milliways_bar | Entries tagged with athelstan

Sinric comes down to the bar dressed in heavy furs and carrying a large pack. He stops at the bar, dropping off a small bundle of letters and packages before requesting the last of the tools he needs.

For Ragnar and Athelstan.

For Hannibal, Rae, Emcee, Seimei, Childermass, and Sherlock.

He gives the main room one last look over before pulling his fur hood up and heading out into the snow-covered garden.

In the gloom and falling flakes, he turns towards the mountain and the massive ash tree waiting for him there.

{ooc: reactions only, please.}

i_am_your_host

[ OOC: Feel free to visit Emcee and/or Rae in the infirmary. Jay will be around as needed to watch over them. ]

thewidewideworld

OOM: Sinric encounters a group of northern Vǫlva who take him in. And in the cave under the earth, at the base of the tree, Sinric begins to dream.

{ooc: mentions of ritual sex, no explicit descriptions.}

Across all of Milliways there is a shudder, as reality unwinds and reforms. Those possessed of magic will feel it most acutely.

In the forest, there is a new tree. An ash, huge and ancient. As if it has been there since before the beginning of time.

And bound to its branches is a naked man. Shivering and blue with cold, blood dripping over his bare skin as his bonds cut in.

Blue black lines are painted on his skin, echoing the tree, echoing the earth.

There are names on his lips, whispered over and over in a babble.

Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan. Ragnar. Athelstan.

His eyes are unfocused, as if they see through, as if they see more. More than this.

In the forest, there is a tree. In the tree, there is a man. In the man, there is the whole multiverse - past and future and present. Every thread of was, will be and could be.

And by the look of him, it might be killing him.

(ooc: Sinric is currently on a hardcore seer’s spirit journey. His body might have made it to Milliways but his mind is still traveling. As a result he will see things, know things about the future or past of the people he interacts with. Feel free to PM me if there’s something you do or don’t want him to bring up.)

i_am_your_host

[ OOC: Millitimed to during the Halloween party -- Emcee and Jay go for some quickies in the woods (warnings for sex); later, Emcee pays Eric what he owes him for the incident, and a little more (warnings for vampirism, but no sex!) ]

Emcee comes downstairs, carrying a small suitcase. He is wearing his leather coat, a white dress shirt, and long trousers. His hair is neat and his face is plain, except for just a touch of eyeliner. If one had met him at the Halloween party for the first time, he would be nearly unrecognizable.

At the Bar, he requests sandwiches, some with jam and peanut butter and some with cured meats that won't spoil easily, along with crackers and biscuits.

He has notes in his pocket. If he doesn't see their intended recipients in the brief time he has before he steps through his door, he will give them to the Bar to deliver.

For the moment he is wrapping the food in brown paper, separating them into several parcels.

[OOC again: Mainly an exit post, but if your pup would like to say goodbye, a short thread would be appreciated!]

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.)

thewidewideworld

Sinric pushes the door open, shaking back a hood of heavy blue cotton edges with gold of a very Indian style. He looks around with a small, humourless laugh. "I suppose it had to happen in time."

No-longer quite as young, or as androgynous, he still moves gracefully as he heads to the bar for a drink.

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.

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]

i_am_your_host

On the third and last day of Cubefall, the Master of Ceremonies, still dressed in silver and beaded fringe, stops by the Bar and receives a note on a rainbow colored napkin. The Bar enjoys it when Emcee hosts happy hours, and she is only too glad to oblige.

After requesting some music, and getting a portable speaker linked to a smartphone, Emcee sets to writing out some specials on the board while shaking her tush to Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance." The playlist for the evening includes other upbeat selections from Queen, ABBA, Madonna, Prince, and the like.

HAPPY HOUR SPECIALS

Your choice of alcoholic (schnapps, wine cooler, etc.) or non-alcoholic (fruit juice, Kool-Aid, etc.) beverage in any of these colors:

Red
Orange
Yellow
Green
Blue
Purple

With that done, she pours a glass of gin (clear) for herself, and nimbly hops up to sit on the counter.

"Come and get it, darlings!" she sings out over the music.

