milliways_bar | Entries tagged with tavi

There's quite the sound of chatter from the other side of the door when Tavi opens the door. For a moment, before he takes in the sight of the Bar on the other side, his face is markedly neutral in expression. But notice he does. He turns, and the sound vanishes before he gives a wave and closes the door. Briefly he rests his head against the door frame before exhaling, straightening, and making his way slowly towards a couch by the fire.

For all that he's dressed somewhat more formally than usual--there's red and blue silk over a white linen tunic today, and he still has the plain steel circlet of his office--once he's free and clear of the Aleran side of the door, his face is a little too pale, his shoulders a little less straight, and unutterable weariness in his eyes.

As he makes his way over to a couch, he shrugs off the silk, balls it up, tosses it on a pillow, and promptly flops face-down into it. Tall as he is, honestly the couch isn't quite long enough when he's fully stretched out, especially sprawled--but he doesn't seem to care. His circlet is jostled off by the movement and tumbles unheeded to the ground next to him. Honestly, he barely notices his surroundings.

Someone is very, very tired.

student_of_impossibility

“…summarized by tomorrow morning, Ehren,” Tavi’s exhausted voice comes through the door as it opens. “With the individual reports attached—no, no, I don’t need anything, Veradis will be here soon enough anyway.”

When he does step through, taking an extra moment to register that this is not, in fact, his office, Tavi glances briefly over his shoulder before shutting the door firmly and then slumping against it slightly. He rubs his temple tiredly, taking the opportunity to pull off the plain steel circlet still on his head, eying both it and the papers in his other hand with dislike. Then he straightens and makes directly for an armchair near the fire, flagging down a waitrat on the way.

Soon he’s seated in a chair, staring into the fire. The circlet serves as a handy paperweight on the stack of reports he’s given up trying to read, now abandoned on the table next to him, He’s cradling a mug of spiced apple cider in his hands, with a dash of liquor in it because it has truly been one of those days.

Between the very faint circles under his eyes and weary, nearly heart-broken expression, Tavi’s looking a little older than his twenty-five years today.

[[ooc: my milliversary isn't until this weekend, but i figure i might as well post this at the start of the weekend rather than the end. thanks for ten great years so far, milliways!]]

student_of_impossibility

Tavi loves Cubefall.

He has always loved Cubefall, he will always love Cubefall, he will teach his children to love Cubefall. There are construction toys like he'd never seen in Alera, which can do so many amazing things, and he teaches himself about robots and circuits whenever it happens. Cubefall is like being a child again.

(Except for that time he used Cubefall to do some strategic planning for the battlefield. Lego figurines are useful!)

But he admits to himself with some resignation that, with a two-month-old baby in arms, he probably shouldn't be playing with easily swallowable toys. (He also quite thoroughly ignores the screens, because he's busy being a father at the moment.) Luckily, the waitrats very considerately show him to where there are some nice, big construction toys, safe for an infant to be around while his father gets some relaxing play in.

Tavi is so delighted getting to start sharing this with his baby boy--even if Desiderius really isn't actually participating. Still. Baby's First Cubefall.

--

Meanwhile, R2-D2 is conversing quite happily with a waitrat. He is entirely happy with this place and its holiday, although he does appear to have opted out of a transformation. He's an astromech and maybe one day he'll be exasperated enough to try something new, but It Is Not This Day. Still, he is quite happy to help people find the toys they want to play with or even help with building as much as his capabilities allow.

This is a great holiday.

student_of_impossibility

The door opens to the muffled sound of a woman’s voice and the sound of a fussing baby. “No, no, I’ll check—”

Tavi is standing in the doorway, beard neatly trimmed and the light from the Bar glittering off both the plain steel band on his head and his tunic—an article of clothing that is literally cloth-of-gold and covered in gemstones, mostly of the sapphire, ruby, and diamond varieties. He is also, in the arm not holding the door open, carrying the aforementioned fussing infant.

From somewhere behind him comes another muffled comment (’Aleran?’) as he stares at the Bar for a long, silent moment, and then looks down at himself. “. . . What? No, it’s nothing,” he calls over his shoulder absently, then looks back up for another thoughtful pause.

“No.”

The door slams shut again.

