milliways_bar | Entries tagged with melpomene

Melpomene, ageless (or maybe late 30s, if you didn't know any better), stone-faced, clatters into the bar in muddy boots and a drenched peacoat.

She's bewildered, at first - why here, now, when there's so much to be done? - but quickly finds her way to an armchair by the fire. You can find her there shortly, rubbing her cold hands together and drying the coat on the back of her chair.

All this scene needs is an interlocutor. (That's your cue.)

tragic_mask

When she steps into the bar, Melpomene wears: a leather jacket, a pair of worn-down boots, and a dark frown.

If you know her, though, you'll notice the twitch on her lips that means she's not too displeased.

Before long, Melpomene's reclining in a booth, her boots propped on the table and an unlit cigarette sitting absently in her mouth. She's squinting at a house of cards, fingers hovering over each wall before retreating. (Right now, she's on the second floor.)

Come watch, come build, come give unsolicited advice-- but whatever you do, try not to breathe too heavily.

[oco: open for the weekend. yes, I'm starting the "thank God it's the weekend" party early!]

tragic_mask

Like any hard-drinking bar denizen, Melpomene eventually has to pay her dues. In part, this means tending the bar when she's told.

A little grumpy, Melpomene heads behind the bar and lights up. (What's a proper bar without a fine fog of cigarette smoke?) With her free hand, she writes:

Specials:
Make me laugh, half-off drinks.

... then she presses her hands gently to the hardwood, and watches, and waits.

(ooc: open for the night.)
tiny tag: Orpheus

tragic_mask

Melpomene is slouched in a corner chair with a good vantage point, gazing across the bar every so often, before she looks back down at her poetry tome.

In one hand, she cups a golden glass of Atlantean. With the other, she taps the arm of her chair (clearly more impatient than her dark eyes reveal).

You might want to tell her that the book she's pretending to read? Is upside-down.

[ooc:feel free to tag until it's gone.]

ostro_goth

It is still early in the afternoon, but it is already dark outside.

Teja is sitting by the fireplace, playing a melancholy tune upon his harp.

The cats are casually draped around the chair he is sitting in.

themidnightson

ikissdhimbck

Here's a face that hasn't been seen around the bar for a while. Oh, she's been here; but she's been quiet.

For some weeks, the dreams lasted, and she had been quite vigilant in her search for the prince who called himself vampyr — Dracula — Vlad Tepesh. But, quietly the dreams began to fade, the disorientation and the confusion with them, and she became less focused on trying to discover the 'why', and more focused on other things. Doc's lingering melancholy not least of which.

She's grown tired of taking meals in their rooms, or in the stables when work allows for a break. So she's at the Bar today, eating a plate of fried chicken, and sipping from a cold mint tea. She's wearing a checkered button-up and slacks, but her hat and gunbelt are upstairs. She looks casual today, wispy blonde hair pleated back into a braid that goes well past her shoulders, one booted foot hooked around the rung of her stool.

Could be she's up for some conversation.

[ooc: Open for ages, as I've promised a metric ton of people threads over the last few months. Come one, come all; I'll be here all week. :)]

risen-from.livejournal.com

Tonight, the goddess Aphrodite is playing the part of your friendly neighborhood bartender, and has dressed accordingly in jeans and a deep green t-shirt with a deep v-neck. Her hair (tonight, golden) is swept up into a messy but very fetching ponytail, a few tendrils fallen loose and framing her face.

She heard it's in vogue now to post a specials board of ironically appropriate beverages, and so tonight it says, in elegant and looping script:

Tonight's Specials
Sex Appeal
Foreplay
Arise My Love
Tattooed Love Goddess

Minors
Don't worry, sugar, I can make anything a virgin.

(P.S. Paul Avery gets a free drink.)

Aphrodite leans forward, elbows on the counter, and examines the crowd with a thrill of anticipation.

She loves meeting people.

[ooc: Aphrodite is here! (I know I have a billion slowtimes, I have not forgotten about you!) EVERYONE SHOULD THREADHOP.

eta: CLOSED TO NEW THREADS. I LOVE YOU ALL. ANNNND SLEEPING.]

clear-eyed-lady.livejournal.com

The door simply opens and shuts, letting a young woman, primly dressed, enter. The business jacket and modest skirt are both navy blue, with a school crest blazoned on the lapel. Her hair is pulled back into a neat twist- but no, no glasses. The lady can see well enough without any such thing, thank you.

