17 October 2017 @ 05:06 pm
Elrond Peredhil is intrigued.
So many languages.

It is clearly upsetting to a lot of people, so he is mindful of not letting his enthusiasm show.
And of course there is always a risk that it is somehow a part of something sinister.


{ooc: Tolkien' s languages are inspired by real languages but they are not equivalent. Elrond knows most of them at least a little.}
14 October 2017 @ 09:35 pm
Jim only came down to get more food for the suite upstairs, but it quickly became clear that something odd was going on with the translation field. And this is potentially interesting! He's all for picking up new languages, or just hearing what people sound like without intervention from anything else. 

And so, he's deliberately found the spot in the bar where everything seems most garbled, and is lounging on a sofa with a stack of men's fashion magazines and a pile of fabric swatches. He appears to be looking at morning suits in particular, but his attention is definitely focused on those speaking nearby.

[OOC: Open for days! Possibly the duration of the plot, as I'm unlikely to have time to put him in again. Jim speaks a host of languages, but is always up for learning more.]

22 September 2017 @ 07:12 pm
Elrond is seated at a table, fletching arrows. Necessary work and well known, the kind of task that is well suited when you want to keep your fingers busy.

And the light is better here than at home.

There is a small bowl of nuts and a glass of wine on the table.
18 August 2017 @ 07:15 pm
Emcee, in his usual jeans, Converse, and sleeveless t-shirt, is sitting at a table going through a small stack of letters he'd just received. With each letter he reads, his displeasure grows more and more, but he only expresses it through eye-rolls, irritated sighs, and bitter sips of red wine.

He would take up smoking again, except that is not a road he wants to go down.

Tossing one letter aside, he opens the next, expecting more of the same.

Entirely botherable.

[OOC: AU Emcee continues.].
The door opens and a man enters, wearing a nice if not quite fashionable suit and a shirt with no tie.

He is carrying a leather satchel and a stack of papers in one hand. Papers that slowly start fluttering to the ground as he stops, staring around him in surprise.
And wonder.

{ooc: meet Sophus, a nice and slightly lonely psychologist, widowed, from a reincarnation game from ages ago. Also post and run}
07 August 2017 @ 05:40 pm
The door works in the strangest of ways.

So when a certain someone is holed up in his room, his younger self, his much, much younger self, enters the bar.

Small and pale and undernourished, the elfin ten-year-old boy (who could be mistaken for even younger than that) is dressed in secondhand school clothes from a distant era: knickerbockers and knee socks, a cardigan and cloth cap. He stares at his surroundings with large brown doe eyes.

Has he been here before? Perhaps in a dream? Why does it feel so familiar, when the door shouldn't have led here at all?

But this is a pub, and the little boy knows pubs. He goes up to the counter, peeking over it on tiptoes, to look for the barman. But there is none. How odd.

Even odder is the glass of milk and the plate of cookies that suddenly appear out of thin air.

This must be a dream.
04 August 2017 @ 07:28 pm
The child that peeks through the door is pale and thin. But his clothes are clean (And well mended hand me downs) and his long dark hair is neatly (and tightly!) braided.

The Bar is a surprise. After a slight hesitation he walks through and closes the door behind him. He is carrying a small satchel and once he has found an empty booth he sits down and pulls out his chore work.
A text to copy, a sock to darn, a knife handle to sand.

He might as well work here as there.

Only looking around a little.
20 July 2017 @ 11:17 am
William Douglas isn't always the cheeriest visitor to Milliways, but he's been in an ample good mood today and when he pops in this evening he settles at the bar with a smile.

He orders food and drink "--And a book. Why not." Let's have all kinds of education. Self-improvement. Broadened horizons. What had Joly said? That people argued about characters in plays? "A play. Christ no, I've no idea which, you pick something."

So he's comfortable and expansive at the bar, with some bowls of nibbly things, making not-very-earnest progress on a book. Easy to interrupt.
18 July 2017 @ 04:27 pm
Emcee requests to borrow a few things from the bar: a pen and notepad, a pair of wireless headphones, and a laptop computer with DJ software.

He doesn't specifically say wireless or DJ software, since his knowledge of modern technology is still quite basic, but the bar knows what he means and gives it to him anyway.

So here he sits in a booth, staring wide-eyed at the laptop screen.

This...might take a while to learn.
03 June 2017 @ 09:12 pm
It's been an introspective day. Filled with many small but necessary tasks and yet - still.

Like a stone in a brook. Letting the water swirl and rush and not moving at all.

