milliways_bar | Entries tagged with ragnar lothbrok

[[OOC: Context: Ragnar had some very uncomfortable ideas planted in his head by young!Moriarty, and then walked off into the mountains to ~~get drunk~~ think about them.]]

The back door to the lake and garden opens, and Ragnar Lothbrok walks in. He looks a bit dirty and scruffy, and if you get close, you'll notice that he smells of unwashed Viking.

He walks up to the bar and orders a pint of beer, which he drains to over half mark before putting it down again. He sighs, opens his magical belt pouch, gets out a bottle and puts it on the bar counter where it vanishes.

And another.

And another.

And another...

i_am_your_host

Emcee comes downstairs looking like his usual self again, wearing a clean white sleeveless undershirt, black trousers cut off at the knee, and punk rock-looking combat boots (they have actually been through combat, but not by him) with the idiosyncratic flair of sock garters.

His face is one-hundred percent healed. And his makeup is flawlessly fabulous.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he mutters when something in the rafters explodes. He glances around and spots a boy who looks like Jim shooting at things. He frowns a little, and immediately goes about his business at the bar.

Which is, to drop off a folded note, and to fetch a bottle of gin.

The note reads:

( Abe-san... )

Emcee takes the bottle of gin out onto the back porch to drink in the cool evening air. He's spending far more time outside here than before.

electro_kinetic

Noriko comes in looking rather...different than usual; she's wearing only a very cut-up black bodysuit, heels and a pair of sunglasses. She walks through the door, sees that it's Milliways, and makes a beeline for the bar to ask for a pair of jeans, which she pulls on immediately after unceremoniously kicking off the impressive heels.

Her toes hurt, and it's been four and a half hours of standing up and not moving much (which is to say the least very uncomfortable for her), followed by a brief car ride and yet more standing for a photography shoot. Freelance modeling isn't the world's most exciting thing ever, and though it's great money for not doing a whole lot, it's boring as hell. Catch her sitting and sipping a juice smoothie, or outside wandering in the sun, still in the bodysuit and jeans. (And boots, because flat shoes.)

[ ooc: NSFW image behind the link; nobody's nekkid or anything, but pretty close. ]

bigarmy_strangepants

It's Sunday morning, and by the church, the service is just over.

Of course, Father Harman is outside the church, having said good-bye to his parishioners of the day, but now he's talking to somebody rather unexpected: Ragnar Lothbrok, who seems to be full of questions. Father Harman is talking to him, using words like 'validation' and 'dysfunctional' and 'dialectic', but trying to explain them, too.

Nearby, Teja is out in the woods with little Egil in tow, collecting flintstones. There aren't very many to be found, so whenever Egil finds a real one, this leads to great rejoicing.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, finally, is collecting some late blueberries by the edge of the wood, not far from the path to the church. The blueberries are small and dark, nothing like the cultivated ones you can buy at market, and a hundred times more aromatic. The basket Hannibal is carrying is quite small, and picking blueberries takes a long time, but apparently, he considers it worthwhile.

All of them are, of course, quite botherable.

just_cant_lose

Jim, aged sixteen, is down in a corner of the bar. He's got the laptop he was given when he came here, and is fulfilling his end of the bargain with himself. Namely, building drones.

Now, young!Jim has very little idea about drones, but instructions were left and they're simple to follow. What confused him for a time was why his older self was bothering with these at all...until the answer occurs, and it's so obvious it makes him laugh out loud. So yeah, no reason to make them upstairs in secret, and if he does it down here he can eat dinner and see who's about.

He's always up for being distracted, of course. He can talk and build at the same time.

firstorderknight

Kylo Ren is sitting in a booth drinking coffee. Nice, simple coffee.

Training kind of sucks.

sunbaked_baker

The sun set over an hour ago, and the Milliways grounds are dark, but Rae is still practicing out in the woods, in the little clearing where the Merlin's Circle is burned into the grass. Great figures of stone and soil, animated by magic, move surprisingly swiftly as she trains against them. She is forever in motion, avoiding or blocking their attacks, seeking an opening that will allow her to strike back. The animate figures are faster than her, but her magic gives her an edge - the ability to call up magical shielding when she knows she isn't fast enough to get out of the way of a strike. Only once or twice did she not see an attack coming and get hit by it - the bruises will be a good reminder to pay better attention.