Under one arm is a book. Gilt-topped pages, bound in blind-stamped morocco, that exudes the aura of rare first edition. Old and well-kept, but it's not hers.

As Athena glances around the bar, the person said book belongs to, from whom she borrowed it quite a few years ago, is nowhere to be seen. Well, that should have been expected.

With an exceedingly faint shrug, she starts over toward the bar.

(New mun with a char that's been played here before- but I am starting her over with a fresh slate. Thank you!)

(And, the mun is off for sleep. Post is open for tags for the next couple of days for slowtimes!)

almosthonorable

[ contrary to popular opinion, crime does pay ]

Ben has an abundance of good cheer that has nothing to do with the holiday season. Which is why, if you plunk yourself down next to him -- or, hell, just wander up to the counter near his stool -- he'll probably offer you a smile, a nod, and even a drink.

Conversation is a given, regardless.

(Which, well. It's up to you if that's a boon or a deterrent.)

janebecomes

Jane had gone home and worried that her mother or Cassandra would wonder about the bandage on her neck but Dr. Cullen did a good job and no one noticed.

Though she found her dreams were slightly richer as if there was something strange and full of passion inside her. She would wake up and try to write them but they slipped from her hand like the morning fog.

When a door to Milliways appeared, she at first hesitated but then went through to order a pot of tea and keep trying to write what she could not quite grasp.

ikissdhimbck

The first thing Kate notices when she steps through the door is the solid clunk of her boots meeting hardwood instead of boardwalk. Closely thereafter, is the realization that she's indoors, instead of out in the sinking Texas sun.

She blinks, taking in the familiar sight of the bar, and then smiles softly.

She moves to walk back out the door, but pauses. Since she's already here, she might as well go check in on Doc's horses, make sure they're being taken care of (she knows they are, but they're Doc's), and make sure all her notes got to the right people.

"Ben, I'll be right back," she murmurs, carefully letting the door shut, and keeping her fingers crossed that it won't wink out of existence. It doesn't.

She picks up her skirts (she looks the part of a real lady, today, hair curled and bonnet tied in place and everything -- save for those cowboy boots on her feet) and moves toward the Bar.

"See? Told you I'd be back," she teases, patting the surface tenderly. "How long's it been?"

'Just over a month,' replies a napkin, and then up pops two other notes. Frowning, Kate sits for a spell to read them and catch up before she goes to check on the animals.

[ooc: Open for the next two days -- not plotlocked or anything!]

tragic_mask

Melpomene is at the piano. She's staring at it like's a foreign object-- perhaps it is, at least for now.

Finally, she begins to play, long fingers put to use (for something besides holding a cigarette). It's a soft, tinkling tune, and it speaks of summer.

As she moves through the song, Melpomene can feel the warmth of music in her fingers. (She wouldn't mind company.)

[ooc: open until it scrolls.]

tragic_mask

Melpomene's at the bar with a tequila when she gets a note.

A few short minutes later, she's behind the bar. The board reads, in careful script:

Specials:
Tequila.
Let's trade stories: tell me a tale, and I'll give you one in return.

She stands back, finishes her tequila, and waits. So, come share a story or a drink with the muse of tragedy.

[open until this says it's not!]

apollinares.livejournal.com

There is dust on his face, in his eyes, in his hair, on his clothing.

(He's spent the past months roaming.

I will remember and not be unmindful of Apollo who shoots afar.

No destination in mind, no end in sight.

As he goes through the house of Zeus, the gods tremble before him and all spring up from their seats when he draws near, as he bends his bright bow.

He just had to go.

But Leto alone stays by the side of Zeus who delights in thunder; and then she unstrings his bow, and closes his quiver, and takes his archery from his strong shoulders in her hands and hangs them on a golden peg against a pillar of his father's house.)

He hasn't been here in what feels like an age.

He doesn't stay inside (he never stays), instead taking the quickest route out the back door, towards the lake.

(He needs the space.)

(He's missed it.)

[ tiny tag: apollo ]

tragic_mask

[oom: you used to be all right
what happened?]