Heavy as a stone too. The introspection.

He is greeted with a plate when he reaches the bar. It's got a cupcake on it. He has seen others here receive such treats but the Firstborn do not celebrate their birthdays. And it is not his begetting day either.

He picks up the plate and sighs a little.
It is frosted and glittery and without a candle. He is thankful of that.

Then he smiles, just a little, and murmurs, "She would like it I am sure," to the polished countertop.

She would, Arwen.
12 May 2017 @ 12:07 pm
Jim is curious as to why there seems to be doors available into Milliways at the moment, when they disappeared for ages before. But not too much so because ugh, there are too many people in his house and here's as good a place as any to avoid them. Milliways may have its own set of annoyances, but at least he doesn't have to pretend to be nice.

He's a bit surprised to find his older self has left a few drones and the 'poon he got from YT, so he can play the 'catch me before I blow up' game. It feels like another attempt to keep him occupied, or maybe a peace offering from himself. The note doesn't say anything about that, it just states under no circumstances put cameras in these things, which is a drag, but whatever. It also adds, ask Bar for your bow and arrow if you get bored. Teach yourself archery.

Jim asks for it immediately, and takes himself into the corner with a burger, Coke and his various toys. He'll be out on the range later, learning for himself how difficult it is to master a weapon almost as tall as he is. 

[OOC: catchable inside or out, blowing up drones or being an inept amateur at archery. Open all weekend.]
20 April 2017 @ 09:51 am
Unlike the previous person to step through the door today, Mycroft does so with very little fanfare. He gives very little away when he realises that something is seriously wrong right now, but those who know him might see the quick cycle of emotions: confusion, anger, doubt — all at once, and very quick.

Either he has been drugged, or...

Or what? Places don't just become random other places at a whim.

Mycroft Holmes is not amused.
12 April 2017 @ 09:02 am
[oom: about the hero stuff being easy..."]

For the second time in as many days (for Barry, at least) Barry is in Milliways looking rough and beat up. There's a mar on his temple and another on his cheek, and a split in his lip, but at least his clothes are intact this time.

Sitting outside on the steps behind the bar his shoulders are slumped and his arms rest on his knees as he looks out over the grounds.

He wanted to see the cherry blossoms he was told about, but honestly they aren't helping his mood all that much.

Later on he'll head inside and find a stool at the counter to occupy.

[ooc: feel free to find him outside or in the bar.]
15 March 2017 @ 06:39 am
Elrond is feeling - well, he is feeling slightly feverish, with a beginning cough and a simmering headache.

What is worse is what is happening to his mind. How it is suddenly lurching, tilting (strange sensations, strange thoughts) and then a-righting itself.

He remembers last time. Vaguely.

What you do when you have a contagious illness is remove yourself from crowds, so he does that, after leaving a warning note to Glorfindel.
(At the end, the Tengwar morphs into a strong of ones and zeroes. He doesn't notice.)

A couple of hours pass. A tall, coughing figure reenters and makes a request at the Bar.
(Why the silly game interface to the AI? Pointless)

A bundle of clothes and a few assorted other items appears. They're taken and the figure disappears into the men's room.

Agent Smith walks through the door, black (and sharpely) dressed, putting on his sunglasses.
Then he puts in the small ear piece.


He stands still, feeling the utter lack of connection.
Then he smiles.
And removes the earpiece.

Well, well, well.

He'll live with the UX changes (hair, ears) if this is the core update.
Oh yes. He will.
11 March 2017 @ 10:27 am
Loki wakes in someone else's room with a headache. Which isn't so strange. But whose room, how, why? Absolute blankness. No answers. No memory. That's strange. And there's no one else here.

Survey of the room: small. Boring. Ugly. Books on a table by the bed. Doors that presumably lead to closet, hallway, washroom. Clothes scattered around, leather and cloth. A crown sitting on top of a dresser, in front of a mirror.

It isn't until he looks into the mirror that he panics--and it isn't even seeing his face framed with reddish-brown hair, a beard, a scar on one cheek. It's when he flexes his mind to change back to himself and nothing happens, that's when the panic comes in. He stares at his hands, wills them into another form, and nothing happens. The face in the mirror stays the same, the hair, the beard, the nightshirt, nothing changes, and that's--terrifying.

In fact, he can't do anything. Anything at all. He can't stretch his mind past this ugly little room, can't make this physical body do anything more than its most base animal functions. Blink his eyes. Grimace. Laugh. Stand on tiptoes. Jump a few inches. Lift a book, lift a chair, can't lift the bed. Bite his lip until it bleeds. Smile. Frown.

