Homecoming Brunch, The Park, Sunday Morning

[chief-cheerio.livejournal.com]

The glitter moosen and beavers had been moved to the park to stand friendly guard around a cluster of tents, tables and chairs. Underneath, the Homecoming events rolled on with another maple-themed buffet and plenty of space for standing around and chatting.

The sound system played kd lang and Leonard Cohen at a low volume, to gently welcome anyone who might have gotten into the punch last night after it was spiked. This event was decidedly hangover-friendly.

[Quicklinks: Arrive + Mingle | Food + Drink | Tables + Chairs | Rest of the Park | OOC]

The Boardwalk, Sunday Afternoon

[anarchist-queen.livejournal.com]

Leda had handwavily left messages for Jon, James, Momoko and Karla, asking them to meet them here. She knew she should explain to them what was going on, and really she would like to vent a bit. It was just that the dance didn't seem like the place to do it. This seemed like a good time and place for it.

Especially with the huge bucket of boardwalk fries she'd bought.

[Open for anyone, but mostly those mentioned in the narrative.]

The Park- Sunday after sunset

[fh-fillers.livejournal.com]

Anyone who happened by the park tonight might take notice of a mysterious tent that had appeared there. It seemed both out of place and mysterious, exactly the sort of thing to invite people who might be so inclined to find that sort of thing inviting.

Inside they would find a fortuneteller waiting for them, with her crystal ball at the ready, prepared to tell you what your future would hold.

Or maybe just to screw with them. Hard to tell.


[Open to those who have signed up, though anyone can feel free to notice the tent.]

The Park, Sunday Morning

[hoorayimrich.livejournal.com]

It turned out that five in the morning was indeed a real time. And that Mr. Rogers had ways of showing his disappointment with Tony's impulsive, teenage, capslock rage.

He had ways.

So, at the moment, Tony was in a sore, barely mobile heap on a park bench, trying to recall the first day he'd done training. And then deciding that this was way worse than that. He couldn't even find the fine motor skills required for a text. Hopefully no one would think he was drunk texting at least?

He'd move off that bench any moment now. Yup. Aaaaany moment now.

[[For America, but also open]]

The Boards, Sunday [All Day]

[oncourtandstage.livejournal.com]

So there was this building. And Troy kind of owned it now. Well. Ryan Evans owned it, really, no matter that Troy's name was on it, but Troy was good with that. Because this building?

Was a theatre.

After getting the keys, Troy unlocked the front door and walked in, deciding just to sit in the audience for a little bit, basking in that 'this theatre is mine!' sense before starting to figure out what kind of renovations and repairs it might need. Or that he might want. Having a rich friend to bankroll everything? Now that Troy'd gotten used to it, kind of awesome. He'd been in the Boards before, sure, but this? Was completely different.

The front door was hanging open a little, and music -- after Troy found the sound booth -- was playing out into the street.


[No OCD. Expecting one, but open to anyone who wants to come by and poke at this new guy in the Boards! Infopost on The Boards and upcoming shows (and other events!) within the next couple of days.]

Caritas | Sunday Evening

[wehateyouplzdie.livejournal.com]

Wallace wasn't anywhere to be seen but Tino was around the bar tonight hanging up Halloween decorations at the bar. Some fake spiderwebs might get in the drinks. Oops.