milliways_bar | Entries tagged with teja

Ye Baiyi finally gives in to the temptation that has been pulling at him ever since he came here, and wanders into the forge.

There are smiths working there, and one of them, a tall fellow with a large long nose and long curly black hair, does greet him and asks him if he wants any work done, eyeing the handle of Longbei that sticks out from behind Ye Baiyi's shoulder.

Ye Baiyi shakes his head, declares he'd just like to look if he may, wanders around the forge for a bit and then sits in a corner, watching the smiths work.

It's nothing like the forge he remembers, and yet the sounds and smells pull at his heartstrings. Ye Baiyi isn't sure how long he will be able to bear this, but now, at first, he just takes in the atmosphere and thinks.

Teja, the one smith that talked to him, gives him a clay cup of a simple dark tea with herbs at some stage, but otherwise leaves him alone.

[[OOC: Both Ye Baiyi and Teja are available on this post for forge business or general talk.]]

ostro_goth

This Saturday morning, several people are more or less quietly having breakfast:

Teja in motion, with the caption Vesuvius Mons

Teja is drinking tea from a large, handmade green mug painted with blue butterflies, clearly the work of an ambitious child, but made with the assistance of an adult who very much knew what they were doing; people who know Teja a bit better will easily guess that these people were Egill and Pyrrha, respectively. While he does so, he is reading an article on his computer that makes him feel incredibly vindicated. A historian, it seems, had clearly stated that the year the Ostrogoth's final war began in earnest was the objectively worst year in human history. Teja, and all his people, lived through the worst time anybody ever had! No wonder he is a bit grim about it all; it was a time to turn anyone depressive, except such naturally sunny souls as Totila or Adalgoth...

Hannibal from the back, drinking coffee from a thermos

Hannibal from the back, drinking coffee from a thermos

A few tables over, Dr. Hannibal Lecter is eating a dainty Japanese breakfast on a small tray: green sencha tea, a bowl of miso soup, a bowl of rice, some pickled vegetables, and a whole entire smallish smoked fish that Dr. Lecter is elegantly taking apart using only the tips of his red lacquered chopsticks. While he is doing so, he is listening to some music from a small speaker on his table, a little thing that looks both minimalistic and very expensive and that emits, just now, the sounds of a brass band meandering through instrumental soundscapes that sound both meditative and jazzy, both avantgarde and pleasing. Hannibal, in any case, looks very pleased by it.

Drawing of Wen Ning hanging upside-down and grinning

Drawing of Wen Ning hanging upside-down and grinning

Wen Ning is hanging upside-down from the rafters and dangling lazily while eating fluffy wheat dumplings. While he is doing so, two of the forge cats are chasing around underneath him, occasionally jumping up to catch the long dark hair swinging back and forth above them. If one manages to catch it, Wen Ning will give them a piece of the dumpling, which they eat quite happily. If Milliways is the home of the weird, Wen Ning reckons, he'll just be as weird as he wants, for once.

Drawing of Jin Guangyao lying on the floor with a tablet computer inn his hand and a cup of tea beside him

Drawing of Jin Guangyao lying on the floor with a tablet computer inn his hand and a cup of tea beside him

Jin Guangyao is curled up on a fluffy rug by the fireplace, furiously typing on his tablet computer. He has a gaiwan full of tie guan yin Oolong tea beside him, taking a sip whenever he stops to think; the rats keep the hot water (and occasionally fresh tea leaves) coming, and otherwise try to give him a wide berth. Something is definitely off with Jin Guangyao today; he seems to be quietly but very, very efficiently panicking, turned in on himself with silent, furious concentration.

