milliways_bar | Entries tagged with tsu'tey

For those of the bar who've never seen Tsu'tey, it's often the cause of shock when they see a seven-foot tall (down from his usual ten) blue leonine alien with a semi-prehensile tail sitting in a chair with a bead loom in front of him. He's quite a ways accomplished with a very large and quite intricate hanging with a multitude of colors and geometric patterns.

His ears are flicking back and forth as he works, listening passively to the people around him.

braveomaticaya

In the bar today is one of Milliways' quite small Na'vi population, working at a table where he can perch in a sturdy chair; one that will support his seven-foot-tall frame complete with waving tail. For those who've not met said alien boy yet, the next olo'eyktan of his clan is making his way to nonaggression toward the humans--it's kind of a long story as to why he dislikes them.

Today would actually be an okay day to try and talk with him, given he's inside and beading rather than outside with his ikran (which might actually kill you, if you got over the shock of seeing a ten foot blue semileonine alien riding what looks for all the world like a technicolor pterodactyl). Just don't mess up what he's working on, and you'll be fine.

acts_of_gord

Gordon's been busy at home and has not been enjoying it, but at least it hasn't involved alien invasions, being on the wrong end of the military's attention, or projectile vomiting (Hope and Eli spit up, but nothing like some of the other kids in the Greenbrier community). He'd meant to step into the small but quietly growing library when he found himself here, and he'd meant to get a drink when the Bar gave him a note.

Well, okay.

Specials:

Zipfer Urtyp
Puntigamer
MIT Brew

One nerd bartender, doing his best to rock the Wiley Post look with a crowbar jammed through his belt, at your service.

[OOC: open until it scrolls off the front page!]

hecu_marine

CURRENT tiwazRegulator [CTR] RIGHT NOW posted a memo on board MAGICAL MYSTERY BAR VIRTUAL BULLETIN BOARD

CTR: Anybody on this thing know much about tanning hides?
CTR: Critter hides, I mean. Big uns.
CTR: **Seriously** big uns.
CTR: Friend of mine fought a big goddamn sea serpent and won.
CTR: She don't need the skin so she gave it to me, only the damn thing's bigger n a damn blue whale.
CTR: (Or a dragon if you don't know Earth whales.)
CTR: I can make leather of damn near any critter on Earth with proper skin and a bunch of Xen oogieboogies besides.
CTR: This thing's way the hell outside my skill set.
CTR: You know how to make proper leather out of something that big n keep it all nice n consistent, we ought to talk.

Having stuck the memo up on Trollian, Shephard gets a piece of oaktag (posterboard, whatever) from the Bar and begins composing a similar, if somewhat less verbose, request to be tacked to the bulletin board physically in Bar. That one mentions a need for tanning assistance, the size of the skin, and not much else beyond his name, rank, service, and the fact that he's the Marine with the right arm that's metal below the elbow.

Once that's up it's time for coffee that wasn't made from acorns, and bacon that came from pigs. He's a simple man in a lot of ways. Small things make him happy.

braveomaticaya

It's been a while since Tsu'tey has made an appearance in the bar, but today in all his seven-foot-tall glory...he's holding up a small mandrel with colorful tiny beads wrapping around it in a dimensional spiral as he dips the long, thin needle into each bowl to put more colors onto the string.

When he's done with that--and he's spending a fair bit of time on it, as it's for someone he considers special--he'll be putting all the myriad colors of odds and ends into a couple of long necklaces. Completely botherable, so long as you don't sneak up him--though look luck doing that with ears like his.

braveomaticaya

At one of the rather sturdy chairs, there is one of Milliways' ~~nigh-nonexistent~~ very small Na'vi population. His ears are not, though, flicking about the catch the sounds of the Bar as they usually do. His tail is waving gently, as if to a rhythm, but it could take a few minutes to assimilate to the sight of Tsu'tey with earphones attached to either side of his semileonine head.

The song is utterly foreign to him, but pretty nonetheless.

hallelujahpilot

Out by the - well, not actually the lake, but the Caribbean inlet.

Let's start again.

