milliways_bar | Entries tagged with peach

Moiraine is ensconced at a corner table, with a book of poetry lying open before her and a cup of tea at hand.

It is a quiet evening for the Aes Sedai, apparently.

hippodamio

When Hektor arrives in the Bar this time, he is well prepared. His bow to the Bar is smooth as always; it causes a sloshing sound from the sacks slung over his back. "Lady," he says, "I told you I would bring an offering; if there is something you would rather than this, you have only to say, and I will bring it to you next time."

As he is not trying to get the Bar to drink the stuff, the wine-sacks are accepted. Doubtless they will be mixed with water (neat wine is far too strong for most) and added to the stocks here, but he doesn't know that. Neither does it much matter. The goddess, he supposes, does as she wills. As for his part it is past time for supper, and he has been out in thel ands around the city most of this day. Better he should eat here and come in late than miss his supper altogether. He can watch the other patrons, and see who has aged, and who has not.

white_flowers

She's been doing a great deal of thinking in the past weeks, oh yes indeed she has. (And since it seems that her thinking lately goes hand in hand with how hard she works, Magdalyn Simonds has been beyond pleased at the number of pieces that 'Angie North' has brought into the gallery.)

When not working on some hand-crafted piece or another, the woman once known as Blodwen Rowlands has spent most of her days walking the beach by the ocean. She stares out at the waves, occasionally toying with the silver ring on its chain.

Sometimes she sits on a rock by the water, turning a crystal cube over and over in her fingers.

Eventually, however, she arrives near enough to a decision. Perhaps more than one. And so, tonight, she steps through the door into Milliways once again.

She's smiling, a little-- but as for what she's thinking, who can say?

There's only one way to find out.

pig-transcends.livejournal.com

There is a large pink pig curled up by the fire, singing Eskimo Nell softly to himself.

emptiedstreets

"--I DON'T FUCKIN' CARE," Ronan bawls over his shoulder, shouldering through the door without any particular attention paid to his exact location. "DOYLE, YOU CAN SUCK--"

A moment's surprised silence.

"--on me bloody green lolly," he finishes, much more quietly, and slouches towards the Bar proper, hands jammed deep into his pockets.

creator_raven

Things have, perhaps, not been so interesting lately.

This may explain why Raven is sprawled on the couch, idly linking together a series of paperclips.

Somehow there are feathers involved, and what appear to be tie tacks.

Possibly it is better not to ask.

His plate of cookies is empty, at the moment.

The waitrats have not noticed yet.

It is a pity.

foamys-human.livejournal.com

*A bolt of lightning with a head zaps through the door and stops in the middle of the room, dissolving into a large blue man with lightning in his hair and wearing red underwear*

*Freakazoid looks around*

Hmmm, this doesn't look like the Saskatchewan Surfing Festival I was supposed to meet Cosgrove at....

*he looks around a bit*

Oooooh, a BAR!!!!!!!!!! I've always wanted to visit one of those!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*he wanders over towards the actual bar, looking extremely interestedly at all the members of the crowd around it*

doctor-bj.livejournal.com

In a sweatshirt and her oldest, most broken-in pair of of jeans, her hair up in a messy ponytail, BJ is not the sterling image of the soon-to-be practicing veterinarian. She doesn't even seem to realize where she is, with her record player blasting away (Billy Joel - Graceland) and her hands full of a journal article she had just photocopied, she's more interested in the technical procedures of horn repair than in where she is. She was headed across the breezeway to the student lounge, to find some coffee and maybe snag some of the snacks left over from the last rep visit, but it seems fate has other plans.

It always does.

squeakersqueak.livejournal.com

The door swings open, revealing jungle foliage of almost cartoonish lushness, and a young man sticks his head into the bar.

He looks very puzzled. However, if you grow to know him better, you will discover that this is not much of a departure from his usual expression.

"... Huh," he says, with a degree of thoughtfulness usually reserved for intense cogitation on the great truths of the universe.

"I probably should've taken that left back at the waterfall ..."

veryvorkosigan

The front door opens to reveal a darkened hallway, and in steps a woman in late middle age with greying red-roan hair: Cordelia Vorkosigan, in a loose green robe over the grey ship knits she wears as pajamas, frowning down at the book-reader she's holding.

When the sudden noise registers, she looks up in surprise, and turns to look behind her.

Where the door has vanished.

"...Oh, crap."

winged-defender.livejournal.com

Here's someone who hasn't been around in a while: Peach has somehow managed to make a stealthy entrance and is perched at a table in a shadowy corner, happily demolishing one of the chairs.

Also occasionally making car alarm noises. She's really not very good at the whole 'stealthy' thing.

winged-defender.livejournal.com

Peach is unusually quiet tonight - well, okay, she is happily splashing her dish of water all over the surrounding tables, but it's still relatively subdued behavior for Peach. Maybe on a holiday that's already dedicated to burning stuff she doesn't feel quite so compelled to spread random destruction.

