milliways_bar | Entries tagged with noriko ashida

Crouched on the Caribbean inlet's beach, in the wet sand, is a Noriko; she's got her shoes tossed out past the wave-line and a plastic toy walking along the beach perpendicular--more or less--to the wind. She's just thinking as she watches the oddly insect-like gait, pacing it and watching for the water sloshing up the shore so it won't get swamped.

electro_kinetic

When Noriko comes into the bar today, it's pretty obviously summer on the lovely island of Krakoa: she's in cutoff flowery shorts and a breezy crop-top, rolling along on some interesting-looking skates, one each orbital wheel surrounding her foot. She's a good skater, got good balance and executes a neat rolling twist to stop (impressive when she steps off the platforms and it becomes apparent she's in sandals) once she realizes that the doorway she just passed through was not, in fact, leading outside to the sidewalk.

Well, it's been a while since she got surprised by this place, she supposes it might as well have a use.

She asks the bar for a sterile piercing kit and some ideas on septum piercings as she toys with the ends of her still fluorescent-blue hair. Might also be time to explore some undercut designs again.

i_am_your_host

[OOC: For those following along, the Master of Ceremonies has not been in the bar since having said his goodbyes a year ago.

A year ago, he stepped through his door. A year ago, with the help of his Milliways friends, he finally made his escape.

(Warnings: Violence throughout, lots of gore in the first thread.)]

electro_kinetic

Noriko comes into the bar today mid-shrugging off of her coat, sing-song calling over her shoulder until the sound dies in her throat on what might have been a snatch of melody.

Well. Okay, then, work can wait for a bit, she supposes.

While she's here, she's gonna get something hot to drink, and try to get this damn song out of her head.

[brought to youby the hilarious fact that now this song is stuck in my head.]

electro_kinetic

Noriko comes into the bar today carrying three small plastic cups and a much larger bag hung over her shoulder: in each of the three cups there is a fish, all brightly colored and swimming around and around, taking in their new surroundings. In the larger bag there are several tanks for them: each a hemispherical bubble with an opening in the top, designed to be hung on a wall. There's also the ubiquitous pebbles and tiny water plants, fish food and water conditioner, but those are all things she will handle when it comes time for installation a bit later.

In the meantime, find Noriko parked at a table watching and feeding her new roommates one flake at a time, and contemplating names. (By all means, come help.)

wayward_sun

There's a Devil in the Bar.
More specifically, there's a Devil at the piano.

He's got a drink, that's untouched at the moment because he is playing.
Jazzy improvisations, moving from These Foolish Things to Why Was I Born? , meanderingly.

He seems fully focused on the music, eyes hslf-closed, as his fingers move across the keys.

just_cant_lose

Jim's been in and out of the bar over the last week, in various guises. Tourist, businessman - a normal businessman, in a suit he wouldn't generally be seen dead in - student, professor, regular Joe of indeterminate means.

One day he stops for a conversation with Bar, perfectly polite, after which he takes the remote for the biggest TV and flicks it to a certain channel. A grin spreads over his face, and he switches it off before taking a huge wad of cash out of his pocket and placing it on the bar.

'Put it in your fund.'

Then he goes upstairs, changes clothes and heads back out again.

And now it's today. He appears wearing a suit far more him, the finest cut with the sleekest tie, a crisp white shirt and not a hair out of place, no pretending to be anyone else. He walks with a faint smirk which is nothing compared to the jubilation inside, flicking every TV around the bar to show the same screen. It's a football match.

And then he sits himself down in an armchair to watch. Half a minute, maybe less... and the screens begin to flicker. Interference at the end of the universe, perhaps...Moriarty smiles and stretches his neck until the tendon pops, rolling his eyes in pleasure. Football disappears, the crowd subsides, replaced with a face - his own face - and a single mantra repeated over and over and over and over and over...

Did you miss me?

Did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me did you miss me...

He'd give a lot to see Sherlock's face right now. But that's alright. He's got a very good imagination.

i_am_your_host

The Master of Ceremonies has been busy.

He hasn't been back to Milliways since his New Year's Eve party in Berlin, having stayed behind to tend to a number of things both pleasure and work related. He's taken to modern life well enough, navigating the city on his own, carving a niche out for himself in the community, and even making a tentative foray into social media.

In fact, he's using his phone to post a selfie when he distractedly wanders through the door into Milliways. When the signal cuts off, he looks up over the rims of his terribly cute sunglasses.

