milliways_bar | Entries tagged with mary bennet

Gene only came down for a pint. He gets a napkin instead.

'...no.'

And another one.

'There has to be another way I can pay for-'

And another. He screws it up in his hand, and clenches his fist on the bar-top until it turns white.

'At least give me something to do.'

A box appears, then Bar promptly shuts herself off. Gene stays still for a moment, vibrating with anger, then stalks behind the counter. As ever, he ignores the specials board. He starts going through the box instead - it's not Lost Property. It contains...gadgets. An iPhone, an iPad, a laptop, a digital camera...the list goes on. He lays everything out, and stares at it, perplexed.

'Bar's open.'

[OOC: ~~Mun is having the worst of days, so bartending's up six hours early as a distraction. Open for new threads all through the weekend. Go nuts. Please~~.

Calling it a night. Thanks so much for the threads, people! I've loved them all. Still open, if anyone wants in - I'll just be picking everything up tomorrow now, is all. <3333]

missmarybennet

Mary Bennet presents the appearance of a young lady with a mystery on her hands.

The source of her puzzlement seems to center on a letter, which she is rereading for the fourteenth time since it arrived yesterday morning. It’s from Jane, and contains many pleasantries and news from London. But it is a paragraph near the end that has Mary’s attention.

I am having a lovely time, and Aunt Gardiner and her circle of friends and acquaintances are wonderful company. But I rather feel the lack of my sisters. If Mary can be spared from home, would she be amenable to coming to Town to join me for a time? Aunt and Uncle would love to have her and I think she would enjoy herself immensely.

Mary is going, of course. Mrs. Bennet hadn’t even asked; she’d simply instructed the maid to freshen Mary’s dresses and get her trunk out of the attic. She’s to depart tomorrow. Mary doesn’t mind so much, really. She hardly ever gets invited for visits.

But something is odd about the whole thing. Jane has been in London for months without expressing a wish for company. If she were truly missing her sisters, there is nothing to stop her from coming back home. And if she were going to ask for one in particular, Mary wonders, why in the world would Jane ask for her?

Something is up. Mary just can’t for the life of her figure out what.

missmarybennet

Today, Mary Bennet’s table looks something like a primitive chemistry station.

There’s a kettle of water sitting on a hot plate, a thin stream of steam issuing from the spout. There are samples of plant matter—leaves, bark, roots, some berries—laid out in a neat row on the table; things that Mary has found outdoors here at Milliways and picked at random. And each sample has a corresponding bowl in which smashed and shredded bits of the plants soak in hot water along with scraps of white cotton.

It’s not really the proper method of dying, but Mary (wearing a large, well-worn apron over her dress) is mostly just curious to see what she gets.

Mary dips her fingers in one bowl and pulls out a scrap that’s been soaking for a bit. She gently shakes it to make it unfurl.

For a long moment, she just blinks at it.

The lurid purple she could have guessed at, given the color of the berries. But the pattern of bright pink hearts is rather unexpected.

Only in Milliways.

lilium_evansiae

Lily Evans.

Glass of butterbeer.

Bright blue brochure entitled, "The Three D's Of Apparition: Getting There In One Piece."

Someone has a licence to get, once she's back at Hogwarts.

kitchen_maid

Amy reads the napkin she receives this evening over twice, then grins and Cheerfully agrees.

She ties an apron on over her very grand dress and thinks for a moment before writing on the specials board:

Your first drink is compliments of the bartender.

Any takers?

missmarybennet

Mr. Bennet is an extremely territorial man when it comes to his quiet time, his books, and his newspapers. Especially his newspapers. He has no real objection to his daughters reading the news of the day, but the crumpled disorder that this can leave his publications in seems to pain the man’s very soul.

Fortunately, thanks to Milliways, Mary can steal and read them without him ever being the wiser, especially since she always returns them neatly.

Mary has a plate of toast, a glass of orange juice, and the latest issue of The Times fresh from London. According to the headline, France Captures Five More American Merchant Ships.

Botherable.

makesmeatease

Guess what time it is?

It's tea time. At least it is for Inara, who has a teapot in front of her. She's seated near the Observation Window, waiting for the tea to finish steeping. She looks deep in contemplation as she stares at the tea pot, until a waitrat skitters up to her, handing her several cups.