Wipe away the blood.


Find new clothes: red velvet robe, leather boots. Dagger. That draws blood too.

Walk to the doorway--and wait, no, not yet.

Pick up that crown, place it on his head. Frown. Smile. Wipe away the blood again--just how fragile is this body? He feels awful, headachy, everything-achy, weak, too hot and too cold.

Frown, smile.

Walk downstairs.

Survey his new territory.

(("Loki" here is coming mentally from the same timeline/universe as our Thor, in a headachy flu-ish way.))
17 February 2017 @ 11:27 am
William Douglas would strenuously deny being lonely. How can he be lonely when he's at Douglas Castle with his mother and four or five younger siblings and getting his marriage arranged and all of it? So that's not why he's come to Milliways, and he's not actively looking for James or anything like that, he's just here for a drink. Maybe to kick around a football, even in the snow. He's not lonely, he's just after getting away from all the noise with mothers and children.
16 February 2017 @ 08:05 pm
OOM: For a final twist, it wouldn't be for show, if it should come to this.

{ooc: warnings for self-harm by neglect, contemplations on physical self-harm.}

Bodhi makes his way down to the bar this evening, looking… awful. He’s clean but his beard and hair is scruffy. His eyes are sunken, his skin shallow. And his hands tremble.

He doesn’t want to be out here but rats chased him out of his room to clean.

He huddles in a couch by the fire, needing the warmth. He feels so cold. And he hates feeling cold. He doesn't want to be down here but it's too cold to be outside.

[tiny tag: Bodhi Rook]

13 February 2017 @ 11:59 am
Eliot is in bar and has taken over one of the booths. He's got a large piece of paper suitable for water colors and is unrolling a canvas roll of various tools used for the many forms of calligraphy; brushes, pens, quills, and the like. Patiently he begins to write on his paper, quickly filling it with various languages--Chinese, Farsi, Greek, Cyrillic, and other non-Latin alphabets--elegantly switching tools as the language demands.

If you happen to read any of the languages, he's writing dirty limericks. The narration apologizes if this offends.
05 January 2017 @ 11:32 pm
You -- yes, you, whoever you are -- got an invitation to the party. All of Milliways is welcome!

If you choose to come, you'll find Bar directing you to a big round tent that went up this afternoon on the lawn outside the bar. Marius and Cosette and various friends spent a lot of time this morning ferrying decorations in, and the waitrats spent a lot of time in the afternoon ferrying food in, but the doors won't officially open until close to sunset.

But this isn't a cheap white plastic tent, oh no. It's warm and domed and made of thick fabric, something like a very large yurt. A bit of magic keeps out the drafts, making everything extra cozy.

There's a fire in the middle of the floor, with a low screen encircling it but also magic meaning that this fire puts of warmth but will not actually burn anything, even if you step right into it. The floor is wood -- great for dancing, if you feel like it! There's a piano over against the wall for anyone who wants to make some music.

Everywhere there are garlands of European evergreen branches and herbs, studded with bright dried fruit and sparkling ornaments. (Mistletoe might very well be among them, though the Pontmercies haven't thought to supply that as an intentional party game.) There are candles and lanterns everywhere, and a big chandelier. There are no electric lights at all -- it's all fire -- but a good number of them are magical, so that nothing's going to get set on fire or covered with smoke. The general intended impression is of genteel, welcoming festivity, in a very French and very early 19th century European way.

There are food and drinks galore. Come in and enjoy the party!

[OOC: Party-style post! Subthreads for various categories and activities, etc. Open from now until whenever!

Edit: As of Joly's arrival, Cosette now has a mini-polaroid camera. Fear, Milliways. Feel free to assume that she's popped up to take a candid picture of your character(s) at any point, as long as they're not doing or wearing anything scandalous! She will happily give the resulting picture to your character if they want; it probably won't be a very good picture, in terms of composition or focus, but it will be cheerfully enthusiastic.]
28 December 2016 @ 10:31 pm
Cosette is settled down at a table right by Bar, scribbling intently in a notebook. She's working on a few things by turns: a list, a different list, a paragraph on a separate sheet that occasionally she picks up to consider.

Every so often she hops up to consult with Bar in an enthusiastic undertone. She seems pretty consistently pleased by the answers, although she also seems to be in a bustling happy mood about all of this.

Cosette, in fact, is party planning.