Finally some good luck this month. The coyote pups were safely installed on a wildlife refuge in Southern Arizona, and she was no longer a single mother. Or, foster home. Or, whatever ( Read more... )

"No, see--" Duo waves his spoon at River for emphasis, and then hastily lowers it before ice cream drips onto the couch. "Real cherries are acceptable. Maraschino cherries are an abomination. It's an important distinction ( Read more... )

Ava is in the library! Shelving books! As one does. (She managed to find one that has some actual spells in it and is poring over it curiously, so she may have gotten slightly derailed.)

Outside the door, if one happens to be wandering that particular hall, one will see a sign lettered in painstaking blue.

COME TO THE LIBRARY ( Read more... )

The front door opens to reveal a rather dusty looking angel, and an oil and grime-streaked trickster. They are bickering amiably about handlebars, or perhaps storage compartments, or even tailpipes. All three have been discussed already today, probably more than once ( Read more... )

In a dusty, darkened corner of the bar, one might just discern a flash of red winter coat ( Read more... )

It is a surprise to no one that Antillar Maximus is at the bar drinking. It's what he does, really.

Though, to be honest, he doesn't usually drink quite this hard. But that's because he's not usually trying to figure out how to avoid a devastatingly attractive woman. He's usually doing just the opposite, and it doesn't come at all naturally ( Read more... )

[OOM: After a strange reunion.

This.]

[OOM: In which everyone's favorite dead Theban princess receives a surprising wake-up call. Featuring princes, woe, and a distinct lack of sympathy.]

There's an elevator at the edge of the asphodel field. It's old-fashioned, built like a delicate cage of worn and tarnished gilt. Antigone examines it with a slow, dreamy curiosity, running her hands ( Read more... )

Antigone's in the bar tonight.

As for where she's been-- well, that's not so important. The days have passed for her much as they did before, with flowers and gardens and the whispers of the trees, with long nights sitting by the fire, with never quite brushing her hair or putting on a presentable dress. And she's been largely content, if restless ( Read more... )

Well. What do you know.

Here's someone who hasn't been around in a while.

Antigone slips inside, cheeks pale with cold; she smiles to herself as she drifts to the bar for a mug of tea.

She smiles quite a bit, these days, when she thinks no one's watching.

(Though she's growing a little impatient-- it's like waiting for Christmas. When, when? ( Read more... )