milliways_bar | Entries tagged with fox

simple-secret.livejournal.com

Outside, someone is laughing. Not in laughter that can be heard by human ears, but in the rustle of grass and the crackle of fallen leaves and the clatter of pebbles by the lakeside.

Outside, a fox is dancing. Bounding, leaping, tumbling.

ostro_goth

[[OOC: After this.]]

Teja has taken to the forest; he would hide in a grove where nobody ever comes, be by himself, and finally give vent to the grief that has broken open, afresh, when he heard what day it is.

Midsummer day.

Two of the three people that Teja has loved most, in his life, died on this day, many, many years apart.

Wandering aimlessly, Teja comes to a little pool among fir trees; the leaves of water lilies dot the surface, and the buds are indeed reddish. Teja had seen this place in a dream some months ago, following one that might have been Totila. So the place, at least, exists.

Remembering the vision -- golden hair in the moonlight, skidding into the his friend on the slick mud -- Teja sinks to the ground, among the roots of a large, gnarled pine tree, and weeps, face pressed against the rough bark.

And when his tears finally have run out, he just stays there, huddled among the roots, not even feeling the wish to move. Bearing the incredible pain, the yearning for Totila, dead and lost forever, as it washes over him in wave after fresh wave, dulling the say, the summer, everything that would, until a short hour or so before, arouse Teja's attention.

Nothing can, now.

[[OOC2: Teja is depressed on midsummer, canonically. As I said on that post, it's not a competition to cheer Teja up, or a plot to find out what's wrong with him. He'll be like this for some days, then crawl out of it on his own. If your pup could believably find him in the woods, this post can be tagged -- but Teja will be curt at worst, apologetic and quiet at best. Unless it's about going to fight Brand, upon which Teja will be curt and grim but come along. A fight is about the only thing that rouses him from a depressive episode -- also canonically.-]]

simple-secret.livejournal.com

Funny thing about foxes -- they come and go as they please, and tend to appear when things are interesting.

The bar is full of toys. This is VERY INTERESTING. Fox makes cheerful use of them, scuttling and slithering under tables and chairs and building himself a little stack of prettythings.

And then the prettythings ask him a question.

He tilts his head, flicks an ear, swishes his tail, and chooses.

It's about time he tried out this human nonsense.

Former-fox. In the bar. On the floor. (Clothing conveniently provided, because the mun feels like it).

He has OPPOSABLE THUMBS and will be wiggling them delightedly at any passer-by.

cd-hom-pac-sol.livejournal.com

It had been oppressively overcast, cold, and damp for the past few days. In other words: The worst sort of weather, though, to be expected for the time of year.

Max was stupendously happy to have found the bar instead of the bathroom, because it meant that he could actually get warm for once, and get some food while he was at it.

Which is rather a roundabout way of saying: Scruffy blonde in a booth with a cigarette, a large pizza and a cup of coffee. He'll share the pizza, more than enough for him alone.

visible_sariel

At some point during the afternoon, Sariel Rager slips in from the Enterprise with an armful of presents. It's likely a good thing a few of the boxes are small, or the bar might've been playing host to a toppled-over pilot before long. In short order, a number of gifts are under the Milliways Christmas tree* that weren't there earlier in the day. Each one has a nametag attached.

( Will Scarlett )
( Captain Kirk )
( Lucy Diamond )
( Harding )
( Gene Roe )
( Valerie )
( River Tam )
( Yrael )
( Seymour Krelborn )
( Ben Winchester )
( Fox )

Gifts delivered, Sariel heads back out the door. It's almost certain she'll be in as the day progresses; it's December 24 on the ship, too, and spending Christmas in two places via time stoppage is infinitely better than just one, even if neither place is home.

*If there's no Milliways Christmas tree, the gifts are with Bar.

simple-secret.livejournal.com

Fox has found something very interesting in the bar tonight. It's glittery and colorful and covered in craklypaper and it jingles when he noses it. It looks to him like human-garbage of the sort that often gets dropped around here. It does not smell like food he knows, but it strikes him as an otherwise perfectly acceptible toy. It is thusly pounced, and wrestled, and batted about, and chased, and mauled. It doesn't take long for the little jingking paper package to be totally dismantled. But the fox is quite surprised to find something even MORE interesting inside it.

Gummi snakes!

And this. It's pretty colors. It jingles and rattles and skids on the floor when he bats it (after devouring the snakes delightedly). It's splendid.

If you can catch him chasing his toy around under the tables, his fur is very good for scritching!

dats-dildoes.livejournal.com

Skwisgaar was... well, he was in as good a mood as he ever was. He miiiight even have been smiling. Sure, it was late, it was late back home too, but just at the moment he didn't really care. He was sprawled in one of the large chairs near the fire, guitar in his lap, one foot propped up on his amp, the volume low for once.

He was made of smug, perhaps more so than usual, picking away at something that was an unholy union between Flight of the Bumblebee, Beethoven's fifth, and Pachelbel's Canon in D.

