(no subject)

[scurlock]

[staff apt. #4:

should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and days o' auld lang syne.


warnings for dark subject matter, swearing, bad habits.]

(no subject)

[howling_laugh]

Coyote bursts into Milliways with abandon. Her dress is sparkly. There is mistletoe tucked behind one ear. She's got a glass of champagne.

BRING IT ON, HONEYBUNCH. WHO WANTS KISSES?!



[OOC: And now I am going TO BED. I love you all!]

(no subject)

[gorgonfondness]

Mia's in the bar with her fortune telling sign and wares again, but this time she's not alone. Her boys are sitting in the booth with her, both of their faces smeared with zap-apple jam.

"You know, I bet I can find some spells in here to get you two started in school," she says, looking over the My First Book of Spells primer. "When you're a bit bigger, of course."

"But Mama, I am biiig," Cepheus insists.

"Oh? So you want to go to school?"

"Yah, I wanna go school," her older son agrees. "But Sco'pus can't come. He small."

"Bih bah?" Scorpius coos, sucking some jam off of his fingers.

"But he'll be big one day."

"No. He baby."

"He won't be a baby forever."

"Yah he is."

Mia shakes her head with a soft laugh, keeping quiet about how she might always see both of them as her babies.

(lazy afternoon)

[scarred_grin]

One recently-engaged, newly-aware god avatar on the couch. It's been a busy... indeterminate length of time for Pyrrha; what with her peculiar lifestyle she has no way to know exactly how long it's been, but it's all recent enough that she's still adjusting. To all of it.

If she hadn't gotten absorbed as part of a god, she wouldn't even be here to be engaged in the first place; and if she didn't have someone who loved her enough to want to marry her, the sudden realization that she doesn't even have a body full-time would have hit her much harder. But she is here, and he loves her no matter what she's been or done or how much she can be around, and that's as good a start as anybody gets.

So she is here on the couch (tiny shorts, faded Ego Likeness t-shirt, Chuck Taylors, apparent indifference to cold weather) busying herself with a hobby that has given her comfort and focus since childhood: drawing. Specifically, drawing graphic pictures of scenes from the Bible.

Botherable. Friendly, even.

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Out of Milliways, in the Pitt:

Lord Ashur was promised one warning shot. 101 makes it count.

And after some extended thought and careful consideration, an extremely final decision is made.

New Year's Happy Hour - Caius Cosades

[oldsugartooth]

Caius is currently examining an edition of the Common Tongue dated the 28th of Evening Star. It's always been something of a gossip rag, but gossip in Mournhold counts for more than it does in most places. And their sources are more reliable than you'd expect.

So it's some time before he notices a napkin resting beneath his left hand.

Caius raises an eyebrow. "You don't say? And what if I say no?"

Another napkin appears.

"Well, you do make a persuasive argument."

A few minutes later, there's a new sign above bar, written in neat, efficient handwriting.


Today marks the Festival of New Life. Ale today is free, as per Cyrodil tradition.

A happy and prosperous New Year to all of you!

EP - Second Age

[starrydome]

 It's a different Elrond entering the Bar today.

He is wearing full armour in the colours of the High King. He is younger. And he is looking grim.

They have just received word from Eregion. They had been right about Annartar, who had called himself Lord of Gifts. They had been right, and Celebrimbor had been wrong. Wrong and mislead.

His pace is fast as he walks through the door (headed for his own rooms to pack a few things before the army sets out) and then he stops.

Sorcery!

But no. He remembers this place. Dimly. As something out of a dream.

You are safe here. And time does not pass at the other side of the door. 

He does need time. 

And yet he doesn't move. Then he was a frightened child. Now, he is the herald of the King. 


(ooc: Mun is headed to bed soonish, but will pick everything up tomorrow - the war about to begin is this.)

(no subject)

[nepetaleijon]

Sort of Out of Milliways:

> Nepeta: Host Midsw33p's Vigil.

Some threads still in progress.

(no subject)

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

There is a boy, some fourteen years old, entering the bar, stopping, frowning, and looking around, taking in his surroundings.

(The boy in question is attired in the rather ragged fashion of a young, working-class Victorian male, although the clothes are all a little ill-fitting, either too large or too small, on his generally gangly and awkward frame. He has a split lip, bleeding knuckles, and the beginnings of a black eye, because some things will never change.)

After a few moments of soft swearing, he tries the door. Locked. With a scowl, he heads towards the Bar.

Botherable.

(no subject)

[not_his_pa]

It's a new year and William has the ranch ledger in front of him, he likes to write up a record and leave it for his father. They don't really talk other than in these letters and notes, but they're important.

Bar's given him a small and well iced glass of whiskey that's he's sipping as he writes, the part he keeps faltering over is writing that he's not in school anymore. It makes the most sense, but he knows it will disappoint his father.

When the words are tricky, he turns around to watch the Bar, looking for friends and there's a new novel to read when he's finished writing.

(OOC: Open for ages.)