milliways_bar | Entries tagged with illyria

T H I N G S F A L L A P A R T

T H E C E N T R E C A N N O T H O L D

perfectblue.livejournal.com

["... but even though she didn't mean to
- didn't want to -
high up in that castle
she built herself a cave
(hoping)

but you can't save me this time
can you?"]

dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce is back in the bar after a long absence, and trying to adjust to the sight of Angel wearing a Security badge.

This time he has the badge on right side up. So, you know, win.

"So," Wesley is asking. "Who was this mystery woman again?"

"I don't know. She said her name was Sarah, but she didn't look like a Sarah."

"No?"

"She had red hair. Said she taught the first Slayers--."

Wesley looks up, alarmed. "She said what?"

"--Oh, and she had a necklace. An ankh, but upside down. ...Uh, Wes, you're going pale. That's never a good sign."

rookiebuster.livejournal.com

Door opens and in comes a man in a Ghostbusting-type uniform, whistling and holding a pizza fresh from the shop. He'd expected to walk into the dining room, but instead...Bar. The Rookie's whistling stopped.

"I'm back here again? What's going on?"

A little window pops up in front of him with the 50-cent explanation and a list of temporary forms. He blinks. A ghost? Really? Wow, he'd always wondered...and it could be an educational experience. Alright... He presses the button and...

"Well, what're you wa- Oomph!"

Suddenly, he felt his entire body shifting! Wait, shouldn't he just go poof? Not in this case. His body grew out and his hands clawed as he began to sprout...feathers! Soon, a beak formed and the rest of the body stabilized... Oh, he was a ghost alright. Worry not on that. But what kind?

"Brakka-Brak-AROOOOOO!!"

A Werechicken!

nomorekaraoke

A demon walks into the bar (as the story goes), asks the Bar(tender) for a drink, and gets one to match his snazzy red and green fabulousness. This is a very good thing.

But what happens next?

((Edit: Sleepy mun means slowtimes apply. Feel free to tag in, just don't expect me to tag until tomorrow night (GMT+1).))

dark-ex-watcher.livejournal.com

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce is in the bar tonight. After months away, it appears the bar is once again becoming a frequent venue. He's loathe to admit it, but the place seems comfortably familiar now.

But foremost on his mind tonight is his conversation with Lorne a couple of days ago. He had known Lorne--or, at least, one world's Lorne--had come to the bar, so their encounter had really been overdue. But it had been a shock to feel the past years slip away so quickly, bringing him back to the night of his death. Even with his life now restored, he can still remember every detail of that moment when Cyvus Vail twisted the knife buried in his gut. He wonders if that memory will be just as sharp when his own world's Lorne finally turns up.

Perhaps he'll make his usual Lagavulin a double tonight.

morethanwatcher.livejournal.com

Giles peers around the door as it opens, nodding once with something resembling smugness. Last time he left the Bar he had a long talk with it about where to establish a regular door, so he could stop misplacing his office all the time.

And now he walks in, sits down, and orders some tea. His expression is thoughtful, even a little perturbed, and he seems a little... preoccupied.

So he'll just sit at a table and page through one of his books. If you look at it very closely, you might begin to realize it's a Watcher diary from... oh, some almost two-and-a-half centuries ago or so. In Ireland, no less. He also has a very large, almost diary-looking book with a disturbing picture on the front, a book on demon-banishing spells, today's paper opened to the obits, a couple of leftover candles, and Shakespeare's Comedies and a vinyl of Pink Floyd. ...What, the man does have hobbies. Like reading while listening to hard rock!

You might also realize, examining Giles, that he's scanning the room for signs of... someone.

He deserves distraction from his troubles. Or possibly answers, if you can give those to him.

[time: just after 1x08, I, Robot... You, Jane. Summary: Knows about Angel, has met Jenny, is kind if deeply curious about the whole Angel thing.]

[open until it falls off the first page.]

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

Angel and Wesley are sitting in a secluded booth, and while they might be whispering, there's clearly an argument going on:

"Angel, we have got to do something."

"You think I don't know that?"

"It's been over a year!"

"And the City is my responsibility, Wes. I've had a lot more experience with Hell than you have. I know how bad this is, but what do you expect me to do?"

Wesley's eyes go cold. "It's time for more drastic measures."

Angel crosses his arms. "No. Forget it. There is no way I'm letting you tw--."

[Plot-locked for Illyria, thx!]

themidnightson

[Uh. After this other oom you don't have yet. :D? Very late 8th or early 9th March 2005.]