About thirty seconds later it opens. “… working for two, just go to sleep. I’ll get him settled,” Tavi is saying as he shoves the door open with his shoulder. Not in anything fancier than (admittedly high-quality) linen, today, and the steel circlet’s missing too. Baby is definitely with him, though, and basically still. He’s halfway in by the time he realizes this is the Bar, and after a visible moment of hesitation lets the door close.

He makes his way to the Bar. “You’d better not mess up his sleep schedule,” he tells the counter sternly. “If you do, I am not responsible for Kitai’s actions. And can you not make a habit of replacing the nursery, please?”

Napkin.

“… Yes.” He smiles softly. “He’ll be very happy one day to be meeting you, too.”

Milliways, meet Gaius Desiderius Tavarus.

idontneedluck

Spring is in the air at Milliways. Literally, if you are allergy prone. Flowers are in bloom, the grass is green, the mud is everywhere, and the demon bunnies are busy ensuring the next generation will be a large one.

In the midst of all of this, smoke wafts across the landscape - bitter with the scent of burning flesh and mechanics, mixed with the salt air of the sea and the scent of sun-baked sand.

Somewhere in the smoke, somehow, between one cloudy drift and another, someone appears sprawled on the grass. A thin man, bloodied and marked with blaster char. A man who, for once in his life, is completely and utterly bewildered. As he lies there, the injuries he came with fade, ghosting away as if they never were.

This new addition to Milliways doesn't have much time to consider his new and much muddier lot in life before he is joined, at not so far a distance, by a second man. A mountain of a man, armored and scarred, the last remnants of the sand from a past life whipping past and disappearing into the grass.

(Tiny tags: Chirrut Imwe, Baze Malbus, Anakin Solo)

(OOC: The boys are going to be investigating the Bar, so feel free to find them there (covered in mud) or out back (also muddy).)

(OOC: Alright my lovelies, we're going into slowtime - new pups are still welcome, and while play may be sporadic tomorrow we'll both be back tomorrow night. May the Force of others be with you.)

childofrebellion

When the door opens to Milliways, Cassian is in his captain's jacket and slightly cradling his left arm as well as carrying a datapad. Outside the door, there's the rumble of ships and the friendly grumbling of workers along with the beep of droids.

As he comes through the door and noise around him shifts, he glances up and nods to himself before settling on a couch that has a good view of the Bar then orders a caf from a rat. He has to put this report together and decide where to go next and he's technically resting his arm, so Kay won't have another reason to complain.

Tiny tag: Cassian Andor

childofrebellion

OOM: 6 BBY, a sabotage mission.

Cassian stands inside the door, adjusting his black leather jacket with his hand resting on the blaster at his hip. This was supposed to be an empty home, not a cantina.

He keeps his face neutral as he enters, staying too long at the door will call attention to himself and he can't risk that, not with his team on the other side. Slowly he makes his way to the counter, listening for Imperial boots and looking for familiar faces.

(OOC: Cassian is from a few years before Rogue One and I'm in chat if you have any questions. Catch him anywhere between the door and the counter.)
Tiny tag: Cassian Andor

student_of_impossibility

Tavi's still in armor when he walks in today--as is usual these days, said armor is streaked by sickly green wax. He's looking pretty tired, too, which is why his first stop is the Bar itself for a quiet conversation and brief cup of coffee.

Then he pops out and upstairs briefly, and when he comes back down he's finally out of armor for the first time in twelve hours, and at least his face and hands are cleaner. He makes his way to a booth, the ubiquitous Papers In Hand. Milliways is rarely a break from work, for him: it's a means to get all his work done without constantly multitasking or losing sleep or food.

Today, though, he's just reading letters and is visibly more relaxed as he starts making his way through a nice solid meal--at least until a very loud "What?!" rings out and then a thump as his head meets the surface of the table.

Someone close enough to listen in might also pick up a surprisingly plaintive, "Someone could have told me!"

It's a Day.

student_of_impossibility

Tavi hasn't been in the Bar in a long time--less time in his world, but he hasn't been getting enough sleep, so it feels about as long--but when a waitrat brings him a napkin, he regards it for a moment before getting a wry look of something almost like relief.

At least Bartending is simple, productive, and not war or politics.

Still, he's tired, so he's going the route of least resistance today--which is why the chalk board now covered in liquid, precise script is incredibly basic.

Specials:
Ale
Wine
Cider (non-alcoholic)

The bread is free. Please enjoy.
Make the bartender laugh and your drink is half off.

