(no subject)

[faithful_lt]

[OOM:

"He was wrong. And so were you."

(OOC: Spoilers through contextual reference to recent canon events through BSG 4x16.)]

(no subject)

[claudiometer]

After an incident involving Joshua snuggling his sister's pants (don't ask), the Donovan siblings are downstairs, assessing what remains of the damage from last night.

"No, seriously, why did you say we'd finish cleaning?"

Joshua shrugs, and tries to flatten out his epic bedhead (even after taking a shower to get the egg out; his hair's just special like that). "Not fair to make someone else clean up after our childish shenanigans."

"Dude, that's what the cleaning staff is for. I just didn't want to end up encased in chocolate for our troubles."

"Encased in... wait, what?"

"Long story." Claudia sighs. "At least the tab damage isn't... as bad as it could be." (She suspects it comes down to what cleaning they did last night, before she herded him up to bed. Or, you know, floor.)

Come interrupt them! Or join in.

[tiny tag: Joshua Donovan]

(no subject)

[faithful_lt]

The front door opens. Louis Hoshi wastes no time before crossing through into Milliways and shutting the door again behind him.

He's deathly pale, and his expression is set in lines of desperate determination - a determination that's echoed in his movements as he swiftly walks over to the bar. Once he's there, he undoes the collar of his duty blues and pulls out a small packet of letters, which he sets on Bar's glossy wood surface.

"If you could please see that these are delivered, Lady Bar, I'd be grateful."

He spreads the contents out, revealing envelopes for Dr. Simon Tam, Lady Demeter, Lady Aphrodite, Mr. Andrew Wells, Mr. Boyd Crowder, Cpt. Steve Rogers, and Anastasia Dualla.

The letters vanish, and Hoshi nods, already fastening his uniform again. "Thank you."

He doesn't wait for any response, nor does he delay even long enough to look around before executing a crisp about face and heading back the way he came.

(He'll have to come back again soon, he knows; to be certain, if nothing else. Just... not yet. Not today, of all days.)

Galactica's corridors are visible for just an instant before the door shuts behind him.


[OOC #1: If your character has received a letter, please feel free to use this post for reactions, if you would like.

OOC #2: Hoshi's trying to get in and out without speaking to anyone yet, and thus will be hard to catch. That said, if your character would try to stop him anyway, go ahead and tag accordingly.]

(no subject)

[numbered_doctor]

Remy had been feeling a little off for most the day, but a nap had only coaxed out more symptoms, chest feeling tight, and her breathing short and wheezy. Grumbling to herself, Remy makes her way downstairs, bee-lining straight for the infirmary for asthma meds she needs only once in a blue moon.

Sometime later, she can be found curled on one end of one of the couches and flipping idly though a book and her new inhaler resting on the coffee table in front of her.


Botherable either in the infirmary, or afterwards on the couch. Chances are she's not going to stop for you on her way to the infirmary.

(no subject)

[blue_ajah]

It is an impulse that drives her this evening; an impulse and a restlessness, the combination of which leads her to lay aside her current work and enter Milliways, instead.

Soon enough, the Aes Sedai is settled at a table with a pot of tea gently steaming near at hand, and a delicate china cup in front of her.

As she sips, she observes the bar and its patrons with definite interest.

(no subject)

[callipygos]

If you've never seen a goddess cry, it looks a little like this:

A woman's shape, holding a note in one hand. Golden hair spills over one shoulder in a strategic attempt to hide her face.

(For those who know this particular goddess, that right there is your giveaway.)

She's very still. But every now and then, the attentive observer will hear a sniffe, and see her shoulders shake.


[ooc: around and emailable! hit up artistformerlyknownas at gmail dot com if you have questions, ideas, schemes dreams etc.]

(no subject)

[balancingminds]

Charles has a hangover after drinking snake juice, he knows he didn't get too drunk but he did press on his limits. After spending most of the day in the library and its quiet, he's come downstairs with his book, Freud's text on dreams, its a favorite reread of his.

He orders a pot of tea from Bar and finds a booth, one that's slightly out of the way. Though he is reading, there is another cup on the tea tray and a generous selection of scones as he's not hiding just resting his head.

(OOC: Charles is listening passively but less than normal as his head hurts. Please include your character's thoughts if they approach him, but if they're across the Bar, he won't be paying attention. Thank you.)

[OOM] Out by the Lake

[v_knidh8er]

You might not have noticed it with all of the snow, but the Temple Construction has continued on the throughout the winter. Albeit at a slower pace due in part to the weather and the fact that they're currently two men down, but it does continue.

The walls of the Temple are nearly complete. The roof, which is being constructed separately, cures on the already completed front plaza. Today the Loompas are putting the finishing touches on the decorative mosaics that grace the portion of the Temple that faces the bar.

If one listens closely, you might be able to hear the Starship classic, We Built This City as if covered by Rammstein.


[ooc: mostly for reaction purposes.]

(no subject)

[iambetadraconis]

[OOM: "Need money? Need a job? As it happens, we're hiring."]

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

[Some time ago, after a Brotherhood of Steel water caravan was attacked by raiders, Ellen asked for volunteers to help deal with the situation. She got them.

OOM:

Evergreen Mills

ooc: 350 tags. You've been warned.]


The door opens; the landscape beyond is broken and urban and just at the end of a long, long day. That was Washington, DC out there once. Still is, just... the way you'd expect, two hundred years after the worst man-wrought disaster in human history.

A lot of people've been busy. Ellen's one of them, and today is finally over. She could really use a drink right now.

"Bar," she says, "Sam Adams, please. And-" She drops a bag on the Bar; it clinks with a tinny sound more like cheap painted metal than actual coinage. "Put that towards any drink or food or anything else that Kate or Voodoo or Thor or Invincible or Mr. Westen or Annabelle or Andrea or Agent K want when they order next, okay? In case I'm not here then?"

The bag disappears. The beer appears.

"Thank you," says Ellen, and settles back on a stool to drink and watch the room for a while.