milliways_bar | Entries tagged with ambriel

After traveling with Ellen, Ambriel had required (and acquired) some new clothing. A dove grey long-sleeved henley had replaced the button down dress shirt. New trousers.

Still no shoes.

The angel is sitting at a table near the window, gazing out into the destruction and watching stars snuff out one by one.

It has been almost two years by Milliways time. And Ambriel is being called back home.

aaaaaaaagh_sky

[OOM: Some time ago, Ellen spoke to Ambriel about the goings-on in her world, most particularly in the swamps of Point Lookout, and mentioned that she could use some help against the power of an ancient, vengeful evil.

It's not every day you get help from an angel of the Lord. Spoilers for Point Lookout.]

When she and Ambriel and Dogmeat return to Milliways, the fetor of the swamps isn't so much of a problem any more. Neither is Ellen's own lingering fear of psychic domination, or her private terror of being reminded about what happened to her in the Sacred Bog while reality was getting all melty around her. Things are much better now... not quite finished, but better.

But fetor or no, she could use a wash and something decent to eat, and maybe tend to a few injuries she took in the course of their adventures. There's still work to be done and it's best handled in good condition. Once she's thanked Ambriel appropriately, of course.

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Not quite out of Milliways: Ellen really didn't want to sleep last night. References to disturbing events and memories, but no explicit description.

Ellen slept, eventually, last night. Not well, but she slept. She woke this morning and things were more or less all right, but her head hurt like the dickens under the bandage. No surprise, really. She got some painkiller from Bar and some mushy stuff for breakfast- nobody's ever been very clear on what goes into Insta-Mash- and sat herself down at one of the nearby tables. A wait-rat brought Dogmeat's breakfast, which the heeler immediately started snarfing down as if there would never be food ever again.

There's a pocket-sized notebook with some unpleasant stains on it in front of her. She's going to have to get to that eventually, but she'd like to eat before opening up, as she's pretty sure it'd kill her appetite.

whatisastiles

When Stiles walks up to Bar and says hi, he's greeted by a small napkin with written instructions "Stiles, you're in charge of food and drinks for the next two hours. You can write your specialties on the chalkboard." Another note follows. Please try not to break too many dishes :)

Now, just as is true for his BFF Scott, Stile's mom does all the grocery shopping. His own efforts to help in the kitchen tend to lead to peanut butter in places where peanut butter does not belong. But he's seven (and a half now), so he can totally handle this. He stands on a stool to write out some specials in a somewhat shaky hand:

SPECIALS
Lunchables - ham, turkey, pepperoni
Chocolate Milk
Coke or Sprite
That sounds like a pretty awesome menu to him, and hopefully nobody will ask for anything else too weird.

[OOC: Aaaannd I think that's about all for the night, folks! Feel free to tag in late if you don't mind insta-slowtime.]

ambriel

Ambriel is outside, examining an uprooted tree. It seems there was a very large disturbance here.

But no metaphysical damage to the structure of Milliways. Nothing to worry about, then. Just something to keep an eye out for.

The angel perches at the top of the upturned roots and looks out over the lake.

demisemidemon

There wasn't a yoma in Milliways the other day. The humans who encountered it did so elsewhere; there's no yoma aura anywhere that Clare can detect.

And the humans survived. Somehow, they even killed it. That means it was a weak yoma, and a slow one, but still. For two humans, it's still impressive.

It makes Clare think of things. Of Galk and Sid; of her world, and the villages there; of Raki.

She's outside, standing by the lakeshore, watching the bar ~~blankly~~ thoughtfully. Maybe later she'll go inside.

[OOC: If you'd rather, your character can also encounter her inside, where she will be standing near the lake door watching the room.]

gavemea_45

Since finding out just how much more quickly time's been passing here than back in their world, Sam's been brooding over a way to make that work for him.

There has to be a way. There has to.

(And if this is more of the Trickster's BS, he swears to himself that he'll find a way to gank him for good.)

In the meantime, he's got coffee, his hunter's journal (open to a blank page on which he's doodling arcane symbols in the margin) and a table to himself -- at least for the moment.

ambriel

Ambriel is sitting at the bar, apparently deeply occupied by staring at something bar provided with that cup of green tea.

Animal crackers.

They are apparently very puzzling, judging by the concentration the angel is aiming at them.

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Ellen and Scribe Cancio went to Rivet City yesterday, more or less just for the heck of it. There's not really a lot of dating destinations in the Capital Wasteland. You take what you can get. It was interesting, though, and overall it worked out really well. There was just this one bit...

Eh, well, that was yesterday. Today was get-back-to-work day. Ellen's got supply caravan escort duty; water north to Canterbury Commons, and steel and machined parts from the Pitt south to the RobCo factory. She's taken the opportunity to stop in at the Bar for a bit of a reading break.

Granted, the book in question is a copy of Mueller's Tested and Proven Recipes, With Suggestions On Table Setting, Table Serving, and Table Etiquette, but when you're on the road in a post-nuclear wasteland you take whatever reasonably intact book you can get.

mjolnir_retriever

Thor is at Bar with a beer. (Sam Adams, but it's in a large glass tankard, so an observer will only be able to tell that it's some kind of brown ale.)

He's carrying on an earnest conversation with a series of napkins covered in orange crayon.

Anyone close enough will be able to tell that Thor's end of the conversation mostly consists of things like, "Truly? So little?" This is because he's asking Bar about human alcohol tolerance.