"Ah, well it was just a matter of a time, wasn't it?" he muses, wryly amused.

He slips the phone and sunglasses into an inner pocket of his leather coat (still his trusty old one, he never leaves any realm without it) and strides over to the bar for a drink.

electro_kinetic

Noriko has not graced the bar with her presence for a while now, and though ordinarily her stepping in through the front door would mean sitting down with a drink or something, today she has different plans. She stops by the bar only long enough for it to produce several pieces of fine-grained wood and a propane welder's torch.

These go outside with her, and if you catch her out there she'll be very carefully burning the pieces of wood until they smolder and blacken, brushing off the ash with a stiff wire brush. It's a shelf set not unlike those used to display plates in most homes: a long groove cut in the back and support brackets on either end. But this one's special, meant for a particular purpose and so Nori's being particularly careful with it.

Witness the birth stages of a kamidana: or just stand there and watch her burn things, either way.

starrydome

The weather in the Hidden Vally is cruel and cutting this winter and spring seems determined to stay away.

When Elrond walks through the door, he brings snow with him, dusted across his cloak and boots and lodged in his braids.

He brushes the snow off as best he can before he settles down in front of the fire to warm his hands.

guppy_sandhu

There was no January Life Support, given that it would only have been a week after the Christmas one. So today the circle of chairs is back out in one corner of the bar.

And, as always, there is a sign up behind it.

'LIFE SUPPORT
OPEN TO ALL

FREE FOOD
TONIGHT'S MENU:

OPTION 1:
BREADED CHICKEN AND CHIPS

OPTION 2:
BREADED TOFU AND CHIPS (Ve/GF)

MUSHY PEAS OPTIONAL WITH EITHER'

Come and join them!

[ooc: all tags will be picked up by at least one of the LS team. Threadhopping encouraged. Open until the next one]

fry_sandhu

A lengthy discussion is taking place in one corner of the bar, with a couple of boxes on the table.

"You're both sillies." Brooke declares.

"I'm not silly." Fry says. "I'm not being in his debt. I've decided." He digs a wad of notes out of his pocket. "And today I'm paying him back last year's, and this is the bit of it I spent. He won't notice because so much money will have gone out."

"Me too." Coral says. "Not because I'm mad, I just don't want to owe. It makes me feel wibbly."

"Well we're keeping it, aren't we Gil?" Brooke folds her arms. "I don't feel wibbly about anything ever."

"Whee!" Gil zooms around with a cuddly firework bear, having left the box of money at the bar for safekeeping.

"He can decide later, he hasn't spent any of last year's anyway." Coral says. "So can Eddy. Don't tell Wilford, Brooke, you'll hurt his feelings."

Brooke snatches her box and runs off with it outside to light the fireworks. Fry and Coral take theirs over to the bar, and count out the coins and notes. After the boxes disappear, the two older siblings look at one another.

"Did we do the right thing?" Coral asks.

"Probably not. But he probably won't notice." Fry says. He gets a two pound coin out of his pocket. "I've got some change, shall we get some chocolate before we go out and make sure Brooke doesn't set her eyebrows on fire?"

cottoncandypink

There are all sorts of little things about parenthood that nobody mentions. The way everything in the house suddenly becomes the most exciting toy in the universe. The way something goes from being the kid's favourite meal ever to being the worst thing in the world. That moment when you try to send an email from your phone, and it tries to auto-save the draft, only to throw up a storage warning because there are suddenly 20,000 pictures the phone took when the kid got hold of it and couldn't manage to unlock the FaceID...

Yeah, that one's the worst so far.

And it's because of this that Wilford is hunched over by the fire, trying to delete about 400gb worth of photos without crashing his phone for the umpteenth time. While he does that, Michael is alternating between scribbling on the table with crayons and stuffing barbecue chicken down the hollow throat of one of his plastic dinosaurs. That's going to be super fun to clean out, once Wilford notices it.

curlytop

It's been cold and cloudy, and George has been glad of his job at the forge. It's always warm there. Today he comes in from the back bundled in a sheepskin-lined coat. His cheeks are rosy, and he takes off his gloves at the bar.

He gets the now-familiar napkin with his cocoa, and happily agrees.

