milliways_bar | Entries tagged with paul schafer

It's been a significant amount of time since Paul was last in the bar.

Even he hasn't quite realized how long until he steps inside, looking around with sharp eyes, and realizes he recognizes almost none of the faces.

(He doesn't see the one or two he might be watching extra carefully for, either - not at this moment, at any rate.)

But when he goes to get a cup of coffee and the Toronto newspaper, a note appears, and something that might be a smile crosses his face before he retreats to a table to glance over his newspaper.

Very few of the items seem relevant to him now.

wolflord_andain

[OOM: In which Galadan scoffs at the idea of not being able to go home again.]

takiena_called

Henry's told Finn enough about Christmas that some of it's finally seeped in.

So Finn takes the stairs two at a time, and goes to talk to the bar about his gifts. (He asks her to give a mug of hot cocoa to Lethe, two of his drawings of the mountains to Rial and Plourr, a "...thing for babies" [it ends up being a small stuffed elephant] for their daughter, and grabs a plate of hot cookies for Henry.)

He then sits and writes a note to the recipients of his gifts (along with Kim, Meg, Paul, and Dan Evans). He stares at the blank paper for a long time, writes Have a good krystmas in a scrawling hand, stares at the paper for several more minutes, bites the pen, and signs it Finn.

Setting the note down, he grabs the cookie plate and a bottle of milk and jogs back upstairs.

[Small tags of winter cheer: Dan Evans, Meg Ford]

wolflord_andain

It's been some small time since Galadan has had dinner at the Bar. He has, however, grown slightly weary of the moors, and the gardens, and the constant presence of servants and children.

Even spending the nights as a wolf does little to quell this burgeoning restlessness.

Something must be done, clearly. But what?

He'll be working his way through supper as he reorganizes his priorities. The Wolflord has some small skill at multi-tasking.

noteful

It's been a while since Meghan has done anything much more than come downstairs, check for a door, not seen one, gotten dinner and gone back up. There's been a lot to think about, and someone she didn't want to risk running into again.

But tonight, she has selected the table that, it seemed to her, had the best light, and has spent the last half hour carefully arranging jigsaw puzzle pieces (all face up, edge pieces to the side, sky-with-clouds pieces in the upper right hand corner, pieces with flowers in the middle, etc.).

Meghan Ford works puzzles like she does a lot of things, slowly and methodically, starting from the edge and working in. But she wouldn't necessarily refuse help tonight, even if you're one of those people who puts pieces back down in the wrong pile. (Though she may move them back where they go, if you do.)

[tiny tags:Meg Ford]

howling_laugh

Well, look who's here.

Coyote is sitting at a table, leaning back in her chair and blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. She looks healthy, and very pleased with herself. Her hair is pulled back from her face, and there's an owl feather tucked in under the hair tie.

If someone were to look at her out of the corner of one eye- there's a funny little shimmer in the air around her. Like heat rising off asphalt in the summertime.

pwyll_twiceborn

Paul is seated at a table in a corner with a good vantage point of the entire room. There's a Toronto newspaper in front of him; if asked, he'll say he's reading it (and he has in fact been skimming the headlines.)

bannion_sight

[OOM: Two sisters talk, only to find that what Wolfe says is true: you can't go home again.]

She'd spent the long train ride back to Toronto deliberately trying not to think, without much success. After it had gotten in, she'd called Dave from a pay phone at Union Station, but had only gotten his machine. She'd left a message in case he was screening his calls -- but he hadn't picked up, and she couldn't actually say now what message she'd left.

It takes her all of five minutes in her quiet, empty flat to realize that she doesn't want to be there. Kim grabs her down jacket from a peg by the door and heads out. It's a short walk to the cafe that leads to Milliways, for her.

Once the door closes behind her, she stops just long enough to pull up the hood of her coat, covering her distinctive white hair, and then heads through the bar toward the far door and the lake beyond.

It isn't Ysanne's lake, but for tonight it'll have to do.

second_sighted

Jordan is yawning as she comes through the door, Benny in tow.

Then she stops, scrubbing at her eyes.