Tang Fan eating from a bowl with his pale green jade chopsticks

Tang Fan had walked up to the Bar ordering "Breakfast, surprise me" and has ended up with a variety of dishes from different places on a large tray. He's sitting at a table now with that tray and his beloved pale green jade chopsticks (one of them repaired with gold), and selectively nibbling from all the dishes, which include:

-- a stack of banana pancakes with maple syrup
-- three croissants and a small bowl of strawberry jam
-- a helping of black pudding, baked beans, fried tomatoes and mushrooms and scrambled eggs, with toast
-- a pair of Bavarian weisswurst with coarse sweet mustard and a soft pretzel
-- and a bowl of Klingon rokeg blood pie.

[[OOC: Tell me whom you want in your tag, or you might get all or any of them. Open until it scrolls off the page.]]
tinytags: wen ning, jin guangyao, tang fan

ostro_goth

For the 13th anniversary of his death and arrival in Milliways, Teja was gifted a manual for making a katana the traditional way.

It was a challenge and a vote of confidence at the same time, and he's been thinking about his connections to the far-away country of Japan that he has developed over the year. His first customer here had been a nine-tailed fox lady who needed her kaiken sharpened, and Ryû Hayabusa had taught him many of their traditions and even taken him to his village, where Teja learned to make mokumegane -- would-grained metal for jewelery and sword decorations.

Now, making a katana following a manual designed for a master smith who knows his craft already -- that shall be his masterpiece, not at blade-making, but in understanding what Japan is all about: - and that is what Abe no Seimei invited him to do, with that gift.

This morning, he is making a start at it.

Nevertheless, he has the forge open for business, and will welcome all and any that might wish to speak with him.

ostro_goth

[[OOC: Zenigata and Lupin tried to continue their canon on the bar roof, ended up in the lemon thyme bush brawling, and then were arrested. You can go and ~~gloat about it~~ talk to them here.]]

tinytag: zenigata, lupin

ostro_goth

[[13 years to the day, a Goth walked into a bar]]

When Teja comes in on his break from the forge-work today and orders his usual lunch of well-watered red wine, cured meat, and coarse Roman bread, he gets a basket of honeyed seedcakes with it, the kind Gotho or Liuta would bake in Gotland, and a message from the Bar on the habitual yellow napkin:

SHARE THESE WITH YOUR FRIENDS -- IT'S BEEN 13 YEARS!

Teja takes the basket with him to his usual place near the fire, and just waits whom he might see to offer them a seedcake. He thinks of that day when he first set foot inside this place, grim and disoriented from his last battled and the wholly unexpected victory-in-defeat with which he went to his death. He thinks about the people who had greeted him then -- only one of them still sometimes comes here. Teja has outlasted so many -- friends, lovers, enemies; weirdness, adventures and great dangers to all of them.

The forge is a constant, his music, and the cats -- who now cluster around him, hoping for shreds of cured meat.

As for Security work -- Teja hasn't had to arrest anybody in years. No more Ramon Salazar, no more Urquhart. The priest hasn't tried killing vampires in ages, and no thieves plied their trade* here recently. Teja almost hopes that one of the newcomers, Lupin or Zenigata, or maybe one of the more excitable mages from the silk-lands, or the broken-minded superheroes will give him a chance to pick up that duty again. The man-made fighters, on the other hand, be they vat-grown flesh or machine, are more likely to just want down-time and a moment's peace, and will not very likely make trouble.

His afterlife remains interesting and promising, even after 13 years.

* No, there is no separate rule against stealing -- but for any professional criminal, it's definitely business from home, and unlike a useful trade like baking or metalwork, this will not be tolerated, so there.

princeinexile

Two men are out at the forge today -- one a little younger than then other -- and so the smoke is billowing. That means a few things:

The forge cats are everywhere. The forge is warm, the extra warm boy is there, and Teja is always carrying treats. This means it's an excellent time to be a forgecat. However that also means you need to be okay with managing the sea of cats to get close to the forge. Hope nobody's allergic.

Zuko brought out food to spread among them, a prince in red and gold and black, out a proper meal instead of scraps. Not that there won't be scraps as treats, but still. They need food, not just little niblets. (The niblets are for later, obviously, with lots of pspspspsps and smiles later.)

