milliways_bar | Entries tagged with the pilot

Sam is sitting on the jetty in the late-evening glow, leaning back on one hand and eating a pink-and-white ice cream with the other. (Raspberries and cream, for the record. He approves.) He's swinging bare feet a little, periodically letting them dabble in the water.

(He's been back from Cal's world/the Whoniverse for some days now, if anyone wondered.)

Periodically, a demon bunny dissolves into blue-black flames a little way off. They're getting pesky this evening.

wheatencrown

[OOM: Our past is always too close.]

Demeter is not terribly aware as she walks down the stairs from her room, she had slept so quickly after putting Momiji to bed and woken in such shock. She's not sure whether she wants to walk until she can't feel her feet and doesn't know the land under them or just sit.

In the end the fire draws her and she curls deep within her dark shawl, her hands are hidden so no one can see the marks deep in her palms. If you speak, she might hear you but her thoughts are far away on a dark day in Arcadia.

Tiny tags: Demeter, Doppelganger plot, Charles Monroe, the Pilot, Pan

(OOC: Warning for possibly triggery images related to rape in the OOM. Open to anyone, but the first person to post with an OOC note gets doppelgangered. Any queries should be directed here and here.)

ecrivez-moivite.livejournal.com

(It has been two days in the desert.)

The pilot's back in full gear today, ready to head back to the heat and the sand.

He does not, however, leave immediately.

Taking a seat at the bar, he doesn't know how soon he expects things to happen, but he seems content to wait.

He's botherable in the meanwhile.

[ tiny tag with a wandering heart: the pilot

ooc: semi-plotlocked, but as the ep says, open to tags! ]

necessary_child

Sam's out the back, sitting on a rock so large it's practically a boulder and feeding one of the giant squid.

Moody Lucifer is moody; minimalist mun is minimal, and semi-plotlocked post is semi-plotlocked. Ping at herworldsonfire on AIM if you want a thread, though.

[The tiny tag that could: Cal Chandler, Charles Monroe, The Pilot.]

ecrivez-moivite.livejournal.com

oom: droit devant soi on ne peut pas aller bien loin… - text from le petit prince

The pilot seems unusually chipper tonight, strolling in with his hands in his pockets and heading straight for the bar. With a quiet request, he procures a cigarette from Lady Bar, and, as he sticks it between his lips, gets a lighter, too.

Cigarette lit, he contents himself to leaning back against the bar and scoping out the people in today.

Botherable.

tiny tag: the pilot

licensed-pro.livejournal.com

Charlie comes down the stairs, and is a little surprised at the note that pops up on a cocktail napkin.

"Sure, I can, for a while. Let you catch some sleep." He patted the bar top lightly, cocking his head to read the next note. Specials board is on the bottom shelf, with the cocktails book. He retrieves them both, and sits flicking through the pages for a few moments, before he smiles widely.

This could be trouble.

Happy Hour
Specials:
French Kiss
Hop, Skip and Go Naked
Jack Off
Blow Job *
Orgasm
After Sex
Shots half-off

*free if shot properly
[[OOC: post open till midnight EST, and the mun ~~is calling slows on all threads until morning of same timezone~~.]]

ecrivez-moivite.livejournal.com

It's actually past Christmas, on the other side of Antoine's door. However, this fact is doing little to stop him from partaking in the holiday spirit.

He is currently functioning as a bit of an accessory to the couch. His six-foot frame is long enough to take up the entire couch, his head just missing an arm of the couch, his feet propped up, legs crossed, on the other end. A bottle of champagne (half empty) sits at the foot of the couch, and there is a garland of silver tinsel wrapped about his neck and shoulders.

Underneath the tinsel, there's sand on his cream-colored shirt (sleeves rolled up to the elbows) and engine grease on his hands. There's a tired and yet rejuvenated look about his features (et j’ai vu un petit bonhomme tout à fait extraordinaire qui me considérait gravement), and he has one arm thrown over his forehead, eyes closed, but with a wonderfully happy smile on his face.

He wouldn't, if anyone's curious, be averse to sharing that bottle of champagne.

tiny tag: the pilot

ecrivez-moivite.livejournal.com

On one side of the bar, Antoine de Saint Exupéry is attempting to write a letter home, and by 'home', we mean 'to his wife'. He is, as of yet, a little unsure of how to phrase said letter, mostly because there is no way of posting it in the middle of the Sahara desert. But he seems to be doing alright.

He's dressed in clothes that Lady Bar has provided, which look suitable to his time, but just the slightest bit modernized. Antoine, it seems, does not mind this in the least.

And on the other side of the bar, Mad Dog Maguire has just barged through the door, roaring with laughter. He is in full pilot regalia, right down to the snow on his shoulders. He heads straight to the bar, yelling, "A round o' drinks on me!" before sitting down heavily on a barstool, and slapping a wad of cash onto the counter.

In fine fettle?

