milliways_bar | Entries tagged with joly

If Joly absolutely had to be affected by the odd shrinking magic going through Milliways right now, it's probably for the best that it hit him while he was only playing with the cats and not, say, trying out one of his more experimental gadgets, or on duty in the Infirmary. It would have been even better if it had also been kind enough to resize his clothes, but one can't have everything.

One probably could have a set of fitting clothes, but it would mean having Witnesses to his current state.. He is not ready to deal with that , not just now, not if it's going to blow over in a day or two as these things mostly seem to do.
So instead he sneaks to the library. He settles in at one of the tables to read until this stops, swinging his legs off the edge of the chair.
But there must be something about this body. The age. Mental states affected by hormones, or something. Because he's not reading for ten minutes before he feels compelled to stop, and start pulling some of the chairs and tables into a Fort to Hide In, Secretly.

Enjolras, meanwhile, was in his room considering going for a walk, when the magic hit. After a moment's existential bafflement and exasperation -- and a look in the mirror, which requires standing on the edge of the bathtub so he can see himself -- he revises his plans instantly. It's irksome enough to look like he normally does; he has no desire to wander around looking like this.

('Like this' is like a small and adorable cherub, though Enjolras would never phrase it that way. His current expression of vast irritation would look to others' eyes like a cherubic pout straight out of a Renaissance painting.)

So: the library. If this doesn't wear off in a few hours, he'll wrap himself in as much straight-backed dignity as he can summon, and go on a mission for food and properly fitting clothes. But he's going to wait a bit, first, to see if he can skip that part.

[OOC: You can catch Enjolras and Joly together holing up in the library, or you can catch either one of them singly making an expedition to the bar for food! If Enjolras is making the expedition, he will be walking in plain sight with an I dare you to comment or tease me kind of expression. If Joly is making the expedition, he will be unashamedly lurking under tables.]

a_conversation

Garnet walks into the bar.

She (she will do, as a pronoun, though it doesn’t mean quite what it does for humans) is tall and dark and impassive. She is bemused—what is this weirdly ordinary-looking place, and how has it supervened upon the Crystal Gems’ portal? She is concerned—is there someone or something at work on their portal, perhaps some technology from Homeworld? She is, perhaps, a little entertained, especially when she looks at the welcome brochure.

None of these feelings show on her face, as she walks in with Pearl.

Pearl, a step behind, is a study in contrasts: fluttering along, visibly and vocally concerned. "Did it work? Do you see it? Oh! It worked! We're here! You see, just like I told you!"

"I see," is all Garnet says.

There's a fireplace, filled with fish. Garnet and Pearl gravitate there. It's good a place to stand and view the bar--and also the fish.

[ooc: tag in for Garnet, and for the occasional Pearl popping in at will, since Pearl-mun is away for a bit!]

ownerless

A new door opens. The room on the opposite side glows faintly, and the person who steps through looks only mostly (but not really not quite) like a normal human woman. She is very tall, and her skin is very white; pearlescent, one might say. And look, she has a pearl: a big one, set in the very center of her forehead, not affixed by any visible means. Still, hardly strange enough to attract comment in a place like this.

But of course, she doesn't know that about this place yet. Or that she's in any place except where she expected to be. Though that one, at least, it doesn't take long to figure out.

"Hang on," she says when she sees the room. She backs out, shuts the door, then opens it. "What?!"

She tries a few more times. Out, in. Out, in. outinoutinoutinoutin--

"This isn't where that door is meant to go!" she cries.

[ooc: here's pearl from steven universe. she is (at least for now) from early in S1, but could potentially reveal backstory spoilers (but can just as easily avoid them if you want!).]

idareyou

Mary bursts through the door from the grounds, in the middle of the night, breathless from running, and collapses onto a stool at the bar. But once she can breathe again she starts giggling helplessly, and bites down on her knuckles to try to stop. In one fist, she's still clutching a sock.

merryeccentricities

It's a very bright night out.

And very cold.

But there's a patch of clear water in the icy surface of the lake. Which has prompted Joly and Bahorel to interrupt a late-night walk with a Conversation on the merits of ice swimming.

( tl;dr they're swimming in an icy lake like people who make great choices. Anyone's welcome to join in, or point out the obvious flaws of the plan. )

lark_in_flight

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.]

lark_in_flight

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.

tire_moi_mes_bottes

[elfwarning]

It's not a properly proper Happy Hour: even though Lesgle has been practicing in the kitchen since he saw the notes about the Elf Problem, he still needs Bar's help with the cooking. But he's taken over the space behind the bar and has put up specials:

Salade niçoise
Pissaladière
Socca
Ratatouille

I recommend the ratatouille or the pissaladière, as Mme. Bar is responsible for their production; I myself am attempting the salad and the chickpea crêpes. Brace yourselves for disaster!