On the beach of the Caribbean inlet, there is a battered looking Samson tiltrotor. The pilot of said vehicle is lounging on the sand nearby, her flightsuit rolled up to her knees while the upper part is unzipped, tied around her hips.

She can still get her gun from this position, but damn if she isn't going to enjoy some sun some place where things don't (generally) try and kill her.

Of course, her Samson made a ton of (possibly familiar, by this point) noise on entry, so the fact that she's around isn't exactly secret.

braveomaticaya

The blue-skinned alien boy is back in the bar today, many tiny and multicolored beads spread on the table in front of him, along with the large bracelet he's almost done with. He's not sure it will appeal to Grace, but is moderately sure it will fit her Avatar, at least. The smaller, greener one he's trying to size to fit a human arm is proving harder to eyeball. But he knows she has such bright red hair that the many shades of greens and browns should compliment it.

Entirely botherable.

braveomaticaya

It may go without saying that most fifteen-year-old boys do not have a great grasp on how to braid hair, unbraid it, or re-braid in feathers and beads. It may also go without mention that most are not seven-ish feet tall, blue-skinned and minding a waving prehensile tail. Tsu'tey is still surveying the bar to generate some kind of plan as to how to help fix the obvious damages to the place, and while he does that is shaking his head to see if the new adornments will be problematic. At least that's his story as he absently toys with the woven neck cuff around his throat.

The truth is that he can feel the difference in Milliways today and he can't put his finger on exactly why, apparent damage aside.

likesthecoat

Ianto steps inside the bar for his regular shift and immediately pauses.

Everything feels like it's...one inch to the left.

Weird.

"Did I miss something, darlin'?" he says to the bar as he takes off his jacket and hangs it up, and Bar has an air of Oh, honey, wait until I tell you.

Or it's possible she's just a big slab of wood. It's hard to tell sometimes, even though Ianto considers himself to be pretty fluent in Bar by now.

Tonight's Specials
Tell the bartender why the bar feels different and your first drink (ANYTHING WE'VE GOT IN THE STORES) is on me.

COFFEE
ANY WAY YOU LIKE IT

Stuart Dakin is leaving for Oxford soon. His family and friends think he's calm and prepared about it, and for the most part he is.

He's also aware that he's going from a minor school in a small city to one of the most prestigious universities in the world, and he's not going to be the cleverest student there. It's best, he figures, to get used to that now rather than have some sort of breakdown later when he's got essays to do and lectures to attend. It'll just get in the way.

(He is also hoping to meet up with Pos. His boyfriend is good for his ego. It's lovely to have someone who thinks you're amazing even when you, however temporarily, don't.)

Peter Burke is a pragmatic person. He doesn't believe in magic, aliens, fairies or unicorns. He does believe in a well-tailored suit and an honest day's work.

Which is why, when he steps through the door he's still carrying on the conversation he was having on his way in. "I'm telling you, Neal, no matter what your instinct says it's worth it to wait for the warrant. We don't want to endanger the chances of--"

He stutters to a stop.

Narration is sure no one will blame him if the first thing that goes through his mind is Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.

braveomaticaya

There is an alien in the bar. Nobody panic.

Said alien is his usual blue self, in his usual loincloth-like clothes plus the addition of what looks for all the world like skintight chaps, laced up his legs with room for his tail to protrude. His goggles are pushed up to his forehead and there are long feathers in the ends of his braids--the long queue down his back is familiarly unadorned.

Come join him as he enters, or after he retrieves the loom he left with the bar, and resumes his work on a long wide and colorful strap for a medicine pouch.

hecu_marine

Shephard's gonna be in Poland, or what used to be Poland, real damn soon. He's got a helicopter to fly and then a lot of hell to raise (once he gets past the throwing up part, which has unfortunately become pretty much ritual for him whenever he touches down successfully). He's just tidying up a thing or two before heading out, and by 'a thing or two' we mean 'the hide of a yerik that he managed to take during his visit to Pandora with Tsu'tey'. The hide's upstairs. He spoke with Tsu'tey at some length and came up with a chemical bath that he figures should do the trick for turning it into the equivalent of a buckskin. That's gonna take a few days, though, so right now he's not touching it. He's going over the one other thing he took from the yerik instead- the animal's largest teeth. Elk on Earth have big damn canines that make for nice carved ivory objects, and yerik teeth look to be about the same.

