Shufti has taken her Security patrol upstairs tonight, and is now moving quietly around the corridors looking for signs of the vampire.

She's armed with a crossbow, some garlic, a crucifix and a dictaphone. And a plastic bag for putting vampire dust in if required. She won't shoot unless she has to though.

She creeps stealthily across the corridor outside the library, lurking in the shadows there for a while. She's dressed in black, except for the security badge pinned to her front, which she's trying not to let glint.

[plottag: Gothic Winter's Tale]

It's a typical rainy Detroit day. Kara has been on her feet since very early in the morning, doling out coffee and food to the regulars in the neighborhood, along with the few tourists that find their way to her place of work. Once in a while, she glances towards the door, maybe hoping to see someone, maybe just feeling a little restless.

When lunch rush hits, however, she's really too busy to notice anything beyond her order pad or the trays of food she ferries from kitchen to table and back. It probably explains why the blond, wearing a tan waitress outfit with a little tag on the front giving her name as Linda, doesn't even notice that the decor has changed dramatically. She's just intent on getting some decaf to the guy who requested it, and then going back for another order.

... Except all of the tables look rearranged, and hey, those aren't the diner tables anyway, and where the hell is she?

".... Oh, crap."


[important info, pls to be looking here: Kara is currently suffering from amnesia, and won't recognize anyone. She'll also be referring to herself as Linda. ping mun @ frenetic ennui for questions, etc. Open until it scrolls.]

It's fucking freezing. Ramon does not approve. But at least there's snow; that's something. Plus, it'll be so much nicer when he finally gets back inside - for now though, he's saddling up Blanco and intends to give the animal a good hard ride before he goes away for Christmas.

Catchable before the ride, during or back in the stables or bar afterwards.

[ OOM: Get up. Everybody's gonna move their feet. Get down. Everybody's gonna leave their seat. You gonna lose your mind in Detroit Rock City ]

i_hope_that
For many of us, the holidays can be kind of rough. If you're searching for a network of understanding friends, this ultra-nurturing community encourages you to express your heartfelt wishes and offer other members encouragement and acceptance. Not for the terminally snarky or emotionally-challenged, this is a good-spirited place to lend comfort and support.

diygifts
Feeling crafty? If you've got a few last folks on your holiday gift list, this is a great place to seed your creativity and generosity. You'll also discover wonderful DIY tips to decorate your home and entertain guests. Offering a no-frills-no-skills attitude that welcomes the cash-challenged and arts-phobic, you're sure to get ideas and make friends in the process.

cooking_club
A fun and friendly community dedicated to those who love to cook, whether you're a meat-and-potatoes type, an aspiring gourmand, and/or a vegan. In search of a brilliant dish to use up those weekly leftovers? Post your ingredients and you'll be whipping up a feast by dinner. You can also share favorite recipes. For Type A chefs, you can spice up your culinary repertoire with exciting cooking challenges.

After two years, Meg has gotten pretty used to the bar hiding in foyers, bedrooms, laundry rooms, libraries, cafes, and any other place it took itself into turning up for her.

She might even have gone as far as saying she wasn't surprised when it turned up someplace new, not really.

However, she was definitely not expecting it to be waiting for her as she exits an airplane lavatory, holding a small bag with a toothbrush and chapstick and hand lotion in it.

It's an oddly uncomfortable thought; the physics involved (or not involved) in being magically whisked off to the end of the universe while traveling at heaven knows how fast and however many thousands of feet above the middle the Atlantic Ocean.

On the other hand, after four hours in a cramped seat in coach, Meg can't say she objects to the opportunity to stretch her legs.




[OOC: Intermittance likely.]

Mel has been making a list of everyone who's had a comparable recent vampiric encounter in the bar. The list is on the back of an envelope, but for Mel to write anything down at all means it's important:

Jane Austen; Kate Bishop; Joan Holloway; Bela Talbot; Nita Callahan

It's a regular epidemic, and Mel is pissed. There's also a note left for each of those names at the bar:

I'd like to talk to you. Look for the big red scythe.
 - Mel Fray.

Now, the Vampire Slayer in question is sitting with her feet up on a table, polishing the blade on her scythe in a very obvious HELLO I'M A VAMPIRE SLAYER, ASK ME HOW way. Her Security badge is pinned on her shoulder, not on her belt, in as obvious a way as she can make it, in the hope that anyone else would volunteer information.

