milliways_bar | Entries tagged with rand al'thor

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Standing patiently in a corner of the bar, Rand is dressed for battle. His white shirt is tight, sword buckled at his hip, black pants a little loose for movement, black boots with hard soles. The glow of Saidin is alight about him, and his gaze sweeps the room as he looks for those who are joining him today in the hunt.

He then looks down at the map on the table in front of him. It looks freshly drawn, unlike all the other maps he's had with him recently, and is marked about with red ticks all over the place.

Next to the map is a small note from Nita Callahan, which has been unfolded and read over, then folded again. He frowns a little when he looks at the note, but plans never stay as one wants them to.

[ooc: Feel free to tag, but note that thread is for specific plot; those participating in plot will be replied to first]

nita_callahan

Having to work on top of getting ready for high school is annoying.

And it's doubly annoying when that work is an extremely delicate negotiation of land rights between trees in Central Park that was supposed to be settled months ago, and is being complicated by the sidewalks.

And it makes getting away from it all an extremely attractive, but not very practical, prospect.

So when Nita comes in tonight, she first heads for the Bar and leaves a

( note for Rand al'Thor )

That done, she orders a mug of tea and leans back against the Bar with a sigh.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

It is not usually Rand's habit to actively seek out others in the bar. But he has been doing so quite frequently of late, huddled at a table or at the bar, talking quietly with this patron or that. Word may have gotten around that he's been actively seeking out those who are fighters of any type, whether their method is with the blade, magics, or other forms of combat.

Today is even more odd--he's sitting at a table with a small sign penned up.

The DRAGON'S ARMY
seeks
CAPABLE INDIVIDUALS
to fight against the
DARK ONE
and his forces

PLEASE INQUIRE HERE

Next to him is a list, and a quill pen with an inkwell. He's currently making notes in a small, leather-bound book and referring to a map while he does.

literallyrotten.livejournal.com

Darren Nichols enters from upstairs, looking aggresively unapologetic just in general. Deal with that, everyone.

And down he sits, at the bar, and orders himself some good whiskey. It seems like the day for it.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Quietly, Rand sits at the bar and orders himself a cup of mulled wine. He sips at it absentmindedly as he unfurls a small stack of maps from a leather case that he's brought in with him, most of them focused on a northern mountain range labelled in large lettering as the "Borderlands".

He makes marks and numbers on each of these maps, writing with a quill dipped in ink, and occasionally adding notes to a small journal next to him. Every now and then he stops, and takes a long draw from the cup, pausing the look around the room, dark circles of sleeplessness under his eyes.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Shirtless and covered in a sheen of cool sweat from the afternoon breeze, Rand is outside practicing sword forms one handed. Each time it looks awkward, he stops, pauses, and starts again from the beginning. Progress is slow, but will not move forward if practice is not committed to.

Again, the plain, curved blade cuts through the air as he flows through each movement, working his sword arm to make up for the lack of balance from his other hand.

Thank the light for that breeze.

taishar_malkier

This late in New Spring, the ground is thawed enough for the mud to be subsiding slowly into solid ground, and tonight the moon will be a waning sliver. (Lan reads signs posted in the bar.)

And tonight, he has no Aes Sedai to keep watch over. Moiraine was not in the bar when he entered, and Nynaeve dozed off over her darning an hour ago.

What this means is that Lan has found himself a wide patch of more or less dry ground some distance from the bar door, and is working on sword forms. He's swift, he's tireless, and above all he's sure and deft. This has, after all, been his art and his survival since he was very young.

taishar_malkier

Moiraine came to the House of Arch tonight. She listened to their news, with crisp agreement for Nynaeve's furious snappishness about Zuko, and gave her own in very careful terms. She would be spending the night, because tomorrow she planned to meet with a friend to provide aid for her own world. Yes, Nita fights against the Shadow, and Moiraine believes their causes are not dissimilar; yes, she would be careful as she might, and take no risks she did not believe necessary. As for the danger level, well, the Wheel weaves as it wills, but she would not seek out any it was not necessary to confront.

Nynaeve, having seized upon the excuse to focus on (and scowl about) something other than healing books, was still interrogating her when Lan left them to it. Lan, who has a better idea of what Moiraine isn't saying and how stubborn she's likely to be, went to keep an eye on the bar.

And to think.