She smiles, taking the cups, the bangles on her arms jingling and jangling. "Xièxie nĭ."

Come join?

[honestly, open forever. i miss rping and i just wanna play and i never seem to be around when others are. so open forEVERRRRRR.]

missmarybennet

Mary is quite proud of herself. Today in the lake she had managed to propel herself several feet through the water, several times. And she had floated on her back for a good long while, though she still isn’t fond of the sound of water rushing in her ears.

She’s back in her brown morning dress now, sitting on the Milliways hearth with wet hair streaming down her back, waiting for it to dry before she goes home. She has paper, a quill and a pot of ink, and, using a book as a makeshift desk, is writing a letter to Jane in London.

Or trying to.

Mary makes a face, balls up the sheet of paper she’s been writing on, and turns to toss it into the flames in the hearth.

Trying to write interesting correspondence without Milliways creeping into it is hard some days. No doubt Jane would have found Mary’s comment about a horseback ride immediately followed by swimming practice leaving her so tired that she’d nearly fallen asleep during dinner very curious indeed.

missmarybennet

According to Mr. Lowell, the sketches in a naturalist’s notebook should be more about accuracy than artistic merit. It is, he explained, about seeing the world as it is rather than a romanticized version of it. Mary had pointed out that his sketches were both accurate and reasonably artistic (he’d been drawing a rabbit that they spotted by the pond). He’d said it was just the result of a lot of practice.

That had made sense to Mary, so she’s practicing, her own notebook on the table before her. She’s brought a model to the bar with her; one that is much slower and more easily portable than a rabbit. The largish caterpillar is sitting on a square of stiff parchment, eating its way through a scattering of leaves.

Pencil in hand, Mary is attempting to render it as accurately as possible. While simultaneously keeping one wary eye on it.

Just in case it decides to charge.

Botherable.

the_huntsman

The Huntsman has been Lurking. He's uncomfortable here, mistrustful of taking a room at the bar with no means of paying. Most nights he's slept in the woods, in the curve of tree roots with leaves for his bed.

This has left him smelling...well, rather ripe. Not that he'd notice, or care. But at some point, something small and itchy has gotten into his shirt.

He strips down to his breeches, shirtless as he washes himself on the shore of the lake, his clothes and weapons in a pile on the beach. Unconscious of any watchers, he's even singing. He doesn't have the best voice, but it has a pleasing gravelly undertone, and he can hold a tune well enough. Well enough that he's earned ale and whiskey a time or two, for singing just this kind of song in taverns.

[tiny!tag: The Huntsman.

Link goes to his journal, where full lyrics and a youtube video of a randomly-topless man singing a lovely and haunting version of the song. The Huntsman doesn't sound quite as beautiful, but yes. Open to all and sundry.

Edit: and in case anyone needed reminding of what The Huntsman looks like with his shirt off...he's slightly less muscled than the ridiculous specimen of manhood that he resembles, but nonetheless impressive...

Edit 2: Teja thread millitimed to after all the others.

Edit the 3rd: AND WE HAVE SLOWTIME. Post is open until it falls off the page, but I need to fall into bed.]

realmrsreynolds

Come and help yourself!
Scrambled Eggs
Bacon/Turkey Bacon
Watermelon/Cantaloupe
Pancakes
Pork Sausage
Bagels
Oatmeal

Sallie sets out the last serving tray along the bartop next to the dishes and silverware.

What? Sallie had a few hours' time on her hands. Come take advantage.

[ooc: Come have breakfast. Threadhopping encouraged, but Sallie will tag all comers if wanted.]

missmarybennet

[OOM: A visit in March. In which Mr. Lowell makes the case for his own favorable qualities, and points out a few of Mary's.]

missmarybennet

First Jane went off to London, and now Lizzie is to depart for Kent to visit the former Miss Charlotte Lucas (now Mrs. Collins). If it weren’t for the fact that she can go to the End of the Universe any time she wants, Mary might feel a bit bad about never being invited anywhere.

Of course, the house is in an uproar over the preparations and packing, because the excitable Mrs. Bennet could turn a sleepy Sunday sermon in an uproar. And is anyone paying attention to whether Lizzie’s things are properly folded for packing? Of course not.