Which is to say: parrot, perched at a side table, watching the bar.

winged-defender.livejournal.com

"MAGANDANG TANGHALI PO!" booms a voice from somewhere near the ceiling. "HAVE YOU BEEN TO THE PHILIPINES? WE STOPPED IN THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY. WE HOPE YOU CAN VISIT DURING THE DAY'S ROLLING. LIKE THAT'S POSSIBLE."

No, the King of All Cosmos isn't visiting, it's just Peach in the rafters. The squawking and laughter will probably give it away.

winged-defender.livejournal.com

Peach is currently neither screaming nor breaking stuff, as she is occupied at a table with a plate of chili cheese fries.

...that doesn't necessarily mean she's not happily flinging melted cheese all over the place, of course.

winged-defender.livejournal.com

Parrot, zooming all over the bar at high velocity. She's not being especially destructive tonight, but she is rather more hyper than usual - after the events of two nights ago, she's stuffed back in a body that still feels a bit too small.

Despite the ADD, it's probably possible to flag her down.

river_meimei

River settles down on a barstool, tucking her toes around the rungs and running a spread hand over the bar's surface.

Pauses, brow furrowing.

And then bends over to press her cheek to the bar, half sitting and half lying on it, both palms stroking slowly over the wood.

white_flowers

[OOM: After everything, what remains to be seen? She doesn't know, but one thing is certain: things have changed.]

white_flowers

[OOM: Midsummer Rising.]

Everything is crosslinked within the post itself to events as they occur, but to make it even easier to follow:

It all begins here when Ace encounters the White Rider out by the lake. Matters do not go particularly well. This leads to an immediate response, as Raven arrives to interfere-- and after several months, a choice is finally made.

The ensuing struggle attracts immediate attention from mortals and immortals alike, and what had begun as a battle between two alone quickly expands into a war that threatens everyone, as the Dark comes early to its planned Midsummer Rising.

But when the Dark comes rising, those of the Light will always turn it back-- if they can.

And what comes after? Well, a number of things do, really....

creator_raven

[OOM-ish: In which there is a parliament of not-owls, and if Merriman were wearing a dress the bar at large would have quite an interesting view.]

winged-defender.livejournal.com

Peach inna bar, perched over on the mantelpiece. She's up to the usual - gnawing at the mantel, occasionally pausing to scream obscenities or lines from movies like she's got a serious case of Tourette syndrome.

Someone who's paying close attention might notice that she's keeping a bit closer eye on the crowd than usual.

white_flowers

She has spent the last few days upstairs recovering from her wounds and regaining her strength. In fact, by now the White Rider is bitterly, furiously aware that she will never heal completely. Whitened scars on her hip and ribcage are silent testimony to the damage that Coyote had done-- before she died.

But she had died, and now things have changed, oh yes indeed.

Tonight when the woman once called Blodwen Rowlands comes into the bar, she is wrapped in her now-pristine white cloak, as if for warmth, but the ice-blue, ice-bright gaze is cold -- and challenging.

She settles at a corner table with her knitting and proceeds to set to work, keeping an eye on the room.

winged-defender.livejournal.com

You didn't see Peach here earlier - haven't seen her around since the day before yesterday, in fact - but now she swoops down from the rafters, flapping rather awkwardly. There's a rectangular package clutched in her talons; it looks about the size of a DVD.

"Hey Bar!" she screams, flying over to deposit her cargo on the bar's surface. "Got a welcome-home present for Blodwen Rowlands, when she gets out of the slammer."

The gift disappears, and Peach cackles to herself as she flies off.

OOC: Sad to say, but I've no time for RP tonight - Peach was just here to get that little errand taken care of.

winged-defender.livejournal.com

Peach has invented a new game. It involves asking Bar for cheap, empty shot glasses and throwing them to smash in the fireplace.

The crashing sounds are extremely satisfying, and the glasses are small enough that you're probably not getting sprayed with shards of glass. Much. It's destructive fun for the whole family!

blue_ajah

The Aes Sedai leaves her sealed study once again and glides downstairs into the main bar. As is usual, her demeanor is serene and composed.

As she approaches the Bar for tea, Moiraine catches sight of a sign. Dark eyes narrow sharply as she reads it.

Barely a second later, she is scanning the room for any one of a number of individuals.

creator_raven

Out by the lake, in the snow, someone is making a hole in the air. It widens suddenly, limned in faint green light as a tall black-clad figure darts out of it.

He makes it a step or two before stumbling, going to one knee in the snow, catching himself on one quickly outflung arm. Raven stays that way for a moment, breathing deep, then pushes himself up into a crouch. The cracks in his skin are stark in the moonlight.

He takes another breath, dark eyes fixed on the lake--or perhaps somewhere beyond the lake. Occasionally he shivers.

And gradually the snow around him begins to melt.