Stark Industries, Monday

[endsthegame]

Ender was late to work, but he had his reasons. For one, he had finally slept last night, and for more than a few hours; when he woke up, he was already late for his morning routine. For two, after a long period of caring predominantly about fixing things, followed by his stint in Special Collections, he needed a good, long shower.

Now he was back at work, still looking sleepy, and discussing any number of things with Jane while he tried to make sense of what to do with the Jane-backup now sitting on his computer. (And while he tried to make sense of the voicemail he'd gotten, which he was pretty sure came from the recently-late Yakko Warner, but which wasn't any less confusing)

Well. And picking powdered sugar out of his hair. That stuff got everywhere.

[[ open! and an enormous THANK YOU to whatever benefactor bought me paid time yesterday, omg! ]]

The Causeway, Monday Morning

[badnewsandwit.livejournal.com]

So early Monday morning last week, Alistair had gotten a sudden and urgent missive from the Grey Wardens that his presence was required in Ferelden for a mission.

And, well, as far as the Grey Wardens went, he was a dutiful boy.

It had been a long week of darkspawn-killing and endless hikes through the forest (and without Duncan around, not that Alistair had been hoping he'd show up or anything), and he'd only been sent back on his way about a day and a half ago, and he hadn't even had a horse.

So: here was Alistair, wandering into town, darkspawn-blood-encrusted, wearing a new set of (more shiny) armor, and with powdered sugar falling on his head. ...Okay, the powdered sugar was actually not that bad--

"This tastes amazing!"

--stop plucking powdered sugar out of your hair, Alistair. Darkspawn blood.

[[ open! ]]

Cafe Luke's, Monday

[gastronomistic]

Vincent was in a fabulous mood. He'd woken up bright and early this morning to see the world was still there and there was a nice crisp chill in the air promising holiday cheer.

And then it started snowing powdered sugar.

Today's special:
Decorate your own cookies!

There were sprinkles of every color and multiple shapes, there were tubes of frosting, and big tubs of freshly fallen sugar.

It was a holiday miracle!

Luke's was open.

The Gig, Monday Afternoon

[whitequeensfire.livejournal.com]

Angelica had reappeared Sunday exactly where she'd vanished from: the stables at the Gig, attempting to lead Duke out to join the other horses so she could get them all to the safety of the school stables. But as she stepped into the coral, it was suddenly dark but normal, no force field, no threatening blackness beyond it.

Thoroughly confused, she'd returned the horses to their stables and headed back to the school to find out what was going on, then made some happy phone calls to home to find everything was back to normal there, too. So she was in a much better mood this afternoon when she returned to the Gig to tend to the horses. Well, with the exception of the powder sugar falling from the skies and turning into a sticky mess in her hair. Today was going to be an indoor day, it seemed.