milliways_bar | Entries tagged with matthew the raven

Crowley's in the bar, and comfortably along the way to getting toasted.

Liquid courage, yeah, but there's a delicate balance to be acheived, see. He has to be drunk enough to collapse gladly into bed (without sparing overmuch time brooding about the location of that bed), but not so drunk that he winds up taking a room here, instead of making it all the way back to Mayfair. It's a very fine line, requiring patience, concentration, and experience. And what Crowley lacks in the first, he more than makes up for in the third.

So, demon, slouched in an armchair near the fire, half-empty bottle of Atlantean on the low table in front of him, and morbidly twirling a set of keys with the hand not holding his glass.

last_adam

[OOM: Earlier this afternoon, War pays Adam a visit in the shop.]

*And so it is that there is one Adam. No longer bleeding, but bruised. Nursing something that is definitely not Cider.*

dreams-bird.livejournal.com

Look! Up in the rafters!

There appears to be a bird nesting up there, making pleased tok tok noises while clicking the raven's large black beak. The raven seems to have a tiny chocolate kiss wrapped in tinfoil, picking it up and putting it down in a decidedly gleeful fashion.

... Is that bird laughing?

river_meimei

You'd think, in a bar like this -- full of shapechangers, Slayers, catburglars, and heaven knows what else -- people would look up at the ceiling more. You'd be wrong, surprisingly often.

River's lying on a rafter. Her bare toes are pointed, hands folded just above her head, elbows and brown duster hanging down. Her head is turned, so that one cheek rests against the rough-sanded wood. She's motionless. From the right angle, one might see that her eyes are open, if unfocused; her face is slack and inward-turned, from listening or thought. From any other angle, she might seem asleep.

locks_it_up

And there's Death. Right there. Corner of the bar.

She might be tired, or pleased, or incredibly amused. It's hard to tell. In any case, she's smiling her small smile.

dels-dog.livejournal.com

*Enter a dog. Four paws, german-shepardish, collar. He looks around a bit, then coughs*

Excuse me? Anyone seen a girl? She's got mis-matched eyes, and usually butterflies. Or mice. Or something.

*He sounds a mite aggravated*

lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com

*he fades into existence at a table in the back. It may not be the most normal of all possible entrances, but its far easier on the bar than crashing through the ceiling. An empty glass in one hand, and star-eyes glancing across the patrons*

muddypetticoats.livejournal.com

*Sighing heavily, Elizabeth finishes up the last of her wine. There is no use trying to avoid it. It is time to leave.

She rises, takes one last look around the back field, and returns into the building. She makes her way through the back room, emerging in the bar. Taking out her coin purse, she walks up to the bar proper, and places several gold coins on the counter to pay her bill. The amount next to her name on the blackboard falls to zero, and her name vanishes. It is almost as though she never was there.

She turns away from the bar and looks around, wishing fervently that she would be able to return to Milliways. After a moment, she steps away from the bar, and walks towards the front door.*

muddypetticoats.livejournal.com

*Elizabeth wanders downstairs, deep in thought. Her conversation with Dream the previous day had left her pondering much regarding her family and present situation. After spending so much time alone in her room, her thoughts seemed deafening. Music seemed a welcome distraction, with the added benefit of requiring her to be in the company of others.

She crosses the room to the piano, and seats herself. Poising her fingers over the keys, she begins to play, without noticing the specific song. It is just enough to have the activity. She continues her reverie as her fingers dance nimbly upon the keyboard.*

dreams-bird.livejournal.com

*Matthew flaps in, awkwardly: His landing isn't anywhere near as graceful as it had been the night before, coming in too low and skidding across the floor instead of landing on the bar. He comes to rest next to the piano, wings spread and turned about on his back.*

lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com

*he never left, this time. He's still sitting in a back corner sipping his wine*

locks_it_up

*Death leans against the bar, chin in hand*

Strawberry margarita?

lord-of-dreams.livejournal.com

*once again, he is there. A nod and something of a wave to his Sister, a nod to his Sibling should it be there (and that one more stiff), and he settles back. Outgoing the dead Dream is not.*

The Bar at the End of the Universe

Entries tagged with matthew the raven

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