OPEN;

[wandbreaker]

When; Saturday, January 28th, nighttime
Characters; All are welcome! Open log, just specify if it's an open thread or not or if there are 4th wall rules for your character in the comment or subject line! (4th wallers also welcome~)
Summary; The Blue Light's one chilling hangout; good music, good food, and a spectacularly crabby owner who is even letting in under-18s for the 4th Wall weekend.
Log;

Edmund is actually at work tonight - he hopes a member of his family might show up, but he's also wondering who else might show up. He's made sure that he's well staffed for the extra crowds and well stocked, no less.

He just hopes nothing gets out of control.

And of course, that a member of his family shows up, looking for him.

Comments

Open!

[and_identity]

[There's a lady here--young, pretty, but dressed a bit unusually for the weather in a filmy green shirt and beige-white skirt that reaches almost to the floor. Her hair is blonde with not a lock out of her place, and her eyes are very, very green.

She doesn't go to the bar, but instead claims a booth off to one side as a vantage point, where she can sit and enjoy her drink and watch the people as they come and go and dance.

She's very fond of watching. But she looks receptive to bothering, too.]

[inventedcakepie]

[He sits next to her on accident - he gets slightly pushed off and right into the booth, tripping with his mechanical leg]

Sorry-

[lafemmefatale]

[With grace and confidence, she leans up against the booth, looking at the blonde like a tiger watching its prey. She's been keeping an eye on this one and figured it was the time to make an introduction.]

You look like someone.

[practicingforhell]

[After a few beers--"a few" being some nebulous number between three and six--Henry works up the nerve to approach the pretty blonde. He's never approached a girl in a bar before, but it suddenly seems like a really good idea.]

You cold?

[Not the best opener, but fuck, she should be cold, dressed like that.]

[lone_must_stand]

Though Aeriel walks with her head held high-- she is, she reminds herself, a free woman-- she does her best to stay aloof, avoiding eye contact with the strangers she passes on her way to a dark table in the corner. She's unafraid, but slightly nervous-- unfamiliar with this place, these people, what customs they might keep.

Which is to say, when she catches Life's glance-- and subsequently stops mid-step-- it is by accident. It's the eyes, of course; green, greener even than her own. It's a rare color; a sorcerous color, some say, though that is the fault of a hundred little misunderstandings, as far as she knows.

Nevertheless it's strange enough that she stands there far too long, fingers caught on the edge of her pale sari, before she remembers herself. Aeriel looks to the floor, debating whether it would be ruder to speak or to go on without a word.

Open!

[wandbreaker]

[He's at the bar, cleaning it off because he's not yet trusted by the bar staff to actually bartend. But if you want to say hello, there he is!]

[whisperedhome]

[Clean and neat though the Blue Light may be, to the eyes of this fairy-tale monarch, there's still something about it that will always resemble a tavern, and taverns tend to be ugly places--hives for bandits, thugs, and the like. So it's with a touch of apprehension that she enters this one, head held high with the bearing of a queen, and approaches the young man at the bar. He seems kind-faced and pleasant, which is usually indicative of a trustworthy fellow.]

Excuse me, sir. When you have a moment, I would ask a question of you.

Open!

[deadpanned]

[It's a good thing that 18+ restriction has been lifted for the day, because here sits one Rudy Miller, armed with a backpack, a legal pad, and a stack of more polychromatic coins (reds and oranges, yes, but also greens, blues, and violets, even) than any twelve-year-old should rightfully be in possession of. Oh, yes, and a rather nice portable chess set, the pieces set to play but no moves yet made.

When asked, he orders Pepsi with no ice and french fries. And no matter how engrossed in his work he may appear, he sees everything.]

I can't NOT poke this.

[othersdie]

[Justin doesn't frequent bars, preferring to drink in the company of... well, just himself, generally. After spending the day at the welcome center, however (he still can't remember why he thought relieving Euphie was a good idea), the Blue Light beckons.

It stops beckoning as soon as he sees Rudy Miller. Not all of his memories of the City make sense or have fallen back into the right order, but he does remember being endlessly annoyed by Rudy. The only way to deal with returning annoyances, clearly, is to talk to them. Of course.]

You brought a chess set into a bar?

♥ open

[lone_must_stand]

The pearlstuff in her blood rushes and whispers reassuringly as Aeriel slips into the Blue Light, wishing for a thousand things. Her husband, above all else; but also her daycloak, and the bandolin she'd carried in her travels. A musician, she knows, is always welcome in an inn; and as she seems to be here on her own, it would be better to have that guarantee of safe passage.

But no one challenges her; and so the girl finds a seat in a quiet corner, shaking her head with a smile when someone asks what she'd like. For now she needs to wait, to watch, until she has her wits about her enough to worry about where to go next.

my wife

[and_warrior_arise]

He has sought her today, wondering where she was when he did not wake with her near him. But her heart beats steady in his chest and he knows he can find her, wherever she is, as long as he looks. He had not looked before, he had relied on Erin, he had been obsessed, but now he is free, and he looks for his wife.

There is no other face he wishes to see, not that of his cousin or his brothers or his mother, trueborn and not adopted.

And so he finds her, his lips almost smiling. It is not an expression seen often on his face. "My wife." A title that means something, now.

