Covent Garden Flowers; Tuesday [01/14].

[white_oleander]

So Astrid was back at her old job at the flower shop, which had gone through some renovations and some new ownership, so she was mostly spending her time getting reaquainted with the place and the flowers and taking her time in getting to the orders. There weren't many, after all, and they were flowers, what would be the urgency, anyway?

But she'd made tea, as Seivarden had suggested, and she'd be ready to serve it to any customers who came in, because that was apparently a thing, and she wasn't sure if they could have some, too, but she was definitely sipping at a cup as she went about her business, both trying to think of what Ingrid would think of the tea thing and trying not to care what Ingrid would think about the whole tea thing.

She was also wearing gloves, as part of the other suggestion made by her new boss, and she'd even embroidered some flowers on them. It wasn't her best work, she wasn't as good at embroidery as she was drawing or painting, but they looked decent enough, and the gloves she still had left to work on would be better. And while she thought this newfound sense of propriety in the flower shop was a little ridiculous, she had to admit she found a weird sort of comfort in clear guidelines and expectations. She never did very well with freedom, and they were little things that helped give her a sense of direction.

At first, she was a little disappointed that the flowers didn't seem to be singing today, but they actually were, it was just so quiet you didn't notice it unless you were quiet, too. Which, of course, Astrid was.

Yeah, this was going to be good. She liked this, this was comforting and familiar, even with the changes. And as long as she stayed away from the oleanders.

Covent Garden is open!

Groovy Tunes; Tuesday [01/14].

[lilac_eyed_lieutenant]

Being able to make it to breakfast yesterday was just one step in helping everything feel a little more steady and back to normal (whatever that meant, anyway, around here) for Tisarwat, and her shift at the music store would help with that a bit, too. It was a strange feeling, one she couldn't quite explain, almost like she'd been shoved aside a little by some unknown force while other things kept rushing forward....

But whatever it was, she was shaking it off, and she had some more of the tea that Wayne had gotten her for Christmas that had gone over so well yesterday, thinking....not so much that Breq would like to try it herself, but that she would at least be interested, knowing how Breq would be just as satisfied with water as she would tea, and knowing why, too, even if Breq might not know that Tisarwat knew.

And even though her last attempts had left her with an almost week-long migraine (that had, effectively, allowed her to miss out on all the craziness that was the weekend before last), she was picking at her phone again, although, instead of just trying to link to her implant directly, she was starting with connecting it to a few other devices she'd picked up, to help her better understand exactly how things like WiFi and Bluetooth worked. It was distracting work, but she was trying to keep an ear open for anyone coming into the shop, or for Breq checking up on her today.

Groovy Tunes is open!

The Devil's Nest, Tuesday Night

[my_own_advocate]

Lucifer had seriously considered the option of not taking the piano tonight - do something lighter, maybe with a bit more pop. But Seivarden did appreciate it when he played, and he was easily enabled.

So: back at the piano tonight, with a spotlight shining on it.

Still, it did feel like a perfect night for something more contemporary, so Sia it was.

Welcome to the Devil's Nest. There was a small smattering of tourists, there were cocktails on the specials board, and the Devil was at the piano.

[[ open. may be slow this afternoon due to real life issues ]]

Caritas- Tuesday

[throughaphase]

Kitty had not ordered this much chocolate vodka, and yet this much chocolate vodka was here. It had come on a pallet. It was entirely possible to through a lot of chocolate vodka, but umm.

SPECIALS
CHOCOLATE VODKA DRINKS
HELP

In the meantime bottles were pretty much everywhere as they tried to figure out how to store all this.

Syndulla Scrap; Tuesday [01/14].

[howareyanow]

So last week was a bit of a bust, what with everything that was going down and everything, but this week, Wayne was right back to the scrapyard, picking through stuff and keeping things nice and neat and organized and making sure the bitey bits were taken care of, as per usual, and he was having a pretty productive day of it, too, making it through plenty of all the scrap and the metal and the junk, setting aside parts that seemed helpful or useful and tossing whatever was useless into the incinerator.

And then there was always those moments, on days like these, where he then came across something truly awful, took a few seconds to make a disgusted face at it and the world where something like it could actually come to exist, tossed it smartly into the incinerator (even though he had a feeling he might be able to actually get a good twenty, twenty five bucks out of that one), and then decided that was enough scrap picking for the day.

It always got to that point, where he started to feel that some picking just wasn't worth it, and he feared for what he might one day find really hidden in the depths of this place.

Syndulla Scrap is open!

The beach, Tuesday morning

[betterthanaplan]

It was Tuesday, and Duke was determined to be perfectly fine and normal now that it'd been a week since the whole volcano thing ended.

Which meant it was time for beach yoga. Somewhat more intense beach yoga than normal, at least while he waited for Rey to arrive, since going for anything too meditative was still giving him too much time to think about things like dangling helplessly over a lava pit hoping the rope-chewer or Ms. "Delicate Wrists" didn't plunge them all to their dooms.

So. Working towards Warrior III it was. Because nothing said "my life is no longer precariously dangling by a thread" like pretending to be a table while balancing on one foot.

[open!]