multiversallogs | Entries tagged with } leonard mccoy

Who: Everyone!
What: St Kelley's evening
Where: The Apache and surrounding environs.
When: Veerdi evening.
Notes:
(1) The topic threads are just suggestions; if you've got somewhere else that your characters simply must be, make your own thread.
(2) All mementos will appear overnight in some part of your character's apartment.
(3) Dance!

( St Kelley's is one of the more sedate occasions in Baedal. )

captaincocksure

Who: Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy, Jones, Tadhg MacEibhir, Martha Jones, Hasibe Ozcelik

What: Those who would help the good captain rescue tinies, assemble!

Where: the catacombs in the north Spatters area.

When: The 1st, starting at 6 pm. The day after the events here

Notes: Lineup for the log may change as I consult with people. Tag in, talk with Jim, talk with each other, whatever you like. Claire wrote the first four paragraphs, for setup—thank you! :D

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse and murder, plus additional NPC menacing of children, and Jim being violent and briefly torturing someone for information, in the narrative set-up behind the cut. Also tl;dr, look, the words just came out, okay.

Ketch Heath, on the official city map, ends at a point. In reality, there are no clear divisions, no lines on the ground or any neat borders where grass ends and dreary fog-covered dirt begins; the buildings continue, tacked onto streets that haven't been kept up in hundreds of years, cracked and overgrown - shanty towns and wooden structures intersperse the framework of things both old and hauled in through the fog. To miles past what passes for the border in between the edge of the canton and the Spatters, down a crumbling alley, a meeting is taking place.

The area is otherwise deserted - there's not much viable, picked clean and dirty, and the occasional lookout that can be seen peering through cracks in old boarded up windows assume anyone not dressed like a Militia agent has been invited. (Because who else would know where to go, and when?)

( For the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these… )

aviophobia

Who:

doctornota and YOU!
What: A week in the life of the good doctor.
Where: All around town: Hellsing, Main Street Park, the streets of Baedal, various bars.
When: All week.
Notes: Just tag in under the appropriate comment!
Warnings: Bones' mouth, probably.

See the threads for openings!

cailisairgid

Who: Nuala, Dr McCoy, NPC Hellsing aids; possibly others later.
What: Nuada's first attempt is a failure.
Where: Hellsing Guild Hall
When: Today.
Warnings: Violent injury; reference to violence; medical treatment; ping me if I missed something.

The first hint something isn't right feels quite the opposite; some faint sensation in the back of her mind that should be there, shouldn't it, some presence that is always more notable in absence. She's too occupied with her own work for that edge of determination in someone else's jaw to do more than steel her own spine, deep in conversation over the CiD and tapping a closed fountain pen against the edge of a notepad. It's routine and admittedly mostly for peace of mind on both sides -- they're circling the wagons with the advancing elections, but there's only so much anyone can do until they know what the situation is after -- which is why, later, Nuala will wish they'd been busier. That there'd been something that needed her attention and the conversation hadn't been permitted to meander over more varied subjects, that she hadn't still been on the line when, pacing her office, she'd been so violently wrenched to her knees.

She has a half-second to despair of what the grapevine is going to sound like tomorrow when the pain hits her full force and she realizes the sound she's hearing is coming from her own throat, gold blood soaking through her sleeve, her skirt, spilling down her arm and her thigh. Her short-lived cries bring her nearest aides in at a dead run, one shutting down her CiD and another dispatching someone else to fetch Dr McCoy while endeavouring to keep the princess conscious as anaphylaxis begins to set in, heart-rate rushing and leaving her no breath to scream Nuada's name.

This is going to be difficult to explain.

ruinedu2.livejournal.com

Who: "Fauxlivia" Dunham and you.
What: Coffee.
Where: Mog Hill, Queequeg's.
When: Veerdi (or any given) morning.
Warnings: None as of yet. Probably language?

Olivia would like to be one of those people waiting at the door when Queequeg's opens at 7, but in good conscience, she can't bring herself to add to the rush when she hasn't got any place to be in the mornings just yet. She waits a respectable hour before making her way from her room at Valhalla Inn to the sunken ship motif'd coffee shop.

