(no subject)

[idareyou]

It's sunny in Scotland. It's been sunny for two days together, and surely on a day like this the young king would enjoy riding out on the hillside? With his young bride? Yes? ...No?

No! Apparently not! Because the suggestion, made as they broke their fast, was met with a stammered "um...aye...well...you can if you like, I'm sure someone will go with you..." But Annabella, when asked, had a headache; and Mary had hesitated at the thought of finding one of the ever-busy lords and demanding that an escort be arranged so that she could go out by herself.

So it's a somewhat put-out Mary of Guelders who sneaks into Milliways today, wrapped in a cloak and ready to find something to do.




((Sleep deprivation and a head cold are telling me that it's totally a great idea to put in an EP! I have the feeling they'll be telling me to take a nap eventually, but in any case I'll be back/around.))

((EDIT: Anyone else having trouble with DW? I keep getting errors...))

(no subject)

[fairy_fixit]

[Elfwarning]

It is easy to ignore some of the smaller of the patrons of Milliways, especially when they come in so often and regularly. But Fairy Fixit's end-of-workweek visit has gone a bit weird this weekend. Something she has done has attracted festively-garbed suitors to her table.

"You're so stiff, you need to loosen up!" Maybe it's because she stole a speaker from the rafters and daisychained it to her shrunken cell phone. "That's too loose, shorty." Maybe its because she has been drinking. "Why must I always lead? It's so unfair."

Or maybe it's because she is dancing with the Christmas elves. It is awkward, since the elves are a bit less than half her size. Appropriately, selections from the Nutcracker Suite are coming from the stolen speaker.

The elves come and go, but whether the elves are disappearing because the dancing is nice or because they decided to watch some other naughtiness is anyone's guess. But the remains of her drink have been frozen.

infirmary visiting post

[i_am_your_host]

[ OOC: Feel free to visit Emcee and/or Rae in the infirmary. Jay will be around as needed to watch over them. ]

A terminator who saw the light

[anewhero]

 Marcus leaned against a cold hard table outside to watch the night snowfall. It was peaceful to see something other than war but the cyborg didn't really see the need to go inside the bar.

Instead, he looked up at the snow as calming music played in the background.

He looked tired of it all. He laid his head on his arms and was thinking.

If you could listen closely, he was muttering something about his allies, lovers and friends.

"Whereever you guys are, win the damn war. Don't let Skynet OR Parnell win."

Snow was falling on the green trench coated man as he stared at the table.

What was Christmas to him when he knew nobody here?

(no subject)

[clayforthedevil]

[elfwarning]

Bahorel is sitting with his feet up on one of the tables, scraps of what were once two coats spread around in obvious mid-project disarray, and a few glasses that were drinks, before they froze, scattered on the table. He's singing a very cheerful song.

It is not a Nice cheerful song.

There's a gently growing pile of elf dolls around him. Every now and then, in apparent response to the drinks, the cheerful song, or other comments, the dolls seem to add to their number. But really, it's getting a bit hard to tell. Still, there's room left at the table for non-elfish company.



((tagging may be slow, but open all weekend!))

(no subject)

[father_chris]

[elfwarning]

When Father Christmas comes in for a quick break, the first thing he does is to fall over a large pile of elf dolls.

Blooming 'eck!

And there's a note for him at the bar asking about them too.

He goes up to the notice board and pins up a sign.


Dear patrons,

You appear to be overrun with elf dolls.

Apparently, some of you have been VERY NAUGHTY.

The dolls will not hurt you. But you're going to have to start acting in the spirit of Christmas to work out how to get rid of them yourselves.

Seasons' greetings,

Father Christmas.

P.s. please leave any letters* for me at the bar.


That ought to do it for now. He turns to leave, but he's not very fast if you want to corner him.

[ooc: Nice Week starts from tomorrow, Gredya is leading the efforts.
*Letters to Santa from pups of any age will be accepted provided they are asking for a non-magical/appropriate gift under £30/$20]