milliways_bar | Entries tagged with jagged fel

col-cardboard.livejournal.com

Grim pilot.

Green ale.

Booth.
First time the mun's done an entrance post of five words or less. Go her?

3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com

Her late lunch consists of a tuna melt and coffee. Her garb incorporates a thick marled turtleneck, white pants and suede ankle boots. Her location is a stool around mid-bar.

The female in question is Goldilocks, and she looks typically incurious and harmless.

Looks, as they say, can be deceiving.

col-cardboard.livejournal.com

[OOM: Jaina teaches Jag how to tango. Well, tries to, anyhow.]

The door slides open, and a very startled Jaina and Jagged Fel enter the bar.

They'd been aiming for the comm room so Jag could call his superiors and see exactly when and where he needed to report back... his arm has finally healed, so it's time to get back to business.

To tell the truth, neither one was really looking forward to their inevitable separation. Which is probably why they don't turn right back around and head out again.

[ooc: two pups, two muns-- tag one or the other or both if you'd like. But please to be specifying or else we'll choose for you. :D]

col-cardboard.livejournal.com

The number of extremely grim pilots (who still can't get in the sims because of their damn broken arms) in the bar has just gone up by one.

The Chiss entourage arrived on Coruscant about an hour or so ago, all shiny and ready for the Fel-Solo wedding tomorrow. Since his mother seemed to have things well in hand, Jag had been shooed off to entertain himself for a few hours.

Strange how the door to Milliways suddenly appeared as soon as he had a few spare minutes.

So! Bachelor!Jag in the Bar, trying to talk himself out of a drink. Because really, one should not show up hungover to one's own wedding. It would be rude.

prydeful

It's been a long week.

So Kitty lets Edmund wipe the Bar as she tosses the chalk for a few moments, thoughtfully, before writing the specials down.

Happy Hour!

Slow Screw Up Against a Red Wall
Orange Climax
Widow's Kiss
Green Eyed Bi
Blue Balls
Purple Helmeted Warrior

And when Edmund stares, and gives her a somewhat pained look, she grins and wipes the chalk-dust from her hand onto his nose.

"Tough it out, Pevensie."

The rest of the dust comes off with a damp rag, and she grins. "So what'll it be?"

jedipilot.livejournal.com

Jaina sits in a booth, a glass of Whyren's pushed to the side and a dinner largely ignored. Instead, she's staring at a stuffed toy - a small, brown colored insect, with large, oversized yellow eyes, and six thin legs - held tightly in her hands. A Wuluw, very much reminiscent of the little Killiks she was responsible for (responsible for their deaths) during the war.

She makes clicking sounds in the back of her throat as she looks over the toy. It's not real - not a living breathing Killik like the nestmates Jaina was forced to leave. But seeing the Wuluw hurts. It's not something Jaina expected. Or something she knows how to deal with right now.

holostar.livejournal.com

The door creaks open and a tiny blonde, barefoot girl steps through, followed closely by a taller, very pregnant blonde woman. It's quite obvious that time is passing quickly for Syal Antilles-Fel.

She glances back, as she shuts the door, having left Soontir with her sons Davin and Chak. She takes Cherith's hand and leads her over to an armchair (waddled, actually) and sank into it, pulling the little girl onto her lap.

Come and chat.

rebel-falcon.livejournal.com

There is a Han Solo in the bar, banging his head repeatedly on the Bar.

This may have something to do with the invitation that's just appeared for him.

"Not only do I have a daughter, but she's getting married," he moans. "Chewie, what'd I do to deserve this?"

The fact that there's no Chewie nearby is irrelevant. Han can complain to whoever he pleases, dammit. He gives up the headbanging and casts himself dramatically into a chair. "Please tell me I don't have to wear dress clothes..."

col-cardboard.livejournal.com

Jag does not usually have entrance posts. He is a very shy boy.

Well, not so much shy as... just not very sociable. And grim. So grim.

But! Tonight he has an entrance post. In case anyone wants to poke the Broke-Armed Grimmeister or meet the Future Mr. Jaina Solo.

Speaking of the Shortest Solo Child, she sent out invitations the other day and it suddenly hit Mr. Fel just how soon this whole marriage thing will be. And that it's actually going to happen.

Usually he would be working out his anxieties in the sims, but his left arm is still in that damn cast.

That is perhaps why he is sitting at the bar with a mug of very green lomin ale. omgwtfwedding.

[ooc: mun begs slowtime because she is about to pass out in front of the computer. will pick up threads tomorrow plz? <3]

undignified

There is a Wes, sitting over in a booth, eating some lunch and drinking Whyren's.

No, it's not too early for Whyren's. Time is meaningless.

He's still wearing the big dress (and pretty floral bonnet), and he still doesn't know why. But he's not hiding in the booth. No, not at all.

undignified

There's a pilot in a bright orange flightsuit at the Bar, with -- for some reason -- two patches on the sleeve instead of just one. Rogue Squadron, for those who know, plus something rather odd.

He's writing a couple of notes, which he leaves with Bar, each accompanied by one of the odd patches.

( Han Solo )
( Face Loran )

There. He thinks that's everything. He'll try and find Lando later some time, for quartermaster duties, and Wedge, well, he's got to find a hiding place to go to afterwards before he can even think about finding Wedge.

Time to go do that!

[ooc: er. still uncertain. but maybe locked? ping!]

in-it.livejournal.com

When Andrew and Sam finally stumbled through the front door, they were no longer dressed in their wedding wear, but were grinning like fools nonetheless. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and the two were absolutely beaming up at each other.

There was a very large cake set up on one of the tables, and someone had set up the karaoke machine. Andrew swears it wasn't him.

Not standing on ceremony, and wanting to get the party going, Andrew stood on a chair, still clutching Sam's hand, and declared with a grin, "In honor of my gorgeous new wife, drinks are on me! Have some cake!" He was going to be so broke, and he hardly cared. He didn't even notice that half the patrons didn't look like themselves.

[OOC: Standard party posting applies (explanation here). Enjoy!]

iwasalevel6.livejournal.com

...or, in other words, the reception post.

There's music, food, and alcohol under the tent. Come and ~~crash~~ join the party!

col-cardboard.livejournal.com

My heart's in the dark sky, my heart is not here
My heart's in the dark sky, a-flying a sphere
A sphere that's a ship, a clawcraft in fact,
My heart's in the clawcraft I hope is intact.
Farewell to the galaxy, farewell to the war
For now I am stuck here in Milliways Bar.
Bound without ship, away from my mission,
Totally (I might add) against my volition.

In other words, there's a grim-looking man at the Bar with caf.

The Bar at the End of the Universe

Entries tagged with jagged fel

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Reception, woo!

Par-Tay!

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Milliways Bar

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