Dr. Hannibal Lecter leaves a number of brief notes

[cook_the_rude]

( Mr. Steven Rogers )

( Miss Rae Seddon )

And finally, a small note pinned to the general notice board:

Bastille Day Barbecue

In honour of France's Bastille Day, and for all more recent arrivals to celebrate our great privilege in finding a way to this place, I will host a barbecue in Milliways' garden on the afternoon and evening of Sunday, July 14th. Food and drink will be provided; there will be two grills, one for meat, one for vegetarian options and vegetables. Donations may be made, if you so wish, towards additional equipment for the Infirmary Day Room.

-- Dr. Hannibal Lecter

[[meta: nothing will be people, not even upon request! if someone needs to speak to hannibal beforehand, you may catch him pinning the note to the notice board on this post. also, if your charrie is likely to recognise the name hannnibal lecter as a) fictional b) a famous cannibalistic serial killer or c) both, feel free to not have them notice this note and/or simply turn up at the barbecue tomorrow.]]

(no subject)

[sunbaked_baker]

(OOM: "Then what is this, Sunshine? We need to know what's coming.")

(no subject)

[spit_it_out]

 Therapy

(babysitting)

[deadman_pirate]

Teacher says every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings...

If you give the right god tongue lessons (not entirely a euphemism) you just might find yourself transformed; and once transformed, you might be nostalgic for your living youth, and the women of your long-destroyed home port. Sure, maybe they didn't have what you wanted, but they were still a wonder to look at, all brightly-colored fabrics and light-catching jewelry and bells, hundreds of little golden bells; and it's still your ideal of feminine beauty, and you've certainly got the money for all the jewelry, so why not go all the way with it?

But you're just putting on the last of your jewelry when the god shows up, hands you a baby in a pirate costume and asks if you'd mind babysitting tonight, since he's got a hot date. You can't exactly say no... so here we are.

One flashy vampiratess (utterly devoid of stealth tonight) standing by the bar, trying to drink her breakfast. It goes like this: while she tries to take a sip, baby Egil gets hold of the end of one of her dreads and starts gumming it contentedly; she notices and takes her hair out of his mouth, making him unhappy; she gives a bit of a shimmy to make all the bells peal, startling him--where's that sound coming from? from everywhere!--and then making him laugh his delighted little baby-laugh; she tries again to take a sip of her cup of blood, and he reaches for her hair again.

This could take a while.

(no subject)

[katyafeline]

Tonight, as late afternoon wends its way into twilight, the steady clacking of wood heralds the presence of a Russian playing gorodki.

Any game that involves throwing one thing at a bunch of other things qualifies as a good time in Katya's book.

"Hoʻapono" Epilogue

[thebesteverseen]

[OOM:



"Good luck, Aquaman!"

]

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

[Out of Milliways, after the various dissections are finished: The Swamps]

(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

Autor is curled up by the fire, huddled under a blanket and diving into a collection of stories by one Edgar Allen Poe. His notes are spread out near his toes, and he's absently tapping his foot near them in a 3/4 rhythm.

He may also be humming quietly, though he doesn't know it.