milliways_bar | Entries tagged with jack frost

misterparker.livejournal.com

Parker is bleeding through the bandage on his arm and starts to say, "Jack, do we have any more...?"

Frowning, he looks around. Bar. Not Italy. Med supplies?

"Hey, can I have some more bandages?"

cheevy.livejournal.com

Gifts left with Bar for Harding, Darren Nichols, Draco and Mia, Ginny Weasley, Guppy, Jack Frost, Moon, Robbie Ross, Roger Ratcliffe, Sam Linnfer, Ravin, Tom Riddle (& family), Will Scarlett, and YT. Others will be (or have been) delivered in person.

...pretend this happened on Christmas proper. >.>

will_scarlett

The past few days have been good and so Will is down at the Bar later in the night with the American history book, its interesting reading.

He now understands better why John Adams was cursing Congress, nobles can be horrible men but at least they know how to make up their mind.

Also rich people don't seem to change ever, The Gilded Age was a rather too familiar time in America, and he has chips.

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

Winter is here again, and in accordance, Jack Frost is back. He's sitting on one of the sofas, reclining with a newspaper and a smile.

He has a glass of water on the table in front of him, only the water is slowly growing into a small tree made out of ice, pushing its way out of the glass and spreading crystal branches and leaves.

blueeyedjohnny.livejournal.com

[oom: Final decisions]

Johnny enters, a variety of new cuts and bruises over his body. He makes his way straight to the bar and asks for paper.

( Jack Frost )

Johnny then heads over to the fire, gets a beer and a cigarette and tries to forget.

blueeyedjohnny.livejournal.com

Johnny is outside, the baby playing on the grass nearby.

He's leaning as far away as possible to have a cigarette without the smoke going near the kid. And keeping an eye out for the person he said he'd stop smoking to.

otherlife.livejournal.com

[Pre-Milliways: Sorve meets the Envoy.]

---

( An Arrival and a Ghost )

---

Hours later, in the evening, two curious, quiet people are down in the bar. At first glance, they may seem to be mother and daughter: both dark-skinned (the elder, whose age is difficult to tell, darker than the younger, who looks about 20) with downward-tilting eyes and a subtlety of expression that makes them both difficult to read; and both under five feet tall, though the elder has a stockier build than the younger. The elder wears plain pants and a shirt, clothing loose enough that it might well hide curves of body that might be proof of gender. The younger, sitting behind on the table twisting little braids into the parent's hair, wears a garment reminiscent in design of a sundress, covering chest and hips but leaving hairless legs bare. Neither wears shoes. They converse in quiet voices, comfortable in one another's company -- but they would welcome strangers.

heads-you-live.livejournal.com

Domino was doing quite well that evening.

She was doing so well, in fact, that she would quite likely spread her good mood around by buying people drinks.

The only catch in this plan was that they'd have to talk to her first.

Look at her though! She's all done up! Well, more done up than usual anyway, which means a skirt and a tanktop instead of the usual jeans and wifebeater.

hktimes47.livejournal.com

A hulking, rust-colored droid is in a corner of the bar, secluded. He jerks his head about in his usually fashion, monitoring the area, while eavesdropping on all the conversations going on through out the entire bar.

His ion rifle hangs from his back, not easily seen by any passer-bys, but ready to be unslung in a second.

blueeyedjohnny.livejournal.com

Johnny limps down the stairs, carrying Edward in one arm. He puts the baby down and puts a note on the bar.

He had a bit of help writing it, something he'd normally be too proud to ask for.

( Jack Frost )

He heads over to one corner, putting the baby on a cushion. He watches Edward playing with the tassles on it as he lies back on as few bruises as possible.

jacks-dead.livejournal.com

So Kyra's trying this whole being-in-the-bar-again thing. Thus far it's pretty good; she got some of those chocolate chip cookies with her stew, and she flopped down on a couch, and then she started thinking hey, that one over there looks kind of soft too ...

Two chairs and three couches later, she has settled for an overstuffed armchair, sitting sideways so her legs are hanging over one of the arms. She munches her cookies and people-watches, a bit wary but mainly curious and pleasantly bored.

Also she glances up to contemplate the rafters now and then. She's betting you could climb up there, if you wanted. Get a good view.

blueeyedjohnny.livejournal.com

Johnny is sitting by the fire, with a note and a worried expression.

Oh, and a baby, which is under the table playing with his feet.

He puts down the note, sighs, and looks around for Jack.

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

Jack is in the bar, male again, clutching a mug of tea so hard his knuckles are white.

He's people watching.

That's all there really is to say about that.

didntseeit.livejournal.com

Some days at the end of the Universe are good days.

Some are not.

Today is one of the latter, where she slams the backdoor behind her and stalks to the Bar. Gun on her hip, earmuffs pulled down around her neck, and her normal poise has vanished into quick, restless movements and a line of tension running through her.

Today is not a good day.

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

Jack is curled up in an armchair, hanging onto her tea like a comfort blanket and looking mildly upset.

Life couldn't just stay normal for five minutes, could it?

blueeyedjohnny.livejournal.com

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Johnny, still very much female, has managed to read her way through the notice and is busy concocting one of her own.