Pretty much.

tiny tags for larger-than-life pilots: the pilot, 'mad dog' maguire, demeter, the russian astronaut

scurlock

Early on the morning of the 4th, several very brightly colored signs went up around the bar. These signs were decorated with all manner of glitter, and shiny ribbons, and perhaps a touch of magic to make them hard to miss:

BONFIRE AT BEACH - TONIGHT
(Birthday party for Atton Rand)

Cake. S'mores. Snacks. Fireworks.
Rum and bonfire to keep you warm.

OPEN TO ALL.

Now, a short while before the sunset, out by the beach, there is a rather impressive bonfire already going on the sand. Up towards the trees a bit, there are some tables with snacks, stuff to make s'mores, a cake, and cups next to a large cask that is labeled 'RUM'. The cask will never run dry. There are sparklers for the cake, later. And fireworks. A table for presents, if anyone brought any. Basically, come eat, drink, and celebrate.

[ooc: OPEN! Feel free to add subthreads if you want. ALL PUPS ARE WELCOME. OPEN UNTIL...WELL, THE END OF THE UNIVERSE.]

TINYTAGS: Charlie Monroe

ecrivez-moivite.livejournal.com

Now, Antoine isn't going to refuse Lady Bar anything.

So when he sees the note that asks, in perfect French, would he please tend bar, he's hardly in a position to say no.

As a result, there's now an aviator behind the bar, writing on the specials board in a neat hand:

Specials
French Connection
Desert Water
Aviator Fuel
Cognac half-off

Have at.

So long as you don't mind slightly broken English, anyway.

And that the new bartender is also partaking in drinks.

[ tiny tag: the pilot ]

wheatencrown

After seeing the play with Teja, Demeter is more worried about Carlotta and is trying to keep herself from worrying too much by going through gardening catalogs.

There's a mug of tea beside her that she hasn't touched at all and her gaze is wandering around the Bar.

Tiny tag: Demeter

ecrivez-moivite.livejournal.com

Unsurprisingly, the bar makes a nice change from the Sahara desert.

Upon arriving, he'd gotten himself a room upstairs, and seems somewhat more lively (and cleaner) than he was previously. He has most of his own clothes back on, but his flight jacket, helmet, and goggles have been left upstairs. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he stops upon reaching the main floor, resuming motion once he spots an empty booth. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and under one arm is tucked a sketchbook, pen balancing on its spine.

The moment he sits down, he begins to draw (and acquires a few new pens from the waitrats).

( His finished drawing looks something like this: )

Having done this, he leaves the notebook open on the table, and gets himself a mug of hot chocolate.

[ tiny tag: the pilot ]

isaysimplewords

Cal has discovered the library.

Or, more accurately, Cal decided that the library is of interest. Sort of. He went in and got a book, anyway. Whether this radical experiment will be repeated, only time can tell.

This is not the first time Cal has attempted to read a book in the bar. His previous attempts have not met with much success, and the subject matter this time around doesn't seem like the kind of thing that would hold his attention, and yet - it is.

Mostly.

In longer bursts of time than before, at any rate.

He still won't be too put out if he's interrupted.

ecrivez-moivite.livejournal.com

-- The noise now coming from the other side of the door ought to be familiar to some. A whirring sound that grows louder by the second, the sound of an approaching plane.

When the door finally opens, a sheet of sand comes through, and for a brief moment, a Caudron Simoun can be seen crashing. The door then pulls itself shut, and the bar is left with a mini-desert in lieu of a reception area.

The particularly observant will have noticed that the sand wasn't the only thing that got carried, or rather thrown, in.

To be more specific, there's a man now sprawled on the floor, dressed in a pilot's garb. He's a gangly thing, somewhere around six feet and with a constitution that suggests he's entirely made out of bone, muscle, and skin.

He is also, for the record, currently knocked out, and as such, won't be waking up without a little help.

But if the bracelet around one of his wrists is any indication, his name is Antoine de Saint Exupéry.

[ tiny tag: the pilot, charles monroe, the russian astronaut ]

iustus_rex

[OOM: In the House of Arch, the gathered Narnians celebrate Christmas. Millitimed to, uh, Christmas.]

intherightline.livejournal.com

Some things should never be neglected for too long. Things such as entrance posts and one's education both fall under that heading. The young Tarkheena sitting in the Bar is therefore feeling quite accomplished, at least on the second front. Over three quarters of the blank book Aravis got shortly after she arrived is filled; it's obvious from the place where one of those brilliant pens that came with it is tucked in it where it's sitting on her table.

It is also, however, closed just now in favor of another book she's found. She chose because it was quite thick and had the word "complete" on the spine but she's beginning to think she got more than she bargained for. If she's missing her tutors just now she'll never admit it though she's grateful that she can read as she turns the thin pages. With a hot cup of coffee nearby, she's also quite open to a bit of company.

ooc: mun is technically doing homework so tags will be slowish.

cat_wth_panache

Puss the debonair, love sick and very much hyped up swashbuckler is prowling around the bar. He's got a chocolate bar that he seems hopelessly addicted to since his first bar given to him by a certain pirate, and he's got mishief written all over his face and showing in his twitchy tail.

