The small, dark hours of the morning find Yoh outside by the lake, sword in hand.

Training.

The sword is odd in his hand sometimes, without Amidamaru's help, but he and Anna were right, and Yoh knows it. He needs to get stronger himself, if he wants to be a better shaman. If he wants to be able to beat Hao. Or... the grey kid. Karkat ( Read more... )

Current Normandy status: good. Status of crew: good. Status of investigations into several different weapon upgrades for use against Collectors in upcoming weeks: excellent. Likelihood of getting any further research done when door to main Normandy elevator opens onto Milliways instead: not particularly good ( Read more... )

It is not and never has been Twelfth Perigee's Eve here. There aren't even the right number of moons. And you would notice if someone had dragged in and decorated a giant behemoth leaving and decorated it. So Karkat is a little nonplussed and suspicious when he ventures out of his cocoon and the bar presents him with an enormous box ( Read more... )

Ramon comes in for dinner like he does most nights. Today, however, he is presented with a chocolate cake with a candle in it as soon as he approaches Bar, and his usual bottle of tequila has a red bow around it ( Read more... )

Ellen Harvelle doesn't know her bar like the back of her hand. As folks like to point out sometimes, who goes around staring at the back of their hand like they're out to memorize it? What use'll that ever be ( Read more... )

Ajedrez?

Doesn't trust the door not to Bind her. No, not at all. However, Mary Anne said she would get her home if she was, and the Mexican woman does trust her.

So, she's at the Bar, drinking tequila and attempting to wind down.

Building computers was one thing ( Read more... )

Paul's in the bar, plugging away at an old typewriter, the tacka-tacka-tacka holding a constant beat.

Suddenly, though, as a certain music reaches his ears, the sounds of the keys clacking turn into the gentle chords of a piano. The cigarette in the ashtray next to the typewriter casts hazes of smoke into the air.

Letting out a deep sigh, Paul closes ( Read more... )

Merlin wanders down the stairs, fresh from a nap and some work on a set of new Trumps he's creating, which explains the tired expression on his face. At the bottom of the staircase, he's suddenly seized by an inexplicable urge to sing:

( In Eighteen-fourteen, we took a little trip )

Giselle has found she's never needed any reason to sing, not even a magical reason. Singing has, instead, always come naturally. After all, if there is a song in your heart, is it not your duty to share it with the world ( Read more... )