Zuko doesn't start with deep diving into the forge, though -- he spends his morning exercising through fire-forms, blazing kicks and fiery punches cutting the air, as a sort of warm up -- after all, he uses his firebending in his smithing, and this means he's got to get his qi flowing and blood pumping.

Teja? He's working, but he's hardly unseen. It's not like he won't come out either - share a lunch, pet the cats, take a break, converse with those who wish to. Sometimes they're together, other times they're not. Just another regular day at the forge, after all.

[ Specify if you want one or the other, or both, in your tag! Mingling might happen if you want it to!]

5ame_heart

[OOM: CT-45-5585 | CT-85-9449 | CT-15-4968 | CT-44-0473 | CT-94-5580 | CT-26-3160 | CT-48-2586 | CT-92-4102 | CT-16-5077 | CT-52-4797 | CT-82-2020]

The door opens on a flurry of ice air and angry snowfall, letting in Fives and a small snowdrift before he can heave it shut.

At least, it's probably Fives. His helmet and shoulder don't have their usual artwork on today, because he isn't wearing his usual armor, but cold weather specialist gear that doesn't get used often enough to bother customising.

It's also not as protective as his usual armor, as can be assumed from the foot-long length of partial spear and the growing patches of red both around that and on one of his arms.

He limps determinedly towards the bar, picks up a few bacta patches in his good hand, and on to the infirmary.

It saves Kix having to worry about him anyway.

ostro_goth

There is quite a number of cats and the occasional not!cat living in Milliways; most of them are quite friendly and will approach people unafraid. So, this morning, both Teja's forge cats and the cats living with Bodhi Rook and Galen Erso are strolling around the grounds, angling for food and scritches, playtime and attention in general.

There is Count, a small grey male cat, lying in the sun by the door to the forge. Behind him, in the forge, his human, Teja, is sitting at the workbench very intent on working on something very small and golden.
Kitty is the tabby female, and she's hunting demon bunnies in the forest, near the chapel that Javert built, years ago. Father Harman, back in Milliways after a long absence, is sweeping out the dead leaves of yesteryear, and observing the cat while he does so. This is still not a job for a highly professional Jesuit vampire hunter, but Harman takes this as downtime; it's peaceful, meditative, and will not involve carbon bullet or allicin grenades.
Myrrh is a small black female who usually lives with Bodhi and Galen but today has attached herself to Wen Ning, who looks like a zombie that could kill you, but is actually an utter cinnamon roll, and Myrrh of course has realised that. Wen Ning is sitting on a small wooden pier at the lake shore, fishing peacefully with a simple rod -- with quite some success, and Myrrh gratefully accepts the spoils coming to her.
Not far from her, though, there's her human Galen Erso tending to the crystals that help irrigate the herb garden; by his side is his red tomcat Kyber who's catching butterflies among the cilantro and the chili plants.
The laziest and least offensive of the cats is Ferdinand, a white-and-tabby male who just likes to sleep in the sun. He's doing so on the table by the potting shed, where another human whose face is the same as Galen Erso's but otherwise utterly unlike him (sharp, well-dressed, orderly, contained and enigmatic instead of sloppy, open, bearded and friendly like Galen) is sitting tying herbs into little bundles to dry. This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and despite the similarity, it's impossible to take him for Galen, or the other way around.
One cat is all by herself by the back door of the bar itself, licking her paws and blinking up at the sun. She's small and black as well, but has a crescent-shaped white mark on her chest. This is Nahts, the youngest of all these cats.