She might be tired, but Milliways is better than naptime any day.

It has ice cream!

She is probably about to head over to Bar to get some.

Hopefully she doesn't trip over Benny on the way.

river_meimei

River steps through the door cautiously, resting her weight hesitantly with each step. She only relaxes when she's several steps into the room -- perhaps because, at the end of those steps, she's still human and not a mongoose.

From the bar, she collects a tall glass of something white, opaque, and half full of translucent balls of tapioca -- coconut bubble tea. Alongside it appears a folded pile of clothing. River blinks at the cloth for a moment, and then makes a face.

That outfit was last seen festooning the floor, after its wearer abruptly became much smaller and furrier. Somebody apparently took it upon themselves to collect and launder it. (There's a chocolate bar in one pocket. This may be what one calls a Clue.)

Grumpily gathering up the clothing, River takes herself and her drink to the floor near one of the couches. She settles down crosslegged, leaning forward to rest her weight comfortably on her elbows and suck up coconut tea and bubbles through the wide pink straw.

pwyll_twiceborn

Several days ago, Paul had a rather interesting conversation with Kim Ford.

This is the main reason he's in the bar tonight, sitting at a table and observing the passersby with a sharp eye. Although the coffee he is currently sipping does play some small role in his presence as well.

bannion_sight

The bruises on her wrist have almost entirely faded now, enough so that they're visible to someone who checks, but still possible to overlook-- or to hide.

Which means she can go home soon, back to Toronto, and not have to answer awkward questions.

Right now, though, Kim's sitting in the bar with a cup of coffee at hand and a notepad in front of her. A to-do list of things that she needs to try to see to before she goes back is half-written.

It's not an easy list to make, as it turns out.

cutting_edgex23

Where has X-23 been?

She might have left, gone back to her own world and returned. She may, of course, never have left. Though since the full moon has come and gone, if she stayed out back, doubtless she slept in a tree.

Twice.

At the moment she's sitting on the arm of the couch, one leg drawn up enough to let her use the arm as a springboard if she has to.

One never can tell, at Milliways.

That uncertainty might be why she's watching the other patrons intently. It may also be due to the fact that X has never met a situation she wasn't entirely socially clueless in.

Go figure.

takiena_called

There are five pictures of the outside in varied locations laying by Finn's left hand, all drawn meticulously and with some talent in colored pencils. By his right hand is a rather larger pile--not too sizeable, but perhaps ten or twelve sketches of assorted places (whether from memory or from sight) in plain pencil.

What he is flipping through now is his sketchbook, carefully noting what sketches might be of use and marking them with one of the strange brightly colored sticky notes the Bar provided him with. He hasn't laid out any of his pictures of people--he doesn't think he's that good at drawing them, and he hasn't exactly asked anyone's permission.

It occurred to him it might be polite to do that, first.

bannion_sight

It's hard to keep track of how time runs between Milliways and Toronto, but Kim tries. When she comes in tonight, the first thing she does is head for the lake door, checking for signs and looking out the window at the sky.

"... no, not quite yet."

She shrugs and turns away, claiming a cup of coffee from the bar and a seat in one of the booths.

takiena_called

Finn is sitting at table in a more deserted area of the bar, though deserted isn’t quite the right adjective for any part of it today. In front of him is a bowl of hearty stew and a sketchbook with several pencils.

(At his side is a sword, but he looks like perhaps the last person to be in a fight.)

He is eating in the careful, precise manner of someone focusing on a task because if they stop paying attention they will make a mistake.

first_of_dana

It's been a long while since Jaelle, former High Priestess of the Goddess, found her way to Milliways. She's been busy, very busy, and there simply hasn't been time. But now, sorting through things in the cottage basement, she decides she needs a break from the dust, and steps through.

There's a long, defiant look at the Window this evening. The End having been prevented once, who is to say it can't be prevented again?

And then she gets wine from the bar, and finds a comfortable chair.

gramarye1971

[OOM by the lake, Millitimed to a few days ago: It doesn't really get easier with the telling...but some people are easier to tell than others.]

