Party Post!

[srspirate]

What is this?

A lively tune?

Your host is inspired to dance!

Those who enter the bar today may notice more than the usual commotion. There is music, a table tucked in a corner for receiving gifts, and a festive banner. It has flamingos on it. Pink ones.

In addition, there is a modest sandwich board set on the Bar with the following proclamation in festive script:

La Fête Spectaculaire!
Dinah Lance Party
Anything served in the half-shell is free
Do try the coconut punch
Follow the rose petals
➸

A scattering of rose petals lead the way outside, along the path to the beach.


(OoC: Welcome to the cross-community going away party/housewarming for innerbrat & Dinah Lance! [details and announcement] This is a standard party post; shenanigans and thread-hopping are encouraged. For your convenience, an OoC thread has been set up at the end of the post for communicating, plotting, and sending some OoC love and well-wishes to the lovely Debi. Debi and I can be found on AIM as well and in crackchat off and on all weekend. So please stop by! Thanks everybody, let's have some fun and show Debi some love. ♥

ETA: Just as an aside, the "bring a present or duel" thing was entirely for the lulz. Your pups aren't obligated to one or the other unless they want to, and this remains completely open to everyone! XD)

(no subject)

[sunbaked_baker]

(OOM: In the house of world the
many darknesses are surrounded
by light.

To see the one, we need
the other.
-Pierre Joris, "Altars of Light")

It's late. Even the kitchen rats have gone. By all rights, Rae should be asleep by now, even though being at Milliways means she doesn't technically have to be awake again by four. The hot bath she'd taken when she had gotten in from the forest should've set her firmly on the path towards sleep, but even that hadn't helped. Her mind is too cluttered a place at the moment for sleep.

So she is in the kitchen, tonight. Large mixing bowls of various kinds of rising bread dough are grouped, covered by damp cloths, next to the radiant warmth of the ovens. The smells of good yeast dough, some of sprouted wheat, others of sharp rye, still others with the sweetness of spelt or oatmeal, some with combinations of grains and seeds, fill the room. Within the ovens, a quick experiment bakes - cookies made using some of the nuts that had been left at the bar for her. The first one she had tried earlier in the day had left her feeling greatly refreshed and free of bruises and scrapes. The cookies are to see if the nuts' healing properties could survive being cooked.

But baking - even when one is a professional - produces not just food but dirty dishes, so the baker is currently standing at the kitchen sink, up to her elbows in suds. Rae sings to herself, quiet and pensive, as she washes the dishes.

(no subject)

[mnt_mike]

Mike is seated at Bar.
His expression one of...horror.
Abject.
Utter.
Complete.
Horror.

His eyes dart left.
They dart right.

"I need an adult!"

[OOC Notes: Not for threading, just for reactions.
Mike doesn't hear the conversation, nor see in his mind's eye the goings on. What he experiences are impressions filtered through Bar.

But let's face it, even that...is probably still too much.]

(no subject)

[one_man_army]

When the Front Door opens, Carl doesn't hesitate in striding through into the bar. He's got a heavy-laden backpack slung over one shoulder and he's carrying an older bolt-action rifle slung over the other. With the faded look of his clothes, the level of facial stubble (high) and layer of grime worn into his skin, he looks as if he's just wandered in after forty days and nights in the desert.

(That's not a stretch.)

"About bloody time," he mutters, to nobody in particular.

He stops by the bar to check for any mail, and finding none that he's that concerned about, turns his attention to the bar (no tender tonight) to order a drink.

"Scotch," he says, before he clarifies. "the Glenlivet."

When a glass appears, he shakes his head.

"No, just give me the bottle."

The glass remains, so he takes it to an empty table near a wall with a view of the doors and the counter, and settles in to contemplate if he should take an interest in a dinner that isn't liquid-based.

(The verdict is still out.)


[He's botherable, and will share the scotch if you bring your own glass. EDIT: Midnight EST, I'm off to bed but if anyone wants to tag, I'll pick them up this weekend.]

(no subject)

[fluffiest_archadian]

[OOM: The Battle of Nabudis.

Warning for violence.]