Oh, don't look at him like that. Tsu'tey's people got the meat.

Anyway, feel free to bother the fellow in military fatigues who's currently meticulously cleaning the rather large teeth of an animal found nowhere on Earth. Or don't. Up to you.

braveomaticaya

[Out of Milliways: While Marines on Pandora are hardly uncommon, the insight gained by one Sergeant Major Adrian Shephard, USMC, is very, very much so. He even comes away with a gift of sorts.]

braveomaticaya

The resident Na'vi of Milliways hasn't been seen for a while, but he's back now at a table with several beaded projects in front of him, and a dozen or so plastic vials of more miniscule beads on the table. HE's already finished one necklace and is wearing it around the base of his throat for the moment, but he's steadily working on a much larger, much more complex piece in shades of green glass and light wood.

You might be successful in getting his attention away from the delicate and painstakingly slow work, or you might not, but you never know until you try, right?

vance_prime

Alyx can't sleep. Blame the pregnancy.

Oh, not because the twins' squirming and kicking is keeping her awake, or because the weight of two seven-and-a-bit-month-old fetuses on her bladder forces her to trek to the restroom a dozen times a night--although God knows those are both contributing factors.

It's just really hitting home for her that she'll be giving birth in less than two months, at which point she'll be the mother (the mother!) of two bouncing babies in a world that hasn't seen any children in sixteen years, and she may or may not be still fighting an interdimensional war on top of that. It's a lot to process, and she thought she'd already processed it, but every once in a while it hits her again like a Combine razor train.

As such, she has retreated to Milliways, and is doing her meditation exercises. Not to clear her head, but just to focus so it doesn't all seem quite so overwhelming.

It's... sort of working. Kind of. Maybe.

[Open until it scrolls, though I'll probably be slowtiming pretty quickly tonight.]

Current Mood: restless

braveomaticaya

Outside, there is a whooping, laughing sort of shriek as Tsu'tey falls--rather gracelessly--from one of the larger trees, landing on his feet at the last moment before impacting the earth. He's still caught in the middle of a rare laugh, leaves stuck in his braids and looking exceptionally like a fifteen-year-old boy.

Take advantage of this while it lasts.

hecu_marine

The door opens under the assault of a massive wave of summertime heat. On the other side is the song of birds and the chatter of scores of unseen insects, and the smell of plants both Earthly and otherwise. There are hints of moisture on the breeze, redolent as it is with the scents of sap and smoke as well.

And of something not unlike wet dog, since there is a blue-striped three-legged Christmas ham of a creature scampering through with a happy wriggling trill. We feel compelled to mention the happy part, because the two humans and the one Na'vi some paces behind her look anything but...

Australia is not a place for the faint of heart. Today it doesn't look like it has been a place for the strong of heart, either.

Enter three guys, covered in bits of Australia, and badly in need of a drink. Or twelve.

[OOC: Three pups, three muns, and one happy houndeye. Have at!]

hecu_marine

It's been a little less than half a day since Shephard was in the Bar last. Time, what a weirdness she is. He's here today with his bow slung across his back and Mrs. Wilson at his heels. The houndeye is wearing a minimal harness of bright orange, just enough to go around her two front legs and provide an anchor for a good strong rope. It'd be a leash, but leashes aren't usually nearly so long as to be able to coil them up around your forearm.

"Hey, Bar?" the Marine says when he arrives. "You mind lettin' Evans'n Tsu'tey know I'm lookin' for 'em next time you see 'em?"

An acknowledging napkin pops up.

"Thank you kindly, ma'am. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gon' need me some balloons."

Those who head outside after this will be treated to the sight of not only a three-legged blue-striped Christmas ham full of eyeballs trotting around and periodically humming loudly, but also of a man in Marine Corps camouflage fatigues doing his best to reduce the balloon population by pinning inflated balloons to a haybale and then popping them with arrows fired from thirty or forty yards away.

