Here's someone who's been busy with his shop in Lunar, but now Draco was piling over notes, contract laws in the Wizarding world, and Lunar. Also commerce regulations. It was all scattered haphazardly over a table, with a tea service half buried in paperwork and parchments ( Read more... )

OOM: In which a Prince of Amber, a Fae, a God of Madness and Some Guy Really Out Of His Depth play poker.

And the Chronicles of Amber begin.

From the table, the young Amberite exits at a run, hand on his sword.

There is a pile of five thousand sweaters in the corner.

Underneath and inside them, somewhere, can be found Darren Nichols, director and lemming extraordinaire.

There are hands in the mess, holding cocoa.

Darren Nichols, in a fit of nostalgia, has ordered shepherd's pie and orange juice for supper instead of something proper and yes, he's aware this is impossibly plebeian but having had the week he's had he's fucking earned it.

Okay?

(Besides. It's comfort food.)

[ooc: broken link in the Sheogorath thread should lead here.]

An old man (and isn't that the truth) shuffles into the bar, head lowered.

He makes his way to a table, sets his lantern on it, and slips awkwardly into a seat. Then pulls out a deck of tarot cards.

Things back home, they're changing.

Welcome to the rest of the world; it
has no door. Instead
he steps through walls and walls of blackness, through the Void, knowing instinctively
how one intention leads to the next.

(His new intention is a snug fit ( Read more... )