Well, that’s why one has sisters. Mary may never travel, but by Jove, she can pack a trunk.

Mary comes into the bar toting a basket of freshly laundered white muslin and linen which she deposits on a table with a faintly disgusted noise.

It’ll be quieter working in here.

[OOC: Slowtime on and off today and this evening.]

ikissdhimbck

"What're you — "

With a magical chime, Kate's typical attire is replaced by a party dress, fancy lace choker, and matching turquoise-studded black cowboy boots.

"Very funny, ma'am."

All right, she kinda likes the boots. But she's not going without her guns. It takes a brief argument over a few napkins and Kate agreeing to keep the party attire, but her gun belt eventually settles itself back on her hips.

"Thank you kindly. An' take care of this for me, would y'please?"

She tosses an old newspaper down, folded to a heading just briefly visible before Miss Bar disposes of it.
YOUNGER RANCH
YORKTOWN, TX.
Fine bred horses, stock, pigs, goats.

Happy Milliversary! :)

"Thank you, ma'am. 'Nother bottle of bourbon, an' keep 'em comin'."

A large plate of cookies materializes with her order. Well, hell. Now she'll have to find somebody to share them with.

[ooc: Today is Kate's 4th Milliversary! Open indefinitely, and as the cowgirl is a little drunk (and only set to get more so) shenanigans are welcome. ^__^ Note: All threads timed before the one with Tommy Gavin.]

missmarybennet

Mary comes into the bar from her room upstairs today, wearing a floor length dressing gown and a rather hunted expression (which is somewhat amplified by the way she skulks along the wall, heading for the door to the outside). Rationally, she knows that no one in Milliways will care what she’s wearing underneath—a get up that she had had to confer with Bar at length to settle on. But eighteen years of ingrained propriety and modesty are hard to shake.

Mary takes the path down to the lake where she divests herself of her robe and shoes. She lays them carefully on a rock, and reaches back to make sure her hair is securely braided.

She had found a new book in the Milliways library; a slim volume apparently compiled by experts titled 101 Things Everyone Should Know How To Do. Some of the things the book listed are things Mary already knows how to do (Sew on a button). Others are things that she’s sure she’d be excused for not learning (Operate a computer).

But one of the book’s most adamant passages had been about the importance of knowing how to swim. This is an activity that Mary has never had the occasion to learn, but she’d taken it to heart. This will be her first attempt.

God willing, she won’t drown in the process.

Mary takes a deep breath and wades in up to her knees. It’s a start, right?

cbucsrule

The specials show up on the board the minute he gets there. Bartending's fun -- at least he had fun the last time he was back here -- and if nothing else, he'll have paid off that new set of clothes Bar gave him after his trip to Ellen's world. The last thing he wants is to be known as some kind of freeloader. He's always paid his way, ever since he was seventeen and found himself alone, and there's no reason he'd stop doing it just 'cause he's stuck here.

Tonight's Specials

Easy Action
Between the Sheets
A Goodnight Kiss

The specials make him laugh but hey, they're kind of appropriate and at least they go in progression. He adds one more thing to the board before setting up shop for the duration:

Pyramid advice & info always free

missmarybennet

The Milliways door swings open admitting a gust of cold, damp January air and the sound of bells.

Mary pauses just inside the door in her good blue dress and Sunday bonnet, her Bible and prayer book folded demurely in her hands. She hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and wends her way through the bar. Services are over. She had been on her way outside when her door to Milliways evidently decided to surprise her at church.

A little strange that. A door to the End of the Universe popping up in a house of God.

Or maybe it wasn’t that strange at all.

Mary lays her books on the bar and goes about divesting herself of her winter cloak and gloves.

“Bar, a cup of tea, if you please.”

missmarybennet

Netherfield might be reputed to have one of the best private libraries in the country, but no library, not even the ones at the universities, Mary is sure, can best the one at Milliways.

She’d gone up just to peruse, and come downstairs with an armful of volumes that had attracted her attention. They are strewn out on the sofa that she is currently curled in the corner of. Illustrated Anatomy of the Human Body. Japanese Culinary Arts. Natural History Facts & Trivia. Spiritualism in the 20th Century. Through the Eye of the Hubble Telescope. Upon the Theory of Diverse Dimensions. 101 Easy Craft Ideas.

