milliways_bar | Entries tagged with maya antares

Sometimes, when one is unable to leave and seemingly unable to control his own existence, there's little to do but sit and wait. Today, although it's warm enough outdoors, the fire in the grate's caught his attention. For all intents and purposes he appears to be having a staring match with the flames: his knees support his elbows, his hands support his chin. Around him, the ragged red cloak rustles in a barely perceptible manner.

The days here are long, but the nights... well, the nights are even longer. One of these weeks he'll give in and both sleep and eat. That won't be happening today.

runmakitarun.livejournal.com

[OOM: Those who know Urik Antares realize that any mutiny he leads will be extremely hard to put down. All mutinies have a purpose, and Urik's purpose lies far from here.

But this fight is for the Reds, not Makita. In fact, she'd be just fine if they killed each other off. So in the chaos she makes a break for it.

This mutiny doesn't only belong to Urik Antares. It is as much the property of Sorceress Major Maya Antares as anyone else's, after all. And she will see it through.

Images and text adapted from The Red Star]

The front door of the bar slams open, intense blue-white light obscuring the other side. For a moment a black shape is visible through the blinding brightness, and then Makita tumbles through, bouncing awkwardly on her shoulder as she sprawls out across the floor.

She looks ragged. Moreso than usual, even. Her coat, hat, and face are stained with grime and blood. It's the sort of accumulation that comes with hours of non-stop fighting in close quarters.

The impact of her landing can be heard almost across the entire bar, and for a long while she's too dazed to even register where she is. She just lies where she's fallen, wondering if that transfer had killed them all.

[OOC: Open indefinitely.]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

[OOM: For the sake of our people and our motherland, I cannot return to you.

Dialogue adapted from The Red Star: Volume 1, Issue 9.]

[tag: kyuzo]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

[OOM: Nokgorka is a frozen wasteland; Makita hunts the Red witch, Kyuzo hunts the hunter, and Maya can't let go and can't go on.

And then there is sudden news from an unexpected source, and everything changes.]

[Images and vast amounts of dialogue and inner monologue adapted from The Red Star: Volume 1, Issues 7.5 - 9.]

[tag: kyuzo]

runmakitarun.livejournal.com

An odd sort of calm has fallen over Makita. After a week of crying herself to sleep every night she seems... more alert. Her movements as she goes through her gear are crisp and precise, even more so than normal.

Her eyes keep flicking toward the door, and there's almost an impatience about her. She's careful to make sure she's really prepared, but it's clear she does not intend to linger any longer than absolutely necessary.

It's not long before she pushes herself to her feet and walks across the room: back to Nokgorka.

[Feel free to catch Makita on her way out, she's about to undergo some even more significant changes...]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

[OOM: In the middle of the wasteland, Maya speaks with an angel of mercy. She makes a decision.

Dialogue from The Red Star, Vol. 1, issue 7.]

[Tag: Kyuzo]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

Maya steps through the door. Her stutter-step is a dead giveaway that she didn't intend to be here; so is the state of her uniform. She wears uniform trousers and a black fitted tank top, one that looks more like it's made of leather than cloth. The name 'ANTARES' is spelled out in small, discreet letters on one side; her dog tags hang loose. Her face is pale and expressionless, her eyes red-rimmed.

She looks at the bright hustle and bustle of the bar; the people talking, laughing, leaning in close over tables. She slips through the bar and out the back door, silent on bare feet.

It's blessedly quiet outside, the stars showing through the clouds here and there. She pauses in the sand long enough to roll her trousers above to her knees, and then she wades in.

There's a woman standing in the lake up to her knees, her arms folded and her shoulders rigidly set. The long braid hanging down her back sways in the wind.

[tag: demeter, the russian astronaut]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

[OOM: Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
--Edna St. Vincent Millay]

[Tag: Kyuzo]

runmakitarun.livejournal.com

[OOM: History will one day remember it as the last major offensive of the war, but for those who live through it there is only one thing to remember: death. So much death.]

The Makita who trudges into the bar today is almost unrecognizable as the girl who left only a few days ago. Her clothes and face are still spattered with the blood and grime of days of fighting in the streets, but that isn't uncommon for her.

No, the difference is that this Makita is hollow-eyed, almost empty. Her steps are slow and heavy, her eyes are blank, and she doesn't even appear to be aware that she's back in Milliways at all. A close look at her face will reveal the twin streaks of oddly clean skin running down her cheeks; the path the tears have scoured out.