[OOC: Millitiming this because of bodily difficulties that prevented me from doing it last week. And I really wanted to do it. So! I invite you to put on your Cubefall hats one more time (or not). Feel free to tag each other party style if you like. Thanks <3]

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.]]

athelstanthescribe

Athelstan is sitting on the fence of the goat pen, staring into space and absently scratching one of the goats behind the ears.

(And occasionally swatting the others away from attempting to eat his clothes, when they tug hard enough that he notices.)

Please feel free to distract him from his own thoughts. They're not very cheerful today.

athelstanthescribe

It's the waxing moon, and Athelstan doesn't feel ready. He's packed up or put on those few belongings he's taking back with him - meaning he's dressed monastically again - but he still doesn't feel ready.

He's sitting in the bar now, staring at the front door as he tries to work up his will, and slowly drinking the latest of several bottles of ale.

my_brothers_shadow

Rollo finds Milliways again, and after finding no sign of his brother (well, at least by his quick glancing around), approaches Bar to softly ask, "Do you have a means of teaching one to read?"

If his brother knows the skill, Rollo has decided there is likely a value to it beyond those the Christians put to it. Still, it seems a woman's skill and so he feels somewhat awkward in the asking.

Bar, ever her helpful self, provides him with a board book centered on the ABC's. Rollo knows how books are opened and so looks at the many pictures of objects and strange runes on each page, but they mean little to him. "I do not think this is much help for me."

Bar provides a cup of mead in apology since there's not much else she can do.

[OOC: Not opposed to Ragnar tagging, though Rollo might be a bit embarrassed. ;p]

gods_that_haunt_me

The door opens to the sounds of drums and flutes, singing, and laughter, as firelight dances from torches and a beach bonfire. The smells of sea water, smoking herbs, and roasted meat are in the air.

Floki half-stumbles in, a horn cup in his hand, as the door shuts behind him. He is wearing a white embroidered tunic and an intricately woven belt with runes on it.

And he is deliriously happy.

"Come one and all!" he hollers with a delighted giggle, raising his cup. "Drinks are on me tonight, for I am now a married man!"

[OOC: I should have done this monnnnths ago to keep canon going, so let's just handwave/millitime/blame the door on whatever is necessary ahem ahem cough cough]

[ETA: Related -- this thread millitimed to shortly before this EP.]

tire_moi_mes_bottes

There are children everywhere, and have been for at least a couple of days. Lègle does not consider this to be his natural environment. But Joly has been a champion of head-counts and damage control, and other people have been stepping up to provide cake and entertainment and sensible things like that, so--so it's time for him to take his turn and do his duty.

Joly occasionally (frequently) makes noises about nutrition, which seems to include fruits and vegetables. So Lesgle is behind the bar chopping up strawberries and melons, mixing up fresh lemonade, and stirring a quietly simmering bowl of punch. It's not even a little bit alcoholic!

If you look to be under the age of sixteen or so, he's likely to wave you over and ask if you'd like anything. If you look to be over the age of sixteen or so, he'd be very grateful for some adult conversation.

(What else is nutritious? Hmm. When he has a spare moment, he starts pulling out fixings for ham and cheese sandwiches. That's nutritious, right?)

((Open thread, party style, tag in, hop around!))

((...heh, no, really, please do hop around and talk to each other because i can't keep up with so many threads! :D ))

athelstanthescribe

There's a small and serious dark-haired ten-year-old at a corner table. He's got a dog he doesn't know but who seems to want to stay with him, which he's accepting with equanimity, and a book.

A printed book, not illuminated, and he's studying it with uncommon wonder and handling it as if he's expecting the ink to flake off if he's too rough.

i_am_your_host

The Master of Ceremonies doesn't really do daytime. Or the outdoors. Not even at the end of the universe.

But tonight he's sitting on the back porch stairs in the wee hours after midnight, wrapped in his leather coat, smoking a fragrant herbal cigarette and watching the cherry blossom petals drift and swirl like snowflakes in the starlight.

the_cupbearer

Ganymede comes in looking rather different than he has been: he's dressed in dark jeans, black boots, a shirt so deep blue it's nearly black, face unpainted. He sits down with a leather portfolio, making notes in quick handwriting, narrow, slanted and elegant.

