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[Dec. 21st, 2009|07:06 am] |
Gus wanders down from his room, unable to sleep. Well, that's not strictly accurate -- he had been asleep, but woke up from what could only be explained as a night terror; something he thought only children got. And yet, he's been having them almost every night since going out with Ellen. He's had them during the day as well, but according to Guppy, they're called a panic... something if it happens when you're awake. To be fair, Guppy was explaining it when Gus wasn't exactly at his best. It's too early for a beer, and he's beginning to think that coffee only makes it worse, so he's by the observation window with a glass of orange juice, and looking like he's about to jump out of his skin. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2009|09:49 am] |
After two years, Meg has gotten pretty used to the bar hiding in foyers, bedrooms, laundry rooms, libraries, cafes, and any other place it took itself into turning up for her.
She might even have gone as far as saying she wasn't surprised when it turned up someplace new, not really.
However, she was definitely not expecting it to be waiting for her as she exits an airplane lavatory, holding a small bag with a toothbrush and chapstick and hand lotion in it.
It's an oddly uncomfortable thought; the physics involved (or not involved) in being magically whisked off to the end of the universe while traveling at heaven knows how fast and however many thousands of feet above the middle the Atlantic Ocean.
On the other hand, after four hours in a cramped seat in coach, Meg can't say she objects to the opportunity to stretch her legs.
[OOC: Intermittance likely.] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2009|11:13 am] |
Mel has been making a list of everyone who's had a comparable recent vampiric encounter in the bar. The list is on the back of an envelope, but for Mel to write anything down at all means it's important:
Jane Austen; Kate Bishop; Joan Holloway; Bela Talbot; Nita Callahan
It's a regular epidemic, and Mel is pissed. There's also a note left for each of those names at the bar:
I'd like to talk to you. Look for the big red scythe.
- Mel Fray.
Now, the Vampire Slayer in question is sitting with her feet up on a table, polishing the blade on her scythe in a very obvious HELLO I'M A VAMPIRE SLAYER, ASK ME HOW way. Her Security badge is pinned on her shoulder, not on her belt, in as obvious a way as she can make it, in the hope that anyone else would volunteer information.
[Plottag: Gothic Winter's Tale]
[OOC: I'm in and out all day for talking-about-dinosaurs, but the post stays open forever.]
OOC2: WTF? Firefox will no loner let me click links and reply to comments. Wrapping off here and going home, where I shall pick up.] |
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[Dec. 20th, 2009|08:20 pm] |
There are only so many days a man can spend up in his room before he begins to feel the traces of cabin fever creeping in -- and even though Doc would much rather stay holed up in his room (it's safe, there) he knows that he can't hide forever.
He's not sure what to expect.
After all, the general populace of the bar thinks that he's dead -- murdered by Ramon -- and they held the wake two weeks ago. To say that he's expecting some very difficult and confusing conversations tonight would be an understatement.
He's feeling better. He's still a bit bruised (several marks pepper his jaw and throat) and sore in several spots; but he's no longer wearing clothes covered in blood, he's had a shave (only a thin layer of scruff covers his face, now) and a haircut (it's still long, but not unkempt) and is working on what will most likely be the first of a few drinks.
(Of coffee.)
He's at one end of the bar, keeping an eye on the crowd and looking for people. His revolver is snugly resting against his hip, and not going anywhere, anytime soon. Neither is his alert state of mind, or the nagging feeling at the base of his neck, that everyone is watching him.
(He knows they're not, but the 'outlaw' is in full force lately, and hard to ignore.)
[Open to all takers, and open forever.] |
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[Dec. 20th, 2009|10:41 pm] |
If Mary hasn't been in much recently, it's because she's been swamped with homework: on top of her regular studies, her tutor now has her reading the daily news in as many languages as she's learning. When she's had the time to come by, she's been lurking in her greenhouse, checking carefully to make sure all is well before ducking back home for supper.
But today there's snow on the ground in Milliways - she still finds it a bit wonderful, after all those years in India - and she thinks she deserves some time to sit by the fire and get dry. (Though she's picked up a copy of the Arbiter-Zeitung and is painstakingly reading through an article on how Karl Lueger retired from the Mayorship of Vienna. The Socialist viewpoint is often more interesting than the mainstream one.)
It also, incidentally, happens to be two days after her fourteenth birthday. |
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[Dec. 20th, 2009|08:38 pm] |
Tom sits by the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the scotch in his hand. He's been out making holiday rounds in the Underside all day. That would explain his deep green dress robes with the boutonniere of holly. He's fairly worn out, but he could use conversation that does not revolve around politics or alliances. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 20th, 2009|10:10 pm] |
Andrew's in a reasonably good mood when he first walks into Milliways this evening. Things in New York are slowly getting back to the quieter end of normal; word from the Slayers' Academy says the same is true there.
It would be too much to hope for things to be at the quieter end of normal here.
As he finds out when he starts reading the various and sundry notes to and from Security.
They're all making him sit up and take notice; it's the final one that makes him turn pale.
~{tinytag: a gothic winter tale}~
[Open until it scrolls off the front page.] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 20th, 2009|09:34 pm] |
Mary Alice Brandon steps through the door tonight, with a strange sense of knowing. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming (and she draws her dressing gown sleeve back to pinch her arm, just to make sure) but it soon becomes apparent she isn't.
In her dreams, she can shut out the visions. Here, it is overwhelming. Her fingers twist into her long, dark hair and her eyes, bright and blue, watch the crowd of people in the bar.