Bruises from mistakes during training are easier to bear than the debilitating (or, more likely, immediately fatal) effects of mistakes made in a real fight. She could heal the bruises and scrapes in a few moments, but she has gotten into the habit of letting them heal on their own. They remind her of the potential costs of carelessness.

(But, my dear, what if there were no one to do the difficult things?)

Sunshine will be sore and worn out by the time she is done, which is partially her aim. She can only hope her weariness will be enough to stave off bad dreams.

athelstanthescribe

The door opens and a small boy slips through.

He's wearing a somewhat too large brown robe, in monastic style. As soon as he notices that he isn't where he should be, he backs up against the wall, wide-eyed.

(This may or may not do a great deal to disguise the wings sprouting from his back, through carefully made slits in the robe.)

bigarmy_strangepants

A tall man in a rough homespun blue shirt enters the bar, followed by a pair of ravens.

He seems to have been here before, as he claims a rolled-up map from the bar, orders a tankard of ale, and settles at a table with one of the ravens, studying the map.

The other raven sits in the rafters, watching.

[[OOC: Ragnar is from the same mutant Vikings AU as Sinric, and can telepathically connect to ravens.]]

thewidewideworld

A lithe figure dressed in Byzantine finery slips in through the door, a silken veil hiding all but a pair of startling gold shot eyes.

The figure looks around in fright and worry before seeking the warmth of the fire. The youth slips off a pair of fine kid leather gloves to warm long, delicate fingers, still watching the room furtively.

To those with average desires, the figure is attractive, interesting and may remind them of someone they are strongly attracted to. For those with strong desires (or hungers), the figure seems to hold an almost magnetic pull, reminding them very strongly of someone, or something, they want.

{ooc: Sinric is an empathic, desire-driven shapeshifter of the Mutant X gene line. If you want to bounce ideas or talk about how your pup might reach, drop me an email or PM, contact details in the link. May suffer from sudden slowtime over the next few days but I’ll do my best to keep up.}

runningred

Jay wanders in from his door looking comfortingly rough - cut off shorts, no shirt, no shoes and a week's worth of stubble.

He grabs a shaving kit and a straight razor from the bar and vanishes into the bathroom, reemerging a few minutes later looking clean and content.

You can finally him sitting on the back step with a bottle of beer, cleaning and sharpening the razor.

cook_the_rude

Dorian Gray is wandering through the gardens, admiring the blooms from many different worlds.
Teja is out by the stables, brushing his horse Bramble.
Madame Thénardier is sitting by the water, feet dangling off the dock, reading.
Lady Margolotta is going about in a long dark veil, hat, and parasol, like some spooky vampire bride, picking some wild flowers in the forest.
Father Harman is in the garden, carefully selecting some flowers for the church vases.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter is at the Caribbean inlet, wearing wet swim trunks and drinking ginger water.
Katrina Crane is by the kitchen door, inspecting the herb garden.
Ragnar Lothbrok is by the shore, taking the goats for a walk. You could say he is herding them, but for that, too many ropes and persuasive words are involved. So far, they're still behaving.

[[OOC: Open all weekend!]]

bet_on_the_river

[Is it a patriotic holiday? Here, have an American.]

All politics are personal. You can't just expect people to turn out and vote, without being given a reason to care--many see it as just a game rich men play, and they need a little persuasion.

Which is why Booker, hardest-working ward heeler on the Bowery, had spent his day with a widow and her two young children. The boy turned six today, his first birthday without his father, and money was tight... but here's the local Tammany man at their door, with new shoes and a toy truck for the birthday boy. And the boy had been so happy, and his dark-haired little sister so excited that company was over, and the widow had looked like she felt the way Booker had often felt--overwhelmed, and not hiding it as well as she probably thought--that he couldn't just leave, not so soon.