It's time for a new identity, though he rather likes the one he has; Ganymede liked to be prepared either way. He sighs, and checks his watch, the hammered metal band glinting in the light.

sunbaked_baker

(OOM: Rae had tried to sleep that night. She really had.)

Sunshine stumbled through the bar door, looking pale and sick with nerves, and utterly exhausted. Tiny frizzles of red hair were plastered to her temples and the back of her neck with fear sweat, which had dampened the back of her camisole. The sight of the lit bar room startled her and she reflexively shielded her hurting eyes with her hand, squinting against the sudden brightness. She had been expecting her darkened apartment hallway, had been on her way to her kitchen to get a glass of water and make tea, or possibly get some kind of concentrated caffeine IV-drip thing set up in hopes of feeling mostly human and partially awake by the time her SOFs came to pick her up.

Even as her eyes began to adjust, before she was aware of what she was doing, Rae turned and closed the door securely behind her, leaning her forehead against the cool wood. She could feel the solidity of the door, the world kept safely behind it. She even imagined she could feel that world slip away as her hand left the doorknob to press against the door, and it was an almost comforting thought.

She was safe for now.

It would only come back when she was ready.

If she were ever ready.

road_to_calvary

There is a lot of activity at the stables today. Valjean managed to track Javert down yesterday (despite concerted efforts by the latter to avoid him), and persuaded him to donate his stockpile of spare bricks to the repair effort. They have to be brought over from the church building site, so Javert is rolling piles over in a wheelbarrow while Valjean knocks the fire-damaged wooden planks out of the back of the stables. There are some large bags of supplies ready to be mixed into mortar, and Valjean is hoping to get the two worst damaged stalls fixed by nightfall.

At least one of the two will welcome help!

[OOC: I've just had an hour of my life cruelly stolen, so I'm going to crash pretty soon. Feel free to threadhop if desired, and I'll be around all day tomorrow to continue. Thanks to all who've tagged! <3]

harryhotspur

[part two: hotspur and king henry at the battle of agincourt]

Enter Harry Percy, looking much the way he did when he first arrived: armor-clad, blood-spattered, positively coated in mud.

But he was expecting to return here, and under his giddy fizz of post-battle adrenaline, there is neither the shock nor fear of that first arrival. Disappointment? Well, yes, a touch. But that's alright, he needn't dwell on it. He'll just go clean off.

He has to pass through the bar to do so, of course, and a filthy knight tracking mud across the floor is not the most inconspicuous sight; it may be he will be waylaid before he gets there.

[ooc: i'm slowtimes until tomorrow evening, i just wanted to get this up!]

athelstanthescribe

Athelstan is at a booth to one side of the room, with his dog on the floor at his feet and a bottle of something that he's steadily working on, alone.

Some days are good, some days are less so. This is one of the less so, Ragnar is outside somewhere, and he's doing what came to mind to help.

collects_strays

He'd wanted to go home.

It's not a building, or a place. It doesn't mean any one thing, nor is it always the same thing. Usually an ache for some kind of stillness, and familiarity, but this time it has something else attached. He could walk straight through the back door, find the dogs in the forest, but they're not what he's looking for. That ache is for something before -

Before Florence and Aukštaitija and Palermo. Before the last supper, before Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Before Garrett Jacob Hobbs and Dr. Lecter and Jack Crawford, and even before the dogs, before Quantico and before Wolf Trap.

His father had a drink for when they were broke. Bottom of the bottom shelf, it tasted terrible and still always burned his throat. And it worked quickly, so it lasted longer in the bottle than anything else in their cupboard, or trunk. Cheap and reliable and almost always around.

It's what Graham orders from the bar, carries to corner booth along with a glass tumbler, both in his left hand. (He can't seem to move his right.) He slumps back in the booth, pours a finger into the glass, and never looks beyond the table. The bandage on his forehead is clean, as are the few nicks on his face and the bruise along his eye, but nearly everything else about him seems ignored and unkempt.

[ooc: Open until it scrolls, but this will be a lot of ~~post break-up~~ drinking.]