Several of the books have large, glossy photographs, for which Mary has something of a weakness. Though the one she’s currently thumbing through--Latin for Dummies--does not.

One most certainly must give Milliways credit for alleviating boredom.

the_gene_genie

The door opens.

Then

this

He walks to the bar from the stairs, straight-backed, white-faced. He orders a bottle of good whiskey, and five packets of fags, and turns for a corner booth, one that gives him a clear view of the door. He’s careful not to catch anyone’s eye.

He sits down, lays his things out, pours a drink, lights a smoke. And watches the door, like it’s the only thing that exists. Maybe he’ll get lucky. Maybe whatever’s out there, the faceless, nameless thing that let him be…this – maybe it’ll cut him a break, once in his miserable - ha! - life.

[OOC: Not at all plotlocked! Open indefinitely. But please, only people who won’t give him a hard time. And apologies if he’s not the most conversational. :\]

missmarybennet

[OOM: In which Mr. Lowell returns to London, and Mary Bennet is accused of being a witch in the nicest way possible.]

Mary looks rather at loose ends when she comes into Milliways today and takes a seat at the bar.

Perhaps Bar is trying to cheer her up when it produces a small plate in front of her. A plate bearing an impressively iced cookie; the green face of a woman with lurid violet eyes, topped by a black conical hat. Even to one unfamiliar with commercialized Halloween decorations, there's no mistaking what it's supposed to be.

Mary glares at it.

"I suppose you think you're amusing," she says to Bar.

Bar declines to respond.

"I'm not a witch," Mary adds in a mutter. "Just....resourceful."

missmarybennet

There’s a young woman in a long green dress crawling around in the floor.

Mary had thought to catch up on some of her mending in Milliways, but when she started she’d found that her sewing basket was in more disarray than she liked. She’d taken everything out in order to rearrange it neatly. Somehow—she’s not even sure how—she’d managed to spill the bag of small glass beads that normally lived down at the bottom of the basket.

They’ve gone everywhere.

She’ll never find all of them, but Mary’s giving it her best effort. She hates to just leave a mess.

Botherable.

And please do be careful of the skirts.

missmarybennet

[OOM: When the extraordinary begins to become an ordinary part of life, secret keeping can start to get problematic.]

not_his_pa

There's a new horse around the paddock, not in because the gate's not open but around. William likes the freedom of being a horse, everything's just simpler in this shape.

Since Cubefall's only a few days, he's spending as much of his time as he can outside. He makes for a slightly rangy horse and probably could do with a brushing as he's been in the forest and near the lake but he can't brush himself.

missmarybennet

It's the day before Christmas Eve and the Bennet household is in a flurry of preparation for the twelve days of celebration that will soon be upon them. The kitchen is full of the makings for pudding, mincemeat pies, and gingerbread. The men are out in the woods procuring a Yule log. And the girls are in charge of gathering and arranging the greenery for the house.

The Milliways door obligingly swings open ahead of a cloaked figure whose upper half is hidden behind an armful of holly and evergreen.

A peevish voice issues from behind the branches.

"Kitty!" Mary is walking with the assurance of someone who is certain she is in her own entryway. "Come back here and take some of these! I can't see where I'm going."

Other patrons may want to shout, dodge, or prepare for a Christmasy collision.

missmarybennet

Mary has never been a skilled rider. During her disastrous one and only lesson, the family pony had left her in a heap on the ground and she had steadfastly refused to go near a saddle again, content to either ride in a rig or walk.

But now there’s Milliways. A brave new world full of opportunities, a stable of horses, and an acquaintance with a certain Queen of Ambergeldar who happened to have a well-trained, proper lady’s mount stabled at the End of the Universe, and who had bade Mary to make use of her if she wished.

So, Mary is, at this moment, standing in the aisle of the Milliways stables having a serious conversation with a pretty brown mare.

“Now, Dar, I trust you’ll not attempt to throw me off. Or run away with me on your back. Or step on me. Or shy and jump. Or sweep me under a tree branch. Or do anything that will cause me to break a limb….”

Dar, fully tacked up in bridle and side saddle, is listening patiently. Any minute now, Mary will work up the courage to take her outside to the mounting block and actually get on.

Any minute now.