[OOM: In which Morgan visits Alanna, and there is Tea. Millitimed to...when Morgan first came back to the Bar. Or something]

Tersa's seated at a table near the back door. She's ordered hot coffee and 'pizza', which she's heard a few people mention. A travel bag is on the floor by her feet. She's nibbling at the food, while looking over a sketchbook beside her elbow ( Read more... )

Judas sits down at the bar, expectant. Turns to face the room and leans back with his elbows on its surface.

Silk dress, bare feet, black hair loose tangled - being a princess had never made her put on shoes, and being a queen hasn't managed to, either.

Still, she's found the door again and Morgan is smiling as she walks in. Faint and dreamy, as normal, even if she is ignoring the stairs.

Another day, another table, another plate of cookies.

This seems largely to be the way of things for Raven, lately.

It is a very great pity.

Fortunately he doesn't look too put out by matters.

The grin is sort of a giveaway, really.

That and the easy sprawl he's adopted. Comfort is not something to be avoided.

Ever.

Tom and Ingress are in the bar for a quiet evening. Or, at the very least, an interesting one.

...

Hi, Bastian. It's the Bar. You remember the Bar? Yes, you remember the Bar, somewhat.

"Oh yeah," he mumbles softly.

[ooc: okay, 'm out. Time for sleepies. Thanks to all who've threaded with him tonight!]

There's a tired figure sitting at the bar - tired, but a little less weary-looking than he's been on his last few visits. The road grime is gone, too, for which Bar is probably grateful. He's spending less time staring at his glass, instead scanning the bar in a thoughtful way that looks a lot more nonchalant than it is ( Read more... )

Cora wanders into the bar absentmindedly, her hair starting to escape its braid and a large smudge of chalk on her cheek.

She fetches the cumbersome Ducks and Dictators: The History of the Ruling Class of Zenaflp 913 from the library, and orders some tea from a passing waitrat before going to sit down by the fire (though she pauses, a moment, when ( Read more... )

The door opens, and then it shuts. In the space between, a young woman slips in. Bare feet, but a red silk dress. Roman, of course, with a long ribbon criss-crossing from underneath her breasts to her hips ( Read more... )