There's baskets of bread and plates with spiced olive oil, olives, and cheese scattered at intervals on the counter of the Bar. Tavi himself, still in an admittedly slightly dusty military uniform, has pulled up a chair to sit on. A plain circle of steel is dangling from one of the finials. Getting his attention might take a little effort, today: he's reading and occasionally writing between serving drinks.

student_of_impossibility

It has been quite some time since Tavi was last around.

For Tavi as well as for the Bar, actually--although only weeks for him, instead of months. Still, those weeks made quite the difference, as the Tavi who enters is completely clean, beard trimmed, no visibly healing wounds, and even not in armor. Heck, he's not even in a uniform today, but deep red silk with blue trim (and if it still looks vaguely military, well, habits are hard to break).

He's even whistling a little. This? This is a good mood.

He's idly twirling a plain band of steel around his arm as he enters, carrying a stack of papers, and the moment he realizes he's in Milliways he smiles broadly and walks up to the front for a conversation with the Bar.

Pretty soon he's installed at the end of it, ignoring most of the papers he brought (under his handy new steel paper weight!) in favor of reading and re-reading something with quite evident satisfaction.

Oh yeah, and there's a notice up at the Bar.

Hello, Milliways.
Please enjoy free drinks and fruit tarts for the day.

[ooc: hi all! been a while. i'll be really, really slow because of a larp, but this really did want to happen.]

le_centre

Bar has turned very red today. Courfeyrac had come down for lunch, and received a note asking if he'd mind 'tending later. And of course he doesn't! He's been meaning to give it a go for a while.

But this is not a normal day, and while a small part of him is reflective, even a little sad, the rest of him thinks it's a rather good opportunity to celebrate something that was so nearly glorious. So, he gets busy for the rest of the afternoon. Red flags are hung along the back of the bar. He chalks tiny tricolours around the edges of the specials board, and requests bowls of red, white and blue rosettes to place along the bar-top. Bunting hangs off the outer edge, and music is carefully chosen from the popular revolutionary choices of his day, playing softly from iPod speakers.

Then he cracks out the vodka, and sets to mixing up shot glasses of spiked jelly (he's read about this! Too good an opportunity to pass up!) in the colours of the flag. He doesn't make the cake himself - be thankful, Milliways - but asks Bar. And so, the centrepiece is a giant sponge iced in the shape of a barricade, a blond figure on top waving a flag in one hand, a sword in the other.

(There is also a carefully made hat lying on its side among the barricade furniture. Alas, good headpiece! Sorely missed.)

CITIZENS

Any friend of the Republic drinks their choice at half price.
Cake and jelly drinks are free.

Vive la Révolution!!!

He does wonder whether celebrating one's death-day in such a manner could be seen as inappropriate, but it's his anniversary - their anniversary - and remembering the fight is not something he'll feel guilty for. He does dress in the clothes of his time out of respect, but his cheerful grin is undimmed as he takes his place behind the bar, and awaits customers.

(And tries the vodka jelly. SO GOOD.)

[OOC: Here to celebrate the June Rebellion, and the death of Les Amis! Please do chat and thread hop. Open until no one wants to play any more. <333

ETA: *laughing* Y'all are crazy, and brilliant! I'm tapping out for the night, but will be back in the am to pick everything up. <3]

student_of_impossibility

[Tavi finally makes a decision he has put off for some time.]

When Tavi walks in, still in full armor--and a little dusty at that--he sighs a little. Truth be told, the Bar was not really what he wanted to be seeing right now.

But as long as he's here, he can have the time he needs. After a moment of looking around he nods to himself and begins dragging several of the nearest tables together.

Not long after, he is seated next to it, rubbing his temple tiredly as he stares at a sandbox with some colored sand, which looks rather like a topographically accurate map of some kind. Occasionally he flicks his fingers at it and the sand ripples to a slightly different image.

Sorry if that table you were planning to use--or had just walked away from temporarily--got stolen. The apparently forgotten basket of bread with cheese, olives, and oil with herbs may make up for it.

herr_bookman

[OOM: "We made it to the church that night, and were quickly loaded onto a horse-drawn cart to trek the rest of the eight mile journey to the field hospital."

Warnings for blood, medical details, death. ]

Autor draws a rasping breath as he enters the bar, less a gasp than a whimper.