[[OOC: Tag a cat to get the human attached to them, or tag the human directly. Nahts might lead you anywhere...]]
tinytag: wen ning

ostro_goth

Among the people busy outside the back door of Milliways this morning are:

Teja, who is on the sparring grounds going through some exercises that he has been doing for years, ever since Ryû Hayabusa taught him, and it shows; the movements are smooth and unthinking, a silent dance at sunrise;
Dr. Hannibal Lecter, selecting some herbs and tomatoes in the kitchen garden to make breakfast with; he goes about it very slowly, considering each fruit, each leaf before selecting and picking it;
Wen Ning, not far away at the potting shed, sitting outside going through seed packages, peering at the pictures and the writing. He has a few blank index cards from the library, and a very miraculous brush that will keep writing without an inkstone, and is copying information off the back of some of the packages.

Each of them is quite likely to welcome company or talk about what they are doing.

[[OOC: Open until it scrolls -- say in your tag whom you want.]]

i_am_your_host

[OOM: Emcee and Eric re-establish their arrangement. (Still in progress; warnings for sex and vampirism.)]

This evening, Emcee orders far more food than is possible for only one person to consume. In fact, the spread that he sets out on a large table is a veritable buffet.

The main plate is a dish of bite-sized sausages, including bratwurst, knackwurst, weisswurst, and for the brave, blutwurst (a separate dish labeled "Vegetarian" contains an assortment of similarly flavored meat-substitute sausages). Accompanying dishes contain sides of sauerkraut, red cabbage, potato latkes, and pickle spears. There are blocks of cheese, such as Rauchkäse, Butterkäse, and Limburger, and more familiar ones like Swiss, Edam, and cheddar. Among the crackers and slices of rye bread, there are baked pretzels, to be slathered with mustard. In the center of the table is a bucket filled with bottles of German beer, surrounded by empty glass steins if drinking from a mug instead of guzzling from a bottle is more to one's taste.

It's Oktoberfest back home, and Emcee is feeling the vibes, as the modern kids say.

Come join him.

ostro_goth

They're all there:

Teja, in the forge, sharpening a sahs;
Ragnar, by the stables, feeding the goats;
Father Harman, on the steps of Javert's little church, taking out wilted flowers;
Hannibal Lecter, in the herb garden by the kitchen's back door, picking basil;
Galen Erso, by the door of the greenhouse, sorting through a mess of crystals and wires;
Lady Margolotta, in the darkest corner of the bar, knitting baby shoes.

i_am_your_host

While the adult is away, the child will play.

A boy comes into the bar, ten years old or so, though he looks quite younger due to his slight frame and elfin features. He is wearing short wool trousers and a hand-me-down schoolboy's jacket. His boots are battered, but still holding together, and his socks come up to his knees. A floppy, flat cap that he hasn't grown into yet sits on a head of jet black hair.

He's been here before. The memory of this place had faded away, like a distant dream -- perhaps it is still a dream -- but he knows where he is, and he smiles secretly to himself.

When he makes his way to the counter, he is greeted with a plate of cookies, a glass of milk, and a 1910 issue of National Geographic magazine in German.

"Danke, Frau Bar," he says politely, and he takes his treats with him over to the fireplace. After setting everything down on the coffee table, he sits cross-legged on the floor and opens the magazine on his lap. As an afterthought, he pulls the cap off his head. He keeps forgetting to do that when he's indoors.

ostro_goth

It's Saturday around lunchtime, cats are all over the place and people are doing, mostly, what you'd expect them to do:

