Having comandeered a booth with a good-sized table, Jean has proceeded to roll out a trio of posterboard-sized sheets of plastic transparancy across it. "Family Tree" has been written across the top of one in black marker ( Read more... )

Entering the bar for the third time is not such a surprise. Shufti slips quietly through the door, then goes to kneel by the fire to get warm. Filthy and obviously malnourished, two big blue eyes look around the bar, still taking in these strange surroundings.

Over by the hearth as usual, Jean Grey sits with a small box of truffles and the latest copy of Human Genetics, at least by her standards. She hadn't had a chance to read it before heading off to Boston, you see ( Read more... )

Musician inna bar. (Without rocks in, this time.)
He still has yet to try to go home, though he can at least see the front door again. If the music's really that determined, he wants to be at least somewhat more prepared to fight it off.
Meanwhile, the bar can provide soaked dwarf bread, and he's got a notebook.

The horse is white. The rider wears black.

They appear from... well, it's not obivous where they appear from. It would be nice to give a long and graphic description of rends in the fabric of reality, with blue sparks and smoke and big crashing chords, and lots and lots of adjectives ( Read more... )

So what happens when the mun wants to toss Angel at three separate entrance posts, but doesn't have that kind of energy right now?
Angel gets his own entrance post, that's what.
So: Couch by fireplace, pizza, fuzzy gender line - standard fare, for Angel. Have at.

(OOC: Tags may occasionally be slow, as am a bit scatterbrained and theoretically ( Read more... )

A tall blonde woman in blue scrubs walks stiffly into the bar. A rather pink and retro key chain dangles from her hand.

Like all newbies, she's confused.

[ ooc: also, please not to be confusing her with Angua. They Look Nothing Alike™ ]

Double post:

Jittery Catherine in the bar, fighting nerves and excitement and--for no apparent reason--a bad headache from last night--and Susan at the opposite end, curled up by the window and watching the universe end, her face almost (but not quite) expressionless.

The music's running out of time, and it knows it. But for right now?
Everything's still going just fine.
So, musician with rocks in inna bar, over by the piano (has he even moved since he got here? Who knows?), enjoying the chaos.
Well, mostly enjoying the chaos. Somewhere in there, he's more than a little fed up with the current state of ( Read more... )

It's been an extremely long couple of weeks; all Angel can really do at this point is hope they haven't run out of time to fix things ( Read more... )