choose your marvel adventure

[andproud]

There is a mutant in the Bar subtly practicing her attempts at camouflage.

It's not as tricky as trying to get the details on another person - human, mutant, whichever - this time, she usually only has to focus on a pattern or two in order to blend in. For example, her hand looks invisible, but really it's because she's blending it in with the wood grain of the table, the brown whorls appearing on her skin from her fingertips to her forearm.

Mostly, she's just bored.

Her hand returns to normal - well, skin-colored, humanly normal, at least - and she starts looking around for a rat to order from, drumming nails on the table. (One of the benefits to being who she is is that she'll always have a perfect manicure.)

---

Meanwhile, there's a certain assistant to a billionaire playboy philanthropist sitting engrossed in her own booth.

It's a little difficult to try and manage Tony Stark's schedule far beyond the reaches of wi-fi, so she's having to do things the hard way and write everything out by hand.

Her handwriting is a clear indicator of her: sharp, precise, exact, nothing overstated or left out.

She has at least one magazine interview to try and reschedule, although she has a feeling that Tony's conducting his own interview with Miss Everhart right about now.

(no subject)

[death_gone_mad]

After cutting herself testing the sharpness of Weyland's sword, Amascut felt something missing from herself. The cut on her thumb has healed without a scar, yet, she still wears a bandage over it. She wore it while she braved the horrid snow to collect wood from the forest and split it, and while she carefully constructed a sizable bonfire.

If she came into being on another world, she could have been a goddess of the hearth. Except for the virgin thing. The concept is a strange and foreign one in her world. But still, she was once worshiped as the goddess of rebirth.

Long ago, before the world went mad.

The fire is a bright, living, and life-giving thing. It breathes in the cold, lifeless air and consumes the wood that the trees have knitted from elements out of that same air, and breathes out its healing warmth and light. It is almost sun-like in the light and warmth it gives, but not enough to distract beings such as Sköll from their duties. It is not her intent, anyhow. She does miss the pup, though.

Catch her outside, tending the fire and taking in its warmth. Also dressed warmly, of course. She is in a rare mood, one that wishes to defy winter's cruelty and isn't opposed to healing and the continuance of life.

Happy Hour

[morethanprops]

Moist wasn't planning on coming to Milliways again, but the door he was using to exit a bank that had become a little too close turned into the Bar. He adjusts his jacket sleeves as he ended up with some ink on his shirt cuffs and walks to the counter.

Before he can order anything, a napkin appears and he curses under his breath at being told that he's tending. The cocktail book is fascinating and soon he has some specials up, a drink for himself and his best smile. If he has to bartend, then he'll try to charm some money out of it.

Specials
Reality Twist
High Road
Gold Standard
Has anything gone well for you this week? Tell me of what's worked and your drink is half off.

(no subject)

[the_cupbearer]

It's a quiet evening for Ganymede tonight, and he's content to spend it laying over a chair by the the fireplace, a sharp carving knife in hand and two long pieces of bone that are already hollowed out. He's only just begun forming the mouthpiece on one, and from there he can finesse the tone and add any decoration that may occur to him. He's still covered in the henna tattoo that's visible below the pushed-up sleeves and unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

He's whistling under his breath, a quick and amusing little tune for which he's almost forgotten the words. It's been a while since he last heard it, you understand.

(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

So there is a piano in the bar. Autor has been looking for it for a month.

He knows it wasn't in that corner yesterday. And he knows it wasn't there five minutes ago.

But it's there now.

That's not possible, he thinks, annoyed. At least it shouldn't be. He abandons his tea to inspect whether or not it exists. To his surprise, the instrument presents as a solid object--and it's in tune. Well. In that case.

Once seated, Autor closes his eyes. Swaying, he caresses the keys. His brow is furrowed, but a small smile rests on his lips.

For the first time since his arrival at Milliways, he looks genuinely at ease.

(no subject)

[hasthehighground]

A guy dressed in black jeans and a worn purple t-shirt opens the door, and takes a half-step in. One foot over the doorway, and one foot in his world, he glances sideways to use his peripheral vision. Yep, apartment still there.

Huh.

"... Sure, why not," he says. He steps in, hesitating for the briefest of moments before letting go of the edge of the door so it closes behind him. Clint rubs his hand over the short hair on the back of his neck, and steps to the side of the door so he's not blocking it. He realizes he stands out, but a door showed up in his apartment. He's pretty sure it'd be weirder to not be confused.

[OOC: Clint has been re-set with a new mun! Hellooo. He is post-Thor, pre-Tesseract babysitting duty. Please don't spoil him re: the future.

Catch me in crackchat at the moment as TLvop, or check out the contact post in his journal -- I'm prone to slow, but slowtimes are A+ awesome :)]