the tabletop, though.

Ava's also nursing a mug of hot tea, sweetened with honey. Every now and then, she gives a very grumpy cough.

[ooc: middle-of-the-night ava post a go-- have at! email artistformerlyknownas at gmail with any questions.]

not_his_pa

The horses don't like whatever's in the forest, his door's gone, but his cough keeps being there and he's having trouble sleeping. William hates feeling out of control this way and after his last coughing fit spooked one of the horses even more, so that it ended up pushing him against a stall wall, he's decided to leave the stables. It feels like he's going to have another bruise to add to his collection as he knows the horses don't mean to hurt him, they're scared too by all the fog and whatever's out there.

Inside Bar gives him a pack of stuff that's like ice to rest against his side and his arm as well as a filling dinner, a book and a glass of hot whiskey and honey for his throat. He's arranged himself in a chair by the fire where he can lean on the cold pack as he reads and tries to feel better, he needs more sleep.

(OOC: Catch him at the counter or near the fire.)

claudiometer

(OOM:

if this is a lesson in love
well, what's it for?)

balancingminds

OOM: Time's standing still
Waiting for some small clue
I keep getting chills

knightoftheswan

[OOM: The Peace]

awesome_binomial_theorems

Moriarty wasn't expecting to, when he approached the Bar for some more tobacco, be provided with a napkin informing him that he was required to tend the bar for a while. He frowns, turning the napkin over in his hand.

"Madam Bar, I've never served a drink in my life. I fear it would be a disaster."

Another napkin appears. He reads it, folds it up, stows it away.

"You make a compelling argument."

Within five minutes, he's flicked through the book of cocktails and has set himself up behind the Bar, with the Specials written in a scruffy scribble on the board.

Specials.
Black Hole.
Southern Bound Meteor.
Eclipse Cocktail.
~and~
Brandy.

Bring me an interesting story and the drink is free.

While he waits, he settles against the bar, alternating between puffing on a pipe (smoking, as he does, a rather strong shag, the smell is noxious) and half-heartedly solving a Rubik's Cube that Bar helpfully provides before going to sleep.

guppy_sandhu

Guppy is at the bar, with a double of whiskey. He can't understand it... he's not slept more than an hour a night for three days.

Maybe it's because the baby's due. He does keep having nightmares about his family being grabbed by a spooky strange man. Or because of this terrible cough he keeps getting.

Anyway, hopefully the whiskey will settle him just enough to get some sleep. He hopes. Is someone watching? He feels like there's someone nosing. Well they can stop it!

One of the infirmary waitrats comes over and pokes him gently, looking vaguely concerned, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

the_lioness

[OOM: A Cry of War

[OOC: This is a thread

dramawench and I sandboxed quite some time ago, but since she played Jon in the bar and I am fond of it, I figured I'd post it now that it fits in Alan's timeline. Please ignore Alanna's journal name. Many thanks to Alyssa for playing an awesome Jon! :) ]

ambriel

Ambriel comes in from outside, frowning.

The sunset seemed less convivial than it usually does here. And not because the 'days' are shortening, either.

There is something in the woods, frustratingly just outside the angel's senses; which is frankly unusual. Perhaps someone else has noticed? Would Security really protect a patron with an aura that stank of rot?

If it is a patron at all.