Teja's in the forge, working on an axe-blade, his hammer ringing while he sings a war-like ballad to which Egil, sitting by the door in his human form, is listening to with fascination while he throws a catnip ball for the little grey cat Count, who keeps bringing it back again and again, rather like a dog playing fetch. Which he would totally deny doing, of course. He's a cat.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter is sitting outside the kitchen door, de-boning chicken legs. Occasionally, he may drop a shred of sinew for the white-and-tabby cat who's skulking around among the herbs.
Father Pearse Harman is sweeping out the church and putting up palm branches for the Palm Sunday service tomorrow. He's quietly wondering to himself how he ended up with such a calmly parochial vacation reality while trying to keep the tabby cat that's been following him from pouncing on and shredding the greenery.
Galen Erso is in the garden, putting up an array of tubes, solar panels, crystals and wires around some newly planted vegetable and herb patches. The little black cat in the hood of his jumper hangs on as if by some special cat magic, sleeping even while he moves around. He's careful, of course.
Ragnar Lothbrok is out by the goat pen, meeting this year's newest arrivals, still small and sweet. It's an impressive herd they have now, enough to start some serious goat cheese business later in the season. There's a big red cat sitting on the fence, probably hoping for spilled milk at some stage.
Inside the bar, Lady Margolotta is knitting and drinking cocoa in a dark corner, sheltered from all sunlight. The young black cat with the white patch on her chest would never dare grab and chase the ball of wool moving around the basket by Margolotta's feet -- would she?

[[OOC: Back after an overdose of RL -- please say in your tag who you want, or you might get anybody.]]

cook_the_rude

It's an unusually fine November morning, the fog has vanished under the rising sun, trees in the forest are gleaming copper and gold, the air is crisp but not cold. Several people are already outside, among them:

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, carefully cutting off some of the last annual kitchen herbs to be dried;
Galen Erso, who is slowly disassembling parts of his irrigation system from Bodhi's garden, to be cleaned and put back in after the winter:
Teja, putting in a new window in the forge instead of the rough boards he'd closed the window up with after it had been broken;
Father Pearse Harman, who is cleaning the brass parts on the church door while quietly humming show tunes to himself;
and finally Alex Vause, running slow laps around the lake just because she can.

[[OOC: The usual: -- say in your tag whom you want; otherwise, you might get any one, or several in succession.]]

cook_the_rude

These things happen more or less simultaneously:

Dr. Hannibal Lecter enters the bar from the kitchen, bearing a small tray of autumnal themed cupcakes;
Teja comes in from the back, talking to little Egil, and followed by four cats who hope for a late breakfast, which is provided in the shape of tea, bread, and smoked fish for humans and cats alike;
Galen Erso emerges from the elevator to the garage, smudged, animated and followed by merely two cats, for whom he orders tuna immediately along with his own caf;
the door opens and in walks Ragnar Lothbrok, groaning and flapping his hands irritatedly at whatever he is leaving behind beyond the door before he realises where he is, and orders beer and a pizza;
Father Pearse Harman walks down the stairs, carrying papers and a boxy laptop computer while politely asking the first rat he encounters to provide him with a pot of tea and some biscuits.

[[OOC: Say in your tag whom you want, or you might get anybody.]]

ostro_goth

In the bar today, you find:

a wind turbine engineer who had recently moonlighted as sea rescue volunteer, now carefully arranging a breakfast for two on a tray;
a metal musician who walks in from the the door, followed by a grey cat, to sit down by the fireplace, order a craft beer, and start trying out cords on his guitar:
a vampire in a long black coat, shielding himself from the sunlight by standing calmly in a dark corner;
a biker in full leathers and cut-off vest, leaning against the bar with a beer and listening to the music;
a dark-haired woman in ca. 1910 clothes, folding suffragette pamphlets at a table right next to the window, the sun warm on her hands;
an FBI consultant who steps in from a hot and humid place that stinks of stagnant waters, and sighs with relief upon seeing Milliways.

They are all basically friendly and approachable people, even though you might want to be wary with the vampire.

[[OOC: Teja and Count are alive and don't live in Milliways; Hannibal is from this amazing fanfic. Please say in your tag whom you want, or you might get whoever is just logged in.]]

galen_erso

This morning, several people are going about their business outside the bar, among them:

Teja, who is sharpening a sword in front of the forge,
Father Harman, who is carrying a basket of papers to the church,
Hannibal Lecter, who is preparing a barbecue pit,
Galen Erso, who is tinkering with some pipes in Bodhi's herb garden,
Ragnar Lothbrok, who is feeding the goats.

imthepilot

Bodhi comes in from the garden, clutching a bloody rag to his palm. He heads straight for the bar for some clean water and disinfectant. It's not a deep cut but being his hand, it's bleeding heavy.