It's become a bit of a game, ordering a coffee with the instruction surprise me. Sometimes this turns out to be a pleasant surprise, and those combinations she writes down for later reference. Sometimes she discovers that she should stick to what she knows. Today she's fortunately enjoying the results of flavour roulette, her hands wrapped around the hot beverage, a contented smile on her lips after a tentative sip. Out on deck, the warmth of it is appreciated.

suninhades

Who: All Hellsing employees, their families, and anyone who wished to attend.
What: The funeral of Dean Winchester
Where: Sobek Croix’s cemetery.
When: Backdated to not long after the blood frenzy in Mafaton.
Notes: This is a slightly unorthodox log, in that for the most part it exists so people can write their own mini-narratives in the comments as to their characters presence and feelings and reactions; if you want to have a post-funeral thread here, that is cool, too. Funeral details were published with an obituary in the newspaper. This post was a collaborate effort, and for ooc details, see here.
Warnings: ...death. And a child’s broken heart.

the streets of my home town still look the same, but behind shaking fingers they're whispering your name. it's funny the tears that time will allow, but the dirt is your lover now. fingernails, thorn trees, my fickle heart too, so many things in this sad little world grow back ( except for you. )

defenestration

As stated on the invitation, Adrian is throwing a costume party to celebrate Lex's twenty-fifth birthday at the Luthor-Veidt Building in Brock Marsh. Everyone is welcome, whether they know Lex or not. There's plenty of food and free alcohol (mostly wine, fancy beer, and champagne), music and a space for dancing, and room to mingle and make new friends. Some simple and classy decorations, purple of course, have been put up on the first and second floors to create a festive atmosphere.

(A note to those who might try to take the opportunity to go snooping: security is insanely tight. The elevators will not go beyond the first and second floors without a special code, and there's an elevator operator who is very obviously there to make sure you don't try anything funny. The stairwells are likewise under guard and the private areas of the first floor are locked and under camera surveillance.)

[ooc: ~~Please wait until a few threads are set up before tagging!~~ Party time! Everyone is welcome!

Note: I've turned off notifs so if you need my attention in a specific spot, please PM or plurk me.]

xenophilius

Who: Xenophilius Lovegood and You
What: A day in the life.
Where: Variously; the Valhalla Inn, the streets of Mog Hill, the Queequeg's coffee house, and a bonus time/place of your choosing.
When: Vaguely within the last week of Velldaren. Whatev'.
Notes: A basic day in the life style post, and open to everyone ever.
Warnings: Xeno.

See my thread starts for tag openings!

heardmermaids.livejournal.com

Who: Sebastian LeMat and YOU.
What & Where: Various places about town: Nazca's boat, Hellsing's infirmary, etc.
When: Throughout the third week of Velldaren
Notes: If you want to set something up, let me know!

For the sake of safety and common sense Sebastian has been relatively quiet on the network, preferring to communicate via voice or text only, but that hasn't stopped him from making a few general appointments for others in his cohort and throughout the city. Most of his work for strangers has been in and around Sobek Croix, doing his part to keep Hellsing in the canton's good graces during the current blood shortage. At the guildhall itself, he's been working on getting the building ready for winter -- finishing windows, checking the roof for leaks (again), and making sure there will be enough room to dry their crop of tobacco.

suninhades

Who: Princess Nuala, Integra Hellsing, and everyone who's made an appointment for a job interview at Hellsing.
What: Job interviews.
Where: Hellsing Guild Hall, Sobek Croix.
When: Various times after this post.
Notes: If your character has an interview just start a new thread! You may get Integra, you may get Nuala, you may get both. If you have a preference, say so in your subject line or harass one of us, we are easy to find.
Warnings: Bureaucracy?

In the midst of rising tension in the city, Hellsing is busier than usual. New blood (ha, hah) is always welcome, but especially so these days. The guild hall is perhaps oddly quiet, though it's only because most agents are out on cases. Those with appointments will be seen promptly.

ofminastirith.livejournal.com

Who: Boromir & you.
What: Horse riding and stopping to chat to whoever he meets.
Where: Around the less central areas of Baedel.
When: Veerdi morning.
Warnings: None.

Boromir has had a lifetime of early rises and can be found up before the birds most mornings, unless the birds were actually unspeakable horrors that trawl around at night, and then he has to be up earlier still.

No one who actually knows him would be surprised to see him awake at the wee hours, saddling his horse and preparing for a slow, easy ride around the calmer areas of the city to get the creature accustomed to hustle and bustle. The horse in question was a fine specimen, somewhat broken but unused to crowds or being ridden on a regular basis.

It wouldn't be too unusual, in the moments it seems the most skittish, to hear the rider humming or else singing a little in Sindarin.

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Entries tagged with } leonard mccoy

OPEN :: A golden bird was singing

Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them

the sky's so clear and the sun's so bright. how can anything go wrong on a day like this?

no hope in the air, no hope in the water, not even for me your last serving daughter;

take these broken wings and learn to fly

there are fists on the front page and blood in the sky

Costume Party in Honor of Lex Luthor's Birthday [OPEN]

your highness your ways are very strange

you're what happens when two substances collide :: OPEN

my life is trapped in these lines, that's why i'm packing these nines

the tickets are now diamonds

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