A drive between Port Angeles and Forks is less than two hours. Running, for certain people with certain skills and anxieties about being away from a certain place, it's even less. Which might explain why Edward's resigned when walks in through the back door.

This place was making a habit of appearing when he least thought of it.

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

The Front Door opens on the sound of shouting, panic, car horns, and some very unearthly caterwauling.

"All right, good! Now use the Amulet of Ko!tok!"

"Uh, Wes! It's not working!!"

"...Angel, you've got it upside-down! The other way!"

"Are you ki--?! FINE! Like this? WHOA!!"

"Careful! If Dabaoth makes it to the edge--! Uhh.... Hmm. All right, never mind!! Time for Plan B!!"

"Plan B?! What Plan B? You never said anything about a Plan B!"

"I know! That's because you wouldn't like it!"

"Wesley, what are you--?!!"

There's an alarmingly loud BOOM!!. Followed moments later by two very loud "OOF!!"s, as Angel and Wesley come tumbling through the Door and land in a heap in front of Bar.

"You were right," Angel mutters, as the dust settles. "I hate that plan."

perfectblue.livejournal.com

A few minutes after this -- in Bar time, who knows how time is kept in the place from whence she's come -- Illyria enters through the door. She's completely filthy -- most of her blue is obscured by blood of various colors, and none it hers, save a tiny cut on her left cheek just beneath her eye. She'd taken some time to rip the claws out of the creature who'd dealt the offending strike, or she might've been here sooner.

In any case, none of the above seems to have dulled her mood any. She is practically beaming -- it can occasionally be difficult to tell with Illyria, who rarely if ever actually smiles anything but the faintest of smiles, but there is absolutely no way at all anyone could mistake the triumphant look about her.

Come, then, and discover what makes the ex-goddess look so.

[ooc: tags open until forever and ever and ever, because she's never this happy, folks. >:D]

[teeny tiny DOOMy tag: wilbur whateley]

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

A vampire steps into the bar, supporting a barely conscious human.

...It's not what you think

Getting over to a booth would be easier if Angel would just toss Wesley over his shoulder, but he figures his friend has been through enough already this night. So, instead, Angel takes his time getting over to the booth, then sets Wesley down gently before calling over a waitrat.

"Um, one of my usual please? And a Lagavul--," Angel stops as Wesley groans and presses his forehead with the palms of his hands, "--On second thought, water and a couple of aspirin." Nunzio the waitrat scurries away.

"Make that a handful of aspirin!" he calls a moment later as he sees Wesley wince again.

Angel shakes his head. The Powers That Be have one hell of a sense of humor.

perfectblue.livejournal.com

A decidedly blue former goddess is -- wonder of wonders -- actually deigning to be in the Bar.

She appears to be toying with some completely unidentifiable small metal object that looks rather as though it oughtn't be entirely able to exist in normal realities. It's not a Rubik's Cube for Old Ones, but it may as well be, the way she's turning it this way and that, stopping to glare at the offending object when it fails to cooperate with... whatever she's trying to do to it.

Feel free to ask, but don't expect completely coherent answers.

[tiny tag of unspeakable horror: wilbur whatley]

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

Two men sit in a booth near the middle of the bar.

"--And I'm still not even sure the Machine will work. I keep checking the schematics, but... nothing."

Angel's rolls his eyes and throws up his hands.

Wesley stares at him, deeply offended. "What?"

"--I just can't see how you can be telling me that. After everything."

"What do mean, 'everything'?"

"You had me breaking into Wolfram & Hart seven times. I had to fight seven--."

"Angel, you still have the administrator access codes."

"--not to mention, Fyarl demons. I mean, hello? Mucus!"

"I'm the one who's dead!"

"Mucus, Wes! And, by the way: kind of dead here too! Plus, I don't even know what any of those parts even does!"

Wesley sighs. "I hardly know what they do myself."

"This whole Machine idea was a mistake."

"Well, she seemed quite certain--."

"Illyria always 'seems quite certain.' I bet she's been making this up as she goes along. Pulling it all right out of.... somewhere!"

"I don't think she would--."

"Oh, sure. Defend her. Like always."

"I don't--!"

More eye-rolling. "Oh, no, of course not, Mr. 'I wouldn't dream of being her Qwa'ha Xahn. No. Never. Unless she asked me to.'"

Outraged Wesley's mouth is open. That cutting retort should be arriving any time now.... eventually.

[plotlocked for Illyria, thx!]

nomorekaraoke

Tonight is a rare night, even for a place such as Milliways, where every night is spectacular in one fashion or another.