So he'd taken them out for the afternoon, to the pictures and to a bakery two blocks down (owned by a loyal Democrat) for a nice cake for the family to share that evening. But the birthday boy had wanted to see Western pictures, one about old Custer; and on the way home the dark-haired little girl had asked Booker to carry her, and fell asleep in his arms; and back up in the apartment the widow had invited him to stay for dinner, with a hopeful sort of look, and he'd declined as gently as he could. Missing persons case to investigate, he'd said, and it's technically true, and he'll get to it--but first, a drink or two.

Complicated inner life notwithstanding, here's a detective, hatless but clean, with a worn dark grey suit and a vaguely wary expression, heading up to the bar for some Scotch.

[open all weekend, and slowtimes taste like freedom, y'all]

is_the_motion

Out back, the lawn and the Scout Hut have been decked out with bunting, chairs and tables set out. There are games and stalls, and someone has even set up a doggy assault course. The sound of fairground music and the delicious scent of good food floats over the garden.

The Milliways County Fair has arrived, and everyone is welcome!

[ooc: Open forever! IC date 4-9th July, but open now to maximise people being able to take part. Threadhopping encouraged. See Back Room Post and Original Back Room Post for details.

All entries in the horticultural show must be posted by ~~9pm GMT/3pm EST Wednesday 6th July~~ Entries are closed - Judging in progress]

sunbaked_baker

Rae couldn't get to sleep tonight. She just couldn't seem to get her thoughts to quieten down and let her rest. But this is nothing unusual. When she had nothing to occupy her thoughts, they tended to revert back to worrying about Jay and Autor, worrying about her own situation, and feeling guilty for how long she has hidden away in Milliways, still 'not ready' (read: too scared) to go home and face the meeting with the Executive Director of Special Other Forces.

So, when the wee hours of the morning start becoming a little less wee (around the time Rae would normally get up to go make cinnamon rolls if she were back in her world and not about to risk her entire life and everything she's worked for on the trust and support of a complete stranger), she hauled herself up and out of bed, showered, and came down to the kitchens.

The summer fair is coming up soon, and she has to prepare. She is thinking of focusing on pies this year, as she focused on ice pops last year.

If you stop by the Milliways kitchen this morning, you'll be met with a number of pies cooling on wire cooling racks on some of the counters, more pies in the oven, and Sunshine herself mulling tiredly over a list of pies that have been baked, are in the process of being baked, or are still needing to be baked. Hmmm.

never_promised

"By God," Henry the Fifth of England muttered to no one in particular a little while ago, "if Wales should carry the day, I'll take me through the hall clad in naught but her banner."

So blame it on a post-life crisis, blame it on football, blame it on alcohol, blame it on Bar producing a sizeable flag at the moment the full-time whistle blew. Blame it on Henry choosing to be a man of his word. But here's a tall man draped in green, white, and red, running through the barroom with a whoop and a holler.

He's hoping to make it to a door before anyone stops him.

bigarmy_strangepants

[[OOM: After this]]

The TV screen above the bar is showing football again -- white against blue, and blue is still that place called Iceland, with the players with the Viking names.

White is England.

Ragnar and Teja are both at the bar, drinking beer; even little Egil is there, playing with the cats and sometimes asking 'Have they won yet?'

"England is usually considered much better at this," Teja is says, "so indeed, this is to be seen as something of a great wonder."

athelstanthescribe

Athelstan is sitting on the old boat dock by the lake, with his feet in the water and a bottle of beer in his hand, idly tossing lumps of bread further out and seeing what comes up to eat them.

He'd welcome company.

[ooc: now with warnings for depressed character and references to suicidal ideation in the Ragnar thread, possibly later both]

runningred

There are two young men of much the same age but of very different dispositions in the bar tonight. Both preparing for war in their own ways.

For Jay, it’s testing the camouflage systems on his new suit. The gun holster and harness on the table turns from a dull grey to a light-drinking black, then almost invisible. He fiddles with a little hand held computer, changing it back to grey. He adjusts the setting and runs the cycle again. This time the holster becomes just a little more invisible.

For Sinric, it’s a make-up case. A rather large make-up. The sort of pots and powders that would make a professional make-up artist weep for joy. He has his little tablet open playing make-up tutorials as he experiments. He sharpens the lines of his cheekbones, darkening his eyes to make them wide and bright. Gold at the corners of his eyes and lips makes him look unearthly and dangerous.

