Duck Pond in the park - Thursday morning

[courtincalamity.livejournal.com]

There's a person laying on the ground under a tree with a bottle of something clutched to their chest. The person may intend to be propped up on said tree, but it didn't quite work out.

The person is dirty, the frontier/old west-y buck skin clothing caked with mud, and appears to have been in several fights. You probably don't want to see what the other people look like.

Some how, she's managed to keep her hat on.

It's probably safe to assume that the person rolling around in the dirt is a "she", because "she" is yelling. While husky and horse, it sounds like a female voice.

Mostly.

"I don wanna listen to you any more! You don't know what the fuck you're talking about! Because you don't know people! And because you don't know people... You don't know what the fuck you're... Talking about!"

She takes a swig of whatever's in the bottle and gets most of it in her mouth.

"Now, now I know people, unlike you. So I know what the fuck I'm talking about!"

This goes on for some time. It's not at all clear who she's talking to. Possibly the brown horse over by that tree.

[[ooc: open... Anybody need a room-mate?]]

Junkyard, Thursday afternoon

[walter-n-wires.livejournal.com]

After returning to the dorms to get some more clothes and put some aloe on his rapidly developing sunburn from having to strip in Wilderness Survival, Walter went to engage in a bit of therapy, also known as wanton destruction in controlled circumstances.

After more than three weeks without practice, and given the fact that his mood had him taking unnecessary risks, he was bleeding from a few small cuts and panting hard fairly quickly.

It was exactly what he needed.

[ooc: Open, but the sounds of falling metal and whipping wire would hopefully alert your character to walk cautiously before walking in where Walter's "working." I don't want him to cut any precious bits off of anyone.]

Wine, Wenches 'n Song [4-6pm FDT]

[likeguidelines.livejournal.com]

"It be yer favorite time o' the week, Fandom!" Barbossa began. "It be time fer Wine, Wenches 'n Song where I be offerin' ye me expertise on wenches 'n me fantastic taste in song while I be drinkin' wine. Well, not wine. I be more o' a rum type, even if the cupholder on me computer be broken 'n the lazy elves who be runnin' the thing be runnin' away."

Yes, Barbossa thought that actually made sense. "Speakin' o' which, I be startin' the show out wit' The Wreck o' the Edmund Fitzgerald fer Sammy o'er at the help desk who were tellin' me what be wrong wit' me computer yesterday."

He pushed a button and the song began playing. After it was finished, Barbossa's voice came back over the airwaves. "Anyway. I be here t' play yer requests 'n help ye wit' yer love lives. The lines be open. Bother me."

All and Sundries, 7/27

[blackadder-nth.livejournal.com]

Mr. Blackadder had called to Baldrick as soon as he entered the shop after his visit to the park, made some excuse about a sore throat, and left Baldrick in charge before he could tell his boss about the nice woman he'd met while he was out.

Oh well. Baldrick was in charge and All and Sundries is open.

Luke's Diner, Thursday

[dude-its-jude.livejournal.com]

Jude? Not bummed any more.

Luke's? Open like an open thing, yo.

Our Lady of Fandom; Thursday Afternoon

[nun-better.livejournal.com]

A nun and a purple-haired boy approached the church. Suitcase in one hand, Sister Rosette raised the other over her eyes as she looked up at the building, a slight frown on her face. "This the place, Chrono?" Because, yeah, there were so many other churches around. But it was dinky. Especially compared to the Headquarters.

Despite being burdoned with a fair greater amount of luggage, nearly consuming his small frame, Chrono still managed to take a look at the map and paper in his hand and give a little nod. "Yup. Thirty-seven Mallard Way. Our Lady of Fandom."

"Hooray!" Rosette threw a fist in the air, jumped up a little. "Let's go!"

She rushed up the steps to the church, Chrono struggling to jog behind her. One thought ran through his head. Don't kick open the door, don't kick open the door...

Rosette Christopher kicked open the door. She trudged in, hoping to frighten any little old ladies kneeling in the pews praying, or spooking the crap out of some sinner about to slip into a confessional. "Have no fear, lost souls! Sister Rosette is here to lead you back to the flock!"

Her dramatic entrance echoed off the empty walls of the church. Rosette's jaw dropped. "What. The. Hell, it's empty! Chrono! Where's my adoring congregation?"

Chrono chuckled nervously, setting down some of the luggage. "Well, it is Thursday afternoon, Rosette, not exactly rush hour for praying."

She charges forward down the aisle, critical eyes passing around the church. "Well, it doesn't look big enough for a rectory, so I wonder if there's a basement or someth....Ah-ha! Yup! Here we go! There's probably clergy quarters down there...Eee, maybe we should check that out a little later. A little scary." She drops the suitcase down by the door to the stairwell, and looks around the church again. Her hands clasp before her, gloves making a little muted clap. "Ooooh, exploring! Come on, Chrono, let's see what we've got to play with here."

"Play with" might have been all to accurate of a way to put it, because soon Rosette was practically climbing all over the place, checking things out, exclaiming excitement or disappointment here or there, much to both Chrono's dismay and amusement. He sunk down onto a seat near the door, watching quietly, nervously.

This was going to be interesting...


[[open; come say hi to the crazy nun]]

Caritas - Thursday Evening [Open]

[absolutesnark]

Piper was very grateful when Weevil opened Caritas extra early so she could decorate and set up for Veronica's surprise party.

She was also relieved when Tino informed her that Veronica would be late. Not that she was going to have to work anyway. It's her birthday party after all.


[please wait for ocd threads are up, yay!; comment notification is off. Ping me in the ooc thread if you need anything. :)]

Cafe Fina, Thursday

[badassbutler.livejournal.com]

Alfred was starting to think that heat bred emo.

Perhaps emo was like mosquitos. Or perhaps it was even carried by misquitos.

Alfred was sillier than most people gave him credit for.

_{[[OOC: Wait for the OCD! OCD up!]]}