multiversallogs | Entries tagged with } arthur

Who: Arthur and OPEN
What: Walking the dog
Where: Howl Barrow
When: Any morning after the jellyfish depart. He walks the dog often.
Notes: Multiple threads welcome. If you want to start in another part of town/during another time of day, I can adjust.
Warnings: N O P E

( SNIP SNIP. )

meanwhileback

Who: Penelope Lane, a very traumatized-looking Wolfgang Einhorn, and YOU! YES, YOU!!! GET OVER HERE
What: The open casting call for Penelope's fashion line! Also known as "Models A-Go-Go" or "The Trolliest Place On Earth".
Where: The Valhalla Inn. Specifically, the Ballroom. (Yes, it has one. It's a hotel, isn't it?)
When: Coardi, Ceidary 16th. Also known as "Today". Doors open at noon!
Notes: I'll post two thread starters, one for mingling amongst one another in the waiting area, where you should feel free to post WILDLY about how ridiculous this all is, get into fights, etc, and another for your own personal threads with Penelope, where she will decide if you are ~what she wants~. If you want to post elsewhere (outside the Valhalla being attacked by jellyfish, having a smoke break out back, snorting coke in the bathrooms, whatever) feel free!! Just make a note where it is in the subject. Y'all know the drill!
Warnings: Cursing, trollery, diva behavior. Possibly giant sky-jellyfish harassing the building. The usual.

Signs posted in the lobby and hallways of the Valhalla direct interested parties back past the dining hall to a large, seldom-used room, helpfully labeled "Ballroom" in several different languages, many not remotely native to Earth. Inside, the carpeted room is otherwise similar to general design scheme of the Valhalla, except slightly dustier. Several rows of folding chairs have been set up in a sort of airport-style waiting area to the side, and far to the end of the room sits a long table.

Seated smack in the center of that table is Penelope Lane, The Grand Bitch Herself, smoking a cigarette and looking for all the world like she's enormously dissatisfied with just about everything she can possibly think of. On the table in front of her is a notebook and pen, an ashtray, and a polaroid camera. Somewhere, a radio is playing through slightly crackly speakers.

At the entrance, a small table has been set up with a stack of carefully typed applications and a handwritten sign, instructing that applicants should take one and sit in the waiting area to fill out the paperwork until the number at the top of their form is called.

It's all very professional, or it would be, if there weren't the threat of giant killer sky-jellyfish floating around outside eating people. This has, understandably, put something of a damper on the occasion. But as they say, the show must go on. Because Penelope says so. Damnit.

betterthansubpoenas

Who: Kalinda Sharma and various. Could be you!
What: A week in the life of an investigator doing surveillance.
Where: All over the city.
When: Any time!
Notes: I've got thread starters for Arthur and Steph, but all are welcome! The settings are flexible, so feel free to come up with whatever. I will roll with it!
Warnings: None as of yet.

Kalinda hasn't been getting near as much extra work as she would like. Rather, she isn't making as much money from her extra work as she would like. Money isn't tight, exactly, but it isn't as abundant as she's used to it being. So much of what she does is built on her image, and that image requires maintenance, that maintenance requires cash. She has a feeling her current assignment, which has had her running from one end of the city to the other, isn't going to result in her being paid the previously agreed upon amount, being as how it's not producing the result her client hoped for.

Fortunately, she took half up front.

fixedroll.livejournal.com

Who: Arthur and Eames
What: serious business, not-so-serious business, general shenanigans
Where: dream bros HQ (an apartment in Flyside)
When: now! right now!!!
Notes: brrrmmmmmm
Warnings: none at this time

So the living room is, as usual, kind of a mess, in the way any workplace inevitably becomes a mess when its occupants are forced to deal with a lack of proper storage and more or less fundamentally incompatible working techniques. Either Arthur or Eames is a fan of making piles, and it's not Arthur. Just saying. All this will finally come to an end, he hopes, once this shelf is in place. This shelf, which he is currently assembling. This tall-ass, heavy shelf, which he should probably not be putting together alone, but he's the only one here right now and by god it must be done.

Sleeves rolled up, on his knees in a pair of jeans, bare-footed and looking very serious, our friend pauses with the screwdriver in his hand and leans across his project in a vaguely uncomfortable, twisting way, to double-check the instructions. It's not quite IKEA-easy, this thing, but Arthur is by no means helpless when faced with the usage of tools, so he's managing. It would help if they'd numbered the pieces, though. At all.

The gramophone-looking vinyl player, which Arthur bought because it was both cheap and amazing, is playing classic wartime big band at a reasonable volume (currently this). There's a half-empty cup of coffee on one of the end tables, now cold. Arthur chews on the lining of his cheek and reads. And reads. And reaches awkwardly to turn the page.

baedalites.livejournal.com

Who: Arthur and Special Militiaman Ben Powell.
What: An interview is had, some things are cleared up.
Where: Somewhere deep within The Spire
When: Some two weeks after leaving that party. Time is irrelevant. (Link is a little violent.)
Notes: Fascist shenanigans abound.
Warnings: General meanness seems likely.

The location of the Militia's head quarters is no secret. The Spire looms between the government buildings in Dryside and the halls of law in Coin's End. Little is known about what happens in there; the Militia has no obligation to explain itself nor is the public allowed inside. It is said that Baedal has no prison, and that's true. One way or another, the holding cells in the Spire are not intended for long term incarceration.

( There is one guest however of some fleeting interest. )

bonhomme7h.livejournal.com

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

baedalites.livejournal.com

Who: List forthcoming.
What: Getting a lantern.
Where: Spatters.
When: NOW. This thread will likely cover a few days.
Warnings: To be updated.

( Mission Delta )

baedalites.livejournal.com

Who: The staff and residents of the Valhalla Inn with a special guest appearance by the Militia.
What: A lock-down. A shake-down. Some questions.
Where: The Valhalla Inn. Different locations will be designated by different subthreads.
When: Early Coardi morning and into the afternoon.
Notes: OOC Discussion
Warnings: None yet, but expect (subtle) threats, coercion, and general jackboot'n'blackbag shenanigans.

Rumour travels fast in Baedal; soon everyone in Mog Hill and beyond will know that the Militia are at the Valhalla Inn and no one is getting out. Official word is that this is strictly routine; protocol dictates Arrival Houses be locked down for evaluation after a City-wide crisis. It's still early morning. Outside, the sun is rising after a night of gentle rain. Birds sing and gorge themselves on dead monkeys yet to be cleared away. It's going to be a beautiful day.

Meanwhile, inside Valhalla, the Militia have firmly requested that every guest, every employee and every incidental visitor gather in the Common Room as they search the rest of the Inn. The proprietor and her staff are visibly unhappy about the event, but the closest they have come to voicing dissent is managing to call for the Sheriff. Still, so far the gentleman who seems to be in charge of the proceedings has been nothing but curtly polite. The Militia works fast; they have gone through the whole place in less than an hour and are now, as they say, ready to take interviews. These will be conducted one-on-one in a different room of the Inn. Most individuals who arrived after the creature invasion are sorted out and escorted outside of the building. Some, however, are not.

None of the Special's agents or their more thuggish companions say so, at least not out in the Common Room, but it is evident that their search turned up something.

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Entries tagged with } arthur

born to run

[OPEN] i hate to tell you but it's all an illusion

open. » awesome song lyrics go here. yeah!

it's funny how a theme recalls a favorite dream

between this side and that

It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

Mission Delta

Interlude: Militiavisits by Candlelight

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