{ooc: Both are botherable and open all weekend with bouts of slowtime. Last ep before this mun goes on holiday for a month.}

bigarmy_strangepants

Ragnar Lothbrok is sitting at the bar, drinking ale and trying to comprehend the game going on on the screen behind the bar.

It's some blue guys against some white guys, and the blue guys have names that sound familiar to Ragnar. One of them is even called Ragnar, too. And they definitely know how a shieldwall works.

He doesn't quite understand what is going on, but he is probably getting there. And rooting for the blue ones whenever he understands what they are doing.

crabbycustomer

Karkat always looks tired, so leaves us unequipped to describe how he looks today. More tired.

He is not asleep in the bar this time, but he is slouched down egregiously far in his chair with his feet up on another chair. He is studying a holographic display that his little walking crab-like emitter is projecting, swiping back and forth between two views.

One view shows a sort of a graph, dotted with the symbols of the zodiac at various X and Y points. Almost all of them are present at least twice; some much more than that. Some are brighter and some are darker; some of them have little notations and subscripts.

The other view shows a mapview, a great cloud of the same symbols clustered in a big lump. The lump is beginning to fracture and fray at the edges, though.

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Swipe.

Occasionally he fiddles with the symbols on the graph and then goes back to look at the map. More often he just toggles between them and chews on his lip.

Swipe. Swipe.

runningred

Jay comes up from the garage. Looking, well, like someone who hasn't slept much in the past week. He drops several packages off at the bar, writing notes to go with each of them.

( Yamato - )

( Ragnar and Athelstan – )

Then he leaves a note on the board.

Resident mechanic and tinkerer.
Now taking commissions.
Ask for Jay or leave a message at the bar.

That done, he orders a pot of coffee and sprawls out on a couch.

bigarmy_strangepants

[[OOM: After Sinric's return, Ragnar, Sinric and Athelstan talk in their rooms, and share breakfast.]]

cook_the_rude

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is in the kitchen, after having received a note when he came down for breakfast, and is now preparing lunch instead. The theme is Mediterranean -- pita bread and hummus and aubergines in olive oil, feta cheese and grilled calamari and bulgur and spinach fried with garlic. Seafood and vegetables, in many variations. He seems very cheerful about it all.
Father Pearse Harman, done with the service for today, is cleaning out the upstairs chapel, next to the library, with the door open. It's not going to be used again, unless winter gets very bad, so there is no point in keeping it. Much of the interior can simply go back to the bar when Harman gives up the key, but there are things in there people brought, and they should be kept, or be moved to the church. It's already started to smell odd in there, Harman notices.
Teja has been reminded of a pastime he used to enjoy a few years back, so he is outside today, teaching Egil the very basics of baseball. After a while, Ragnar Lothbrok wanders by, curious as always, asks questions, and then immediately gets drawn into proceedings. Swinging a bat is rather like swinging an axe, they agree.
Dorian Gray is in the garden, appreciating the season -- lily of the valley, the first rosebuds, blossoming blueberries, all kinds of lovely plant life burgeoning beautifully. He'll be willing to talk about it at great length, too, if anybody would listen.

[[OOC: Say in your tag whom you want! ETA: Warning for sexual content in the Ganymede-Dorian thread.]]

the_cupbearer

Outside, on the beach, there is a storm. It's only a spot of one, really, but the crack of lightning is hard to ignore. From the rain, only a second after it starts--and it started in a downpour, dark-skied with heavy drops leaving dimples in the sand and the incessant distant roll of thunder--there steps through a young man.

Ganymede comes into Milliways like stepping through a tear in a fluttering curtain, seeming to straighten from an unknown weight as soon as he clears that invisible threshold, and immediately the pattering rain stops. In the middle of throwing a stone to skip across the water, his arm still swings and the pebble simply tumbles in the sand until it rests half-buried in the grains. He looks up, face wet from the rain and clothes beginning to stick to his body, and his gentle huff of breath turns into a laugh at the last second. His travel has been quick and painless thus far: of course the interruption would come sooner or later.

He supposes going back to the city can wait.