milliways_bar | Entries tagged with childermass

Sunshine has been doing well. Really well, she had to be honest, even if there are still the occasional moments when things backslide pretty terribly. She can't be sure just what will bring back those terrors that have no place in daylight - sometimes the cause makes no sense to her, afterwards, when she tries to examine the experience - and she doesn't really have a good way to deal with them apart from just waiting for them to pass.

Today, it had been the texture of a particularly sticky focaccia dough sliding between her fingers, stray bits of it drying in crusty flakes beneath her fingernails. Her easy, unfocused attention and her imagination had unexpectedly been caught by the glutinous feel of it, the way it slid wetly over her skin, and suddenly she had found herself shuddering hard, eyes watering, her skin crawling and stomach turning in revulsion.

(And she plunged her hands into the mire of the master vampire's chest, and wrenched out his heart. She watched the mass deliquesce and dribble between her fingers to sizzle upon the ruined concrete.)

The dough sits, slowly drying on the floured counter, long after she has scrubbed every trace of it from her hands and forearms, her skin pink from the scrubbing and the hot water. She still isn't sure she can go back to it just yet. Out of the need to keep her shaking hands busy, she seeks distraction in making tea.

The focaccia will have to wait.

sunbaked_baker

(OOM: "So... apart from healing and resting and knowing there'll be questions, do we have any sort of plan?"

"So far today our track record with plans isn't too hot, Sunshine.")

From the other side of the main door, there is the sound of someone fumbling to get a key into a lock. Carefully fumbling, though, wanting to avoid putting too much pressure on the key when seemingly any pressure is too much. Why had she insisted on going in by herself instead of letting Jesse help her?

Eventually, the door opens, and Rae steps through, keys held loosely in one hand, an assortment of pharmacy bags held in the crook of her other arm. The knot of anticipated relief that had been growing in her chest swells and bursts when she sees where she is, leaving her lightheaded from pain and unsteady on her feet.

She is, it has to be said, a mess. Her clothing is mostly intact, though her kerchief is gone and her lavender blouse's neckline is charred black and fraying loose. All the better, though - she couldn't have endured the shirt's collar so close around her neck as she is now. Severe burns cover much of her neck and hands with angry red blisters, shiny with a thick application of ointment. Bruises cover more of her than even the burns, and her hair has been burned short on her left side. The frizzled fringe brushes lightly against her left cheek as she wavers. The rest of her hair is still in the long braid she had worn when she had left Milliways so many months ago and earlier today, though now it is lopsided and hanging loose on the left side.

Before her knees can give way beneath her, Rae closes the door and steps unsteadily over to the bar, spilling her collection of prescription bags onto the counter as she drops onto a bar stool. She lets herself breathe, letting the closed door behind her put distance between the events of the morning and now. Feeling faintly sick, she puts her aching head down on the cool, polished wood.

"Thank you," Sunshine whispers.

i_am_your_host

By New Year's Eve, everyone who has ordered something directly from the Bar has received an invitation to Emcee's party, no matter what their means of communication. Or if they've perused the notice board, they've seen a flyer making note of it. Along with emphasizing a fun, casual, and inclusive atmosphere, the invitation provides directions on how to find said celebration: just follow the arrows.

On the night of the party, neon-colored arrow decals that light up if stepped on have been placed on the floor, pointing to the elevator. In the elevator, more arrows point to the button for the garage. And in the garage, even more arrows lead down the aisles between cars, planes, and spaceships. Not sure where you're going? Several of Jay's hive drones are flitting around, making sure no one gets lost. They all guide guests toward a modest, single craft-sized hangar. Except tonight, it's not housing an aircraft (which is now outside next to it, with the note Property of Sahaal on it), but Emcee's New Year's Eve party.

Closed red velvet curtains hang in the wide, open doorway. Pinned to the curtains is a sign that reads WELCOME, and under that, BE KIND. It's an attitude that Emcee hopes is not too difficult to adhere to.

Step through, won't you?

Inside, the party is likely in full swing.

Above, twin mirror balls, one at each end of the room, spin in tandem, casting twinkling lights over everything. The light shifts colors every so now and then, from gold to pastels to rainbows. Placed among the gantries are devices that will release silver confetti onto the crowd below at midnight. The walls are draped with more velvet curtains, hiding the cold steel and providing decorative sound insulation, as upbeat music pumps through the speakers.

On the back wall there's a large digital clock counting down the time.

Meanwhile, Emcee is around, wearing impeccable makeup that will most likely be sweated off before the end of the night; tight, cropped black leather trousers; and a white tank top with the word HOT spelled out with tiny red kisses.

Find your host anywhere, anywhere at all, if he doesn't find you first.

[OOC: Millitimed to New Year's Eve, but open forever! Threadhop, mingle, arrive as couples, have fun!]

manofbusiness

Childermass walks in, not displeased to see the place.