It works better, sometimes, to give Moiraine time to reflect on a conversation, and to mull over his own approaches in the meantime.

young_tmriddle

Tom escorts Ingress into Milliways this evening for the first time in a while. They are dressed in wizarding garments - suit robes for Tom and purple dress robes for Ingress.

Why, you ask? Why not! They've been to Diagon Alley for dinner and now it's time for ice cream.

For Ingress anyway. Tom doesn't care for ice cream.

waylostandfound.livejournal.com

Nathan saw the door today, and he headed home shortly after that. Able to take of things. But that was before he headed down to Texas in person.

And everything went to hell.

Sometime later, after they got his brother breathing again, and he was able to make arrangements to transfer him to Mount Sinai in New York for treatment. After the stressful phone calls to his mother, to Heidi, to his staffers to put everything on hold, and anyone he could think to call. After the fruitless conversation with the doctors who claimed that they had no idea what was wrong with Peter.

After all that, and who knew how many hours later, he stepped out of the room, only to reach the bar again. He debated turning around, but then felt he could get a better drink and food here at the hospital. No time would pass. He stepped through the door, wandering in a daze toward the bar to order something.

(ooc: spoilers for "Fallout". It's canon doom time.)

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Still bearing a peace-knotted sword at his hip, Rand sits down at the bar and orders a glass of mulled wine. Awkardly, he pulls two small maps out of a case and sets them on the bartop, using the glass to hold down one corner while his stump of a hand holds down the other. Finally, he pulls out a small journal and opens it, followed by ink and a quill.

Using said quill, he makes a few marks on the map, then writes in the journal, pausing occasionally to drink from the glass.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Something different is with Rand as he walks down into the bar from his room. He's never been visibly armed before.

Tonight, there is a blade strapped to his hip, peaceknotted with a red silk cloth and white silk cord.

He sits unobtrusovely at the bar and flags down the bartender of the evening with his uninjured hand.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Down the stairs he comes, into the common room of the bar, and straight to the bar he goes, passing a bewildered looking fellow as he does. Sitting down, he eyes the surly looking fellow, and reserves making any comment that he'd been about to.

He flags down the bartender with his left hand, then winces, lowering the stump and using his right instead.

evryinchbut1.livejournal.com

Valerie's pulling her hair back as she comes downstairs and slips behind the Bar to write her name up.

Your server is: Valerie

Tying her apron on, she heads out among the tables. Waitress on duty; feel free to flag her down.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

[OOM: Rand ponders what's next]

The front door opens, and in walks a blank-faced Rand. He's standing straight enough, and looks to be carrying his normal mannerisims, eyes flitting about the area in looking for any sort of threatening oddity. But for some reason, his left hand is in a coat pocket. Exhaling in a bit of relief, he turns and motions for someone to follow him.

Shortly behind him comes Nynaeve.

not-only-wisdom.livejournal.com

And it isn't that Nynaeve is hesitant as she steps through the House of Arch painting.

She doesn't even appear reluctant to enter the bar.

But something in her face is just subtly off, set a little harder, a little harsher than usual.

Her eyelashes are also slightly damp.

The pack, too, is new--to the bar patrons, at least, if not to her. The belt knife, however, is not.

It takes her a moment to find Rand, and then she strides stiffly over to the bar where he waits.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

The wheel weaves as the wheel wills, or so goes the saying. And as the wheel turns, the pattern spins, weaving and changing with each passing moment. And sometimes, the pattern shifts in a way that brings stray threads back together again.

Rand steps through the front door, a sense of patient need about him. He looks about, scanning the patrons to see if the person he's looking for is about. Frowning as his search goes unfulfilled, he instead makes his way through the tables to sit at the bar proper.

"Mulled wine, please," he requests, setting down a Tar Valon mark. The coin disappears, and is replaced with a plain cupfull of said wine. He lifts it, not sipping, and looks about the bar quietly.

blue_ajah

The day before, she had received some difficult news. Then, earlier tonight, something had happened that had disturbed her even within the confines of her shielded study.

When she glides downstairs into the bar for the evening, her outward composure is serene and unbroken, as usual-- but the expression in the dark eyes is shadowed and almost unfathomable.

Soon afterwards, Moiraine is settled at her usual table, with a pot of tea near to hand. It is mostly untouched, as she seems to be paying much more attention to the notes she is sorting and the list she is writing as a result.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Rand carries a book under-arm as he walks down into the bar, looking around the usual crowd.

He spies Moiraine, and makes for her table, intent in his stride.

