So. The narration feels a bit guilty for not having posted certain people in for a while. So here's a post.

Kaylee has wandered in again, with a baby inna sling against her chest. She looks very cheerful about being here, and has thought up her usual treat of strawberries and cream to celebrate.

Florence is sitting at the bar, not even ( Read more... )

Angua is sitting in the lobby in one of the more comfortable chairs - dogs and werewolves both have a sense for the most comfortable chair in a room, and will make a point of sitting in it, or curling up on it, whichever is appropriate ( Read more... )

Buffy, Willow and Xander have all bounced outside, bundled up against the cold - for three kids who've spent all their lives in California, it's fucking freezing. But also really damn awesome, since snow is practically unheard of for them.

They take a moment to gape at the unfamiliar powdery white stuff that's all over the place. Snow is a new and ( Read more... )

There's a few people in the Inn that are under one narration, and as the narration does not wish to flood flists, they're all in one post.

April is listening to her walkman and looking through a catalog on her datapad. The height of fashion from around the galaxy. She's looking for the perfect dress. She hasn't found it yet. She knows she will ( Read more... )

Angua was dressed normally when she got up this morning, really.

But as soon as she reaches the bottom of the stairs, her outfit... changes. She is now dressed in black and red, with a long swirly black cape, a red corset, a tight choker (which is, in her mind, very different from the collar she usually wears), makeup that makes her skin appear a ( Read more... )

There's a handful of people downstairs who have nothing to do with one another but are getting only one post between them, because their narration is lazy and doesn't want to make six separate posts.

Florence is sitting towards the back of the restaurant, singing softly and off-key to herself. It's quite possible - nay, likely - that she's drunk ( Read more... )

It's been a while since Angua's been in the Inn, and the last time she came in, she was dead. She got better, but her friends in the Inn certainly don't know that ( Read more... )

The door opens slowly to a dark sewer, three men, a gonne, and a dead wolf, lying bleeding in the water. The echoes of the gonne are still fading, bouncing off tunnel walls over and over, and none of the men notice the door ( Read more... )

There is a door.

Angua is staring at this door like it's some kind of enemy.

If the door had a jugular (and were, in fact, sentient, which it very well may be in the Inn), it would get the uncomfortable feeling that Angua is staring at it far too intently.

Angua had been napping on the couch, mostly because she felt more comfortable downstairs than up in her room. At this point, it was all her territory anyway ( Read more... )