His appearance is much the same as usual except that when his coat swings aside, there's a wand in his belt.

feminine_menace

Here's what the board says this evening:

HAPPY HOUR WITH YT

Drinks
Coffee (NOT coffium, real coffee)
Tea (various)
Beer
Blackberry Wine
WV Walkaway Moonshine

Food
Bread, toasted on request (White, wheat, challah, cinnamon-raisin)
Scones (plain or cranberry)
Spreads (Butter, Nutella, lemon curd, clotted cream, various jams)
Cookies and tea pastries (various)

Discounts
100% off on everything. Fuck capitalism.

Behind the counter is a girl in her late teens, with short blonde hair, heavily made-up eyes, and prolifically pierced ears. A small diamond stud sparkles in her nose. Her wardrobe consists of combat boots, black-and-white camo patterned cargo pants, and a black babydoll T-shirt emblazoned with "PWN THE MEANS OF PRODUCTION" in white block lettering. This, presumably, is YT.

She seems to be enjoying a mug of coffee. Like, really enjoying it, as if it were the nectar of the gods.

[OOC: Open all AU Week!]

manofbusiness

Childermass is at a table, a plate of unfussy food in front of him, pipe in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

It's a London newspaper, this time, and he's reading one particular article with focused interest.

mogget_cat

The bar room of Milliways is always full of sound - the clatter of dishes and clink of glasses, chairs being scooted back or further in, footsteps upon the floor, rats squeaking, the background murmur of conversations overlapping one another.

But tonight the main door to the bar opens to the mouth of an city alleyway, to a caucophony of noise and music, full of seething crowds and colorful parade floats, the smells of food and sweat and smoke and beer and those colorful fruity drinks sold in yard-long plastic glasses with umbrellas in them. Mardi Gras is in full swing and New Orleans has outdone itself this time.

Yrael enters, trailing laughter from a section of the crowd on the other side. His white hair is decorated with purple, gold and green feathers, his pale face partially hidden by a sharp, glittery cat mask of gold, behind which his green eyes are bright. Over his white shirt this evening he wears a shiny waistcoat of purple, gold, green, and black. It's clearly party time, big time, show time -

"And then some!" he grins, seeing Milliways. "Fat Tuesday is upon us, Milliways! Welcome to Mardi Gras! Come, dance, explore! Laissez les bons temps rouler!"

Yrael will make sure the door stays open for any party-goer who would like to partake in the joie de vivre, and the Bar can certainly provide a change of costume...

(ooc: The post will be open all weekend and into next week as needed! Usual party-thread guidelines apply! Tag in! Threadhop! Meet new people and get into trouble! :D Yrael will be around, but his mun will not be able to tag much until Monday evening. <333333)

thewidewideworld

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.}

thewidewideworld

[elf warning}

Seimei and Sinric worked out the elves vanish when greeted with respect.

They have decided to try singing to them. Seimei has been teaching Sinric Christmas carols. Not the modern tacky ones but the older, choral ones. Songs that suit his voice.

Both of them can be found in the main bar, Sinric kneeling before a group of elves as Seimei accompanies on piano.

{ooc: both are taggible but not necessarily simultaneously as muns are in vastly different time-zones.}

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. ]

sunbaked_baker

Winter is Rae's least favorite season. Its long nights are dark, and its short days are overshadowed with sullen grey skies more often than not. The few times one does see the sun, its light is weak and its warmth is absent. The trees are bare of leaves, their spindly branches making no sound in the chill wind that blows down off the mountain beyond the lake. The grass is yellowed, the garden mounded up to protect the huddled, sleeping perennials until spring wakes them.

And Sunshine is curled up on the couch with a blanket over her legs, the book of magic cradled in her lap forgotten, the cup of tea on the end table gone cold.

She didn't mean to doze off, but these things happen.

mnt_mike

*(offer not valid for turkeys)

Did you see that?
Just a little bit of movement in the corner of your eye.
Wait...there it is again!
What is that?
Is...is that a hand print made to look like...a turkey?

You bet your sweet bippy it is!
Because Thanksgiving is Mike's favorite holiday.
Or at very least it's tied for first on his list of favorite holidays.

If one were so inclined, one could investigate the hand turkeys further.
Upon investigation one might just realize that they create a path that leads out of the Bar proper and in the direction of the Caribbean Outlet.

There, in the warm sand, several tables have been set up.
They're decorated for the season, with literal cornucopias and paper turkeys.

(Lake Rule apply. Tag in, tag often.

manofbusiness

Childermass is in one of the chairs by the fire, with a national newspaper in one hand, a pen in the other, and a notebook open in his lap, in which he occasionally writes something.

(It's nothing terribly interesting; he's looking for notices of book sales.)

He's also keeping half an eye on the room, in case his new and unexpected pupil comes downstairs.

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.)

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!]]

schrodingerskatz

Time has a way of passing when you're not looking. Scars and bad dreams have a way of fading. Ostensibly, anyway. It helps to be busy.