Judging by the partially-covered bitemarks up and down his neck, someone had found a new hobby.

shadowsfound.livejournal.com

Wither's taken himself out of doors.

He's not drunk, though anyone coming too close would catch a number of scents, alcohol, blood, smoke, and cordite among them, clinging to the man.

He finds his way along the trails mostly by familiarity. The lakeside's quiet, dark, and peaceful, the only sound that of water lapping at nearby rocks.
He sits, ignoring the cold, arms wrapped around his knees, face buried in his sleeves.
Tears dampen the fabric. He lets them run, too tired and...too empty, to care.

There's a piece of crumpled newspaper in his hand. He sets it down, still not looking to see what or who is around.

kittehnpip.livejournal.com

Hey, it's those cats that showed up last week! This time, they're not tumbling in, but running under their own power. The smaller one is carrying a metal bucket that's almost as big as he is, piled high with fish.

"NOOOO!" cries a deep voice from the other side of the door. "THEY BE STEALIN MAH BUCKIT!"

"All ur bass r belong 2 us!" the larger cat yells back before slamming the door and joining his partner to divvy up the spoils of victory.

zeebaeataz.livejournal.com

The crocodiles were without Segway today. With an almost cartoonish noise a series of faces popped in around the doorframe, looking like a strange sort of totem pole, "Seee! Told you ees bar!"

There was a flurry of hissed conversation between them before they broke, scattering through the crowd to disguise themselves and blend in with this new habitat. Maybe if they sat still long enough they'd find a zebra.

It was quite possible that there was one hiding behind your chair, under your table, or attempting to disguise itself with your dishes.

mogget_cat

One of the pillows on that chair near the fireplace is purring.

Hopefully that will be enough to keep people from sitting on the purring pillow.

Said pillow would most likely welcome scritches, however.

Purr.

Current Mood: content

thisfatefulhour

It's Friday afternoon; classes are out for the weekend.

He came through the door, but it's a lovely day out by the lake, sunny, with a hint of a breeze.

So there's a fair-haired young man outside, leaning against one of the large flat stones by the lake. He's barefoot, and he's reading poetry with a small, contented smile on his face.

I saw Eternity the other night
Like a great Ring of pure and endless light,
All calm as it was bright. . .

[ooc: Here. Ish. This is the best I can do for a tribute.

Expect slowtime.]

evil_koala_626

There is a small, blue alien sitting at one of the tables. Well, today he's mostly blue. The majority of his head seems to be covered in sticky purple goo. Before him sits a largely undisturbed blueberry pie. Largely undisturbed that is, with the exception of the crater in the very center. Almost as if a bulbous head faceplanted into in not too long ago.

Stitch sits in his chair, eyes closed in bliss, lips smacking contentedly

(ooc: Just a heads up; minor DH spoilers in the Ginny thread.)

simple-secret.livejournal.com

It's fluffy. It's orange. And it might be treading on your feet under a table.

:O!

youalleverybody.livejournal.com

It's several days after the burial, now, but Liam and Darien are still around. They're sitting at a table in the main bar, right now.

Darien's reading over his last letter from Charlie, for the hundredth time or more. Liam's just watching him, eyes full of grief and worry. He won't leave without him. He made a promise.

hippodamio

Hektor is prepared, this time, when the door opens from his home to the Bar. "I have had this near to hand for some time in case you called me here, Lady," he says, bowing with fist on brow. "It seemed a better gift than wine alone, and still appropriate."

He no longer needs to stand on tiptoe to place his offerings on the Bar's surface, which is just as well. A carved bull's-head rhyton is easiest balanced when one can see what one is doing. When the drinking vessel disappears Hektor smiles, and bows again. "Thank you, Lady," he says. "Now, if I may ask a favor of you. . . once, you gave me a book, so that I might learn what I needed to tame my horse Boukephalos. I had thought to ask you for another, or else for a name. The time will come when I will have need of knowing as much as I can about the ways of war, beyond only what I have learned from Father and my uncles. Will you tell me who I must meet, that I may learn as much as I can? If you cannot, then a book will do, if any have written upon the subject."

There is a long silence and stillness from the Bar, but in the end a slender grey volume materializes. Hektor bows deeply once more. "Thank you, Lady," he says. "There will be better offerings in it for you next time, if this goes well."

The adolescent then retreats to a convenient table so that he can look over his newly acquired reading.

benloserz.livejournal.com

There is a girl outside, sitting under a tree, scowling at the grass. Well, it is not the grass' fault, just Ben is bummed at the idea of being a girl, and still blissfully unaware of why it happen, and how to change back.

And even unaware that there is a rather simple way.

Simple, not easy.

So, scowling.

kinshou-kitsune.livejournal.com

Sometimes even kami need breaks from planing and plotting. Which is why there is a ball of white fluff curled up in one of the tables centers. Two sleepy blue eyes can barely be seen peeking out between what looks like four tails that have helped to create the ball-ish shape of the little kitsune.