It's raining in London, and wet wool is highly uncomfortable to wear for any length of time. So Merriman has exchanged uniform for teaching gown, and has settled into a booth with tea and a small glass of brandy.

He's brought his navigational charts with him, though. The one currently spread out before him is a map of the Windward Passage -- the channel between the islands of Cuba and Hispaniola -- complete with soundings and marks to denote shipwrecks, reefs, and other general hazards to shipping.

[OOC: Semi-locked to those who need PotC updates/information at the moment -- will open it up later in the evening if at all possible. Thanks!]

takiena_called

[OOM: The day after the Black Pearl is taken, Finn finds out (and Paul handles damage control). Millitimed to about three weeks ago]

Finn’s not been around the bar since Henry left, not really. He’s been down a time or two to check on the boat they were working on (he covered it up with a tarp after he finished talking to the Twiceborn) and occasionally he stops to see if Hannah or anyone else he knows that Henry would want him to look out for are in the bar.

The one time Finn left he did come back, just to find the person he loved the most in the world was dead. He doesn’t want Henry to go through the same (if he does come back, which—Finn’s mind shies away from the thought because whatever he promised the Twiceborn they never, ever do).

But today he’d considered his already partially fully sketchbook and a pencil he’d gotten from the bar (he’s been coloring them in later, occasionally, but he’s not very fond of the waxy nature of the crayons Hannah gave him. The sketchbook is more than appreciated, though.) and is now sitting at a booth away from the majority of the noise. He’s somewhat confused by the gender swapping but—well, he’s honestly seen stranger things.

And he’s busy trying to sketch something from memory.

bothan-rebel.livejournal.com

Asyr slips through the back door, brushing a few twigs out of her fur. The forest out back is a very interesting place, though she didn't wander very far in.

It started feeling odd after a while, skin prickling as if waiting for lightning to strike.

That and she got hungry.

This time she orders Bothan food, which she eats quickly before setting herself up on one of the comfortable-looking couches by the fireplace.

Her feet don't quite reach the ground, which is just slightly more vexing than she'd anticipated.

This will just be something else to get used to while she's here, looks like.

There have been worse things.

pwyll_twiceborn

[OOM: In the cottage that will soon be their home, Paul and Jaelle discuss the future and the past.

Old habits die hard, but a learning curve is not, after all, such a terrible thing.]

takiena_called

Finn is restless tonight—it’s not too obvious by his general demeanor (wary, as always, and tense)—but he only settles in one place for no more than a half an hour before getting up and moving away—whether it be out doors (from which he arrives back fairly promptly) or across the room.

If he had something in between his hands he’d be playing with it, but mostly he is trying to reacquaint himself with being around people and really not enjoying it.

[OOC: If your pup is experiencing amnesia, please ping me at TLvop before tagging; your pup can tag Finn from wherever inside/out—he’s all over the place]

wolflord_andain

The trip from the Rim to Milliways is hardly an easy one--not entirely unexpected given the vast spans of space and time that must be crossed.

This is one reason Galadan takes great care to arrive near the forest's edge, giving himself several minutes to recover from the sudden weariness before he heads toward the bar.

Once there he obtains both food and ale, then settles himself at a corner booth, watching the crowd.

There is no true relaxation for him here, particularly not of late, but a change of tension will serve him well enough.

At least for now.

still_golden

Things happened very quickly after the battle at Andarien. Things changed, in the blink of an eye.

And while some things were resolved at long last, there were a few things left hanging -- like goodbyes.

That's been bothering Jennifer Lowell who was. And though travel to and from the land beyond the summer stars is strange and difficult to arrange, it's by no means impossible.

The door opens, and admits a golden-haired woman in a dress as green as her eyes, glancing around the bar hopefully.

creator_raven

There is a quiet thump near the fireplace, and seconds later a tall, skinny man is making himself very comfortable on the couch.

He is barefoot.

Things are more comfy that way.

Also it does not take long for a waitrat to scamper by, leaving a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk in her wake.

Raven is, sadly, sometimes very predictable.

Until he isn't, of course.

It is a thing.