'nitrogen snow' - Witches' Horses, Sinclair, before he got GrammonttaennynJanuary 19 2009, 20:17:29 UTC
It was cold enough that there was a scattering of chemical snow on the floor, nitrogen, oxygen and hydrogen, the contents of the broken air pipes spilled out and frozen before they could escape into the dark.
Perfect, really. He wrenched a few more pieces loose, took a stab at the locked temperature settings--which after a few shrill demands for passwords froze up completely and melted most of the frost on the panel but no more--then relocated to the one spot in the broken izba that he could hear his sensor net's pings.
He'd scattered the hay. Now he just had to wait for the horses.
'A match struck in the dark' - Wild Roses, Takashi, Rock God daystaennynJanuary 19 2009, 21:47:09 UTC
Light sparked.
"Shouldn't play with matches--never know what's hangin' around the area."
"Mm," came a reply as the light went out. "Been thinkin'. Next album cover--hand holdin' half burnt match, still lit. Sparks and embers together, y'know?"
"We'll think about it."
The only reply that came was the sound of someone climbing the fire escape, and a familiar sort of humming, one of those Offspring songs that got stuck in your head for days after you heard it.
'brass taps and oak' - Deaths, Eduard and the MorrigantaennynJanuary 19 2009, 23:40:50 UTC
The barman blinked when the Morrigan asked what he had on tap, but rallied well and served her a chewy brown ale with something like his usual placidness.
"I like this place," she said after a meditative sip. "It feels comfortably old, even though it's not. Well done."
"Thank you," he replied dryly, took a sip of his whiskey. The place was nice, all brass taps and oak, the booths upholstered in soft walnut leather and the ceiling painted a comfortable cream instead of stark white. The staff was unobtrusively present, responsive to a raised glass. His brother would like it; they'd have to stop by, see what the food was like sometime.
Re: 'brass taps and oak' - Deaths, Eduard and the Morrigancoastal_physicsJanuary 20 2009, 05:23:12 UTC
the spark's from a 'spirit of the west' song, called 'home for a rest'
the chorus goes 'you'll have yo excuse me, I'm not at my best, I've been gone for a week (month) and I've been drunk since I left. this so-called vacation will soon be my death, I'm so sick from the drink, I need home for a rest'
the first verse is 'We arrived in december and london was cold, we stayed in the bars, down near charring-cross road, we never saw nothin' but brass taps and oak. kept the shine on the bar with the sleeves of our coat.' (chorus)
Takashi: A match struck in the dark
deaths: brass taps and oak
Sinclair: nitrogen snow
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Perfect, really. He wrenched a few more pieces loose, took a stab at the locked temperature settings--which after a few shrill demands for passwords froze up completely and melted most of the frost on the panel but no more--then relocated to the one spot in the broken izba that he could hear his sensor net's pings.
He'd scattered the hay. Now he just had to wait for the horses.
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This.
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...but oy, man would it have sucked if he hadn't been. And probably soon.
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"Shouldn't play with matches--never know what's hangin' around the area."
"Mm," came a reply as the light went out. "Been thinkin'. Next album cover--hand holdin' half burnt match, still lit. Sparks and embers together, y'know?"
"We'll think about it."
The only reply that came was the sound of someone climbing the fire escape, and a familiar sort of humming, one of those Offspring songs that got stuck in your head for days after you heard it.
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They probably had awesome special effects.
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"I like this place," she said after a meditative sip. "It feels comfortably old, even though it's not. Well done."
"Thank you," he replied dryly, took a sip of his whiskey. The place was nice, all brass taps and oak, the booths upholstered in soft walnut leather and the ceiling painted a comfortable cream instead of stark white. The staff was unobtrusively present, responsive to a raised glass. His brother would like it; they'd have to stop by, see what the food was like sometime.
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the chorus goes 'you'll have yo excuse me, I'm not at my best, I've been gone for a week (month) and I've been drunk since I left. this so-called vacation will soon be my death, I'm so sick from the drink, I need home for a rest'
the first verse is 'We arrived in december and london was cold, we stayed in the bars, down near charring-cross road, we never saw nothin' but brass taps and oak. kept the shine on the bar with the sleeves of our coat.' (chorus)
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"Yup."
"And his half-brother runs the Crown Navy."
"Yup."
"Their father's the King."
"And their uncle runs the spy network."
"Nepotism much?"
"Well, to be fair, most of the nobility's run pretty much the same way."
"And the disaffected young men haven't risen up why?"
"Once they start getting footholds in the system it tends to sort itself out. Or they get eaten by manticores, out here anyway."
"Right."
"What sort of leather do you think your borrowed coat's made of?"
" . . . You're joking."
"They have quite the variety of predators. I wouldn't go walking at night alone, if you take my meaning."
(not what I was aiming for. May come back later and retackle)
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