milliways_bar | Entries tagged with hotaru tomoe

The fact he's been mostly at this place for a whole goddamn year is pretty amazing to him.

The fact he's had this angel by his side most of the time is even more amazing.

Spike holds onto Beth's hand like they're surgically attached but it's not out of desperation like last night. No, tonight it's out of simple desire for contact. He turns and flashes her a pretty disarming smile, the one he reserves just for her.

"Special anniversary drinks, Beth? Or did you have something else in mind?"

Plate of potechi, a glass of Ganymede sweet ale, bell peppers and beef? Burgers and fries? Popcorn and movies? Whatever you want.

Before they sit he reaches over and pulls a cigarette out from behind her ear. Just a little bit of magic, a bit of trickery, because he knows she's a sucker for that.

Because it makes her smile, and he loves her smile.

not_that_spike

Spike's definitely out of his comfort zone: gun under virtual lock and key (which means no clip loaded), lighter tucked away safely, and... he has no fucking idea what to expect.

No one's ever asked him for this kind of favor before, and it makes him nervous as hell. He's no good at it and he knows it, but he owes it to her to try. He sits at his usual table, glass of iced coffee already halfway drained. He hopes he doesn't need anything else.

At least he might learn a thing or two.

Or not.

He'll see how it goes. And remember never to make offhand comments again, because sometimes people take them seriously.

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

Tomoe Hotaru slips into the bar from upstairs.

Then into a booth against the far wall.

Then, a bowl of kitsune udon. Udon - a thick Japanese noodle -- the fried tofu floating on top of the noodle soup is remiscent of kitsune.

Foxes.

She eats in silence. Then, sometime later, finishes - a quiet meal without incident.

Standing, she folds her napkin and places it next to the empty bowl.

As Hotaru crosses the room, her legs give out from under her quite suddenly -- she falls to her knees, her black cropped hair falling over her face.

She reaches a to grasp her chest expectedly... but the pain is not in her chest.

The dull throb comes from her midsection. Not sharp, but debilitating. In any case, unlike any other pain she's felt recently.

This is... new.

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

Arithon is sitting at a table. Considering his main talent, its possible that he wasn't noticed before due to judicious use of shadows. Anyway, he's visible now. He's got three piles of books. Two of them are growing larger, and the third one is growing smaller. Not because he's sorting, precisely, but because he's picking a book from the smallest pile, holding it for a moment, then putting it in both other piles. Yep. Splitting the books. The process seems to take a couple minutes per book. Go figure.

Arithon am'ein ein'irlan. Seth an ahelas, avar an am eldir rauven caith. An am era skyshia caith. An tain sethanthe amroth. Anan al'Tom, an al'Arithon. Ahelas an amroth sethanthe, arith anan amroth.

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

After some thoughtful contemplation and research on behalf of her mun...

Hotaru descends into the bar, wearing a light blue cardigan and shirt, and black or grey everything else. She avoids any/all of the mess that is going on and walks over to a booth against the wall, then slides back into the corner and lies her head down on her folded arms.

She doesn't wish to be disturbed. Just an alone sort of moment.

Who is she? she wonders.

Will she ever get home?

Will she die, first, despite the best efforts of the patrons?

She considers all this, and more, with a straight, sober face, as she stares into the wood of the bench opposite her own.

Then she turns her face, sighs, and closes her eyes.

Why can't she just be a normal kid?...

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

Hotaru ambles downstairs, looking bored.

She passes through the room, not taking the time to look up or at anything as she walks through, and exits through the back door towards the lake.

[OOC: Another establishing post. Doing laundry across the street, hopefully back by 7:30ish.]

prince-arithon.livejournal.com

Arithon is hung over. Happily, being what he is, he can keep the light off of his eyes. So. Enter Arithon, in shadow.

He finds a seat, closes the currently hidden eyes, and waits for whatever will happen. s'Ffalenn al'i'on.

blue_ajah

*Moiraine comes downstairs, carrying a book with a blue ribbon marking a place. She moves quietly to her usual table and sits down, accepting the customary cup of tea from Holly with thanks, and then opens the book and begins to read with apparent interest.*

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

Hotaru briskly enters, wearing the same thing she's worn for the past several days - an oversized blazer over her usual all-black-and-all-concealing attire. She looks absolutely exhausted - maybe she hasn't been getting enough sleep, or maybe she's been thinking too much about inexhaustible subjects... or both. With downcast eyes, she approaches the bar itself and climbs up onto a barstool in haste, then sits with her shoulders hunched, and her head hung slightly down. It's that she gets approached in the dark, isolated booths so often... perhaps she has less of a chance of being spotted where she wouldn't usually care to be.

Her thin shoulders barely support the honey-colored blazer, but she continues to wear it anyway.

lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com

Enter Dream.

Pensively.

blue_ajah

*Moiraine comes in and goes to the buffet table to obtain some fruit before taking a seat at her usual table. Once again, a rat is waiting there with tea, having seen her enter. She smiles serenely and thanks it for its attentiveness, and makes a mental note to find out if the rats have names-- this one in particular.*

not_that_spike

Feels like forever since he was down here, just hanging out. But he gets those moments of longing for solitude, or at least for being left mostly alone. Or at least for less crowded conditions, and so he takes time off and deals with it and then comes back when he's ready.

Of course, Beth doesn't equal a crowd and taking time for solitude doesn't mean being all alone.

But it's been long enough and by way of acknowledging his own dual nature -- or maybe that's all a load of crap and it's just time -- Spike wanders down from Room 8 and opens the door to the bar and blinks hard a couple times, because there are new people. Always new people and that's cool. Never a dull moment anyhow.

