[identity profile] the-dr-faustus.livejournal.com
Faustus was yelling. It didn't do anything, he was trapped magical or otherwise and there was no escaping. He was practicaly rendered comatose. "That bitch..." He muttered, or at least tried to but it wouldn't do much due to being spiritually/magical y imprisoned. He simply awaited the oncoming Hellfire. He knew it would happen eventually. That's what you get for being a fool. Hellfire.

But where were the little Devils to carry him into the open maw? The gate open wide with it's inscription? And where was God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit gazing down upon him from the firmament?

For all he knew he was trapped inside his ghostly head. Trapped. Trapped trapped trapped trapped trapped. Now would be a nightmare if he was claustraphobic. Well, it was a nightmare anyway but it would have been worse.

"It's the end of the road, Faustus and you are gazing over the edge of the cliff. Someone's bound to give you a push soon." He said, terror gathering in his voice. Once again, it was probably just him thinking. He was probably trapped inside his skull or some mystical prison smaller than he is.
[identity profile] musical-muse.livejournal.com
*Tere is still at the piano, going through her repertoire of Henry Mancini*

Round
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of it’s face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of it’s own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half-forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of it’s face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
And the fragment of a song
Half-remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over
You were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the colour of her hair

Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever-spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind

The Return

Oct. 3rd, 2004 01:34 am
[identity profile] notsoyoung.livejournal.com
[Edit: A brief explanation]

*David enters the bar from the main door, cursing under his breath* Never going to get that damned report written up...

*he looks around for a familiar face - namely Lestat or Armand - and, seeing neither, sits himself at the bar*

Bar? A glass of... oh, I don't know. Surprise me. Something red.

*the bar, being the smart, if wooden, thing that it is, offers up a hot glass of Port*

*David smells the drink, pushes it aside, and flumps to the bartop, forehead sitting on it and arms hanging down*

I'm going to kill them. I am really going to kill them.
[identity profile] fairest1.livejournal.com
*Snow and Bigby enter through the painting portal(the kids are safe with Mary), keeping an eye out for Faustus.*

[OOC: Now with a warning for somewhat violent events. Faustus. nuff said.]
[identity profile] the-dr-faustus.livejournal.com
Faust visibly flickered and audibly groaned. He collapsed from his chair and flickered out of existance. Whether the consecutive damage of magical attacks upon him had shorted out whatever metaphysical anomaly that kept Faust in existence or something else happened is anybody's guess but it was safe to say Faust was down for the count for now.

((I'm chucking this up just as a quick minor fix. Yeah, I'll adjust my behaviour and all that...))
[identity profile] hectorxdelgado.livejournal.com
Shipwreck saunters back into the bar and glances around. The usual suspects ain't here, so he sidles on over to the bar and orders his usual. Gin. Straight from the bottle.

Makes a man mean, y'know?

He slides a credit card onto the bartop. Anyone fortunate enough to examine it before it is assumed into the bar will note that it does NOT bear Shipwreck's name, but that of someone named... Destro?

Hm.

The Bar does accept it, though, as it's technically "spoils of war".
[identity profile] musical-muse.livejournal.com
*After Erik leaves, Tere sits down at the piano and begins to wend her way through Bach's Tocatta and Fugue. Surprisingly, the piano sounds rather like an organ...*
[identity profile] fairest1.livejournal.com
*Snow and the kids enter the bar through the painting portal*