Specials:

Hot cocoa
Hot tea
Hot toddy
Hot buttered rum

He accompanies this list with a scribbled drawing of a steaming mug, then sets about boiling water and making a pot of cocoa.

cook_the_rude

[[After these OOMs]]

Up over the lake, movement appears in a patch of night, and then two bodies tumble down at great speed, clinging to each to each other as they fall in a rush of northern ocean wind.

They hit the calm, deep daylight lake with a large splash of water, and sink far, their fall broken by the still waters.

They surface a moment later, bloodied, injured and winded. Even if you’ve met him, you’ll barely recognise Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

The man with the deep cut on his cheek, still seeping blood into the water, clinging to Hannibal as he clings to him, is Will Graham.

[[OOC: Warnings for blood, gore, multiple injury, mention of character death, and canon typical violence. Hannibal and Will come in from the very end of their canon so far; everything from here on out is fanon. Still, we will roll with the generally shared fanon / word of god.

Please note that Will Graham’s mun has changed, New player, clean slate. This will be his first time in Milliways.

Not plotlocked. Multiple threads and Millitime welcome.]]

electro_kinetic

January in not-Scotland is...not really Noriko's thing. Too cold, too grey. Too everything.

However, Nori's mutation means that not even weather can keep her indoors and sitting calm for long: early in the morning she'll be found outside in her workout gear, consisting of a tank top and loose hakama-style pants pegged at her knees by wrap boots. Several hours and a couple dozen laps of the lake area later, she's expended enough energy to try practicing with her fans. It looks slow and tai-chi-ish, excepting the moments when she snaps the metal blades open and moves with a ferocity few would picture her having given her usual demeanor.

She's learned to be chill in Milliways. Sometimes.

After that, and trudging indoors for a shower and food, Noriko is back outside with a notebook and snacks, laying out on a towel on the beach in barely-there bikini bottoms. She's doodling on the book of graph paper, working on a design for a table of some kind, making several mandala-like designs and notes for how to achieve them with a magnet and steel ball, and sand in between. Someone wants to upgrade their dinner table. Catch her in either location, though you may have trouble stopping her long enough to talk before food.

cook_the_rude

Dr. Hannibal Lecter comes downstairs, wearing a pale grey, rather unflattering jumpsuit.

He sits in a booth, and orders a rather large breakfast from the rats. Coffee and croissants, shakshuka and pita bread, strawberries and chocolate lava cake, peaches and cream.

After he has eaten, he pays off his entire tab, then opens the door, and slips out.-

[[OOM: Catch him while he is eating, or on his way out of the door.]]

mightbeagoodone

Sherlock is folded up in the seat of one of the booths, working on a gift for Jim.

The traditional first anniversary gift is paper; so, Sherlock has a stack of thick paper with some marbling and a good tooth, a dip fountain pen, and a few pots of ink in various dark colors. He's copying scribbled verses out of a notebook onto the good paper in his tidiest, prettiest handwriting.

There are crumpled papers tossed to the end of the table for disposal later. Nothing less than perfect will do.

electro_kinetic

Noriko hasn't been in the bar for a while now; several months in her world, probably about the same here. She comes in today from the front door carrying a box plainly meant to hold clothes, and sets it down on the bar with a pair of shoes resting on top. The shoes make little bell-ringing sounds every time they shift, which only makes Noriko sigh.

"Can you hold this for me for a while?" she asks, and the box and shoes disappear without much hesitation. And after her own pause she asks for a very large piece of paper, which is taken to a table as she gets to considering it, and eventually folding. The gauntlets are shucked for this, because short as her fingernails are she still needs them for creasing.

Feel free to watch as it takes shape into a condensed set of scales and body, tail and claws and all.

i_am_your_host

When Emcee comes downstairs into the main bar, he is suddenly clothed in slim white trousers and a bright yellow military-style jacket with buckles. His hair is slicked back, and...

What's that on his upper lip?

A mustache. It's a mustache.

The Evil Karaoke Machine blinks on by itself. And Emcee is compelled to sit down at the piano and begins to play and sing.

"I've paid my dues
Time after time
I've done my sentence
But committed no crime
And bad mistakes
I've made a few
I've had my share of sand kicked in my face
But I've come through! "

When the karaoke machine kicks in with the accompanying rock music, Emcee leaps to his feet and grabs the nearby microphone stand.

"We are the champions, my friends," he belts out, strutting and swaggering across the floor with the flourishing gestures of a consummate showman.

"And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions of the world!