7twistedwishes

The Devil saunters in, smiling brightly: things have been good for her lately, so good she does not mind at all being put into an egyptian-like silk dress and matching make-up and jewelery. Red, of course.

Lets be fair there: she looks great, even more relaxing near the fireplace with grapes and mead.

Jordan Kennedy is less than amused when her overalls are whisked away to make room for a stola, but hey: the change included full cleanup from a day at the workshop, and the garment actually fits right. She can live with skirt-like coverage.

The cybernetic arm stays as it is, perhaps because the Fates know she would react poorly to being refitted with a clanky old mechanical thing. The contrast is interesting, to say the least. If she can talk Bar into giving her a cup of wine, her mood will improve considerably.

Ryu Hayabusa is used to Milliways, enough so he is not startled to be moved from normal street clothes into a toga.

He looks damn good in it, and moves on to the counter to get a drink.

mechanicalswans

[OOM: One commission, two gifts and an unexpected visitor. Small warning for a bit of blood and gore.]

Weyland returns to the bar sometime later, when he has recovered enough to appear calm again, and he carries the gifts he has made up to the bar. It looks like it's going to be another Atlantean night.

He takes a seat at the bar, and waits. There's one person in particular he's waiting for and several others he'd be very happy to see, but really any distraction would be welcome.

[open until it scrolls!]

tragic_mask

Melpomene's in an armchair by the door, gently throwing and catching a bright glass ball. She seems fascinated by it, stopping once and a while to stare at the light through the glass. In one hand, she has a cigarette. (It's been a while, but some things never change.)

[open for the weekend.]

tragic_mask

Melpomene's-- no surprise-- smoking a cigarette over in the corner. However, she's also reading something French with the other hand, occasionally murmuring and making a neat note.

You could ask her what she's reading. Or just ask her for a light. Either way.

[open until whenever.]

yinyangwizard.livejournal.com

Seimei is seated in a booth with a Mac laptop, a paper ledger and a disorganized layer of papers. They range from rather casually written missives inscribed with ballpoint pens on pages torn from legal pads to very formal documents printed on official-looking stationery emblazoned with seals to thick, more primitive varieties of paper written in various archaic forms of Japanese by means of calligraphy brushes.

The Obon Festival starts in about ten days, and just about everyone in the Land of the Rising Sun - including the gods themselves - is busy making preparations.

This particular god isn't too busy for a chat, though.

Current Mood: busy

ps_you_look_hot

There's a man on a couch by the fire, feet up, two books open in his lap. One is an ancient, dusty-looking thing, the other an English-Sanskrit dictionary.

Someone's researching.

[ooc: Recycled post is recycled! Open until his next EP.]

tragic_mask

[OOM: Melpomene's Earth, 2008: Melpomene and Weyland meet up and take a ~~planned~~ spontaneous vacation. It is fun, but there are a few surprises. Well, maybe not so surprising, if you know what these gods are like. Then they go home.]

[tiny tag: Weyland]

ushouldcwhatic.livejournal.com

Johnny stopped by the Bar for some fried paradoxes and a beer. But instead he got a note on a napkin.

"Wait, you want me? Oh, all right. Sure. Enjoy your nap."

He saw about fixing up a sign.

Specials
Jedi Mind Trick
Vulcan Mind Meld
Samuel Adams on tap

Non-alcoholic drinks on request.

Stump the psychic and your drink's free.

[tiny tag: Earl]
((EDIT: Going into slowtime, and sleepier than I thought. Thanks for the threads!))

coreenfennel.livejournal.com

Coreen is back outside with a pillow wrapped in a towel, and a backpack. The breeze is easier to feel, and it makes her feel a little less claustrophobic of her situation. She's really close to the spot where it sends you back if you wander too far. There's a rock she placed there herself to remind her of where that spot is.

She looks at it as she sits down about a foot away from it, and adjusts the pillow comfortably, and tugs the blanket out of the backpack sitting on her other side. There is a few moments of curling up; her skirt green already, so the grass stains don't matter as much before she settles with a book to distract her to a nap.

There is snacks in her backpack for when she gets hungry or thirsty later. She just doesn't want to go back any time soon.

The end of the universe is right.

Tiny Tag: Coreen Fennel