In the last couple months following that ill-fated sting, there's been plenty to keep her and the other worker bees at the soon-to-be-restructured BAU busy -- reports, meetings, more reports, crime scenes, depositions. This week has been no exception. When Beverly steps through the door, her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, her briefcase and purse are slung over her shoulder, and there's a hint of the scent of formalin clinging to her. She pauses in the doorway, glances around, glances at her purse -- and shrugs.

"TGIF, I guess," she says, and heads for the bar to order an IPA.

[ooc: Open all weekend!]

thewidewideworld

Sinric comes through the door dancing and laughing, all joyous flirtation and golden charm.

Until the door closes behind him. The mask drops away and he leans heavily against it with a sigh.

Sinric drags himself tiredly to the couches, meaning to rest for just a moment before he goes upstairs to wash and sleep properly. But the couch is so very comfortable...

Find him dozing by the fire.

manofbusiness

Childermass is at a table, enjoying a pint.

Notably, apart from the bruises he's hiding under his clothes, he's got quite a shiner on his left eye. This is why he isn't going home just yet - it's possible Norrell wouldn't look up from his books to notice, but no sense taking the risk.

Botherable.

notapilot

There's a notice on the board today which reads:

Sam's Fight Club today, out back.
Rules:
1. This is intended as friendly matches. No grudges and either party can break if they feel the fight is becoming too personal.
2. Gloves are provided but not required. Fight at your own risk.
3. At least one person with medial training is on hand if things go badly.
4. Keep it friendly.
5. If you have super powers/abilities, please let us know so we can set you up with someone else who has them.

Also, since Sam is more aware of how Milliways works, he leaves a note for the first Security personal to hit Bar today, which reads much the same as the notice he posted on the board with an added line that he will cancel the whole thing if they feel it violates any rules or whatever.

As for the man himself, he's out back marking off several fighting circles in dusty patches of the grounds. He's also wearing light sparing gloves (since he's more active with the Avengers and needs to be combat ready) and has set up a few coolers with iced water.

[OOC: Party style post. Sam is available but I encourage you to spar with any who are willing. Also, post open until it scrolls or folks get tired of fighting. Sam will be scarce overnight though.]

ostro_goth

Teja is in the forge, slowly sharpening a short sahs of folded steel.

The memory of last weekend is something of a blur, a case of ill-advised magic getting out and affecting people, as so often. One would think people had learned by now, but apparently, somebody left the box of idiots open yet again.

Still, from what he remembers, Teja has much to ponder while he works.

manofbusiness

Childermass rides in through the trees outside, as he often does.

And then something washes over him, and it's a skinny barefoot boy atop the very large horse, trying not to panic.

Somebody could use a little bit of help.

runningred

The boy who slips into the bar, quiet as a shadow. He doesn't look ten. He looks like someone whose grown up hard and fast. And learnt some nasty lesson.

And one of them is to make the most of every opportunity. Right now there's a dark haired, blue eyed boy in scruffy street clothes, slipping through the crowd.

Also, your wallet might be missing.

thewidewideworld

There's a pretty blonde playing amongst the cherry blossoms today. It's a beautiful day and Sinric's in the mood to make the most of it. His hair swishes as he dances in happy circles, fallen sakura forming little whirlwinds in the wake of his long skirts.

He has a large picnic basket and plenty to share with anyone who wants to join him.

just_cant_lose

Almost a week ago, a package was left at the bar for Feuilly. Today, he picks it up.

Someone watching from a very safe distance - or who has placed certain technology in the package: we'll never know - might learn that this inauspicious delivery prompts a conversation out in the stables. It goes along the lines of 'ugh, another message from the king? Leave it, we'll deal with it later.' Because it is, after all, a beautiful day and Feuilly and Hotspur had plans to ride out and enjoy it. Which they do, leaving the parcel on the floor.

Some ten minutes later, there is a very loud explosion. Loud enough to be heard in the bar, and across the grounds. It's followed by the sounds of distressed animals, and the smell of smoke.

Hey, Milliways? Your stables are on fire.

[OOC: please see Back Room post here for brief recap details. EP open for however long anyone wants to play. <3]

yinyangwizard

Seimei practically skips into Milliways carrying a box under one arm and grinning from ear to ear. He bows to the Bar before putting the box on her surface and opening it with a Swiss army knife.

Inside the box are smaller boxes, each containing a deck of Tarot cards. Although these are very special Tarot cards. He opens one box and shuffles through until he finds the Tower, which gave him so much trouble.

"Bar-san, I would like for you to have one of these," Seimei says, taking one of the card boxes and putting it on Bar's surface. "If not for this place, this set of cards would not exist. Speaking of which, if I do not run into Mr. Childermass today" - he puts another deck of cards on the Bar's surface - "please convey these to him. He will know who they are from and what they signify."

The two decks of cards vanish. Seimei starts laying out his deck of cards on the bartop, as happy as a child who's gotten just what he wanted for Christmas.

[OOC: Slowtime is inevitable, but I really wanted to kick this off.]