I've taken my bows
And my curtain calls
You brought me fame and fortune and everything that goes with it
I thank you all

But it's been no bed of roses
No pleasure cruise
I consider it a challenge before the whole human race
And I ain't gonna lose!

We are the champions, my friends
And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions of the world

We are the champions, my friends
And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions...!"

As the final note hangs in the air and fades, Emcee finds himself standing with his feet planted wide apart, a fist in the air, his head thrown back. Flushed from the (unexpected) performance, he returns to himself-- and he can't help breathless laugh.

It's Halloween. And the Bar has decided that he should pretend to be Freddie Mercury.

electro_kinetic

It's been a while since Noriko graced the downstairs bar with her presence, and today she is outside, sweating in the late afternoon sunlight as she works through several maneuvers. They're half-dance and half something distinctly more martial in style, carrying her and the two large painted fans in her hands through graceful twists and turns, and following sharp jabbing motions. She has two tiny earbuds stuck in her ears playing music with a pounding, driving bass that helps her stay in some kind of internal rhythm.

She's definitely interruptable, just watch where the body parts are going.

just_cant_lose

The door opens to reveal darkness. Smoke. A red spotlight. The stage is just a space cleared between dinner tables, intimate, people transfixed by a couple dancing the Argentine Tango in their midst.

Jim leans on the doorframe, and lights a cigar. It's his first for nearly two years, but it goes with the look - black tux, red shirt, hair slicked back. The music is raw, thrumming with quiet passion, just set to explode. He closes his eyes to listen but it's too hot, too hard to breathe.

'I'll be back in a minute,' he says, in perfect Spanish. 'And I'll say it again - I don't mind learning the dance, but I'm not wearing the dress.'

Sherlock has better legs for it anyway. Jim grins and lets the door fall closed, humming a flamenco riff to himself as he saunters to the bar for a cold drink.

[OOC: Open until the weekend. Here all day, except this evening because IT'S COMING HOME and afterwards I'll be too happy to sit still. Or there's a remote possibility of the other thing, EXCEPT NO. #England :D]

electro_kinetic

Noriko comes into the bar today with a very small pair of shorts on, and a very large bandage over her thigh: she's not injured again, no, or not in the way most people that know Nori are going to assume. It's just a tattoo, covered from the dirt and dust and pollution of the journey home from the artist. She props up her leg on a neighboring chair as she parks herself at a table.

As soon as the plastic wrap is off--revealing a still-shiny koi tattoo--and replaced with a breathable gauze pad, she takes out a book of graph paper, going back to work on a design for a table of some kind, making several mandala-like designs and notes for how to achieve them with a magnet and steel ball, and sand in between.

iprotectyou

Baze skips down the stairs today, in so much as he can skip down the stairs without faceplanting while carrying a cooler of alcohols. Ivanhoe chitters at him, and he gleefully engages in broken conversation with the rat for a bit. After parting amicably, Baze sets his beer behind the bar. Then he places a sign up on the bulletin board:

You're invited to Baze's Midsummer Ice Cream Party! Come hang out at the beach two weeks from today, on Wednesday, July 18th!

That done, he strolls around to the back of the bar to set up for his agreed-upon shift. He brews tea, makes hot chocolate, and writes his specials on the sign:

Baze Malbus' Homebrewed Happy Hour
Dark Side - Stout
Light Side - Hard Apple Cider
Emperor's Blood - Red Ale
Bacta - Moonshine

Non-Alcoholic:
Sapir tea
Hot chocolate with tang bark
Peppermint tea

All proceeds to go to the Joe Manco fund for Bound patrons.

"Happy hour's up!" Baze says cheerfully, and then squeaks the same phrase in Rat, for the benefit of the nearby servers. They might want drinks, too.

i_am_your_host

Unless there is some kind of party on the beach or by the lake or somewhere on the grounds, Emcee rarely ever ventures outside in the daytime. It's just not a thing that he does.

But today, wearing a big, black, wide-brimmed sun hat (think Lydia in Beetlejuice) and heart-shaped sunglasses, and armed with a National Geographic magazine and a green margarita (day drinking is totally a thing that he does), Emcee wanders into the garden to commune with nature. Or something.

He settles on a bench in a sun dappled alcove surrounded by green, flowering hedges. He's been here at night for an illicit rendezvous or two, and it amuses him how pure and pretty it all is.

Anyway, Emcee is reading and day drinking. Botherable.