(no subject)

[have_no_mercy]

After months - almost a year, in fact - of deliberation, Tess has finally received word on what the city will do with her solar power Towers.

Based on the smile on her face and the champagne she orders from Bar it seems like it's exactly what she wanted.

Drinks are on her!

Forecast unknown

[dejah_thoris]

The weather had been less than suitable for a run earlier, so they'd opted for the gym instead.  She hated running on the treadmill, but with him, the time went quicker.  After a shower and a change, dinner was beginning to sound like a good idea. They made their way down the stairs to the main bar, Dejah chattering away as usual.

"I can't help but wonder how many days we have left before we can start building in earnest..  I love the planning part of a project, but once it gets to a certain point, I just want to put all the paper down and get my hands dirty."

She bumps her shoulder into his affectionately.  "And you still have to go over the last of those designs and pick the ones you like."


[plot-locked, thankee sai]

(no subject)

[no_more_hiding]

Hank has come to the conclusion that replacing the broken bottle with a new, whole bottle would be impossible without some form of magic or ability. Since manipulating concrete or stone is not one of his mutations, he has decided something akin to leaded or stained glass is the way to go. Since the architecture of the temple seemed Asian, he is trying to sketch out designs to give what honor he can to the structure, as well as making the broken piece seem more in place.

Unfortunately his experience of Asian symbolism is rather limited, given the time he is from. He is totally open to suggestions.

[OOC: Here briefly tonight and then back tomorrow.]

(no subject)

[bringspeopletogether]

What Alistair would very much like to do is get exceedingly drunk tonight. Or get exceedingly drunk for the next week, really. But...there’s a big celebration tomorrow morning, with as many Fereldans as one can cram into a single place, and he can’t show up to his own coronation looking like he spent the night in a ditch.

(His coronation. Maker’s breath, he’d rather fight the archdemon again.)

A pint or two of something shouldn’t be a problem, though. Perhaps at one of the taverns around the corner, just to get out of the castle for a bit? Go find the most common clothes he can dig up -- maybe something with a hood -- strap a couple daggers to his side just in case, and sneak away while Anora’s putting the final touches on everything? Yes. This plan, he decides, is absolutely flawless.

Except for the part where this tavern seems a lot bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. Huh. Cautiously, he pushes back his hood a few inches and peers around at the assembled clientele; it doesn’t look like there are any immediate threats, but, well, it’d be even worse if he showed up to his own coronation dead tomorrow morning, wouldn’t it.

(no subject)

[in_revision]

Grant Ward would like to officially tell someone 'told you so'. He doesn't really care much who it is at this point, but that last mission was a hot mess from start to finish. Anything that nearly ends up with him being sucked out of an airplane isn't ever going to make it on his favorites list.

So it's a bedraggled Ward that comes into the bar tonight. He's sporting a black eye and nursing what are probably a cracked set of ribs, with his own knuckles battered from the fight.

"..." He pauses, momentarily, to try and remember if he's still wearing a gun or if he left it in his bunk when their reached the Slingshot. No, wearing the gun, even if it doesn't show (damn he loves this coat). Good. If he ends up in the damn lost and found box again, he can make his feelings about it more clearly known.

Now to go find some most-likely-safe alcohol. So much alcohol.