[identity profile] not-ho-chunk.livejournal.com
Wisakedjak comes inside from the lake, glancing quickly around the room to see if Raven's there.

Not seeing him, he settles by the Bar with a plate of breakfast.
[identity profile] lore-spinner.livejournal.com
Enter Spider, from outside.

Well, from the shack he shares with Jaybird, who has beaten him here.

Spider does not like snow either. But it will be spring soon, and that leaves time for growth, and that's enough for him.

Like, say, the growth that is currrently extending from his fingertips -- the silken threads in his hands are presently spelling 'SO THERE.'

He's making signs. Or maybe he's just re-read Charlotte's Web.
[identity profile] not-ho-chunk.livejournal.com
The door swings open, and someone who looks, currently, like an elderly Native American man stumps in and looks around.

He has a stick - he doesn't actually need it to walk, but he finds it useful anyway.

After an inspection of the room, he seems to approve. Then he looks round for the other Tricksters he knows full well are there.

Gray Jay has arrived.
[identity profile] no-prisoner.livejournal.com
Eddie, sitting behind the Bar with a Coke and notebook and dusty book closes all three and sticks them under the Bar, tearing a sheet of paper out of his notebook first. He copies his selections from The Barman's Bestiary down carefully.

Happy Hour Specials

Zoo Night! All drinks with animal-names are on special. A selection of examples below:

Kentucky Mule
Goldfish
Somebird
Green Tree Frog
Rattlesnake Cocktail
White Spider
Dragonfly

Nonhuman patrons drink half-price.


"Evening, everybody. Specials are on the board, and as always, Bar does a damn good dinner, too. Welcome to Milliways Happy Hour."
[identity profile] lore-spinner.livejournal.com
There's an arachnid in the bar, really.

He has syntax problems, too.

Sometimes he is an old black man, and sometimes he is a young black man, and sometimes he is a small boy, and sometimes he is what he is right now -- a white man around 26 -- but he's pretty much always an arachnid.

Now he's playing chess with himself.

Do talk to him, he won't mind.
shelley_winters: (Default)
[personal profile] shelley_winters
The door opens and a small redheaded young woman wanders in.

It's been months on her end, and the difference is visible. Her hair is longer, she looks as if she's been sleeping, and the faintly visible freckles indicate that she's actually spent some time in the sun.

Shelley blinks immediately at the change, then smiles - with a slight edge of hesitation, but genuinely as she takes a seat at the bar, ordering a cup of coffee and a plate of paradoxes for sharing purposes.

It's nice to be back.
namo: (Default)
[personal profile] namo
By a window, bathed in the glow of the destruction outside, is a large striped tabby. He is sprawled on a tabletop, comfortable, lazing there somewhere between waking and sleeping. Occasionally, he opens his eyes to glance about the room, their unnatural blue hue disinterested in most.

Námo is content as a cat, and would welcome visitors.
creator_raven: (Default)
[personal profile] creator_raven
[OOM: The Tricksters take care of business. Coyote's business.]

The front door opens, and a remarkably bloody woman storms through, followed by a tall, gangly figure dressed in black.

Coyote is apparently very angry.

Raven is mildly amused. He ruffles Coyote's hair, quickly, then heads for the rafters in a flurry of black feathers.

A few moments later, Rabbit fairly bounces through the door, smoking the last of his stolen cigarettes. Spider is a second behind him, having snatched the second-to-last cigarette, and he considerately closes the door.

The Tricksters have returned.

Don't everybody cheer all at once.
undignified: (Default)
[personal profile] undignified
After this (millitimed to today for great yay!), Wes is still at the Bar, finishing off that whiskey.

And ordering a third.

Mmm... better make that a fourth.

He's funny when he's drunk, and vaping talkative, too.
namo: (Default)
[personal profile] namo
Námo sits by the Observation Window and stares out blankly, his tea and the dish of pasta he had ordered on a whim gone cold. A long night spent staring at stars, coming to terms with many new realizations, and he finds he has little appetite. He is thoughtful, even if he does not seem it, and he would not mind company.
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[personal profile] howling_laugh
The front door of the bar slams open, and a small boy dressed in a ragged t-shirt and jean shorts books it inside. He's dusty and scratched, and looks very angry.

Much angrier than an eight year old should look. Anyone who is sensitive to chaos magic can sense it leaking out of him like a sieve.

He gives a quick breath of relief at the sight of the bar. He has things he needs to do.
[identity profile] la-calice.livejournal.com
He said girls can't be princes.

She said girls can't wear boys uniforms.

He said girls can't play on the boys team.

Girl outside, throwing baseballs to herself and hitting them in graceful arcs into the trees.
[identity profile] lore-spinner.livejournal.com
New people come in waves.

Spider is a fan of waves.

There's a tarantula making his way into Milliways -- wait, no.

Smokeflash. Do-over.

A tallish, blondish man wearing a brown leather jacket is making his way into Milliways.

And blinking.

And sitting down at a nearby chair, taking things in.

Huh.