[pithos]

[ Pithos means to hurry, though it's in his nature to dawdle. He had held onto the miseries of the world until the very last possible moment and, then after, had done very much the same with Elpis — the song of Hope. Still, he is eager to see her again, even though he has not been long since they last crossed paths. Neither travels far without the other, so he does what he can to find this 'Blue Light' of which Elpis speaks, ducking his head as he enters through the front door, his hands fumbling anxiously with the sleeve of his jacket. ]

[springseternal]

[She's sitting at a high table wearing a white lacy dress and drinking something pink with an umbrella in it. The umbrella wasn't usually added to the drink - she asked specifically. When she sees him she smiles]

Pithos.

Open!

[desiredhertobetheirqueen]

[It's late when she finally gets there and waits; she tried the beach first, of course she did, but when he didn't come, she came to the Blue Light.

She wanted to see if Peter was there, or Caspian or Susan. Ed had gone home already; even the crowd was dwindling. She sits at the bar, swinging her legs slightly.]

[killerstyle]

[He should've gone to the beach, probably, but it's long past the full moon and he's been busy, anyway, seeing to one thing and another and trying not to get handcuffed to a cash register by a highly enthusiastic former employer. But he's got some money to show for his efforts, and a nice well-fitting outfit courtesy of Cinna, and there's a lightness to him that quite frankly hasn't been there in a long, long time.

He comes to the Blue Light because this is where the majority of his acquaintances tend to gather; it just goes to show that the odds are ever in his favor when he catches a glimpse of a familiar silhouette at the bar.

Strange that she's out when it's not the full moon, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.]

What's a queen like you doing in a place like this?

[wishrot]

[ A young girl is seated in the corner, watching the occupants of the Blue Light with eyes that are black and black. Idly, she twirls the end of the ribbon in her hair around the knuckle of one finger. Maybe she's waiting for somebody, or maybe she's just bored.

Her hair is bright red and her cheeks are flush, as if she's just ran a great distance. Her clothes are unseasonable for winter weather — a sheer sundress (more ribbons) with lace at the hem and flowers patterned all over, bare feet. ]

[striping]

[He may not be quite the boy she was waiting for, but she is certainly a familiar face in a club full of unfamiliar ones. Not a strange thing for him, he's using to shmoozing with the best of them, but he can't deny this whole scenario has set him on edge. Least of all that he's apparently been taken from out of Circe's block, and, well, they all knew what happened to anyone who tried to leave.]

I think it may well be time for you to fly away home. [He takes a large drink of the glass of whiskey he's acquired - really very on edge, though he may try to hide it.] And take me with you, before we both find ourselves eaten.

open!

[wayofman]

[There's a great deal in this city that even the well-versed Ben Wade isn't entirely familiar, but hell, he knows a bar when he needs one. If he's lucky, it'll be just the kind of bar that can (and will) cater to exactly what he needs, and even if he isn't...well, at least there should be something half-decent to drink, right?

So it is that he saunters in with all the confidence that a man like him has to spare — even though he still has these damn cuffs on his wrists. He'll wait and see about getting them off in a bit; nobody's seemed to recognize him so far, so if anyone asks, he'll just say he's the victim of a false accusation. In the meantime, he's going to have a seat at the bar and see what this place — and these people — have to offer.]

Open

[truant]

[Here, at a table in a corner where he can get a good view of the entire room, is one perfectly contented young man. He nurses a chocolate milkshake with an air of carefully rehearsed sophistication and dignity. The way he holds it aloft in his hand is akin to the way a cocksure businessman might hold a glass of particularly expensive wine.

Here he sits, and he watches, with the slightest traces of a smirk cracking at that ever-so-suave demeanor.]

i seriously cannot resist

[charring]

[Insomnia is not Charlie's friend so, here she is, wandering the City in search of distraction. She even told Ken where she was going. It was just to make sure that Guy wasn't around anywhere.

Or the damn clown.

The Blue Light was just a detour. She headed right to the counter to order something to snack on and something to drink, sitting at one of the empty stools and trying so damn hard to relax.]

Open!

[lafemmefatale]

[Near the bad there's a young woman is a sleek gown, looking for all the world like she owns the place. Another place another time, maybe she could, but these aren't her digs and she doesn't know the play. So instead she watches, waits, because someone will make a move and it will all begin again.]

[rubix]

[ These aren't her digs and they're not his either, but when the Brain calls all eyes, there's not much that'll keep him from pounding the pavement to find out where the crowds stick. The Blue Light, then, is the obvious choice and so, here he is, plain and nondescript as a cement wall, nothing worth while for the eye to catch on, except maybe whose owl-eye specs. ]

open!

[ferrous]

[ A woman walks in. Young, but stately in her poise and dressed in robes emblazoned with the proud maw of a silver wolf. At her wrists and her temples, more silver — delicate chained ringlets, all, set with moonstones. There at her throat, again silver, this time a mockingbird. Her eyes are bright blue, the color of the summer sky, and her hair is bright red, like silk set afire, and twined this way and that to sit atop her head. As she enters, she removes her riding gloves — one, then the other.

She makes for quite the sight. ]

<< I have to go to bed soon but

[wolfinthesnow]

[When he comes in he doesn't see her at first - he just wanted a drink and a tavern is the best place for that. He has a ridiculous colored coin, and he buys a drink, turns, and sees her.

At first he thinks it's the Lady Stark, and his heart near stops. He may be Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, but sometimes he is still the bastard from Winterfell.]

open

[candothat]

[Chekov, far from inconspicuous in his gold command shirt and currently unoccupied--modifying McCoy's computer program had been child's play--is perched on a barstool that affords a very nice view of the bar. This is just like shore leave, but with fewer aliens and, according to the bartender he had spoken with, a minimum drinking age of eighteen.

At least the people are fun to watch.]