Guess who's just found out that alcohol poisoning is even a thing that can happen?

[OOC: You are all awesome, and I need to faceplant into bed. I'll pick up these threads tomorrow! No new threads unless we've talked about them, please, so I can keep up with the slowtimes I've got.]

hadyougoing

The lakeside door bangs open, and two figures stand illuminated in a flash of lightning.

(Behind them in the distance, there's a cheery honk; then two headlights recede into the trees.)

They're both tired, dirty, and redolent of sulfur and general burnination. Mike has one leg in a makeshift splint; Ava's bruised and having a really bad hair day.

They stare around at the bar as if surprised it's there.

Or maybe they're surprised that they're there.

[ooc: ~~Post-cannibal Ava and Mike for all your tagging needs! Tag either or both.~~ And we're for sleep! Catch you on the flip side.]

ambriel

Ambriel is paging through one of the glossy magazines that tend to congregate on the coffee tables of Milliways. The subscription cards are always torn out, and they are always from a variety of different universes.

This one seems to be titled 'Journal of Popular Neuroscience for Teen Mechanics'. Rather a niche market. The letter from the editor is written in binary.

Ambriel's eyes are narrowed in both interest and confusion.

ambriel

Ambriel is curled up in one of the armchairs by the fire, bare feet dangling just above the floor.

The angel seems engrossed in a book with a worn blue cover. If you took a closer look, the faded title is just visible along the spine- The Mystery at the Moss-Covered Mansion.

ambriel

Ambriel is sitting at one of the tables in the main bar area.

There's a glass of ice water slowly warming to room temperature at the angel's elbow. Ambriel seems mostly occupied with staring at the front door.

Without blinking. For some time now.

Yep.

demisemidemon

[Not really OOM:

Some time ago, Teresa and Ambriel met.

Some time after that, Clare and Ambriel discussed that. And some other things.

Like feelings! Uh. Sort of.]

hadyougoing

[before: A problem solved sometimes creates a few more.]

Well, you can't hide forever.

That appears to be the logic behind Ava's appearance tonight at the Bar. She's in jacket and jeans and her pretty pretty magical necklace and her hair's brushed and everything, but beyond that she looks a little stressed out.

This is because she is a lot stressed out, but is trying to hide it. Semi-successfully.

At least the hot chocolate's delicious.

nita_callahan

Okay, okay, the start of the Christmas shopping season is a few days away yet, but there's no reason Nita can't start thinking about gifts now.

She has a catalog from the Crossings, a notebook, and -- most importantly -- a glass of white wine for fortification. Her sleeves are rolled up, exposing the pale scars on her arms, and her chin is on her hand as she tries to decide between gadgets for Dairine.

cantdiequiteyet

How can you tell if a Claymore is truly happy?

Some people would tell you that a warrior of the kind called Claymores can never be truly happy. They may have a point.

But others would say... Well, that really depends on the warrior in question. If it is the warrior Helen, for example, then it would be her big smile, and the way she makes sure to tell you she's happy. If it's Quicksword Ilena, then you'd need to be paying careful attention to her usually expressionless countenance.

No one knows what Ophelia, the Blood soaked warrior is like when she's truly happy, for no one has survived to tell.

But with Teresa, it's maybe in the lightness of her expression surrounding that faint smile, the way she doesn't quite look like she's mocking the world, but actually living in it for once. That the world is worth actually living in for the first time since she died.

It's a subtle expression. You'll probably miss it.

There's no reason to miss her, though. She's on the lake shore, in full armor and with her sword on her back, looking out over the water's surface. Occasionally a breeze might pick up her cloak and make it flutter in the air. She doesn't mind the cold.

It's a beautiful day.

ambriel

Ambriel is sitting at the bar, bare feet just brushing against the floor.

There's no tea or books present today. The angel is unashamedly people watching, with a tiny smile. The atmosphere inside and out is much improved, now.

jack_inthegreen

[OOM:

From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggety beasties and things that go bump in the night, good Lord, deliver us!

]

jack_inthegreen

Jack has decided that straightforward is the best way to go.

ATTENTION BAR PATRONS

Who: Jack in the Green
Seeking: Heroes
For the purpose of: disposing of the entity that has been lurking around the bar and forest
When: Friday night

There will also be pie.

He sits at a nearby table and resumes his woodworking--the pieces are carved, so it is now time to sand them smooth.

[ooc: Not open for tagging but responses are welcome. Please see back_room post for details.]

ambriel

Ambriel comes in from outside, frowning.

The sunset seemed less convivial than it usually does here. And not because the 'days' are shortening, either.

There is something in the woods, frustratingly just outside the angel's senses; which is frankly unusual. Perhaps someone else has noticed? Would Security really protect a patron with an aura that stank of rot?

If it is a patron at all.

spooky_shrink

It's been a while since a certain shrink was seen at that particular chair at the bar. But there he is, with his usual glass of Glenmorangie and... oh, look, he has a tablet now.

So there he is happily zipping through screens and downloading stuff from....somewhere. Hmmm.

Well, at least they had Cut the Rope, whoever they are.

ambriel

Somewhere close to the bar herself, there is a large Rubbermaid container with 'Lost and Found' written on the side in Sharpie.

There is a sound coming from it. Like someone knocking on the lid.

From the inside.