(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen has been busy. Very busy. Post-apocalyptic Philadelphia is not the worst of cities- so far as she knows that distinction goes to Pittsburgh- but it's... well, it's still a post-apocalyptic city run by ice gangs and weirdoes and it's got mutant hippos in the rivers and there is a persistent legend that people don't try to cross the river because plants on the other side will eat them. And in her experience you can't deny that possibility. So she's been busy.

But the door opened to the Bar today, and she is grateful for any chance to be somewhere that does not smell like the shores of the Schuykill, and she will apologize to you if the attempts she has made at cleaning up and changing into her old blue Vault suit with the 101 across the back have not been enough to get the reek entirely gone. Just let her have her beer in the process, okay?

(no subject)

[iprotectyou]

(OOM: "I see martial arts as moving forms of meditation. When you're sparring or drilling techniques, you can't think of anything else."

-Joe Rogan)

(no subject)

[patterns_bloom]

Alana's seated at the bar today, wearing a red Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress with black polkadots and a pair of black, high-heeled boots. She's got her bare legs crossed at the knee and her chin cupped in her hand.

She was reading Conquering Mountains: A Guide to Solo Female Travel, but now she's just people watching.

She might be watching you.

(no subject)

[iprotectyou]

The first time Baze attempted a serious whittling project, he went at it recklessly.

It only took five minutes before the knife blade slipped from the wood and opened a gash in his thumb. He stubbornly continued carving, but ended up getting blood all over the balsa wood. Another ten minutes passed before the blade skipped off a knot and sliced his index finger. More blood. More carving. At that point, the wood was slippery, so he had to stop.

He applied bandages to his fingers and waited a day before trying again. But try again he did, and learned how to properly protect himself with a Bar-provided thumb pad for his blade hand.

And he learned more than that. He learned that cuts made with the grain will peel away smoothly; cuts made against the grain will give resistance and eventually split. He learned the pull stroke, the push stroke, and straight-away rough cutting. He learned to whittle slowly, to use the strokes as a meditative practice.

Though his carved fish and eggs and demon bunnies are still crude, he thinks he can whittle in his sleep.

Today he's leaning against the bar, holding a block of balsa wood in his left hand and his pocket knife in his right, with the blade facing towards him. He braces the thumb of his right hand against the wood, and squeezes his fingers in order to draw the blade towards his thumb. His strokes are short and controlled.

He's getting wood shavings everywhere. Someone might want to tell him to clean up.

(OOC: Chirrut may pop into any and all threads!)