She's not crying now. She has no tears left.

Makita has been many things in her life, but broken has never been one of them. Until now.

[This post open for days and days as it's sort of important to Makita, and likely to go slowtime since I'm still traveling. But don't let that deter you from tagging.]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

[OOM: Over Bahamut, no one much likes the plans ordered by those commanding the Red Fleet, but the sorceress, skymarshall, and krawl captain on the front lines will make the best of it.

Most dialogue from The Red Star, Vol. 1, issue 6.]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

[OOM: On board the Red Fleet skyfurnace Konstantinov, two old friends have dinner.

Have something that is arguably dinner.

It may be cabbage sautéed in glue. No one knows for certain.]

blue_ajah

She is seated at her preferred table this evening, with several letters neatly stacked within reach.

Only one of them is not sealed and addressed in her own careful hand.

Moiraine continues to write, with occasional pauses to compose her thoughts. As she does, she keeps a watchful eye on the room.

cloakandclaw

[ Outside, by the lake ]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

The atmosphere on the Konstantinov fairly reeks of worry and fear. The soldiers and sorceresses are young; half the crew is new. And going into a warzone renowned for the cruelty and vicious intelligence of its foe, who knows the unforgiving territory and is fighting for his home and his family? The Reds may be green, but they have a right to be nervous.

Still, it's oppressive. That's why tonight finds Maya sitting on a boulder down by the lake; a rock that bears a few faint, old scorch marks. It's a warm night -- comparatively warm to where she has come from, at least -- and Maya has conceded to the temperature by removing her gloves. She leans back on her hands, legs crossed neatly in front of her, and watches the stars.

She hasn't seen as many of those, in her lifetime, as you might expect.

[OOC: Not at all plotlocked, but please ping the multitasking mun at bohemian inuit before tagging? Thanks!]

taishar_malkier

Lan is settled at a corner table -- one, of course, with a good view of the bar. Entrances and exits, and several directions to move in at need; some things are habitual.

He has a couple of books in front of him, which he's ignoring for the moment in favor of nursing his tea, apparently either lost in thought or idly surveying the bar.

[tinytag: assassins, Jo Harvelle]

lasthalfmile

When Dan arrives downstairs, he has a piece of paper with him, and a pen, and stops at the bulletin board to leave a note. He wants to offer himself available for work if anyone needs an extra hand, but when he tries to write, nothing comes to mind. After all, most of the people here are from a time more advanced than his own, and he wouldn't have the first idea about going about helping.

Plus, he's bound, and dead. And broke. His tab isn't very much, and Dan's used to owing money...but he doesn't like it. Not one bit.

Slightly defeated, he makes his way to a tabe and has a seat. The piece of paper and pen are left to the side, and he has a rat bring him a glass of water, to sip while he tries to think of some way to pay this off.

[tinytag: dan evans]

ooc: I need slows, RL just attacked. Hopefully will tag back in the evening.

river_meimei

The door opens before River; she doesn't touch the handle, nor push. (On Serenity's side, this doorway is an open arch between hall and kitchen, the sliding doors recessed into the wall as they nearly always are.) Her fingers drift over the doorframe, the smooth sudden transition between metal and hardwood, as she steps through.

The floor of the bar is awash in water, ankle deep and skin-warm. Her bare feet make soft plashes with each step, and ripples spread.

[OOC: No, there is no actual water; this is an Objects in Space-style post. See the back room post for details, and then come play if you like!]

[Tiny tags: the Pirate King, Bert, Takeru Takaishi, Oz, Charlie Crews, Captain Jack Harkness (1941), Monica Dawson, Jay Gatsby, Cavilo, Shepherd]

howling_laugh

Coyote strolls into Milliways, the sounds and smells of another bar drifting in behind her before she shuts the door. She's still got her helmet tucked under one arm, and her hair falls down her back in a smooth braid.

No fights today, or even her normal smirk. She seems mostly calm and pleased tonight. This may have to do with the whiskey she just ordered, or all may be well in the world for a change.

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

Time gets funny upstairs, sometimes.

It has only been an hour (58 minutes and 17 seconds) since Maya woke from the desert. Her first instinct -- the second her instincts started thinking about things like walking -- was to get the hell out of the bar, but her second was wiser. She couldn't go home looking like she does, talking like she is. She will have to wait.

