(no subject)

[star_bespangled]

No.

Urania storms in, clad in an Elizabethan period dress, scowling, barely noticing that she’s in Milliways.

How can this idiot John Milton, whoever he is, invoke her to inspire an epic poem? That’s Calliope’s job. And a poem about the Christian God, no less?

The first time she’s been invoked by name in years, and it’s for a gods-damned poem.

A bar rat, seeming to understand, comes over with a glass of wine. Urania takes it without a second thought.

(no subject)

[magnus_archivist]

Jon is trying, with difficulty, to make a schedule for his archive assistants when he has no idea when (or if) one of their small group will be back. Martin might be fairly useless, but... well. He's even more useless when he's called out sick for a week.

(He should send flowers. Or some food?)

Right now he's staring, puzzled, at a post-it mixed up with the rest of his papers. He's pretty sure he's never bought anything so violently pink.

St George's Day means lions!

[mane_event]

Simba has been HUNTING.

Well, he's been exploring out in the forest, maybe doing a little bit of stalking. Of rabbits, you know? Then he took a turn, and the forest changed, then he was stalking something bigger. Then he got the scent of something, and then he thought it would be fun to stalk a zebra...

..and then the zebra turned out to have a massive HORN on its head and Simba did not sign up for hunting zebras with spikes on their heads.

So this is why:


Simba comes hurtling along the path from the forest, bounds up the back porch, through the lake door and under a table.

(Your table, probably)

If it helps, he's laughing.