[Plottag: Gothic Winter's Tale]
[OOC: I'm in and out all day for talking-about-dinosaurs, but the post stays open forever.]

OOC2: WTF? Firefox will no loner let me click links and reply to comments. Wrapping off here and going home, where I shall pick up.]

There are only so many days a man can spend up in his room before he begins to feel the traces of cabin fever creeping in -- and even though Doc would much rather stay holed up in his room (it's safe, there) he knows that he can't hide forever.

He's not sure what to expect.

After all, the general populace of the bar thinks that he's dead -- murdered by Ramon -- and they held the wake two weeks ago. To say that he's expecting some very difficult and confusing conversations tonight would be an understatement.

He's feeling better. He's still a bit bruised (several marks pepper his jaw and throat) and sore in several spots; but he's no longer wearing clothes covered in blood, he's had a shave (only a thin layer of scruff covers his face, now) and a haircut (it's still long, but not unkempt) and is working on what will most likely be the first of a few drinks.

(Of coffee.)

He's at one end of the bar, keeping an eye on the crowd and looking for people. His revolver is snugly resting against his hip, and not going anywhere, anytime soon. Neither is his alert state of mind, or the nagging feeling at the base of his neck, that everyone is watching him.

(He knows they're not, but the 'outlaw' is in full force lately, and hard to ignore.)




[Open to all takers, and open forever.]

[OOM: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlewomen.

Meg, Parker, and X gather for some girly holiday festivities.]

If Mary hasn't been in much recently, it's because she's been swamped with homework: on top of her regular studies, her tutor now has her reading the daily news in as many languages as she's learning. When she's had the time to come by, she's been lurking in her greenhouse, checking carefully to make sure all is well before ducking back home for supper.

But today there's snow on the ground in Milliways - she still finds it a bit wonderful, after all those years in India - and she thinks she deserves some time to sit by the fire and get dry. (Though she's picked up a copy of the Arbiter-Zeitung and is painstakingly reading through an article on how Karl Lueger retired from the Mayorship of Vienna. The Socialist viewpoint is often more interesting than the mainstream one.)

It also, incidentally, happens to be two days after her fourteenth birthday.

Tom sits by the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the scotch in his hand. He's been out making holiday rounds in the Underside all day. That would explain his deep green dress robes with the boutonniere of holly. He's fairly worn out, but he could use conversation that does not revolve around politics or alliances.

Andrew's in a reasonably good mood when he first walks into Milliways this evening. Things in New York are slowly getting back to the quieter end of normal; word from the Slayers' Academy says the same is true there.

It would be too much to hope for things to be at the quieter end of normal here.

As he finds out when he starts reading the various and sundry notes to and from Security.

They're all making him sit up and take notice; it's the final one that makes him turn pale.


~{tinytag: a gothic winter tale}~

[Open until it scrolls off the front page.]

Mary Alice Brandon steps through the door tonight, with a strange sense of knowing. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming (and she draws her dressing gown sleeve back to pinch her arm, just to make sure) but it soon becomes apparent she isn't.

In her dreams, she can shut out the visions. Here, it is overwhelming. Her fingers twist into her long, dark hair and her eyes, bright and blue, watch the crowd of people in the bar.

Her nose wrinkles in annoyance and wonder. This isn't her house, it never could be. Mama and Papa are never in bars, it's unsightly. And Mary Alice is far too young to go in one, being only sixteen this spring.

She sort of just...stands there.


[ooc: okay, human alice oshi-- this is pre-asylum alice too...don't worry, one of these days you'll get an asylum alice and it will be sad and stuff. she can still see the future, but she tries to hide it desperately from everyone. we can tell how well that works out.

open forever~]

The door slides open, and a horrific vision of blood and gore walks in.

This horrible creature then makes a distinctly unimpressed snort of disgust and, with a practiced motion, strips off the surgical gown, mask, gloves, and cap with one smooth sweep into a tidy ball and storms off towards the medbay. He'll be back shortly for a drink. Today requires a drink.

Or two, if someone wants to join him. A gentleman shouldn't drink alone, after all.

Barney came into the bar quietly the other night, but now he's out back, enjoying the snow. While it might be pretty nasty to a lesser soul, Barney grew up on a farm in Kansas, and this is the best kind of winter. He's missed it, being back in what passes for home nowadays. If you happen to see someone doing target practice with snowballs, it's probably Barns.

[ Tinytag: Barney Calhoun ]

[Totally open!]

[OOM: It's the most wonderful time of the year. Give or take ten minutes.]