Anyone is welcome to come poke the ball-o-fluff..just..don't be to surprised at how the little fox may react.

jack_inthegreen

Out by the lake, near the trees, Jack is playing with his babies. Georgia likes to run around barefoot in the grass--you wouldn't expect anything different from a nature goddess, would you?--and Keiran has recently discovered that he can crawl. Mobility!

Something's a bit odd about the forest, though, and it takes Jack a few minutes to put his finger on it. The forest is utterly silent: no birdcalls, no flutter of wings, no taps of beak against bark.

Nothing.

What happened? he asks the trees.

The little ones, they're gone. There are too many insects feeding on our roots, and the foxes are going hungry.

"Well, that's not right," Jack murmurs and calls the children to him. Georgia plops onto the grass near him and blinks at him with wide green eyes. Keiran crawls over and lays a curious hand on his knee. "I need your help, children," he tells them, and out of the universe he creates an egg. Georgia claps her hands, laughing, and Keiran says, "Oooo!"

"What shall it be?" Jack asks them.

"Wobin!"

Peacock!

"Swan!"

Woodpecker!

"Eagle!"

"Yes, yes," Jack agrees with each one, and more besides; every bird you'd normally find in a forest in Scotland he calls into this egg.

"Now," he tells them and holds the egg out in the palm of his hand. "Give them your blessing."

Georgia thinks, and then taps the egg with her finger. "No die!"

"No die?" Jack asks, raising his eyebrows. "Ever?"

"Never never never!"

"Well, maybe natural causes," Jack decides. "We don't want it getting too crowded. What will happen to them if they eat all the bugs?"

Georgia pouts. "Otay. Nat'al causes."

"Very good, sweetheart. We can't forget the cycle, even when we want to." He holds the egg out to Keiran.

The baby slaps the egg with his hand. Sing pretty songs!

"This is going to be a very noisy forest," Jack observes, and over the egg gives his own blessing: May the bugs be plentiful, the eggs many, and the predators few, and closes his hand over the egg.

When he opens it again there's no egg, only flocks and flocks of forest birds, who fly away into the trees in a rush of color and rustle of wings.

"Much better," Jack says. "Now. Who wants to play hide'n'go seek?"

simple-secret.livejournal.com

Buzz buzz and hum, newborn gnats swarming low near the water, zipping, darting, dodging playful nips from the furry orange animal as he trots along. The bright grass gets its share of examination, and here and there a sapling is sniffed at, rubbed, or tasted, snap of green and bendy twigs in small sharp teeth. Best of all are the falling petals from blossoming trees, brief snowshowers in the dappled warmth just inside the forest. Now and then, the boundless energy is put on hold for a few minutes in order to appreciate a particulary pleasing patch of sunlight.

A cool spring afternoon and a fox to share it with. Any takers?

brotherspider

A bizarre phenomenon began to occur as soon as the official time-date of Spider Nancy's personal chronometer said 3/14.

Calculators failed and computers cheered. Mathimaticians went hog-wild and students ran amok. And this wasn't even Spider's fault. Apparently, they did that sort of thing on their own, but the god-son himself had different plans. Oh yes.

There was a sign posted for all to see...

PIE FIGHT TODAY!
ALL YOU CAN DISH OUT!

Yours Pastry,
Spider

Spider Nancy was nowhere to be seen, but that was only because he was standing behind the bar...which was itself surrounded by an impregnable wall of pie. Trays of pie-slots with tiny labels as to what kind of pie were here, as per his request. He had asked Bar to make possible a Pi Day Pie FIght by continuously producing pie for the occasion. Thus...pie. Spider stood and waited. Would people gorge? Or would they give in to...temptation?

mogget_cat

There is a white cat on the bar, curled up into a little crescent of soft, white fur. Occasionally, it twitches a paw or ear in its sleep. Aw, it's dreaming.

Probably dreaming about eating the waitrats, or something.

Come pet it. Its catnap has gone on long enough.

Current Mood: asleep

the-woodpecker.livejournal.com

Night falls, and the air begins to hold a slight chill.

Winter is returning, slowly.

The bonfire tonight is bigger, and the bar serves hot tea, coffee, and chocolate as well as alcohol. S'mores fixings, as well as other sweet treats, are available.

Children light up the patchy woods with sparklers.

This is it.

Curl up with your friends, your lovers, your friends who are lovers, or your friends who may become lovers before the night is through.

The lake party is almost over.

faithful-slayer.livejournal.com

Because her mun had a godawful day and seriously needs distractions, there is Faith, at a table, with a copy of What To Expect When You're Expecting.

There's nothing in the book about babies that can talk telepathically from the womb, so it's pretty much useless, but she's reading it anyway.

simple-secret.livejournal.com

SPROING! Leap dash scamper skid POUNCE!

There is a fox outside by the lake demonstrating that not only weres are vulnerable to the effects of a full moon. He's scampering in mad circles, kicking up snow and then pouncing it, biting, shaking his head, rolling...

He's having a ball.

He welcomes anyone who wants to come play with him.