He’s too tall for his uniform, having shot up a couple of inches since he last saw the bar. His hair is fuzzy under his helmet--and in need of a trim. His face is much thinner, and though he’s gained both height and muscle, he’s wiry, half-starved.

The trench foot-stricken soldier clings to his wounded left shoulder with the hand that's not wrapped up in a sling. He checks the top of the stairs for snipers. Then Autor carefully shuts the door behind him. He swings at it with his right hand, bruising his knuckles with the force of his punch.

Autor leans against the door. The boy cradles his head in his hand and laughs softly, close to tears and still half-convinced that this is another fever dream.

student_of_impossibility

[OOM: There's a lot of rebuilding to do in Alera, and some people's priorities are not aligning with the Crown's at all.]

"...wait here until I’m ready for them." The front door is shoved open. Tavi's voice is hard and tightly controlled as he continues speaking to the occupants of the room he's leaving. "I want them in my office—do I have an office? Never mind, find me an office—before they’ve had time to start digesting. I don’t want them sleeping well tonight either."

With that he slams the door shut before he realizes he is not, in fact, in the hallway in Riva. After a long, slow breath in and out, Tavi stalks to his favorite booth and sprawls as he flags down a waitrat.

"Spiced cider, please, and... something. I don't know. Tell Bar Kitai probably thinks I need feeding, I'll eat whatever she gives me. I don't care."

As the rat scurries off, Tavi bangs his head once against the back of the booth before letting rubbing his forehead tiredly with his palms. And to think that the day only just started.

fluffiest_archadian

[OOMs: Audyne is finally dealt with, shortly before much larger and stranger problems appear.]

It's been a very mixed week.

Sherral looks very, very slightly disheveled as he enters today, although that is probably largely a combination of his hair having grown out slightly longer than he usually lets it, the reddish cut over his eye that the white mages couldn't do anything about, and the fact that he has spent his day hurrying from urgent war meeting to full checks on the defences of the city to further urgent war meetings.

He's just come from one, which is why he's in full uniform, and also why he looks highly disgruntled.

Which is not even getting started on how the several entirely new places have appeared across Ivalice, along with about three dozen totally new species of monster and what appears to be at least one sapient species - although nobody's gotten a good look at them yet, as far as Sherral knows. All, it would seem, out of thin air.

This might actually be the weirdest thing that's ever happened to Sherral.

herr_bookman

Evening mist rises off the lake as a bonfire roars on the beach near the Caribbean inlet. A portable dance floor is set up near it, shined to perfection. A food table groans with the weight of various finger-foods, and music from a stereo system set off to the side blares through the night with a musical selection so varied that--as ever, in Milliways--you never know what's going to happen next.

[OOC: Millitimed to this evening. Thanks to Saph for helping with the setup. Open forever.]

aaaaaaaagh_sky

Things are going on in Philadelphia ~~and the mun will deal with them very soon~~. That is undeniable.

So is the Door, much to Ellen's irritation.

So is the calendar.

"Bar?" says Ellen. "Are there any- I don't know, any history books from my world that cover today, that you would be allowed to give me?"

No books appear.

"How about newspapers or magazines from October of 2077, then?"

Those, she gets: a fairly hefty stack of both types of printed media.

"Thank you," she says soberly, and takes them over to a table, acquiring a bottle of Nuka-Cola a little later. It seems like today, the anniversary of the Great War, is the sort of day when one should familiarize oneself properly with the history involved.

(She's botherable as long as you don't make her spill the soda.)

faithfulspear

The door opens, this time, for an older, weatherbeaten sort of a man, in armor that looks vaguely Roman in style. There's a gladius belted at his waist, at the slight angle that ensures the easiest draw, and he looks, very briefly, nonplussed. This is not what he was expecting, in the slightest, and he pauses to check behind him before coming fully into the Bar and letting the door close behind him.

He squares himself visibly, and drops his hand from the half-made reach for his sword. He hasn't been dropped into an active fight and this is something entirely new; it behooves him to take stock of the situation.

Listening's always served him well. Marcus crosses to the bar -- that, at least, is a self-evident thing -- and sits, negotiating the hang of his sword with the ease of a man long used to it.

the_lioness

Alanna's good mood as of late seems to have taken a hit. Tonight there are shadows under her eyes and a near constant frown furrowing her brow, and she doesn't say much to anyone as she makes her way to the fire with a large mug of coffee.

