[identity profile] mononoke-san.livejournal.com
It's the time of year where the residents of Iron Town start coming out again. (They need to collect as many resources as possible before winter really sets in.) It's also the time of year where the residents of Iron Town start hunting in earnest. (Not that they don't do it already.)

Every year, the grazes get closer and closer, and San doesn't want to have to wait until things come to a head; she wants to destroy the town and all of its damned inhabitants now. It doesn't matter what she wants, though. Mother won't allow it to happen. Not now, not until the time is right. She hates the humans as much as her daughter but she knows what the rules are.

That doesn't meant that the humans do.

When San enters the bar, there's blood on her arms, her face, her chest, her legs, everywhere.

(It's not hers.)

She's wearing an expression that says (very well) that she isn't really ready for the bar to appear. As usual, but perhaps with a bit more speed, she makes her way out back, making no bones about how badly she wants to be outside. (How badly she doesn't want to be around these people.) Her brother's been shot and her door's gone (she checked) and there isn't much she wouldn't give just to have things be the way they're supposed to be. The way nature dictated from the beginning.

But it's an impossibility, and as soon as she's far enough out onto the grass, she simply lays down and closes her eyes.

27_53: (Default)
[personal profile] 27_53
Skellig is out on a rock by the lake, standing up tall, arms spread and eyes closed -- letting the wind whip through his fingers as it sends ripples across the dark water. He is wearing a long coat mother said you'll catch cold if you stay out all night and his wings are hidden beneath the worn black fabric, though those with sensitive hearing will catch the rustle of feathers against fabric on the breeze.

He's humming under his breath come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away and he might be shuffling his feet on that rock if you can use some exotic booze but it could very well be just the wind pushing him around there's a bar in far bombay since it appears that his feet aren't quite touching the cold, stone surface.




It's Milliways. Weirder things have happened.



[open for all takers, if my net suddenly bites the dust then slows will be in effect]
[identity profile] samael-diablo.livejournal.com
He opens the door quietly, one might almost say unobtrusively. He looks around - new faces noted with bare disinterest, old ones passed over without greeeting - and by the time he reaches a table there is a glass in his hand. Could be water, could be vodka; hell, could be anything, really.

He sits on the table, his feet barely touching the ground. He hums softly.

Lucifer hasn't changed.

Neither has the bar, he thinks; not in the ways that matter.
balletrat: (Default)
[personal profile] balletrat
[OOC: Post this.]

*Meg and Andrew come downstairs; Meg is holding her right hand gingerly with her left and wincing a bit. Andrew's face is white - well, natural, of course. Meg is injured and the poor boy is worried about her.

Of course.*
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
Brennan comes into the bar and sits at the corner table, carving a piece of wood.
[identity profile] lithargean.livejournal.com
Petrefax wakes up in the booth where he slept last night [ooc: because nobody gave him the "welcome to Milliways" spiel, woe] and looks around to see who else is there.
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
Brennan is sitting at the corner table again, drinking honey-brew and reading a heavy leather-bound book of Homanan politics. Sleeta is at his feet, and the purple glow that had been in his eyes before is gone now.
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
Corner table. Wine. Cat. Warrior.

Story of his life, these days.
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
Brennan sits at the corner table again, drinking Cheysuli honey-brew and reading a thick, leather-bound book of Cheysuli history.
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
Further to this - Brennan is sitting at the table in the corner. For a certain value of sitting, anyway. Slumped over the table with his face hidden, iron shackles around his wrists. He is shaking rather violently, and is just a tad transparent - not hugely noticeable, but upon closer inspection the table can be vaguely seen through him.

Sleeta is nowhere to be seen.
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
Brennan is sitting at the corner table, still a little shaken from seeing an Ihlini here.
the_lioness: (Default)
[personal profile] the_lioness
*Alanna sits quietly in a corner, her back to the wall. A half-empty bottle of wine is on the table beside her. She has been here for several hours, watching customers come and go, thinking about Thom's odd behavior the other night. His blatant disregard had both wounded and infuriated her.

Leisurely swirling the wine in her glass, she bites her lower lip and scans the crowd. For just a moment, she thinks she sees Thom out of the corner of her eye and inhales sharply. She sets her glass down, narrowly avoiding the edge of the table. A large drop of red wine splashes onto the table top beside her hand, and her nails dig into the wood. Swinging her head around, she quickly realizes her mistake and offers a curious customer nearby a thin smile. Returning her gaze to the increasingly crowded bar, she lets one finger slowly rub the spilled wine into the table, staining the wood a muddy blood color.*
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
::walks into the bar and goes over to the corner table he's been inhabiting every time he comes here, looking a little stressed::
[identity profile] giftedthom.livejournal.com
*Enters the bar, looking rather cheerful (as Thom goes). Unlike last night, he is not soaking with rum.*
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
::enters the bar, looking around and cursing under his breath::

'Sleeta, what are we doing here? This is not the armoury.'

Oh? I hadn't noticed.

::Brennan goes over to a corner table and sits down, toying with his longknife absentmindedly::
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
:sitting at a corner table, stroking Sleeta's fur and looking morosely into his wineglass::
[identity profile] giftedthom.livejournal.com
*Enters the bar and takes a seat at a corner table.*
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
Brennan sits down at one of the back tables, looking in a better mood than the last time he was here.
[identity profile] blackcatbrennan.livejournal.com
Pre-Milliways

Half-turned to make sure Sleeta is following, Brennan doesn't take in the clientele and appearance of the bar for a few moments. Moving single-mindedly, he goes over to an empty table and sits, leaning down to converse with the black panther, and only really realises that this is very different to the taverns on Homana-Mujhara when he looks up.

...this is strange.