milliways_bar | Entries tagged with mal

fighter--pilot.livejournal.com

[OOM: Shalla and Mal talk about closets of doom, confusing relationships, and the meaning of "bantha kriffer." Then they vaguely play hide-and-seek, which ends with pain and a face-eating bunny. Good times for all.]

Millitimed to July 16th.

didntseeit.livejournal.com

[OoM: In which Mal and Ajedrez's swordfighting lesson goes smoothly as normal...until it really doesn't.]

rigthegames.livejournal.com

It’s those little things in life, like being able to actually reach doorknobs, that you never really appreciate until you find yourself one foot tall.

And cute.

And fluffy.

Penguin inna bar, trying to get as drunk as possible (a tricky feat when you can’t actually lift the glass). Don’t let the aura of overwhelming adorability fool you.

[ooc: ~~I must away for an hour! Back later.~~ Back!]

didntseeit.livejournal.com

[OoM: Millitimed to the night before last, Ajedrez trips over Orion. Of course, Mal is there to witness. Conversation goes up and down, but eventually the subject of 'knowing thine enemy via alcohol' comes up. Sadly for Sands, it is around about then that he turns up and is kidnapped (highly against his will). There is banter and tension and then a side-helping of woe.

Eventually, however, the subject of drinking games comes up. And, eventually, they start. There is, mixed up in the discussions of torture, murder, sex, and trees, a LOT of snark.

Warning for 350+ comments]

gaychickenking.livejournal.com

It’s no grand entrance.

The door opens, and Ben steps through with a spring in his step and a hand wrapped in bandages. He’s in the process of unzipping his fly, and it takes a moment for the fact that this is not a restroom and Bar is not a urinal to register.

“Uh.”

“This is interesting.”

Cautiously, he reaches down and zips his fly back up.

Then, after a few seconds of quiet contemplation, he raises the camera hung around his neck, and takes a photo.

[OOC: And this is the point where I keel over and die and/or go to bed. Slowtime is sexy, and all tags will be tagged at a more sensible time of day.]

musicintherain.livejournal.com

There is a jingle of, no, not bells, but coins as the front door opens. Coins on an anklet, hidden by a long, swirling blue-purple skirt. The quiet jingle stops, though, when the owners sees where she is.

Milliways.

Without her veil.

Zenobia's eyes widen as she brings her hand to her (uncovered) mouth. She's a little too pale, against her long black hair, but more then that, she looks young. Maybe seventeen, maybe. If you squint.

"Oh. Oops."

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

[OoM: In which there is a training session, swords, some cheerful snark, and a surprising lack of blood.]

didntseeit.livejournal.com

You know how you have those nights where you can't sleep? You toss and you turn, you doze off and then the slightest thing jerks you awake again, and then in the morning you feel cloudy-headed and grumpy at everything?

Ajedrez had one of those nights. And thus she is grumpy at everything.

Not her breakfast, though. The breakfast is a good breakfast. Just, the rest of the world which isn't nice, hot food.

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

[After this, things are tense between Mal and Sands. Millitimed to a rather long time ago, on account of muns being forgetful beasts. And like to argue about who gets to post.]

didntseeit.livejournal.com

For Christmas, Ajedrez got a book. She thought it was 'Shadow of the Wind'.

Today, it is something else quite, quite different.

Thus, she is eyeing the book. Warily, cautiously, and very curiously.

And, yes, she is wearing glasses.

rigthegames.livejournal.com

[After this: Good days never last. There are consequences.]

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

[OoM: In which there is early-morning conversation and bed-hogging. Now unlocked!]

Mal's down in the bar, now, sitting on a stool and sipping a cup of coffee. She's whistling rather tunelessly under her breath as well, staring off into space.

(Completely botherable, we add)

[ooc: many, many apologies, but I must go. slowtime is wonderful, and I should be back within a couple hours.]

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

[OoM: And then there is day four: in which there is a morning snarkfest, a conversation in which nothing is accomplished, and an evening snarkfest before they finally manage to leave. However, literature is stumbled upon, lunch is discussed and then eaten. During lunch, things are not exactly said, there's a lesson on why it's better to tell people before you hug them, and something resembling a catfight between the Immortal Gay Drug Lord and King of the Grayscale. Last but certainly not least, there are bandits.