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Thumping down the stairs, a long tube of leather cradled underarm, Rand makes his way to the Bar and quietly asks for a cup of water.

He sips at it, grimacing at the slightly loud sound of the late night patrons. He'd Heal himself out of this headache, but unfortunately, that's not the way Healing works.

Moving from the bar, he finds a table and sets down the glass, proceeding to open the leather tube and taking out canvas maps, spreading them out and using various salt shakers and condiments to keep things weighed down. He sits, fishing a small journal out of his pocket, and reaching down into the tube, produces an ink well and quill, slightly ruffled.

Studying the maps, he begins making notes.

i-martha-adams.livejournal.com

Mrs. Martha Adams enters the bar for the first time in a while. She is looking, all things considered, quite good. Her hair is down to her shoulders again, her skin has the faint tan of a red-head who managed not to get burned (somehow), and she's dressed for gardening.

She heads toward the bar, head high and steps even, with the natural grace of someone who has no doubt about her position in the world or her right to be any place she desires. Her order for food is firm, but not harsh, and has equal confidence. She is, in all ways, showing the spirit that caused once caused a very spiritually little man to consider her as arrogant as the Tsarina walking through the halls of her palace.

mnt_mike

Behind Bar stands a familiar red-headed man clad all in black.
Well...okay, so he's familiar, but not for being a red-headed man clad all in black...but same difference really.

He looks up from the shot glass in front of him, and begins to rant.

"And you open the door and you step inside. You're inside our bar. Now imagine your past is a while ball of healing light.
That's right, your past.
The past itself is a white balll of healing light

I don't think so

This is your bar. Good to the last pop. It doesn't get any better than this
That is your universe, and it's ending one minute at a time

This isn't a camp. This isn't a weekend retreat.

Where you are now you can't even imagine where that door will take you. Only after redemption can you be resurrected.
It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything

Nothing is static. Everything is evolving. Everything is falling apart.

This is your bar. It doesn't get any better than this. That is your universe. And it's ending one minute at a time.

You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.
You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else.
We are all part of the same cosmic compost heap.
We are the all singing all dancing crap of the multiverse.

You are not your bar tab.
You are not the tutu you wear.
You are not the contents of your armory.
You are not your airborne god-like virus.
You are not your White Russian
You are not the ship you fly.
You are not your fucking curry.

You have to give up
You have to give up
You have to realize that someday you might not ever come back.
Until you know that, you are useless.

I say let me never be complete.
I say man I never be content.
I say deliver me from kitchen gadgetry.
I say deliver me from clever art.
I say deliver me from pink skin and perfect teeth.

I say you have to give up.
I say mutate and let the pork rinds fall where they may.
This is your bar.
It doesn't get any better than this.
This is your universe, and it's ending one minute at a time

Welcome to Milliways
If this is your first night....you have to drink."

The board behind Bar proclaims tonights specials to be:

Tequila
Tequeza

And something called...

The Creme of Sum Yung Gai

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Out by the lake, a Gateway opens a foot above the grass. Stepping through and down, Rand quickly takes in his surroundings as the Gateway snaps shut behind him. Intent on what needs doing, he makes his way into the bar proper, and to the Bar itself.

"Mulled wine," he mutters, setting a Tar Valon mark on the bar. Picking up the cup that appears, he takes a sip and sits down, watching. Last he'd been here, there had been much to discuss. Now, there was more still that he needed to know.

too many people so many people who are these people why can't i be with my dear sweet ilyena

Grimacing, Rand ignores the voice, and waits.

blue_ajah

It's amazing how familiar even an unusual scene can become in just a few days.

Once again, the two of them are at the corner table-- Cooper with a clear view of the room, Moiraine sitting nearby, head often tilted as she listens to the wind or to things others may not be able to hear.

Something's different tonight, though. Something's very different.

At the moment, the Aes Sedai has a cup of coffee in her hands and is studying it with a small frown. Beside her, Dale Cooper has tea.

[OOC: It's the third day. Details here!]

flame-and-void.livejournal.com

Shouldering the door open, Rand walks in, casting his gaze quickly about. Finding nothing threatening, he relaxes somewhat, straightening his back and pulling back the hood of his dark cloak. Shaking the wetness from the frayed edge, he walked over to the bar and order a cup of mulled wine.

Turning and looking about the bar again, he spots Moiraine. As well as her company.

Shaking his head once, he steels himself and makes his way over to her table.