Maya sits at the bar, her shoulders hunched. She wears the fitted blue-gray trousers and long-sleeved top of her uniform, along with utilitarian black boots. She has a drink in one hand (and she isn't slowly nursing the vodka on the rocks, as is her habit; it's disappearing faster than that) and her head in the other, holding a towel -- dotted with blood -- against her scalp. The braid trailing down her back is a mess. Her face is pale besides the angry red mark across her right cheek, and set, and a touch puffy. Every so often, she coughs.

Her eyes are fixed on a point behind the bar.

[Tag: Thy Kingdom Come]

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

[OOM: Sometimes, time upstairs gets tricky. Maya thinks she has only been in Milliways for one night. One hell of a night.

Text in italics, and all initial dialogue, from The Red Star; Vol. 1, Issue 3.

Tag: Thy Kingdom Come]

steelartisan

[OOM: Some days ago -- look, vague timelines are doubly canon, okay? -- Piotr Rasputin and Maya Antares met.

Different worlds can have a lot in common.]

river_meimei

[OOM: Outside, immediately previous]

It's not unusual to see River coming in through the lake door, wrapped in an oversized sweater and a long brown coat, looking chilly and windblown and generally fairly cheerful.

A rather more unusual sight, however, is the huge black wolf padding at her side. His sable fur is splashed with silver, and his eyes a burning crimson; he paces a few feet from the girl, and very astute observers of lupine body language might note a certain sardonic amusement in him.

River pauses by the bar. She glances at the wolf, who returns it; whatever passes between them, River informs him, "Your loss," and requests hot chocolate from the bar.

A few minutes later, she's settled in a booth, legs tucked under her and cocoa foam on her upper lip. The great black wolf is ensconced under the table, watching the bar.

[OOC: Two muns, two characters! Although one of them is likely to be a lot more talkative than the other.]

lasthalfmile

When the front door opens there is no noise to be heard by the people in the bar from the world which is on the other side. There is nothing to see except for darkness. There is nothing to smell or feel which would give any indication as to where this new arrival is from.

His clothes are dirty. Western in appearance. His hat is pulled down to shade his eyes, and there is grime on his hands and face. He steps into the doorway and looks up...then stops.

To the extra observant (aka, those with the ability to sense such things) the man who walks in, is no longer among the living. He is solid, with no evidence of the reason he is no longer among the living visible.

Dan Evans takes another small step into the bar and then removes his hat. Well weathered hands hold it carefully at his stomach as he looks around.

[tiny!tag: Dan Evans]

OOC: Dan is from 3:10 to Yuma and his entrance is immediately after the final scene of the film. See the user info for more.

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

Maya doesn't know why she listened to the after-action recording, hours after the incident. It changes nothing. It accomplishes nothing, except to make Maya yet angrier. Several hundred soldiers and 'Gorkas are still dead, murdered by the cold, psychotic calculation of Skymarshall Volkov.

She knew, a week ago, that something like this was to come. That doesn't make tonight any easier.

A sorceress-major stalks the shore of the lake tonight, greatcoat and braid whipping behind her in the bitter wind. Her expression is black, her posture stiff and ramrod straight, and once, just once, as she comes to the end of her self-proscribed loop, she throws out a sudden, sharp hand. Flame explodes across the boulder, white-hot and furious -- and just as suddenly, it vanishes, and there is only a tall woman in a long coat endlessly pacing in the dark.

joiningyousoon.livejournal.com

Maya's favorite spot here is out back, by the lake. Even with the days growing shorter and the nights colder, this strange, unfathomable place is infinitely warmer than the Commonwealth of Red States. It will continue to be, she suspects, even through its winter.

The feeling of being warm, really warm, is something of a foreign one, but Maya appreciates it all the same.

To recap: A Red sorceress dressed in full uniform stands outside tonight, leaning against a large rock with her arms crossed and her face turned to the watery horizon and the sky. A bitter wind tugs at her greatcoat, her bangs, her long braid, but that doesn't bother her. There is a lake to watch and stars to count, and both tasks bring more joy than musing on the cold breeze or the tense skyfurnace that she will return to later tonight.

[Tags are very welcome, but please ping bohemian inuit before you do so? Mun is attempting to multitask, and also to make sure that overwhelming doesn't occur.]