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Nov. 21st, 2014 02:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nerves_of_ice
[OOM: Some time after certain events in Moscow, all that's left are reflections in broken glass.]
[OOC: warning for medical experimentation/torture in second link.]
Nov. 21st, 2014
nerves_of_ice[OOC: warning for medical experimentation/torture in second link.]
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Nov. 21st, 2014 10:34 amherr_bookman[OOM: "Autor knows his friends will think he's crazy for subjecting himself to the ritual of purification and sharpening..."]
A sharp cry breaks the air around the lake's shore today.
A bit later, Autor limps in, opening the back door with his one working hand. His cheek is reddening--not with a blush, but a bruise--and there's a gash on his forehead. Tear tracks cut through the dirt on his face, but his eyes are clear.
"A-All right," he croaks, panting as he leans on the trim. He's pale and sweaty, and he swallows before shouting, "Who can... Who can set a broken arm without asking any stupid questions?"
A sharp cry breaks the air around the lake's shore today.
A bit later, Autor limps in, opening the back door with his one working hand. His cheek is reddening--not with a blush, but a bruise--and there's a gash on his forehead. Tear tracks cut through the dirt on his face, but his eyes are clear.
"A-All right," he croaks, panting as he leans on the trim. He's pale and sweaty, and he swallows before shouting, "Who can... Who can set a broken arm without asking any stupid questions?"
tire_moi_mes_bottesAs he'd told Javert, Lesgle needs to take the mandrake for a walk. The kittens have been after it, you see, so he and Joly had had to place it in a birdcage for its own protection, but he doesn't want it to feel uncomfortably confined, so...
He has the plant tucked under his arm when Bar reaches him with a napkin, but as far as Lesgle's concerned a Happy Hour shift's as good as a stroll outside. He places the flowerpot neatly on a bar towel and considers the specials board.
They say music is good for plants, don't they? Very well!
All drinks 15% 25% 50% off if you can teach me a good bar song.
Don't be shy, I'll join in as soon as I learn the chorus.
It's not just good for plants. Nothing like a drinking song to build up a communal feeling.
((Oh, you'd think a Les Mis musical reference would be the way to go, but Sally Maclennanne of course comes from the Pogues.))
((Hitting slowtimes now, but I'll be around all weekend!))
He has the plant tucked under his arm when Bar reaches him with a napkin, but as far as Lesgle's concerned a Happy Hour shift's as good as a stroll outside. He places the flowerpot neatly on a bar towel and considers the specials board.
They say music is good for plants, don't they? Very well!
Don't be shy, I'll join in as soon as I learn the chorus.
It's not just good for plants. Nothing like a drinking song to build up a communal feeling.
((Oh, you'd think a Les Mis musical reference would be the way to go, but Sally Maclennanne of course comes from the Pogues.))
((Hitting slowtimes now, but I'll be around all weekend!))
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 01:33 pmnever_shall_yieldJavert comes into the bar with a bag over his shoulder and goes straight upstairs, looking exhausted. When he comes down he no longer has it, so it looks like he plans to stay for a while.
His first stop is the stable, for the young horse. Then he checks the building site, and the roof structure almost built. Then he comes back inside and goes to the Security office to make sure everything is in order (no, but there is interesting information nonetheless). And then he sits, with some bread and sliced ham, and a jug of water. And a book, which he does not look at. He rather has the air of one who is done for the day, who has no intention of doing anything more than sitting until they muster the energy to drag themselves upstairs. Often this air is a contented thing; knowledge of a day well-filled - but on Javert it just looks pensive, as though whatever is in his head precludes the possibility of actual relaxation.
[OOC: Catchable in any location. I'm here for the next twelve hours or so, with the odd brief slow in places. Post open through the weekend.
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 02:22 pmhadyougoingAva is downstairs by the fire, in a chair that affords as good a view of the bar at large as she could get. She's in her blue v-neck and non-favorite jeans, hair pulled into a ponytail, and she's got a notebook in her lap.
She's writing a note to Elle (Hey Sparky, it begins, though she's not sure she'll keep that part).
Every so often, she glances up.
She's writing a note to Elle (Hey Sparky, it begins, though she's not sure she'll keep that part).
Every so often, she glances up.
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 03:28 pmmakesthingsSameth is bundled against the cold as he enters from what was meant to be an abandoned cottage near one of the Charter Stones. Milliways means warmth so he comes in, pulling off his gloves and loosening his cloak as he steadies his sword, its been a number of full days as he's working on a Stone that needs a certain amount of care.
He heads to the fire and sits down before ordering a spiced wine and some soup then looks over his palms, there are a number of cuts on them and he debates which need healing first.
He heads to the fire and sits down before ordering a spiced wine and some soup then looks over his palms, there are a number of cuts on them and he debates which need healing first.
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 04:21 pmherr_bookman[After managing to snap his forearm and net himself a concussion, Autor sleeps for fourteen to sixteen hours under observation by Guppy. Visitors may find him asleep or just waking up.]