Her nose wrinkles in annoyance and wonder. This isn't her house, it never could be. Mama and Papa are never in bars, it's unsightly. And Mary Alice is far too young to go in one, being only sixteen this spring.
She sort of just...stands there.
[ooc: okay, human alice oshi-- this is pre-asylum alice too...don't worry, one of these days you'll get an asylum alice and it will be sad and stuff. she can still see the future, but she tries to hide it desperately from everyone. we can tell how well that works out.
open forever~] |
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[Dec. 20th, 2009|06:14 pm] |
The door slides open, and a horrific vision of blood and gore walks in.
This horrible creature then makes a distinctly unimpressed snort of disgust and, with a practiced motion, strips off the surgical gown, mask, gloves, and cap with one smooth sweep into a tidy ball and storms off towards the medbay. He'll be back shortly for a drink. Today requires a drink.
Or two, if someone wants to join him. A gentleman shouldn't drink alone, after all. |
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[Dec. 20th, 2009|09:06 pm] |
Barney came into the bar quietly the other night, but now he's out back, enjoying the snow. While it might be pretty nasty to a lesser soul, Barney grew up on a farm in Kansas, and this is the best kind of winter. He's missed it, being back in what passes for home nowadays. If you happen to see someone doing target practice with snowballs, it's probably Barns.
[ Tinytag: Barney Calhoun ]
[Totally open!] |
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[Dec. 20th, 2009|07:04 pm] |
Perhaps Sam should have questioned further, when Cata's friend said something about diseases in the bar. Then he might have taken it as more than a general observation.
For now, he's dismissing it as a random happenstance case of the sniffles, and hoping to chase it out with a lot of water. It's too early to say how well that's working, but at least he's been entertained (and bemused) by the graffiti in the bathroom - to say nothing of the toilets themselves. Mostly, though, he's set up shop at a table, and is cleaning off a few of his knives.
...Just don't ask where the black and white scarf came from. He's not sure he can explain that.
[tiny mun's-going-to-get-stabbed-in-the-brainpan tag: Sam
tiny plague tag: IMDb flu] |
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| Re-entrance Post |
[Dec. 20th, 2009|03:35 pm] |
Damian has been keeping a low profile since all the excitement of Halloween. It has taken some getting used to, being a part of the pentumvirate with Anita, Jean-Claude, Richard, and Nathaniel. He occasionally has bouts of deep anger and resentment that he has struggled to control, along with hungers that he is certain aren't truly his.
He's made due, though, and it's been easier to take with his closeness to Nathaniel. His occasional trysts with Nat have been some of the most fulfilling intimate moments of his long existence. In addition to Nathaniel, he has made it a point to spend time with Anita each week since the incident. Those sessions weren't quite as comfortable, but he still appreciated Anita's efforts at getting to know him a bit better, despite the discomfort.
Damian isn't surprised by his return to Milliways as he passes through the door leading up the stairs to his new room over Anita's garage. With all the work he's done in preparation for his transfer from Danse Macabre to Guilty Pleasures, he's ready for the small respite he knows Milliways will provide.
Going quickly to his room to change out of the outfit he had been dancing in, he returns and asks the bar for a couple items. It's a silly tradition, but he figures no one here in Milliways will truly mind. He sits next to the fireplace and removes his shoes, stuffing them with hay and cubes of sugar.
It's the first night of Jul, and, for once, this red-headed vampire won't shy away from company.
[[ooc: Figured it was finally time to get Damian back into the bar. XD Open for at least a week, since I know a couple people won't be able to tag until after the holidays this week are over. ^^ All characters welcome, though Damian will be a little less talkative to those he hasn't already met.]] |
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[Dec. 20th, 2009|04:48 pm] |
There is a three year old by the fire. She is wearing green stockings, green boots, a short red dress and an elf hat complete with ears! The complete effect is, of course, a little three year old elf. The most impressive part of the whole ensemble is that there is only a hint of "I did it myself!" to the outfit. She is Very Proud.
She's sitting in an over sized chair, munching on sugar cookies and drinking chocolate milk.
What? She'll get more for Santa when he gets here. No need for good cookies and milk to go to waste.
[OOC: OMG BOO IN THE HOUSE! Open to new tags until forever, slowtime is love, etc etc..] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 20th, 2009|09:29 pm] |
Shufti comes out of the office, and gets a note thrust at her by a rapidly passing doctor. Seeing he is in a hurry, she lets him rush off and unfolds it.
( Security note )
She reads it, frowns, and tucks it in her pocket. Then goes to the bar and finds another one.
With her security badge on her front, she looks around the bar for victims or suspicious looking people. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 20th, 2009|10:41 am] |
After talking with a few people yesterday, and getting herself checked out in the infirmary, Nita leaves a note with the Bar for Security.
( To Security: )
[tinytag: a gothic winter tale] |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 20th, 2009|12:32 am] |
She hasn't been sleeping well, the dreams - they keep getting to her. Those, Mamo-chan, and the girls not coming to school, it's all really unsettling, and she's still not sure what to do about it. Honestly, Usagi hasn't had the mind for anything at all. She never knows when she is awake, or when it is just a dream.
When she walks through the door to Chibiusa's room, not only does she remember that the pink haired brat left a while ago, but that the bar was beginning to really like her. She's still not necessarily sure what this place is, but right now, it seems a lot better than being home.
Usagi goes to the Bar, quietly orders a blanket, some hot chocolate, and then settles into a booth. She's still in her nightgown and it is just way too cold. She can't seem to get warm, no matter what she does. |
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