The Park, Sunday Morning

[furnaceface]

Rain. Of course it was raining. And cold. It being nearly summer back home (and he was using the word 'home' very loosely, these days) didn't mean a hell of a lot when it came to Jonothon's return to Fandom. The trees were telling him that it was autumn. The last bit of snow underfoot was being eaten away by the rain.

At least he wasn't barefoot, he supposed. And he wasn't so stupid as to sit on the bench by the pond, today. He'd found himself a spot with enough cover by the trees that he could stand and think over his options while the rain minded its own business everywhere else. There was a list of things as long as his arm that he knew that he needed to do, and if he could actually manage to settle on any one thing as being more important than the rest, then...

Then...

He sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the tree trunk. He'd figure it out. In a bit, he'd figure it out. For now, he was just going to listen to the rain and breathe.

[Open park, crappy weather!]

The Gig, Sunday

[kestrelswolf.livejournal.com]

With no small amount of grumbling, Firekeeper had finally submitted to the fact that it was officially Time To Wear Boots again.

...Unless she was indoors. Which explained why she and Blind Seer were spending much of the day inside the barn with the horses, sprawled out on a hay bale.

[ooc: soooo much SP today.]

The Boards, Sunday [All Day]

[oncourtandstage.livejournal.com]

Over the course of the last week, Troy had been hard at work: cataloging, examining, considering. Everything that had been left in the Boards was sorted into 'Keep', 'Discard', and 'Oh God what is this?' which was... pretty much what he'd expected for a theatre at Fandom. The office was in some semblance of order. Plans had been roughly drawn up for potential renovations, ready to be gone over with the help of the Evans family architect ("Ryan, why does your family have an architect on retainer?" "... Yours doesn't?") via Skype at Troy's earliest convenience.

So now Troy was sitting in the office, music blasting once more through the theatre. Despite the sub-par soundboard. At some point, Troy really needed to text Jono about that...


[May be a little SP-ish for the next few hours, as I've got a guest who will be heading home some time this afternoon, but otherwise open!]

Goodvalor's Little Bivoli, Sunday

[cataclysmicluck.livejournal.com]

It was nice to have a quiet time after last weekend. The droids weren't acting up, nobody from Zayne's past seemed likely to show up, and the special today wasn't anything too bizarre.

Today's Special:
Exodeenian Pasta

It was almost too quiet.

[OOC: No OCD today because I don't feel like it. TAKE THAT, OCD!]

Turtle & Canary, Sunday

[swordsandsoccer.livejournal.com]

Lethargy had struck Dolf once again - or rather, a headache was. He was currently slumped over on the counter while Nana drooled all over his ankles. His socks would never be the same.

The stupid thing was, he'd seen much worse in the disease area in his time. A silly little headache seemed like a ridiculous thing to knock him out for the day, and yet he was sorely tempted to sign off for the day and stumble home to crawl into his bed. Sleep it off.

Still, duty kept him there. On the counter. With dog drool seeping down his shoes.

Today's Squishy flavors: Blue, Sigh, Grape Judas.

[[ open, but slooow. method rp ftw. ]]