(no subject)

[gredya]

Technology has its appeal, you've got to give it that. For instance, refrigeration. Freezing. You could stock a larder for winter, and whatever else happened you would know you weren't going to starve.

Of course, that kind of thinking encourages laziness and complacency.

Gredya has reached a compromise with herself, between moral austerity and a desire to see her family live through their first year. She's only storing a few things in the Milliways freezers. Nothing that won't fit in the plastic bags she'd seen in the kitchen, no more than will fit on one freezer shelf. Nothing more than an emergency cache of meat. So she's been bringing in a few things, every couple of days, painstakingly labeling each bag. GREDYA. DO NOT TAKE IT.

Today she's in the kitchen with a pair of rock hyraxes...while the kids roam unattended in the bar, in proper Milliways fashion. Away from their mother's watchful eye, two of them have started placing orders. Can the bar make another football? Can the bar make pencils? Can the bar make unicorns? ...Okay, maybe it can't do that.

(no subject)

[hecu_marine]

Not out of Milliways, just under it: after his last bartending shift, Shephard takes Bossuet to test out his motorcycle in the garage. Perhaps oddly, hijinks do not ensue.

Well, that trip was fun. Shephard might not have been all that comfortable in the aircraft wing of the Milliways garage, but it did mean he got to show off his bike's capabilities, and he's always good with that. Definitely going to need to get those extra upgrades from Dejah, though, for high speed excursions if nothing else.

He deposits a note for Dejah Thoris with the Bar, indicating that both he and the Buell are going to be present for a while, and then heads upstairs briefly. Those limbs he cut off whatever-the-fuck kind of tree it was that Javert downed are a) still too young to be worked into longbows and b) some kind of wood not even his brother the carpenter recognizes, so he can't do much with them, but he does have a sizable collection of feathers gathered from different parts of the Miliways grounds. And those don't have to wait for him to put them to good use, so he's gonna spend some time sorting them out at one of the nearby tables. He could be bothered, if anyone wanted. Doesn't bite, we promise.

Study Break!

[merryeccentricities]

And lunchtime, which Joly is prepared to argue is universal. Multi-universal. Whichever.

He asked Bar for some bread and cheese and maybe an apple, and he's wound up with what someone from another era would recognize as a large all-toppings supreme pizza and a large apple pie. He's not sure if Bar is fussing at him, or just anticipating him sharing out his food. Either one's a fairly standard event for him when he gets to be a known visitor at cafés; Bar is making connections awfully quickly. He thanks it as nicely as he can.







(OOC: open until Thursday night; happy to slowtime after that, but I'm heading out of town for the weekend, so it'll be REALLY slowtime.)

First Entrance

[heatherandsteel]

"Raj, don't change the channel," Quentin yells as he opens the door and freezes, this isn't Toby's kitchen. There are humans here.

For a moment, a fifteen year old boy with vibrant coloring, corn silk blond hair with copper streaks, blue eyes and pointed ears is there then in a wisp of steel and heather scented magic, a boy with blond hair and blues eyes remains.

He steps forward, still with a hand on the door to get a better look. There shouldn't be a portal in the apartment.

(OOC: Quentin is from after Late Eclipses and before One Salt Sea. His disguise is well crafted but those who are aware of magic and magical disguises might notice it. I'm in chat and this is open until it scrolls. Thank you.)

Tiny tag: Quentin (October Daye)

(no subject)

[sunbaked_baker]

Rae isn't expecting Milliways when it suddenly appears in the dimly-lit parking garage, tonight. She stumbles in, blinking at the sudden brightness. Realizing numbly where she is, she nudges the door closed with her shoulder, leaning heavily upon the door's frame until her balance returns.

Her right arm is coated with fresh blood up to the elbow, held up how a surgeon might hold their freshly-washed hands, to curb as much dripping as possible. Her left hand is just as red from trying to catch what drips do get through. Splatters already show on her bright yellow t-shirt and orange jeans. Rae's breathing is fast and shallow, in and out through her mouth in an attempt to avoid the distressing charnel-house smell of dead vampire. It turns her stomach nearly as much as the sudden violent turn her evening had taken.

Darkest timeline!

[raptorcanaria]

She fades into existence, not by the door but by the Bar, which is convenient because as soon as Black Canary appears she slumps forward, holding on to the bartop for support. Her other hand wraps around her midsection, clutching it in a way that suggests cramps maybe, or indigestion, or a sudden urge to keep her innards in her torso.


She's older than you've seen her. And in full costume but maybe not the one you're used to, with the armoured shoulders and the throat, and the folded wings on her back. She's also pale - very pale. Dangerous levels of blood loss pale.

Keeping her head down, she breathes. In and out, centring herself, telling herself that she's done, it's over, she's safe. Hopefully.

Only then does she gather the strength to lift her gaze and look around, now genuinely surprised.

What kind of afterlife is this?

(no subject)

[halfemptyglasses]

Seriously?

She got this lost?

The petite girl by the door sighs in frustration through her scarf, digs through the pocket of her pink cardigan, and pulls out a smartphone. She's got GPS or whatever on this thing, right?

..........and there's no service.

"How unpleasant," Kuriyama Mirai mutters as she types a draft for her blog's next rant.


[ooc: Hey, is your pup a vampire or otherwise concerned with blood? Then you might want to look at this PSA. Thank you!]