Queen Lianne's condition hasn't improved. Jonathan is understandably occupied by his mother's side. Worst of all, Alanna spoke with Sir Myles about her suspicions and he agreed with her.

Time away from court, away from Duke Roger, might be as prudent as it is relaxing.

(If one can even begin to relax when one's jaw is as firmly clenched as Alanna's is at the moment.)

[OOC: Up and down this evening for errands, so intermittent slowtime will be needed. Open forever!]

the_lioness

[Sort-of-OOM: Out by the Caribbean Inlet, Alanna and Tavi discuss Aleran victories, politics and news. Alanna also discovers he's well aware of her biggest secret.]

peerless_thayet

There is something very startling about galloping along a coastal road, bent low over a horse's neck, and suddenly riding right into the end of the universe.

For one thing, there are a lot more trees. This could lead to a dangerous situation rather quickly.

For another, when one is a Queen's Rider, one could have been after a very troublesome band of raiders who might now go free.

It could also be very confusing for the other members of one's group.

It's lucky then that the Queen and her riders had already caught the raiders this day, and that Thayet was simply blowing off steam on her way back to Pirate's Swoop. Not to mention that she is experienced enough to adequately slow her mare before they both plow into an oak or get tangled in branches. Once the initial shock passes, Thayet is even pleased to find herself here and canters toward the bar, thinking a drink would be nice.

[OOC: Feel free to catch her outside or in. Slowtimes to be expected, etc.]

student_of_impossibility

Tavi is in full armor when he comes in today (and don't ask what that green stuff smudged all over him is); in fact, the first thing he does is pull off his helmet and pinch the bridge of his nose tiredly. While he does, the Cubefall vidscreen pops up on cue. For a long moment he just stares at it in utter incomprehension before sighing explosively. “Your sense of humor has been duly noted and appreciated. Go away. I will play, but not this game, all right?”

Which is why not long after a table has been pulled over to a booth, and both are covered with bits and pieces of LEGO Mindstorms, with six and a half feet of armored not-quite-Roman fiddling with them. He might be in his twenties now, but the brilliant smile on his face is as excited as any LEGO- and robotics-loving eight-year-old’s. The almost-forgotten plate of cookies next to him reinforces the near incongruity.

Tavi is playing with robots.

Hiding may be advisable.

aaaaaaaagh_sky

It's noon. Or as close to noon as the asteroid on which Milliways was built ever gets. And as the not quite real sun heaves itself to directly overhead, the change sweeps over the building, inside and out. The entire Bar- walls, floor, furniture, everything- breaks out in a profusion of Legos, Capselas, Meccanoblox, and every other construction toy imaginable. And Ellen, who had been doing her best to arrange a dialog with some very peculiar people in post-atomic Philadelphia and now is in desperate need of some Nuka-Cola to clear her head, finds herself dropped directly behind the Bar. A vidwindow pops up in front of him, and in front of every other patron to enter:

Hello! Welcome to Milliways. Today, Milliways marks the Cybertronian holiday of Cubefall, the anniversary of the day upon which the Allspark first landed on the rocky world that would become Cybertron. Would you like to sample some possible reconfigurations? (y/n)

Ellen's has the additional line:

Since we're a bit low on Cybertronian patrons this year, you got nominated to do the explaining.

Ellen would say something about this, but she's got vidwindows popping up in front of her. ( And while some of them are okay she's looking less than thrilled overall. )

"WHY DOES HE KEEP SHOWING UP ON MY LIST OF OPTIONS?"

morecurious

Sooooooo yeah. Skye's life is pretty weird right now, not gonna lie on that one. She's (infiltrated) joined SHIELD as a consultant, for a start. And there was an honest-to-god superhero (supervillain? Superhuman) and a whole bunch of new people with varying sizes of sticks up their ass. You know, SHIELD Agents.

It's not that Skye has a very firm standard of what's expected and what's not expected right now.

What she was not expecting?

A bar to suddenly appear on the Bus.

You've got a twenty-something young woman standing at the door, giving you all the full-on new patron doubletake.

"You have got to be kidding me."

And then she does what any young person of her time and place would do when faced with this.

She whips out her smartphone and switches on the camera function.

[OOC: back room post

I love you aaaaaaall. Quick TV break back soon!]