The Bar at the End of the Universe

Sun, 14 Jan 2007 14:32:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

[Out of Milliways: On the road. At 7:25.]

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Sun, 14 Jan 2007 14:27:00 GMT

Posted by: cheevy.livejournal.com

Bar was kind enough to give him a change of clothes. It's generic and quite 1960's -- bellbottom jeans and a shirt that looks like it was tossed out of an Army surplus window. And so, having had a shower and given his last $3 to Bar, Miniver is sitting on the floor by the fireplace with a mug of sweetened coffee, fiddling with his room key, waiting for the fire to dry ~~that dead Bichon Frise decomposing on his head~~ his hair while he wonders what the Hell he's going to do with himself now and stews over things Random told him.

He'd love some company.

[ooc: Yes, Miniver's journal name is different. Forgive the mun for being perfectionistic, but this picky Muse has taken almost a year to find his face and LJ name and let me play him right.]

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Sun, 14 Jan 2007 13:52:00 GMT

Posted by: goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

It may sound like a small whirlwind full of buttons, but it's not, not really, it's a hyperactive gothboy -who's had coffee- working a borrowed treadle sewing machine.

Skippy, the kangaroo perched on the table, currently in a dressing gown, wanted to be a ballerina today. That meant that Clive had to make a tutu, which was what he was currently doing.

Swan Lake with an all transvestite goth kangaroo cast anyone?

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Sun, 14 Jan 2007 12:35:00 GMT

Posted by: lissla-lissar.livejournal.com

She has food. There is a fur curing. She has clothing. She has a place.

She and Ash slip into the bar anyway, haunting the area near the lake door so that they can flee if they need to. Can leave if they need to. The white, white woman and the white, white dog simply take in the warmth.

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Thu, 11 Jan 2007 01:07:00 GMT

Posted by: cheevy.livejournal.com

There's a lake outside the bar.

Duh.

It is cold.

Again... duh.

There's a kinda stoned-looking guy standing around kicking pebbles into the water.

That little tidbit you may not have known.

Consider yourself enlightened.

Then go say hello.

[ooc: Not a first entry post, but I, being such a terrible and neglectful mun, have entered this puppet only once. And as I have nothing whatsoever to assume he's been doing since his entrance post 10 months ago, we can all pretend he's just arrived here. >.> ]

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Mistletoe

Wed, 13 Dec 2006 15:35:00 GMT

Posted by: fallen-april.livejournal.com

April's in the Christmas spirit.

She's gotten some mistletoe from the bar and has stuck it up in a couple of doorframes, and over a few tables (balancing on chairs is hard, sometimes).

She's rather proud of herself, really.

She's now sitting happily on a couch by the fire humming Christmas carols to herself and sketching something Christmasy.

Beware - she has a sprig of mistletoe in her pocket.

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Wed, 13 Dec 2006 08:53:00 GMT

Posted by: goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

"Oh come on" thump

That, patrons of Milliways, is the sound of a sulky teenage boy kicking the door, just once, because it won't open.

Clive sighed, shaking his head and dragging his box of supplies to an unoccupied booth.

Looks like the boy's Bound for the time being, apparently someone thought he was overworking himself or something, and, really, looking at him it's easy to tell. He's probably been living on coffee and snackfoods for the past ~~week~~ month.

Go ahead and talk to him, really, just watch out for the sulk.

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Fri, 10 Nov 2006 09:23:00 GMT

Posted by: goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

The fashion designer was back, with a whole box full of fabric scraps and an oversized sketchbook.

He was apparently doing designs for winter prom wear and having quite a time of it. That would be why he's grinning and stapling fabric samples to the pages, as well as drawing lines between the pictures and the scraps and making notes like: 'illusion of movement' and 'lots of ruffles' and 'don't skimp on the glitter'

He's got scones that Bar gave him when he got his chai, they might be cranberry, they might be cherry, it's difficult to tell, and he hasn't had one yet.

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More than one. . .

Tue, 31 Oct 2006 12:56:00 GMT

Posted by: somnium-sum.livejournal.com

. . .on Halloween.

On general principle, Samhain is one of the most important boundary-times. That the walls between worlds are papery thin, making communication between the spirits and the Faeries and mortals more likely.

Roiben already had his share of the day on the other side of his door. The least he wanted was a cup of coffee from the bar and toast with honey. He got it. He was also given a costume composed of silver spangles that were supposed to be a dress, tattered fishnets, and a feather boa in place of his coat. He still had his boots and he was sure it was a good thing.

He decided that the stockings were very impractical. Bah, what a drag.

Near him, laughing silently, was Ghost. There was so much activity in the bar that everything felt like static charges against the skin, so he was hiding. With the exception of eye holes hastily cut out with pinking shears, with pale blue eyes blinking out, he was hidden beneath a bedsheet covered over with mauve roses and spring-green twines of ivy. Boo.

[ooc: Two puppets, one mun. One or the other, just say which.]

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Wed, 25 Oct 2006 19:33:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

[Out of Milliways: At 4:00 in the morning.]

The knob of a knee showed through the frayed hole of his faded-out jeans, the greying threads had been picked at. It only made the hole bigger. It matched the unraveling hem of the t-shirt he wore and the only thing that needed a good wash was the olive drab Army field jacket Ghost was huddled in. Still smelling of the Night Train he had spilled on it a night, two, three, more than ago.

He takes up a spare amount of space in an over-sized armchair, too awake to sleep and too tired to dream.

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Thu, 19 Oct 2006 00:54:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

[Out of Milliways: On the road.

At 1:10.

At 3:08.

The start of a haint tale and a long day.]

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Tue, 17 Oct 2006 16:07:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

Distracted with a red felt-tip marker. Taking up little space on a couch. Writing, using his bare arm for paper. Just as thin and colorless, and if he keeps still he can watch the way the ink feathers out against his skin as it dries.