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 07:30 pmmjolnir_retrieverIt's... no longer exactly the prettiest clearing in the world. Definitely eye-catching, though.
A little while back, some teenaged werewolves stumbled across it, and across Thor.]
[Contains some background blood and gore, but no graphic description and no violence.]
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 08:51 pmhot_waterTahno paints as if he's sparring. The waterbender pinches the air with his fingers and whips his hand forward in a sweeping arc away from his chest. Blue-tinted watercolor jumps out of its container and splashes across the bare canvas, set up a few feet away.
The boy smirks, striking the air with the heel of his palm. Red joins the blue, a blotch of color to the left of center. He crooks the middle and forefingers of his right hand--raking what would be ice along an invisible opponent--and smears the colors together.
He had once timed himself at six strikes per second, and now he puts that record to the test. All of his movements are tightly controlled--but neat, designed to roll into each other. He may as well be dancing. Pigments fly out of their jars, some blending in the air before staining the canvas. A double palm heel finishes the piece, and he lowers his hands.
Tahno saunters up to the canvas, curling his fingers around a tilted hip. "Hm. Not bad," he drawls, and picks up a brush to add the finishing touches.
The boy smirks, striking the air with the heel of his palm. Red joins the blue, a blotch of color to the left of center. He crooks the middle and forefingers of his right hand--raking what would be ice along an invisible opponent--and smears the colors together.
He had once timed himself at six strikes per second, and now he puts that record to the test. All of his movements are tightly controlled--but neat, designed to roll into each other. He may as well be dancing. Pigments fly out of their jars, some blending in the air before staining the canvas. A double palm heel finishes the piece, and he lowers his hands.
Tahno saunters up to the canvas, curling his fingers around a tilted hip. "Hm. Not bad," he drawls, and picks up a brush to add the finishing touches.
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 09:02 pmskeleton_kingThe Pumpkin king is at a table near the bar, with a rather quizzical expression.
He has in front of him a singing Christmas tree, which he hasn't yet worked out how to shut off. Every time he moves, it bursts into a new song.
This gift is not pleasant.
He gets a box of matches out of his pocket, strikes one, and puts it to the singing tree. There is a rather satisfying 'Whooomf' noise, and the tree melts into a pile of plastic.
He blows out the flame with a mighty puff, then slides the melted plastic into a box. Who wouldn't want to see one of these things destroyed?
The rather acrid smoke that just wafted across the bar doesn't seem to bother him at all.
He has in front of him a singing Christmas tree, which he hasn't yet worked out how to shut off. Every time he moves, it bursts into a new song.
This gift is not pleasant.
He gets a box of matches out of his pocket, strikes one, and puts it to the singing tree. There is a rather satisfying 'Whooomf' noise, and the tree melts into a pile of plastic.
He blows out the flame with a mighty puff, then slides the melted plastic into a box. Who wouldn't want to see one of these things destroyed?
The rather acrid smoke that just wafted across the bar doesn't seem to bother him at all.
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 09:18 pmthe_cupbearerAt a table in Milliways there is a young man with a single pomegranate and a knife; he's skilled at skiving the calyx end off, digging the end of his birds-beak knife into the pale pith and scoring lines down each of the ridged sections.
When he pops it open a few of the arils burst in his hands, staining his fingers with the juice. As he eats, the thinnest slice of skin from the fruit is getting shaved off in a long peel, suitable for rolling up into a red rose.
When he pops it open a few of the arils burst in his hands, staining his fingers with the juice. As he eats, the thinnest slice of skin from the fruit is getting shaved off in a long peel, suitable for rolling up into a red rose.
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 09:50 pmgolden_lyre[Just after this. For nerves_of_ice but open.]
The only thing Orpheus has with him when he comes into the bar today is his ever-present guitar, slung over his shoulder, and his phone, clenched in one hand. He stares at the device for a moment, willing it to pick up a signal, to give him some sort of connection to the world he just left, to Steve.
Worry settles in his stomach heavily, and it takes him a long moment to put the phone back in his pocket and hesitantly make his way to the bar. He slides onto a stool, and his hands shake just a bit as he rests them on the bartop.
"I don't suppose you've anything that can take my mind off this?"
nerves_of_ice but open.]The only thing Orpheus has with him when he comes into the bar today is his ever-present guitar, slung over his shoulder, and his phone, clenched in one hand. He stares at the device for a moment, willing it to pick up a signal, to give him some sort of connection to the world he just left, to Steve.
Worry settles in his stomach heavily, and it takes him a long moment to put the phone back in his pocket and hesitantly make his way to the bar. He slides onto a stool, and his hands shake just a bit as he rests them on the bartop.
"I don't suppose you've anything that can take my mind off this?"
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2014 11:27 pmgirlwithout[oom: “You need to be more careful, Nomad. You never know who might come from out of nowhere.”
"Steve?"
warning for description of a homophobic hate crime and language in the first paragraph.]
"Steve?"
warning for description of a homophobic hate crime and language in the first paragraph.]
