milliways_bar | Entries tagged with morwen

grumpyseer.livejournal.com

Dominic's good mood has yet to fade in the slightest, as evidenced by his current activities.

I'll bet you didn't know a guy with one leg could tap-dance, did you?

[tinytag: snuggle plot]

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

Telemain hasn't been in the bar in months. Which is why he doesn't expect his door to open to it, which is why he doesn't look up from the book he's reading while he walks, which is why he collides with a chair.

"Oh my," he manages, a few long moments later when it's all sunk in.

dontlooklisten.livejournal.com

This, here? This is what an unhappy Gen looks like. Whistler stayed in the room closest to the top of the stairs last night- and only Whistler stayed there. Suzi's somewhere, he's not no freaking clue where, and Joy stayed with Captain Ryan, so... yeah, we're not looking at a man who slept well last night.

The Bar's trying to at least be comforting, but one can only get so much reassurance out of vintage Braille issues of Playboy when you're straining your ears for the faintest hint of ankle bells.

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

After talking to Dominic the other day, Morwen decided it might be worth seeing whether anything in her own library included spells that would randomly toss someone into another dimension. She hasn't found anything so far, and she's not expecting to find anything seeing as her books don't cover wizards' work, but for thoroughness' sake... well.
At the moment, she's in the bar, at a table, with a few of said books. The cats were getting sardonic.

mendanddefend_archive

Humanoid gerbil
Reading Blake and drinking chai:
A moment of bliss.

* * *

Osaka is out
By the lake shore, skipping stones.
(She's not very good.)

* * *

Tourism brochures
Surround the Guardian as he
Munches on his chips.

* * *

Grumpy oracle
Frowning at his crystal ball--
Something's not right here.

will_scarlett

Will isn't hungover, this is great news, so he spent the day outside working with his sword and trying to will his hands to heal faster.

Now he's at a table with actual food and tea, no drinking for a bit as he watches the Bar go by, looking rested and happy.

Company would be most welcome espcially if you didn't hear any singing or toasts.

(OOC: Mun is back!)

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

Morwen is in the bar, at a table, reading a book.
She's also got some cider (she brought it in with her).

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

There's an inkstained gentleman, writing furiously in a booth. His fingers have ink on them, his hand has ink on it where it's been brushing the page, his shirt cuff has ink on it where it's been dragged. His forehead has ink on it where black fingers pushed hair out of his face.

He hasn't eaten because he's been writing and he looks incredibly excited to be nearly finished-- not even nearly-- here. We. Are.

Yes.

Telemain puts down the pen with a triumphant 'hah' and straightens up for an immediate head rush from sitting one way too long. He looks like he's about to die, possibly. But! He'll die happy.

First things first, the waitrat is flagged for more tea. Someone tell him to take a breath and eat something, for heaven's sake.

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

This? Is not normal.

Telemain has felt himself down, looked at his hands, seen his reflection, and is very, very, very perplexed. Intrigued, and slightly intimidated, because he doesn't know what's happened exactly.

This? Bears studying.

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

It has been quite some time since Telemain was in here, but now he is. Curled up in a seat and reading a book, which he's mumbling about under his breath. Reading certain passages over again.

He was lucky to find this volume, you know. Most of these got destroyed in the affair with the giant and the lake.

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

"Think it'll work?"

"Well, I don't know much about the type of spell - if you want specifics on that, you might be better off asking Telemain, though there's a good chance you wouldn't understand the explanation."

"And, from what I've seen, a good chance I wouldn't have the thing back in time."

"...That too. Particularly if he hasn't found himself a new project yet. Anyway, will power can have an effect on this sort of thing, and it sounds like you'd have no problems with that."

"No kidding."

Angel and Morwen at a table, with special guest Aunt Ophelia (she wanted to say hi to Angel again, even if he doesn't speak Cat). Interruptions would not be turned down.

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

Morwen is in the bar today; there's some sort of argument among the cats that she doesn't feel like mediating just yet, but until she does, working at home will be next to impossible.
So meanwhile, she's at a table, working on a list.