[tinytag: Bodhi Rook]

thewidewideworld

Note left at the bar for Security -

( message reads... )

{ooc: plot locked for now. Warnings, lots of warnings - discussions of violence, threatened sexual violence, Greek gods being dicks.}

cook_the_rude

This afternoon, among other patrons,

Dr. Hannibal Lecter is sitting at the piano, playing jazz;
Teja is perched on a bar stool, with Egil sitting on the bar herself, proudly if slowly reading a book to him to prove he can;
Galen Erso is outside, flying a quadcopter drone with the help of a 21st century tablet computer around the lake area, taking notes while he does so;
Father Pearse Harman is taking down and putting up notices by the door of the church in the woods.

All of them are quite open to company.

ostro_goth

Teja is in the bar-room this morning, sharing his usual breakfast of coarse bread, moretum and cured meat with little Egil. Teja's own tea is black and strong, though, and Egil's fragrant, honey-sweetened fennel.

cottoncandypink

As far as vacations go, this was more of a working vacation. The whole thing was... unnerving. Yes, that's the word. Unnerving. So he was more than eager to get back to Holby and get home. He just wasn't counting at Brooke's distraction sucking so much.

One never expects being sucker punched. That's rather the point of it. But in this instance, Wilford is so taken off-guard by it, he bites his tongue and stumbles backwards into the bar. He doesn't even say anything once he's down, because it takes his brain a few moments to even process what in the holy hell just happened.

Standing above him, Guppy is ranting like a lunatic.

"Let me make this clear, because I don't want any excuses like 'I died since then' or 'it was ten years ago'. You don't enter my world without my permission. If it happens again, I'm going to taze you, and you're going to wake up chained to a tree out back with your moustache shaved off."

What in the fuck alternate dimension is this?

[ooc: homophobic remarks in the first link. Violence everywhere. Security has been pre-arranged.]

ostro_goth

Everybody has already seen and believed at least six impossible things today, so here they all are:

Teja, sharing his usual coarse bread, moretum and cured meat with little Egil. Teja's own tea is black and strong, though, and Egil's fragrant, honey-sweetened fennel.
Galen Erso is setting a breakfast table for two, by the window looking out into the sunny outside at the back, helped by some rats.
Father Harman is absent-mindedly drinking tea and eating bran flakes from a bowl while reading a newspaper, all done standing up at the bar.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter is carrying a fully laden breakfast tray out from the kitchen. There is probably enough here for three or four people.
Dorian Gray is sipping champagne and nibbling battenberg cake while looking extremely chipper and cheerful.
Alex Vause, on the other hand, is drinking Starbucks coffee (from a huge permanent cup bearing that green logo, and her name) and munching on assorted donuts in a bright pink basket, because that is what she asked the bar for.
Lady Margolotta von Überwald is having cocoa in the furthest, darkest and most hidden corner.

Have at!

iprotectyou

The seventh night of the second month is finally here! Baze has been preparing for his and Chirrut's birthday party--and the fireworks show--for months, and the night has arrived!

Like Emcee's party, everyone who has ordered something directly from the Bar has received an invitation to Baze and Chirrut's party. As promised in the announcement on the notice board, the party on the Caribbean beach is conducted in darkness, aside from the glowsticks situated in baskets dotted around the sand and the bonfire, crackling merrily along.

Tables set up around the sand groan with food and drink, and music mingles around the space. Baze and Chirrut are both present, also mingling, and Baze has foregone his armor.

(OOC: Millitimed to February 7th, 2018, but open forever! Mingle, threadhop, and enjoy!)

galen_erso

Galen Erso, still small(ish) as if only eleven years of age, is outside retrofitting a bright red inflatable rubber boat with some random high-tech parts from his world, and scraps from Teja's workshop.