(no subject)

[timelessinventor]

[OOM: I've overheard your theory "nostalgia's for geeks"
I guess sir, if you say so, some of us just like to read

In which Helena finishes something important.]

OOM

[redintheledger]

Khabarovsk, Siberia, USSR, 1955:

"What's happened to my husband?"

Party Post | Urquhart's Wake -- outside

[ikissdhimbck]

As patrons enter the bar today, they may notice something a little different. A little more color, a sweeter scent; flowers, beautifully arranged. Sitting unobtrusively to one end of the Bar near the message board is an easel-mounted wreath arrangement, at its center the name Angus Urquhart, with the dates of his life, his afterlife, and his ultimate passing from the bar.

Should you follow the arrow pointing to the back door, similar but smaller flower arrangements mark the path to the lakeside. There, a modest affair is underway; seats, sturdy refreshment tables at Miss Sunshine's behest, music, and the makings of a bonfire closer to the shore for when it gets dark. The occasion may be somber, but above all this is a celebration of life — of the ever-so-much-more-than-nine lives of Angus Urquhart.

Come have a drink in his honor, or share your stories of his many adventures.

(no subject)

[itrunsinthefamily]

Red makes note of the occasion out back on her way from the woods into the bar. She shrugs it off once she sees the sign, though; as far as she can remember, that's someone she never met.
She asks Lady Bar for paper and something to write with, and proceeds to leave a note for a few people.
( for Snow, Charles and Helena )

That done, she heads for the fireplace. Hopefully all these flowers won't bother her so much that she has to leave before anyone answers her note.

(no subject)

[1stwitness]

Ichabod, looking a bit cleaner today after some effort with the tub in his room (Bar having supplied one with fittings he'd be used to) and a lot of hot water, comes downstairs and to a table.

The sign on its easel catches his eye and he sobers but still sits down, unwilling to intrude on other people's mourning for a man he never met.

He'd welcome company.