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

(Out of Milliways: In which Telemain visits Morwen's house, in search of stuff for an experiment. The cats don't really approve, but that's business as usual.)

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

The door opens, and Morwen enters the bar, almost immediately scanning the patrons. It would seem she's looking for someone.

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

Here again.

With his head in his hands and his eyes closed, leaning back against a tree out by the lake. Someone's been stretching themselves a little too thin again.

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

Telemain is in the bar, again, no more by choice than ever. This time, smelling strongly of lemon and grass and with bright red stained fingers.

It could be blood.

Or, you know, beets.

One or the other.

the_antiangst

(Millitimed to before this evening's quake.)

So when something's going on and there really doesn't seem to be anything you can do to help, ignoring it (as best you can ignore earthquakes, anyway) is a fair course of action, right?
But still. There comes a point where getting out is far better than denial, and this seems to be it. Besides, Morwen did offer to let him stay at her place.
She's there now, having allowed time for Angel to pack, and... well, there's no time like the present. So he leaves a note with Bar for people (something like had enough of these damn earthquakes, see you soon; given Bar's panicking of late, he can only hope it goes through, but it beats not trying).

And then he's off. He will be back. Considering the alternative... kinda isn't doable.

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

Telemain is in the bar, perched on a stool and looking down at a bucket of soapy water, muttering furiously at it.

It seems to be glowing, at this point.

Telemain, however, is getting nowhere.

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

Walking into the bar, his hands busy tucking something that looks like it might be a bright green tuning fork into the pocket of a long blue vest. Telemain wipes his slightly grimy hands on a suddenly convenient handkerchief before glancing up.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise before his memory is officially jogged, and then a small smile forms. The handkerchief gets tucked away, and he straightens the collar of his shirt and then starts rolling down the sleeves, which he'd previously had tucked up around his elbows.

He knows this place.

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

The front door opens, and Morwen enters the bar, for the first time in a while. She gets a glass of water from Bar, and then something - actually, someone - at a nearby table catches her eye.
It's a gamble, but she's never learned anything by not asking questions, so she goes over and says, "Young man, why are you wearing a skirt?"

And he looks up from the remains of his pasta, and grins, and says, "Why not?"

"...Well, I can't argue with that logic."

So: Two characters for the price of one, at a table. Bother as you will.

dragonvolunteer.livejournal.com

Cimorene's back in the bar with The Aeneid and a fizzy glass of cider. She's rather engrossed in the translation, jotting down notes here and there as she comes across passages she particularly likes. It occurs to her briefly that heroes back home don't seem nearly as resourceful, and seem to do a great deal less thinking than these ancient fellows did, but that thought vanishes, because now people in the story are being attacked by serpents!

Is it wrong that she kind of wants the serpents to win, just a little?

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

Morwen comes in the front door, meaning to see if Telemain's still around somewhere. (And whether his spirit of scientific investigation's had the better of him yet, but don't tell him. He probably knows anyway.)
But first, cider.

bohemian-mark.livejournal.com

Mark hasn't left the bar since he came in hungover a couple days ago. He's rather giving himself a break. Or he's just being a lazy bum. He does that sometimes.
To riding your bike midday past the three-piece-suits
At the moment, however, he's sitting at a table, leaning back in the chair, feet on the table, with a mug of tea and large plate of fries with ketchup, reading a book. He'd be more than happy to share the fries or tea, but the book's rather personal.

not-a-wizard.livejournal.com

And then there was...

...a man. Colliding with the floor in an unfriendly sort of way.

What was a venemous glare gives way to a stunned expression.

He didn't mean to end up here.

ofthisnonsense.livejournal.com

The front door opens, and Morwen enters the bar, a brown cat on her heels. However, when she realizes this is not in fact her back yard, she turns the cat around. "Not now, Fiddlesticks. Maybe another time."
Those who can speak Cat might catch some muttered grievances about missing a new place to explore (that might even have fish, and people willing to share, seriously now!) before the door closes again. Morwen, meanwhile, heads for the bar to get something to drink, and then to a table.
No sense in not staying a while, now that she's here.