Cracked out cat inna Bar. With a sword. Wearing boots.

called_lioness

It was probably lovely, the ceremony.

Lucy, at least, hasn't a clue what happened during in it, but it was probably lovely, and as she and Caspian head to the reception, they're both smiling widely.

It must have been lovely, really, to make the smiles quite so large.

[ooc: There are two subthreads, one for food/talking with the bride and groom/etc, and one for dancing. Please tag as you will, as slowtime is love, and this is going at least through the rest of the weekend.]

clockarmageddon.livejournal.com

The Clock is well past the eleven now. There is perhaps half an hour before the quake is due.

But the more interesting sight is outside. The battle-weary and wounded have returned, perhaps not triumphant against the army set upon them, but with the completion of their objective.

Urza accepts the Armageddon Key -- a crystalline sphere pulsing with the lights of the five manas -- from Gavroche and sprints in the back door, coming to stand before the Clock itself.

Now he just has to figure out how to use the thing.

[ooc: main thread is plotlocked, but reaction tags are welcome.]

intherightline.livejournal.com

Sleeping didn't help nearly as much as Aravis had hoped it might. She felt physically better when she awoke but the memories she lost last night still haven't been returned when she makes her way into the bar this evening. She'd thought about not showing her face again but it would be dreadful if she missed the opportunity to see Agnes' friends and receive any help they might offer. Never mind how rude it would be.

The note tacked near the clock almost makes her turn back but instead she seeks an out of the way table far from the clock and bitterly gives her order to a passing waitrat. Would've been nice to have had that warning yesterday but hopefully this way no one else will do anything foolish.

clockarmageddon.livejournal.com

[ooc: This thread takes place between 3 and 5 on the Armageddeon Clock.]

The Clock has been sitting there, seeming to be oblivious to all who come by. It has endured much from various people, even speaking briefly to someone who could talk to it.

But it was a very brief conversation and the Clock had been happy when it ended.

If one could say the Clock could be happy.

Should anyone be watching the Clock, they will have noticed its hand has been moving faster. The Clock has spend up, moving at what looks to be double its original speed. Its hand creeps past the four, chimes never coming, and heads down toward the five.

mogget_cat

The couch, a perfect distance from the fireplace, with sidetables and a coffee table to set one's drinks upon, is arguably one of the most comfortable places to lounge or take a nap in the bar. See how it is piled high with the softest of throwpillows of many colors and fabrics, just asking to be lain upon, stretching out with a comfortable sigh.

However.

One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong. It's easy to miss, though.

Here's a hint: it's the throwpillow with the tail.

intherightline.livejournal.com

You know how it is when you go on a holiday and your only thought is how nice it will be to get away from everyone and everything you know for a while and simply be as you would like to be without anyone wanting anything from you?

That was how Aravis felt when she first arrived here.

Now imagine you've lost your return ticket but the place you've found yourself is kind enough to let you stay but beyond that you're quite on your own. Things will stay fun for a while but eventually you'll just want to keep to your room as you try to figure out what you could have done with that ticket.

This is how Aravis has been feeling until recently.

The most difficult part about feeling this second way is that you barely ever speak to anyone. Or perhaps it's only difficult if you are, like Aravis, quite fond of talking to people other than yourself. After all, you know all your own jokes and stories.

Thus, one displaced Tarkheena in the bar, a cup of coffee nearby and a blank book open in front of her. If she can't tell herself the stories anymore, she might as well write them down.

ooc: 845PM EST and mun has to slowtime, sorry!

lucky-coyote.livejournal.com

Johnny Destiny, luck god with a small g, inna bar.

At a table, actually, with a fresh deck of cards that he asked Bar for - as he's already started sharing cards out of his lucky deck. Mostly, he's just cutting and shuffling them to break them in, and humming to himself.

He wouldn't be adverse to a little conversation, though.

Current Mood: cheerful
Current Location: inna bar
Current Music: Johnny Rivers :: Seventh Son

intherightline.livejournal.com

Since arriving, Aravis has gotten the hang of a lot of things. She's figured out how to pay for her drinks and food and her room, she's figured out how to work most of the curious items in her room, and she's even managed to keep from getting into any fights. She hasn't gotten the hang of making the door that will let her go home reappear, but she has gotten the hang of using the Bar's other doors, including the ones that let her outside.

She still hasn't completely adjusted to having a huge body of water as close by as the lake is. It's fascinating and more than a little scary. Calormen has ships, of course, coastlines, rivers, water of its own, but she hasn't traveled to the coast or the lake country in years and anyway, it was nothing like this. The lakes in her desert nation are shallow, muddy affairs where the shore is more important than the water itself. She can already tell, even though she hasn't yet actually tried to swim in it, that this lake isn't like that in the least. That means figuring out a different way to approach it.

As such, she's out there now, just sitting quietly and watching the water. She's gotten the hang of that, too. Sitting quietly, that is. Sort of.