Words and whispers from his mouth, Warm her from the inside out.

On the end table, his cup of hot chocolate has been sitting there untouched for a while now. Though he skimmed off the melting marshmallows. Picked out one by one because they were the best part. Once the cocoa cools, and the cinnamon stick has time to sit, it will be better.

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Mon, 16 Oct 2006 01:12:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

"With every lyric I could muster, I've loved some part of you, for a long time. But you whisper 'too late' and I wonder about this punishment for my breakin' heart."

It's a whiskey-drenched and sad voice, a drawling dusty dirt roads and flat fields stretching to the horizons voice that is singing without the awareness of why.

From the mouth of a delicate, wraithly young man that is sprawled on the floor with his back against the wall, eyes shuttered.

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Fri, 15 Sep 2006 11:50:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

He takes a step in, and strikes his foot against the threshold of the door and stumbles forward, shoving his arms out to catch himself before he falls out face-first with a confused, "What?"

He lands thump and the floor seems terribly familiar. "Milliways, 'lo again." From the tangle of skinny limbs and too much pale hair now sitting indian-style.

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Thu, 14 Sep 2006 21:35:00 GMT

Posted by: goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive was back, presumably he'd gone home since being in the night before, but sometimes it was difficult to tell with that boy.

At the moment he was at one of the smaller tables with a workbook, sketching out a new design and just grinning. For the moment he could forget that he'd been dumped.

(if you haven't yet, read the summary of his year in his journal. He's dun growed up while he was gone.)

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Thu, 27 Jul 2006 16:06:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

"Dixie tastes sweeter when it's secondhand." Ghost says in his sleep.

Eyes shuttered, pale lashes spiderweb lacy against a pale cheek. Laying supine across one couch. One arm hanging down, fingers touching the floor. The other curled up, chin against forearm.

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Wed, 19 Jul 2006 13:01:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

Ghost is at a booth, flung out across one side of the bench. Humming the simple notes to "Three Blind Mice." His head is tipped back and his eyes are crossed so that he might he contemplating the end of his nose, or wondering how the world looks when it's sdrawkcab tsomla with a little frown of concentration.

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Mon, 10 Jul 2006 18:00:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

Ghost has found his way back into the rafters. It's almost like climbing a tree.

He's just there, laying out on a beam so he can still look down, pulling an even larger hole near the edges of his Whirlin' Disc t-shirt. Pale pale hair falls into a pale pale face but he brushes it away from his eyes, quietly serenading a drifting bit of wayward dust.

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Sat, 08 Jul 2006 16:30:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

Ghost rested his cheek against the observation window, forehead on the cool, clear glass, head hurting today. He watched the starscape, marveled. Fields of brilliant stars, in constellations, in galaxies, looking through the smudgy window.

Waiting. Not for the destruction of those stars, burning brightly, but for the creation of those stars again.

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Fri, 07 Jul 2006 08:07:00 GMT

Posted by: oldromansaint.livejournal.com

Santino at bar a table, people-watching pleasently. In Soviet Russia, people watch you!

Come bother, before any more Yakov Smirnoff jokes let loose?

[OOC: ~~Mun must run for half-an-hour to an hourish. WILL reply to tags when I get back, of course.~~ Right, DEFINITELY back this time.]

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Thu, 06 Jul 2006 16:26:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

Ghost's spent his entire day out-of-doors, and the pale swatches of skin behind his ears and at the nape of his neck are already pink with would-be sunburn, and the rest is splotched with cool, damp-smelling dirt.

The throaty Carolina voice carries rough and sweet, gravel and honey, singing words that weren't quite words while he crouches in a flowerbed, carefully pulling weeds from between the flowers. "Pullin' weeds and pickin stones, man is made of dreams and bones."

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Fri, 30 Jun 2006 11:19:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

A young man is stretched out on one of the couches, feet hanging off one of the armrests, bare toes wriggling. One arm folded behind his head, resting cheek against his upper arm. Eyes halfway closed, flickering rapidly behind paper thin lids that cannot block the pale china blue of them. Ghost is awake and dreaming, sing-songing under his breath, "Trees swayin' in a summer breeze, silver leaves fallin'as we walk by."

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Thu, 29 Jun 2006 21:27:00 GMT

Posted by: goodbyesandusky.livejournal.com

Clive was still buzzed from how successful the fashion show had been, grinning as he tromped down the stairs, still wearing the suit Sally had made for him and his top hat.

He stopped short when he got into the bar proper, then blinked, then again. Then he crossed the room in a dash, laughing, the sound very nearly hysteric.

The door, it seemed, was there, right where there had always been a blank space of wall before. He didn't open it just yet, just petted it for a moment before dashing back upstairs to collect the few things he'd had with him when he'd arrived, and a few more things, whatever he could fit in his camera box really.

If you want to catch him before he goes, now's your chance.

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Thu, 29 Jun 2006 13:05:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

[Out of Milliways, Ghost wakes up, and has a conversation with a visitor.]

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Fri, 05 May 2006 23:32:00 GMT

Posted by: http://users.livejournal.com/_pale_ghost_/

[In Missing Mile, North Carolina: On one side of the door Ghost tries and tries to open it. Open-close, open-close, open-close. Each and every time he does so it still remains the bathroom, pale blue eyes widened in suprise because he could not see this happening.

In Milliways: There is no door any more.

When you follow your bliss... doors will open where you would not have thought there would be doors; and where there wouldn't be a door for anyone else. --Joseph Campbell.

In Missing Mile, North Carolina: He hears Steve's voice, calling his name and needing help dragging in some milk-crates of old vinyl records, and Ghost smiles because he has been waiting for that voice all day.]

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