This is Milliways. Some days are like that.

vance_prime

Work on restoring the Borealis continues apace. If all goes well, they'll be ready to teleport out within the week.

Of course, not everything goes according to plan. Alyx hadn't anticipated Shephard's pet houndeye going into heat, for instance. But Alyx refuses to make that her problem. Shephard can deal--no, Shephard will deal with it. Alyx is going to take a break.

Thus, we find a pregnant Resistance leader stretched out across the couch, munching on a bag of Doritos and reading a book on childrearing.

[Open until it scrolls.]

Current Mood: relaxed

hecu_marine

Adrian Shephard is a man who prides himself on being observant, particularly when it comes to animals. You don't grow up with a rifle in your hand and dinner over your shoulder unless you're good at paying attention to the world around you. You don't make it through the Marine Corps' Scout Sniper training without a keen eye for detail, either. But sometimes, you don't have all the data, and when that happens... hoo boy.

He got approached this morning by the tag-team duo of Jimbo, from the Australian Resistance, and Mari, the Satere-Mawe headcrab wrangler. Both of them had noticed a certain pattern of behavior that Shephard just wasn't familiar with, and since they couldn't figure out how to decide who should be the one to tell him, well...

There's a disgruntled-looking Marine herding Satan's own Christmas ham- which is to say, a nearly full-grown Houndeye- through the bar and out to the back door as fast as he possibly can. Catch him outside if you want to say hello, ask what's going on, or whatever.

renegadeheart

Through the front door of the bar comes the cleverest woman in Europe, gliding gracefully in early Regency high-waisted linen. Her face alights with joy where she sees where she's ended up, and how much it's changed in a matter of days for her.

"La," declares she, "dear Milliways!"

hecu_marine

Adrian has been analyzing the Combine intel captured from the desalination rig for so long his eyes are crossing. There's a dent in his thumb from where he's been chewing on it while reading. He needs a break to clear his head and put all of it in perspective. Thank God for Milliways, right?

"Hey, Bar? Gimme a Cold Trail'n ... shit, I dunno, somethin' to read that ain't about the maggots."

Bar complies. The book is in Spanish. But there are pictures.

Many pictures.

Bar just gave a Marine what amounts to an archaeologist's attempt to construct a manual of the rules and traditions of the Great Ball Game of the Maya, and he is looking far too interested for anyone's good.

braveomaticaya

Blue alien. Couch.

Hair braiding; there are beads involved.

Have at.

[ooc: Minimalist entry brought to you today by mildly agitated and moderately depressed mun. Open pretty much forever. So there.]

lasthalfmile

Ben, for his part, is mostly squelching a smirk as he scribbles on his half of the specials board.

Dead Man Walking
The Lazarus
Walking Dead

He glances at Dan once he's finished.

"Well, I think it's funny."

Dan, however, is not so amused.

"You just give a minute to figure somethin' out..."

After a quick consult with the giant book of drink recipes, he chalks up a few specials of his own.

Arrogant Bastard Ale
S.O.B.
Extended Jail Sentence

And then, he's smirking too.

Happy hour is open!

[OOC: Tag one or both, if unspecified, you'll get both! EDIT, 11:55PM EST Holy cow, ya'll! AWESOME HAPPY HOUR IS AWESOME. No new tags, please, and all slows will be picked up tomorrow! Thanks for tagging!]

braveomaticaya

Out back there is a shrieking, whooping noise--followed very swiftly by what looks to the untrained eye like a technicolor pterodactyl and rider landing on the grass. Tsu'tey takes the time while his ikran's wings flap and fold in to study his surroundings. This? This was not what he had intended to fly into; his tail whiplashes around behind his ankles as large amber-colored eyes survey the landscape. The trees here are too small, he thinks, not pleased. Absently the ikran's head gets a pet, extending to the creature's neck as he steps off, detaching the queue with a sweep of his hand.

Sky-People. Honestly.