Besides, he's starving. A guy can only go so long being fed by things other than food, and so he stops by the ever-present buffet and grabs a plate of whatever's there, not noticing and not caring particularly, just... hungry. And it's gone before he even knows it, so he gets a cup of coffee and lights a cigarette and hangs out at his favorite table by the fire, just watching everyone, wondering if anything asteroid-shattering happened while he was being a hermit.

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

Dressed all in black, and holding her right arm close in hand, Hotaru descends into the bar.

She's extended a little too much energy in doing so, it seems, for once she reaches the ground floor, she slumps - leaning against the near wall, catching her breath.

She stands there for a moment, before taking her head in both hands, her eyes clenched shut.

It isn't an attack.

... Well, not a usual attack.

Eventually, she opens her eyes, and they are glazed over, unseeing.

She stands by the wall, staring forward in this unseeing fashion, and doesn't move.

ETA: [OOC: This post is currently, or will be, in use for "meeting with Haruka"-thread, most likely in slowtime. (Not to say that others aren't invited to participate as comments occur, but that the events are being declared as taking place "November 19-20" in RL time... not sure what that is in Millitime, but I hope the point is gotten across ^^;;;)

Any following posts by this mun are occurring after said event has transpired.

Thank you.]

veryvorkosigan

*Looking pale and a bit unsteady on her feet, but wearing an expression of pleased triumph, Cordelia comes down the stairs into the main bar.

She sits down at the closest table, clearly still tired.*

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

Wearing purpose, Hotaru briskly enters the bar from upstairs, heading over to a rather isolated booth. Once there, she plops into it forthwith, and slides until her back is against the furthest point.

Her empty eyes are searching.

She sits modestly, hands clasped in her lap.

Current Mood: worried

blue_ajah

*She comes downstairs. A quiet evening-- she devoutly hopes-- a cup of tea from the bar, and a seat at her customary table. Moiraine seems, to all appearances, serenely content at the moment.*

locks_it_up

And there is Death, at her customary perch at the corner of the bar.

"Good evening, Bar. Bet you can guess what I want."

She takes the White Russian as it appears, and sips it thoughtfully. "Thank you, Bar." With that, she turns around in her barstool to observe.

edwardishungry.livejournal.com

*Edward bounces down the stairs, with Paddy nipping at her heels. she goes over to the bar.*
Hello, Bar, Edward has money for you.
*Edward puts a large handful of woolongs on the bar, they disappear and Edward's tab does too.*
Thank you Bar!
*she pats the bar affectionately*

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

The very first thing she feels is pain.

There is dull, aching pain all up and down her back.
There is also a sharp pain in her forehead.

-- The latter, she can attribute from blacking out and collapsing during her attack. It's happened before; there is nothing particularly new about the occurrence.

The troubling thing is that the last time an attack... actually made her pass out... was 6 years ago... It was the sixth attack she'd had since her accident, six months earlier in that year...

She blinks, slowly opening her eyes.

She is shocked to find herself lying face up... in a booth, (also, of course, still in the bar).......

The upstretched touch confirms that someone has placed a towel on her forehead.
Taking the towel in hand, she sits up, groggily. How long was she out, she wonders... and - she raises her eyes slowly to address the room ---

Who...?

...There is no one who seems to be paying any particular attention to her. None of these people, then, she thinks.

Turning her attention fully to the towel she holds, she takes both hands and cautiously folds the towel twice in half, then places it, with utmost care, into her skirt pocket.

Current Mood: melancholy

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

Having just spoken to the young lady who seemed rather like a ballerina, and asking around to several others, always in a hushed, shy voice, for a woman about whom she knows very few things - one of those few that she is named "Moiraine" - Hotaru leans against a table.

She is clutching her chest, and her eyes are downcast.

Her inquiries have led her to nothing. Thank heaven she was able to get something to eat, but she is still here, for a second day.

Her breathing has become more labored, but the look on her face, (albeit covered mostly by hair, her head being hung), is one that implies that she is more irritated than concerned with this attack.

Then, without warning, it intensifies.

And she collapses, completely unconscious.

[ooc: And there she will stay! Until she wakes up, or until someone finds the need to relocate her. As long as you don't do anything like undress her or root through her things, feel free to relocate her, or leave her, as you Will.]

Current Mood: stressed

mogget_cat

*Yrael stands with his back against the bar and tunes his new violin, sometimes referencing a small booklet laying on the bar as he does so. Soon he is satisfied with the tuning, and begins to play softly, running the bow slowly across the strings in a chromatic scale.*

*Finishing the scale, he progresses to a sad-sounding melody, making it up as he goes. He begins humming a harmony with his warm tenor voice, creating chords to further add to the music. His humming is soft, almost a purr, as he smiles slightly to himself.*

Current Mood: content

forbiddensailor.livejournal.com

A distortion of energy.

The sky opens up, and regurgitates a young girl.

She stands, unfazed, on the grounds in front of the bar. Her eyes are tearing.

Suddenly, she seems more panicked, and rubbing the streaming tears from her eyes and face, takes deliberate - frail, yet determined - steps towards the bar entrance, pulls open the door, looking too heavy for her delicate frame, and steps inside.

She is Asian, with straight, chin-length, black hair.
She is clothed entirely in black. No flesh shows except for her face and neck, and small hands.
She appears to be about eleven or twelve.
And her eyes are harsh -- in that way that people seem when they are totally devoid of anything on the inside. Her eyes look, and look at you, this way.

She scans the room, still rubbing her eyes, and adjusting, bit-by-bit to her surroundings. She sees an older man, and a younger man talking in one part of the room.

She doesn't like the older man. She knows that. But the younger man looks promising.

....She gathers her resolve, and heads over.