Had a recant sex change of thee minty sort?

Need a snog?

I am your ~~man~~ woman!

Free kises!

She puts it on the table next to the baby moniter.

heads-you-live.livejournal.com

Domino had seen the sign, and as such knew that he had a promise to fulfil.

All he needed now was the person he'd made the promise too, he knew she'd be around, sooner or later, so was content to bide his time with dinner.

soapcarvedhands.livejournal.com

Harding looks drawn and pale, but that's hardly unusual. He's been lurking, mainly, around the corners of the bar; he returns every once in a while to the ward, because he can't believe--oh, he wants to, but he cannot believe that no one would notice his absence; that time stops.

He can't.

But he's finally emerged, hair lank, tea in hand; he's set up at a table, looking surprisingly cheerful despite the dark smudges around his eyes.

Come talk to him?

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

A young woman enters, looking unperturbed, wearing men's clothing. Three guesses as to why that is?

Jack is finding this whole thing rather anticlimactic. He's having trouble with the hips, certainly, they're wider and keep hitting things like kitchen counters and doorframes. But at least, look on the bright side, his breasts are relatively small. Big ones he imagines would get in the way a frightful lot.

notboundnow.livejournal.com

This particular time it opens, the other side of the door is noisy. The dominant sound is that of laughter. Peek in around the pair entering the Bar and you'll catch sight of the crowds on Clark Street, fans of the Cubs and fans of iO all jostling each other and enjoying themselves on a cool Chicago summer evening.

Pair, did we say? Let's not mince words: this is a couple coming in right now, or very near.

Charlie McGee and Prometheus waltz through, all smiles and close contact. They barely break their stride as they head for a conveniently out-of-the-way corner, with a seat suitable for two.

[[ooc: For sake of plot, seconding the call for no transgendered pups tagging in tonight. There'll be time enough for that soon! *halo*]]

http://users.livejournal.com/_to_the_bone/

Jack Frost, completely male and untransgendered, is in the bar.

It's been a bit of a while, and he's been rather busy, but all told? He's fairly tranquil seeming. He's come to terms with some things.

Right now, he just looks like he wants company.

It should also be noted that he's wearing a pin that says 'Legalize Spiritual Discovery' on his black turtleneck, but that he doesn't know what it means.

outlaw-bold.livejournal.com

This is no part of the forest he has ever seen before.

These trees; they look similar, and yet the light is different, the ground has changed. A moment ago, Robin could hear the sounds of camp: Allan's continual stream of nonsense, Much's campfire crackling cheerfully. Turning around, he squints into the underbrush but can see no familiar figures or landmarks.

It is inconceivable that he might be lost. He is never lost; Sherwood is his home and he knows it better than any--

--his feet hit a flat surface and he looks down and then ahead, following the path he has encountered, and with one last look back, he reshoulders his bow and walks on. The trees clear up ahead; he can see daylight and the glimmer of something like a river.

He is entirely unprepared to step out of the forest and onto meadow grass that stretches down to a wide, shimmering lake; even less so for the low building that he can see ahead of him. There is nothing in all his world like it.

It is a dream; it must be. And as if to prove its own nature, the dream sends him a song he remembers hearing as a child. Dazed, he turns about, blinking in the sun.

bright-burning.livejournal.com

It's been a while.

Maybe it's been longer for her. Maybe the door opens to the cracklesnap of burning wood, the bright glow of flames when they dance through forests and leave behind grey ashes to mix with the soft pink of the fireweed. Maybe when she enters, she's surprised, almost turning back and away.

Maybe.

It's been a while, anyway. But she stays, picking out a booth with a decent view of the bar and settling down to toy idly with her lighter (a new one, sleek silver instead of bright red), bringing with her only the strong scent of woodsmoke and burnt pine.

She smiles. The fire gleams in her eyes.

jacks-dead.livejournal.com

Where has Kyra been the past few days?

In her new room, is where.

Don't laugh-- have you seen these rooms? With big windows that look out back and real beds with real sheets and real mattresses-- Kyra could spend the next whole year just lying on that mattress. Not that she'd want to; she imagines after the first week she might start to get bored.

It was a little weird, she'll admit, finding out that Valerie was right, and they do have clothes in the rooms. Clothes that fit, even. But she's very grateful to be able to get out of the Necro crap, so now she's wearing something closer to what she used to wear in prison: long-sleeved gray shirt, khaki pants with pockets. Many, many places to hide a blade.

Currently Kyra is sprawled out on a couch, eating lamb stew with her fingers. A waitrat stops and watches her for a moment, as if it is considering approaching her with a utensil.

Kyra's eyebrows arch, slowly. "What are you lookin' at?"

The rat scurries away.

soapcarvedhands.livejournal.com

He's crazy, he's blond, he's shy, and he's totally at your disposal.

Come say hi to Harding!

(Which is to say, there's a tall, slender blond man picking his way through a plate of tea sandwiches--what? he'd liked them!--and sipping, quite appropriately, a mug of Darjeeling.)