Naruto First EP- after reset.

[wannab_hokage]

There is a kid standing at the door, his hand on the knob, staring at his surroundings. This was not his house. This was really not his house. He wonders if they have ramen.

"Wha.... Where am I?" The words fall out of his mouth in a near shout.

He is a bit small for 12 years old. He is wearing an orange jacket, orange high water pants, a pair of blue sandals, and a pair of green goggles on his head.

(no subject)

[will_scarlett]

OOM: Within himself the king did say,
These men of Robin Hood's
More humble be than mine to me ;
So the court may learn of the woods.

Ballad 151: The King's Disguise and Friendship with Robin Hood

(no subject)

[nerves_of_ice]

The funeral of Quentin Evans had gone as well as such a thing could. As the deceased had been not only a decent chap but a likeable fellow, many of his friends and colleagues had come to pay their respects... including James and Nancy Rushman.

Nancy had been the one to slip her arm around the grieving widow's shoulders when Amanda had broken down in sobs once it was all over, lending both comfort and support. After a murmured word from Henri Durant, Marie had reluctantly gone to join them; James had stayed where he was beside the Frenchman.

"A nasty thing," Henri said. "But life goes on, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oui," James agreed.



Three hours later, he's deep in thought as he walks beside Nancy up the front steps of their building.

"You're very quiet," she observes, casting an arch glance at him.

"Mm. Something interesting happened," he replies, unlocking the apartment door. "I'll tell you about it over a cup of coffee inside..."

James pushes the door open, Nancy beside him, and freezes at the sight of an all-too-familiar bar.

"-- hell."

How is he possibly going to explain this?

[OOC: Two muns, two pups, open to all. Questions? Ping aspenx3 or lamorgne on AIM! This post will remain open until we update here to say otherwise. You are all wonderful people! Alas, we are slightly overwhelmed, so at this point please no new threads unless we've already discussed. :) Random reaction posts are always welcome, however. Thank you!]

[OOC²: Slowtime in effect as of midnight Mountain Daylight time (UTC -6) due to exhaustion. Tags will be picked up again tomorrow.]

(no subject)

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

Steve is in the Milliways gym, punching the hell out of a punching bag.

It's not that he's in a particularly bad mood -- it's been a pretty good couple of days, really, and he's managed to prove to Fury and SHIELD that he is more than adequately prepared to join -- but sometimes a fella just needs to ... punch things.

Rather than, you know, brood.


[ooc: Slowtime in effect, thank you!]

(no subject)

[collects_strays]

The door unlatches, but for a moment remains barely ajar. Someone close enough to it might hear footsteps and soft scratching on the other side, before the door is nudged along just a little farther.

Through it emerges a light brown, shaggy mutt. He doesn't wander very far, sniffing at the floorboards and peering up toward someone's dinner on a nearby table, and shortly –

"Hey, hey –"

Graham pushes the door open and steps through. Winston perks up at his voice, circling back toward him, tail wagging. Graham looks to the dog first, before blinking up and around the bar, eyes adjusting from the night sky he'd been expecting.

His gaze falls to Winston again, and he sighs, but closes the door behind them. Graham nods once to the dog, and then starts to walk across the room, heading in the direction of the back door. As he does, he reaches into his the pocket of his jacket, and pulls out his glasses.

Winston follows, close to Graham's feet, ignoring even the waitrats that skitter past them.


[ooc: Catch them inside or out on the grounds. Post open til whenever!]

(no subject)

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Enjolras checked the bulletin board -- no postings for jobs, no one in the room who looks like a hopeful employer -- and then acquired a table not far from the door. Bar provided soup and bread, unasked, when he requested coffee, and he was forced to realize that he was hungry too. (Enjolras has a tendency to forget about meals in favor of thinking, even here where there's little work to lose himself in.) He has eaten them, but not yet cleared away the dishes nor refreshed his coffee.

It's Rousseau's The Social Contract: an old favorite, known by heart. Enjolras can read it and think at the same time, which is what he's doing.