The Preserve: Friday morning

[vkandis-son.livejournal.com]

After leaving the library, Karal had saddled up Trenor for a ride through the preserve. They were happily cantering along when he had to pull up sharply to avoid running over the man crouching in the middle of the path.

He seemed to be gathering up mud.

"Hello?" Karal said as Trenor snorted and danced. "What are you doing?"

The man straightened, and he had a wild and windblown, and oddly gleeful, look to him. "Ah, my lad, that is a fair question. I dwell out on the wild heath, among the bogs and rocks, and travel from dimension to dimension, seeking out the materials I need to create blocks and mosaics, which is both my living and my joy.

"Oh. That sounds interesting." He backed Trenor a few steps from the man's disturbingly cheerful grin.

The man did a little hop and a shuffle, whistling cheerfully. "Yes, I search out mud and clay, minerals and treasures, to use in my art of making floors."

That made slightly more sense. "Oh! You're an artist!" Artists tended to be different from other people.

The man beamed and spread his arms wide. "Why yes, I'm the Merry Tiler Moor."

Bah bum CHING.

The Arms Hotel Lobby, Saturday afternoon

[montecito-east.livejournal.com]

The kitty was still frolicking around the lobby as the staff set up afternoon tea. They felt that it was what Mary would have wanted if she wasn't currently a feline.

The menu was the same as previous weeks with one exception. By request, Gunther had added mini cheesecakes to the list of available pastries.

Welcome to the Arms Hotel!
Join us for afternoon tea.

Free dessert if you can figure out how to change our manager back into her old self.

[Open!]

Groovy Tunes, Saturday

[girlzippo.livejournal.com]

Charlie was bouncing around and singing along to Tuition while keeping the kittens from wrecking the newest CD display. Tonight's play was only a few hours off, and she was already wanting to leave and get prepared.

Groovy Tunes was open.

Book Haven; Saturday [ 10-2 ]

[kitty--fetish.livejournal.com]

The store was open, with Alphonse in good spirits. It was hard to keep himself busy with fixing and arranging what needed to be around the shelves, as the place always seemed to be so well kept. So Alphonse was, you guessed it, sitting at the same spot at the front counter as soon as he quickly finished with his first tasks. As you do.

47 Minotaur Lane, Early Saturday Afternoon

[tinkerbitch.livejournal.com]

Tinker Bell had had a lovely night's sleep - after she had turned those hand towels into a fairy-sized canopy bed, naturally - and was thinking that she was really starting to grow fond of this island. She was definitely staying, Tink decided.

Of course, if she was staying here, some things simply needed to change.

So she soared up and down the streets until she found a deserted building that looked perfect for what she needed. 47 Minotaur Lane? Well. There were prettier names, but this would do.

And so Tink waved her wand a few times outside to change the exterior to something a little more - Tinkish. The sign in the window now read:

( cut for image )

Pixie Dust
Fine Apparel and Accessories

Satisfied, Tink sauntered inside to set things up to her liking.


(OOC: Pixie Dust isn't open for shopping just yet, but the door and post are both wide open for anybody who's curious. Warning: Tink may be a total bitch to you. It's sort of her thing.)

Trooper Station - Saturday

[light-a-spark.livejournal.com]

Roy wasn't sure what was going on, but it had to be some kind of Fandom oddity or what not as he was certain you didn't randomly wake up with an eye you lost years ago. Every so often his hand would go up to touch his cheek, feeling the smooth line of a bone that had been shattered.

He was nearly at the end of his pile of paperwork when the door opened and a young, black haired woman strode into his office, carrying reports. She was wearing a uniform that looked suspiciously Amestrian if it weren't for the fact that the skirt of the dress uniform was way, way shorter than he remembered. "Here you are, sir," she said politely, placing the files on top of his pile.

Roy tore his eyes away from the long, smooth legs and forced his brain to focus. Women in miniskirts were nice and all, but this wasn't exactly normal. "I don't mean to be impolite, miss, but what are you doing here? I'm certain it's the Sergeant's job to bring those in."

The woman blinked and stared at Roy as if he'd lost it. "I am the Sergeant, sir."

Roy stared.

"Are you not feeling well, sir?" the woman asked.

"I'm fine," he waved it off. "What's your name?"

"C-" the woman stopped and scowled. "Ralph. Now please stop wasting my time and finish those reports," she said tersely and strode out of the office.

Roy was still staring... and appreciating the view he got as Ralphette left. Sure, this was weird, but one should never complain about a staff in miniskirts.

((Yes, Roy made a wish and all the troopers turned female and are wearing wee miniskirts. Post open, of course.))

Caritas, Saturday Evening

[roadhousequeen.livejournal.com]

Ellen got to work in a fairly cheerful mood and managed to maintain it despite Tino's suddenly sullen attitude. For some reason, she was thinking about dogs. Maybe she should get a puppy?

In any case, she opened the bar for the night and spent a good bit of time mentally listing the reasons she probably shouldn't.

[OOC: I'm here, but mod Tino if you prefer!]

Photo Hut, Saturday

[mr-hippie.livejournal.com]

The lights were out in the Photo Hut. As if it were closed. But no, Leo was just testing the digital cameras to see which ones had the brightest flashes.

Photo Hut is open.

Fandom Post Office: Saturday [18.08]

[norglomofnit.livejournal.com]

Moist looked up from his paperwork at the sound of hooves. There was a horse standing in the middle of the Post Office. "Can I help you?"

The horse bobbed its head up and down, then tapped its front hoof against the floor. "I heard you had some envelopes that needed stamping."

Perplexed, Moist shook his head. "No, no we don't."

The horse looked around, shifting awkwardly from hoof to hoof. "You didn't want to ask me about the length of my face?"

"Not really."

"I guess I'll just go then," it replied, and trotted out the door.

Moist watched it leave. "That was odd."

The Post Office is open and horse - and pun - free.

Our Lady of Fandom, Saturday all day

[no-archangel.livejournal.com]

Having posted his letters made Gabriel feel he had accomplished something today. It was becoming an increasingly rare feeling, so he savoured it, celebrating the event with coffee and donuts, and tried not to think about how sad his existence had become.

[The church is open]