All meals are gratis, but donations to funds for young patrons, bound residents, or the Milliways Scouts would be welcome. A disclaimer before anyone gets the wrong impression: I am not from Nice nor have I ever set foot there. It keeps moving: one treaty or another has picked up that fine old city and relocated it variously to the Duchy of Savoy, the French Republic, the French Empire (hideous phrase!), the Kingdom of Piedmont-Sardinia, et cetera. Mirabile dictu. But I am given to understand that we have orders from on high: Be Nice. And further I am given to understand that these are Nice dishes to share. And so you have it. Soyons gentils.

While he cooks and serves up plates, he's chatting with a collection of the wretched doll things. How do you do, my you look lovely today, and how is your grand-mother, is your bunion still troubling you, what a handsome hat you have there, it really brings out the color of your eyes.

As they disappear, he rounds up more to take their place. Ugh. Nasty things, spies, but at least these ones are easy to spot and easy to send away.

((Open until whenever! Thread-hopping welcomed and encouraged!))

gredya

Here's someone who hasn't been in the bar for a while: Gredya, still thin, clothes a little more ragged than the last time she was here, carrying a pair of dead rabbits. She goes into the kitchen with them, and comes out again without them, and sits at the bar.

"Bar. There is a story. In that bible book. The little man has a weapon, he kills the big fighter with a rock. I want that story. And I want to see how to make that weapon. I want books and pictures. And one of those dictionary books."

Before long she's set up camp in a booth, doing research.

so_many_crystals

The latest arrival through the door is... uh. It sure looks like a velociraptor!

But not the kind you'd design if you had, for example, paid attention to paleontological discoveries over the past twenty-odd years. Not even the kind you'd design if you'd read the Wikipedia entry on velociraptors. This is, instead, the kind of velociraptor you'd design if you'd just watched Jurassic Park approximately a dozen times.

It's brown. It's got pebbly scales. It's got huge sharp claws. It's got beady yellow eyes. It's got extremely pointy teeth.

It's also got an assortment of miscellaneous objects (including a briefcase, a duffle bag, two small cardboard boxes, a notebook, a pencil case, and a complete set of grilling implements) strapped to its back, and a weird-looking remote control held together with duct tape clutched in one set of wicked claws. So it's probably not actually from Jurassic Park.

"HAHAHA! MY BRILLIANT PLAN HAS -- succeeded?"

"--SUCCEEDED!"

Dr. Dinosaur, meet Milliways. Milliways, meet Dr. Dinosaur.

[OOC: Okay, I yield, I yield: I must sleep. You are all wonderful. <333 This post is still open, but I probably won't be able to pick up tags until tomorrow night EST.]

pro_patria_mortuus

Enjolras had been planning to get some work done in his room in Paris. There's a pamphlet Joly put together, yet another attempt to clearly educate the citizenry on basic wound care, that he promised to look over for edits, and another pamphlet on avoiding typhus that he wants to look over for his own understanding. Besides that, he wants to spend some time thinking on their next steps in liaising with certain other groups, though that's nothing he'll commit to paper.

But the door opened on Milliways. He trades a look with the brown and white eagle on his shoulder. "Might as well," she says, and Enjolras agrees with the slightest tip of his head.

Very well: the bar for water, and then to a table.

Except that Bar gives him not just water and an unrequested sandwich, but also a packet wrapped in brown paper, with his name written on the outside in his own handwriting. A packet he has no memory of creating.

He trades another one of those looks with his daemon. Jeanne hops from his shoulder to peer at the package up close, cocking her head one way and then the other.

"Not here," says Enjolras, quietly, and Jeanne reshuffles her feathers with a head-bob. He tucks the packet away in a pocket of his coat, and takes his lunch upstairs along with it.

It's quite a while before he reappears. When he does, the packet is back in a pocket, rewrapped and retied with string, and both Enjolras and Jeanne are wrapped in deep and troubled preoccupation.

He'll take a seat at a table, one hand curled at his mouth in absent thought, and fall into a reverie. But Jeanne, perched in a rafter above, is keeping an eye out for friends -- especially friends from home, but others would be welcome, too.

[OOC: Enjolras is from the same daemonverse AU as last year, and your character is welcome to have met him before or not! Also, he can be caught before or after he goes upstairs. Mun is going to bed within an hour or so, but slowtimes are welcome.]

just_cant_lose

OOM:

Oh darling, let's be kings
I'm a killer in a crown

Jim enters the bar...no. That's not right.

James Moriarty enters the bar, and he's wearing the Crown Jewels.

Personally, he thinks he's never looked more fabulous. The crown is heavier than it looks on the Queen, and the gown is fucking hot in both senses of the word. The sceptre is nicely weighted, and will make an excellent back-scratcher, probably. But for now, Moriarty surveys the room with a regal eye...then cackles a laugh, draws his gown around him and swirls off towards the bar.

'Something very British I think today, darling,' he says, in his full Irish drawl.

Bar provides a plate of fish and chips, and a pint of bitter. He laughs again, and admires his reflection in the mirror over the rear counter. Looks, and then raises the glass in a toast to himself.

'God save the Queen.'

[OOC: I am literally here all night as I'm watching the results of the referendum come in, and this post is open alllll weekend. Jim's not here to play English any more, unless there's some reason it suits him better. <3]

Current Music: Rossini - La Gazza Ladra ('The Thieving Magpie')

le_centre

Bar has turned very red today. Courfeyrac had come down for lunch, and received a note asking if he'd mind 'tending later. And of course he doesn't! He's been meaning to give it a go for a while.

But this is not a normal day, and while a small part of him is reflective, even a little sad, the rest of him thinks it's a rather good opportunity to celebrate something that was so nearly glorious. So, he gets busy for the rest of the afternoon. Red flags are hung along the back of the bar. He chalks tiny tricolours around the edges of the specials board, and requests bowls of red, white and blue rosettes to place along the bar-top. Bunting hangs off the outer edge, and music is carefully chosen from the popular revolutionary choices of his day, playing softly from iPod speakers.

Then he cracks out the vodka, and sets to mixing up shot glasses of spiked jelly (he's read about this! Too good an opportunity to pass up!) in the colours of the flag. He doesn't make the cake himself - be thankful, Milliways - but asks Bar. And so, the centrepiece is a giant sponge iced in the shape of a barricade, a blond figure on top waving a flag in one hand, a sword in the other.

(There is also a carefully made hat lying on its side among the barricade furniture. Alas, good headpiece! Sorely missed.)

CITIZENS

Any friend of the Republic drinks their choice at half price.
Cake and jelly drinks are free.

Vive la Révolution!!!

He does wonder whether celebrating one's death-day in such a manner could be seen as inappropriate, but it's his anniversary - their anniversary - and remembering the fight is not something he'll feel guilty for. He does dress in the clothes of his time out of respect, but his cheerful grin is undimmed as he takes his place behind the bar, and awaits customers.

(And tries the vodka jelly. SO GOOD.)

[OOC: Here to celebrate the June Rebellion, and the death of Les Amis! Please do chat and thread hop. Open until no one wants to play any more. <333

ETA: *laughing* Y'all are crazy, and brilliant! I'm tapping out for the night, but will be back in the am to pick everything up. <3]

tu_vas_triompher

((A while back Feuilly asked Joly about treatment for his elderly dog's cataracts. Joly comes to check out the situation and see if he thinks he can help. Just a very small scenelet, because dogs.))

not_the_second

After the rather dramatic failure of his and Combeferre's spell, Mr Segundus found himself thinking he had stayed away from England all too long. True, matters there were so unsettled, and he could not claim to relish a return to the uncertainty and-- yes, it must be said, disappointment-- he had left behind him-- but nor did he feel it right to seek to avoid his troubles. And so he went.

But now Mr Segundus is returned again, feeling no more settled about his position in the world, but at least more settled in his conscience.

And now, also settled in before a heaping bowl of stew (which, it must be said, he looks rather like he could use-- and a few more meals of equal size besides), and an equally heaping stack of books. But he has, as ever, a polite and approachable air.

tire_moi_mes_bottes

There are children everywhere, and have been for at least a couple of days. Lègle does not consider this to be his natural environment. But Joly has been a champion of head-counts and damage control, and other people have been stepping up to provide cake and entertainment and sensible things like that, so--so it's time for him to take his turn and do his duty.

Joly occasionally (frequently) makes noises about nutrition, which seems to include fruits and vegetables. So Lesgle is behind the bar chopping up strawberries and melons, mixing up fresh lemonade, and stirring a quietly simmering bowl of punch. It's not even a little bit alcoholic!

If you look to be under the age of sixteen or so, he's likely to wave you over and ask if you'd like anything. If you look to be over the age of sixteen or so, he'd be very grateful for some adult conversation.

(What else is nutritious? Hmm. When he has a spare moment, he starts pulling out fixings for ham and cheese sandwiches. That's nutritious, right?)

((Open thread, party style, tag in, hop around!))

((...heh, no, really, please do hop around and talk to each other because i can't keep up with so many threads! :D ))

pro_patria_mortuus

This is not Jean-Sébastien's home. Nor is it his home's garden, or the street, or anywhere in Le Puy-en-Velay that he's ever seen. He was just going to his tutor for Latin, and now -- whatever this is.

But it's full of children. And the door locked behind him.

(He could very nearly be afraid. But -- would a Spartan be afraid in unfamiliar territory? Would a representative-on-mission? No. They would keep their heads and scout the terrain, and find allies, and not be afraid of anyone ever. So he'll be like a Spartan or a representative-on-mission.)

So there's a very blond boy around Milliways, in a suit that marks him as both rich (if somewhat provincial) bourgeois, and of the very early 19th century. He's ten, and looks younger; he hasn't hit the growth spurts yet that he will later, and his face is rosy-cheeked and round and cherubic.

He can be found either sitting at a table, feet dangling quietly as he watches the room, or walking around the outdoors lawn. Either way, there's wide-eyed curiosity that is definitely not unsettled even a little okay good. (Okay, sometimes it's genuinely not. There's a lot that's distracting here!)

[OOC: Mun is only here for a couple of hours and then will be gone the rest of the day, so all threads will go to slowtime soon. But I wanted to get the EP up, and I'll tag as I can!]

harryhotspur

[oom: joly guides hotspur to some conclusions he probably should have reached himself.]

tire_moi_mes_bottes

((Quests for all! Bossuet and Joly found themselves on a very traditional sort of adventure, and came through it in good spirits. In other news, Arthurian-style legends sure did involve a lot of weird things. And also naked ladies.))

harryhotspur

[part two: hotspur and king henry at the battle of agincourt]

Enter Harry Percy, looking much the way he did when he first arrived: armor-clad, blood-spattered, positively coated in mud.

But he was expecting to return here, and under his giddy fizz of post-battle adrenaline, there is neither the shock nor fear of that first arrival. Disappointment? Well, yes, a touch. But that's alright, he needn't dwell on it. He'll just go clean off.

He has to pass through the bar to do so, of course, and a filthy knight tracking mud across the floor is not the most inconspicuous sight; it may be he will be waylaid before he gets there.

[ooc: i'm slowtimes until tomorrow evening, i just wanted to get this up!]

just_cant_lose

Almost a week ago, a package was left at the bar for Feuilly. Today, he picks it up.

Someone watching from a very safe distance - or who has placed certain technology in the package: we'll never know - might learn that this inauspicious delivery prompts a conversation out in the stables. It goes along the lines of 'ugh, another message from the king? Leave it, we'll deal with it later.' Because it is, after all, a beautiful day and Feuilly and Hotspur had plans to ride out and enjoy it. Which they do, leaving the parcel on the floor.

Some ten minutes later, there is a very loud explosion. Loud enough to be heard in the bar, and across the grounds. It's followed by the sounds of distressed animals, and the smell of smoke.

Hey, Milliways? Your stables are on fire.

[OOC: please see Back Room post here for brief recap details. EP open for however long anyone wants to play. <3]

venerable_ibis

There's a tall, ibis-headed gentleman in Milliways today. As usual, he comes with an offering, this time a basketful of red flowers that he leaves with Bar before politely murmuring that a plate of chickpea fritters would not be taken amiss if she felt like providing.

When the plate appears, along with a goblet of wine, Djehuty takes them over to one end of the bar and settles in for a nice snack, looking up at the television to watch the squid soap opera.

(It's quite engrossing. From time to time he exclaims to himself quietly: really? those two were siblings separated when they first hatched?)

pro_patria_mortuus

[Not technically OOM:

Enjolras and Javert run afoul of the handcuffs situation.

Luckily, several of the Amis are there to lend moral support! For some mysterious reason, Javert is less than appreciative.

Millitimed to before Jay's Happy Hour with the key, and preplayed this way because of the number of involved muns out of town or otherwise afk this weekend. :D?]

cutting_edgex23

Some things a person expects when coming into Milliways. Waitrats, the Observation window, old faces and new, occasional barfights, time-crossed intra-universal conversations . . .

X, however, is not expecting Bar to hand over multiple stacks of paper, each about the height of an 8-year-old, and a note:

Congratulations on becoming the new acting Head of Security. These papers are now yours to deal with. In a timely manner. Good luck!

X is going to get a new understanding of just why Mel hates paperwork. All paperwork.

Forever.

garde723

Izana comes in, smelling of death and ash. Pulling the neckerchief from their face, they sigh in relief to find Milliways. Making their way to a booth, they sit numbly until a wait rat approaches and squeaks at them.

After blinking a few times, Izana focuses on the rat and orders a bowl of miso soup and a carafe of saki, before returning to staring blankly, lost in all that's happened back home.

[OOC: Advanced warning for possible vague talk of many deaths akin natural tragedies and industrial accidents in tags.]