And then, finally, the travelers are home.]

rigthegames.livejournal.com

[OoM: And after day two, comes day three. The car gets broken, the rescue party stop for gas, and a few more locals are confused.

A stop for directions is surprisingly helpful, and it's time for a much needed rest.]

rigthegames.livejournal.com

[OoM: It's the second day. The rescue party get to grips with the wildlife, not exactly near-death experiences, and more confused locals.]

rigthegames.livejournal.com

[OoM: It's the first day. Our intrepid rescue party face elephants, art, and curious locals before calling it a day.]

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

[OoM: After the conversation with Santino, Mal sends a note to Ramon and engages in a not-so-friendly conversation.]

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

[OoM: A reluctant Santino explains to Mal what's happened...

...and agrees to something he probably shouldn't have.]

rigthegames.livejournal.com

Sands, Sands, he’s the man! If he can’t do it, no one can!

…That is to say, Sands is in the bar, sat over by the observation window with his feet on a chair and an open book in his lap, and a very notable lack of cigarette smoke in the air.

His eyes are closed, so maybe he’s sleeping. Give him a nudge, and find out.

bright-burning.livejournal.com

So, sitting with his back to the observation window, there's a Rial. Datapad, stylus, and caf near at hand, but he's currently just watching the bar.

And the waitrats.

He's still not positive they don't bite.

~

And there's a reformed vampire, sharpening her dagger and ignoring the cat currently attacking her foot. If she's glancing around the bar a little more often then usual, well, what of it?

Doesn't mean nothing.

~

And last but certainly not least, there's Fire. She's got a table near the Window (near the future, at least for her) and a glass of red wine. As usual, something's on fire - but this time, it's nearly a score of little candles, scattered in seemingly random patterns across the table.

You'd have to look closely to see the snowflake design, outlined in fire.

But never mind that, dear. She doesn't bite.

Usually.

[ooc: And lo, there was bed for the Hallia. Tagging still welcomed, will pick up inna morning.]

sansa-stark.livejournal.com

Sansa comes downstairs, in a long dress of black lambswool. A cloak is slung over one arm - someone's planning to go for a walk after breakfast.

She sits at Bar, orders some porridge and milk, and begins eating. As she eats, she watches the crowd. It's such habit that she doesn't notice anything new until her porridge is almost gone.

Sansa sees the Door.

A startled motion tips her glass of milk, which thunks against the bartop and spills its contents onto the floor.

"Oh." If she can speak, this means this isn't a dream. You can't speak the words you want to in dreams. "Oh."

The Door.

For a time, Sansa sits on her stool, motionless. Then she begins wiping away small, stray tears.

not-one-drop.livejournal.com

This particular reformed vampire isn't exactly in the bar.

Rather, she's outside, back to a tree and somewhat moodily tossing pebbles into the lake, shoulders hunched inside an overlarge sweatshirt.

She's not the biggest fan of autumn.

bright-burning.livejournal.com

Over in one corner of the bar, there's a reformed vampire and the usual cup of coffee. Mal appears to be rescuing a rather abused catnip mouse from the jaws of a large black cat, and could probably use a hand.

-

And in the other corner of the bar, there's a deity/personification of fire, lounging on a couch and sipping a glass of wine, absently flipping through a copy of All Quiet on the Western Front and watching the bar. As per the usual, she smells distinctly of woodsmoke, and there's a grey smear of ash on one cheek.

She's playing with a lighter in one hand, but don't worry. She won't light you on fire.

Probably.

[ooc: mun is doing schoolwork so possibly slow replies, tag one or t'other. say thankya!]

works-in-space.livejournal.com

It was simple. There was a way in, so there had to be a way out. He just had to figure it out.

Was it a puzzle left by some alien race? A test of endurance, or strength, or intelligence? Yes, it could be exactly what it seemed, just an advanced mind deciding he should be it guest for a while. It might actually be meant as a gift for a tired admiral.

But even so, he didn't have to like it. He didn't have to accept it.

If only he had a tricorder, or a communciator, or something. but all he had was his wits, and a credit chit.

That would have to do. That, and a fresh cup of coffee.

rigthegames.livejournal.com

There seem to be a lot of new people about. You can tell by all the looks of confusion, and Sands scowls at them (and anyone else he should happen to see) as he stalks through the bar and into a suitably isolated corner.

His fingers drum against the tabletop.

At least they aren’t all pirates.