Tonight, Lorne tends bar.

There's a handwritten little sign, placed center stage - as it were - and in the spotlight. It says, perfectly legibly:

Ladies and Gents
Cosmopolitan
Scotch Whiskey (rocks or none)

Girls and Boys
Milkshakes of any variety you can think of. Gimme your best shot!

And for all the other Darlings
Ask, and you might just get what you wish for

Come and get it, cats and kittens!

((As always, threadhopping and mingling is more than encouraged. Have fun!

Edit: Slow-timing, please? I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH THANK YOU! EEEE!! But my brain is crashing from yet another Hellish cold, and I need the sleep. More of Lorne and bartending tomorrow! Promise!!))

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

The Door opens and in comes a disgruntled vampire, right in the middle of yelling over his shoulder, "I'll worry about it later!" and then slamming the Door behind him and glaring at it.

Then, after a second, doing a double-take, and turning around to face: "Oh."

But after a moment of surprise comes satisfaction. "O-kay. That's better."

Whoever that Landlord guy is, his timing is definitely improving.

perfectblue.livejournal.com

Here's a face that hasn't been around the Bar in a while.

Illyria's absence had, at first, been unplanned and outside her control, though recently she's just been flat-out avoiding it. She would still be doing so, in fact, except that her other primary option is a rather unpleasant version of Los Angeles. Apparently hell even gets tiresome to former demon goddesses. Who knew?

In any case, Illyria is back in Bar, for the moment, at least. One wouldn't ever make the mistake of calling her approachable, but she doesn't look as though she's likely to tear the head off anyone who comes near her, either. This may be an improvement upon the norm where she is concerned.

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

The Door opens.

"...I'm telling you, Wes. Everything'll be fine."

"Angel, listen to me. It's more complicated than that. Illyria's spell--."

"Look, see? There it is! There's the Door, just like a couple days ago!"

"I'm really not ready to go bac--."

"You were there for two years! Must feel just like home now."

"'Home' isn't quite the word I'd--."

Angel appears at the Door.

"C'mon, Wes! Just step right through. Trust me, I'm a Champion. I get a feeling for these things."

A heavy sigh from Beyond. "Fine."

And in steps Wesley. Looking a bit more pale than usual. Some might even say 'translucent.' 'Spectral.' Some might even say 'extremely ghost-like.'

"Huh," says Angel, taking this unhappy surprise pretty well.

Wesley? Is not. One look down at his brand-new, faintly shimmering, and thoroughly see-through form, and:

"YOU SEE?! THIS IS JUST WHAT I WARNED YOU WOULD HAPPEN!"

Angel frowns. "Ok. This could be a problem."

Wesley glares, "DO YOU REALLY THINK SO?"

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

[Previously: Bad enough, Angel wasn't able to talk Illyria out of casting a spell to try to bring Wesley back to life. Then he ends up stuck in that weird bar he's been hearing about.

OOM: Meanwhile, a bewildered Wesley finds himself, a)face-to-face with Illyria, b) back in L.A., and c) a ghost.

Annoyed that her spell didn't work precisely as planned, Illyria returns to Milliways to check on her plant, only to end up having to deal with that annoying half-breed again.]

perfectblue.livejournal.com

[OOM: Certain events have been a long time coming. Even so, they still don't always go as planned.]

slayedthedragon.livejournal.com

[After this]

A tall man in a long dark coat comes stumbling through the Door as a searing flash of white light fades behind him.

"ILLYRIA! WATCH--!"

"...!"

"...Out?"

Angel whirls around to see the Door slam shut behind him.

"Uh oh."

He spins round again.

"I told her that spell wasn’t going to work. But would she listen? Nooooo. 'I'm the goddess, I know what I'm doing.' So now here I am...."

"...Uh. Where am I now?"

[tinytag: hao]

perfectblue.livejournal.com

[OOM: First, a conversation between not-quite-allies.

After, former goddesses do not have second thoughts. They do, however, dream.]

perfectblue.livejournal.com

[OOM: Lost and Found, or: What Happened in Chicago.]

[And for those of you trying in vain to follow Illyria's actual timeline, see backroom post here.]

sime-channel.livejournal.com

Suzi is settled in for interviews. She's got paper, pen, knitting, tea, and her list of questions.

It could be worse.

sime-channel.livejournal.com

Suzi Darley is sitting at a table, waiting for her trip to Quinn's world. She's knitting, because she does that, and on the table next to her is a sign.

It is a big sign. It was written with a glitter pen. It says: