| Recuperating [tag: Harley] |
[20 May 2014|07:39am] |
For the moment, she was calm. For the moment, she was comfortable calling herself Pamela again. She was relaxed and glad to be anywhere other than Gotham. She hadn't felt this relaxed since she'd been to the Caribbean. Which was until those horrid Americans ruined it by destroying her island paradise with weapons testing. Obviously that would not happen here, as she was stuck in some resort to finish her recuperation. She had not left her room much. Everything outside was just crawling with people. People that littered and picked the local flora and laughed about it, and killed the pollinators for daring to do what they did...
( Humans were such a scourge on this planet. )
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| What's Wrong With This? (tag: Jack) |
[05 May 2014|01:18pm] |
Things had been anything but boring since Amelia "arrived" on the island. People seemed to know who she was without intoduction, though they insisted on calling her by her maiden name for some reason. How they even knew her maiden name was a puzzle in itself.
( Then... )
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| Whiskey, Whiskey on the Shelf [tag: Aziraphale] |
[11 Jan 2014|06:42pm] |
“She was a fast machine, she kept her motor clean, she was the best damn woman that I ever seen.” The words were uttered semi-rhythmically, mostly mono-toned with a hint of a slur reminiscent of someone who had imbibed an alarming amount of amber colored alcohol. That didn't stop the giant, scruffy redhead from attempting to sing them as he shuffled down the sidewalk. It was still mid-afternoon, a touch early for most men to be at the level of intoxication Sweeney was already at, and yet there he was.
He didn't have any alcohol on him at the moment and had been hoping to find a bar or store down the ( road at which to feed his addiction. )
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| Building A Tradition... Or Trying To [tag: River Song] |
[11 Jan 2014|06:35pm] |
There was no pond. Truthfully, for Crowley, that had probably been the most disappointing part of this entire island exile. He and the angel had a tradition with ponds that involved bread and ducks. Hard to have a tradition when there were no ducks. Harder still to have ducks to feed bread to if there was no pond to lurk around and tempt the creatures to their doom. And then salvation.
( It was tradition. )
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| What's This? What's Happening? (tag: Jack) |
[07 Jan 2014|11:36am] |
Karen felt like some homeless person. How she fell asleep in her clothes, and in a chair, was beyond her. Then again, most of this was beyond her.
She remembered booking a vacation. Her marriage with Stan was not going well, and she hoped some time away would help. But she didn't remember packing, or going to the airport, or flying to the island. Not to mention the stupid airline apparently lost her luggage, since she didn't have any suitcases or clothing in the room. She must have been on one hell of a bender to have forgotten all that.
At least the room was nice, she mused. As if she would book anything other than a Presidential Suite. The rooms were large and clean, which she noted as she hunted for her clothes. The airline was going to get a piece of her mind!
( The first order of business, however, was breakfast. )
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| OH DEAR (tag: Susan) |
[04 Jul 2013|09:41pm] |
|
After sharing a drink with the mortal woman, River Song, Death decided to take a stroll around the area to get a better feel of where he would be spending his vacation. This was going to be a vacation. He could hardly be accused of shirking his duties since he had been brought here without his consent. He should probably be a bit more worried about that, but that would come later. Right now, he needed to find a restaurant that sold a good curry. If this was going to be his vacation, ( he was going to enjoy it. )
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| Covert MIssion (tag: Open) |
[01 Jun 2013|09:44am] |
All the charm she could muster and all the hallucinogenic lipstick she could spare had gotten River no closer to finding out where- or when- she was. The lipstick had been used in particular on one resort employee to gain access to the main computer system. Even that had gotten her no where. Pity Mickey wasn't here. She may never have met him, but River knew of him, and his hacking abilities. For herself, she found little more than she had already learned on the streets, in the back alleys and bars and shops. Even her scanner was giving no aid. It was functioning fine, but it couldn't help her.
Paradise Island. No coordinates. No date to speak of. And no Doctor.
It hadn't taken her long to figure out the Doctor had nothing to do with her being here. As far as he probably knew, she was still stored in the Library. Initially, that realization had been met with anger. He'd never contacted her once. He filed her away, and left her there. That was no way to treat his wife! Further speculation left only one conclusion: the Doctor presumed she could never come back, and he hated goodbyes. No contact was better than that, in his mind. He could be so exasperating!
( Yet someone had figured out how to get her out. )
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| A jarring new reality [open] |
[25 Mar 2013|10:45am] |
|
He woke with a start, body jerking in the bed and eyes snapping open. The dream had been the same as it always was, and it wasn't until his breathing had returned to normal that it actually registered in his mind that he was actually in a bed. In the camp Will had built them, they slept in a bunk, and were off the forest floor. But it did not have a soft mattress on it. He didn't sleep with soft pillows beneath his head. Finally allowing his gaze to focus on his surroundings, he was on his feet almost as fast as he had woken. ( Where was he? )
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| What Now? (tag: Amelia) |
[20 Mar 2013|09:21pm] |
Susan was not what some would call a “morning person.” She didn't laze about in bed for half the day either, but bouncing out of bed with a spring in her step and a smile on her face really wasn't her style. There was a time to get up, so up she got. And that was exactly what she'd intended to do this morning as well. But there was something different this morning that had her pausing, sitting on the edge of the mattress, as she tried to figure out just what was going on.
Firstly, she was not in her own room. She was not even certain she was in Ankh-Morpork. And she was almost positive that was where she'd been when she'd gone to bed. So why was she not still there when she was getting out of it? ( Where was she? )
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| A Shower, A Smoke, And Several Swears Later [open] |
[21 Feb 2013|07:04pm] |
Surprisingly, Sweeney was not alarmed by his awakening in what he considered to be a relatively swank hotel room with no recollection of how he got there. Things like this tended to happen to him. He'd be out drinking one night, having a grand time when he'd have just a touch too much, pass out and wake up somewhere he didn't remember having been. Which was probably because he had been too drunk to remember much of anything during the last few hours of his bender.
He was a little confused at the closet full of clothes that looked like things he would wear. Had he gone on vacation? Was there a lovely lady somewhere nearby that had enticed him away from his regular habits and dragged him off? If so, he hoped he had enjoyed the evening in her company since he certainly didn't remember it. More importantly, he hoped she enjoyed it.
Though, upon inspection of the room, Sweeney found no one else. ( Hrm. )
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| A Demon Displaced [tag: Aziraphale] |
[17 Feb 2013|08:27pm] |
What in Hell?
He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been sleeping at this point, it tended to vary, but the ceiling his eyes saw as they opened was not the ceiling in his London flat. Crowley didn't recall having gone anywhere else. Sitting up, the next thing he realized was that the bed was not his own. Looking around, the set of his jaw changed from that of groggy confusion to that of a very irritated confusion. Was this... Was this a hotel room? When did he get here? Howdid he get here, for that matter? Why was he here?
Did he end up intoxicated and forgot to sober himself up before deciding to crash somewhere? Seemed highly unlikely. Crowley stood and started to head to the window to get a better grasp on where exactly he was so that he could piece together what had happened when he paused in front of the mirror. Something was off. He was... ( how the Hell was he wearing black satin pajamas? )
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| What the hell is that smell? (Tag Harley) |
[16 Feb 2013|08:52pm] |
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The old dream again... Maria: smiling, talking about nothing. It was Frank's greatest fantasy and The Punisher's darkest nightmare. A single happy moment, the last one of his life. Next the gunfire would start: but like some lucky nights ( daylight saved him. )
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| Beginning Again (narrative) |
[15 Feb 2013|05:27am] |
The naked man awoke with a start. Already the nightmare was fading; something about a spider. Or a boy. Or a spider-boy? Dreams were funny things that way, and usually irrelevant, though he was old enough (so very old) that he knew it wasn't always the case. This one seemed a bit too far-fetched to put much stock in and he promptly dismissed it.
He sat up, running a hand through his hair and looked around. Nothing here looked familiar. Where was he? Come to think of it, who was he? He stood up and headed toward the bathroom, a slightly puzzled frown on his face. He lifted the seat and took a good long piss, as if he'd been holding it for days. Before leaving the bathroom (without bothering to wash his hands, as from the smell of things he would be taking a hot shower very shortly) he paused to look in the mirror.
( That was new. )
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| Displaced (open) |
[15 Feb 2013|04:37am] |
Amelia opened her eyes and that was when her whole world changed.
This was not Shepheard's, where she had momentarily closed her eyes. She had been enjoying a cup of tea on the terrace, reflecting on the past season in Egypt. That had only been a second ago, she would have sworn. But the room she was now in held no resemblance to the familiar hotel in Cairo.
The Master Criminal!
( She had been kidnapped again. )
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| Brush With Death (tag: Bill) |
[15 Feb 2013|03:33am] |
That mad, impossible, wonderful man!
There was no other explanation; somehow or other the Doctor had saved her, just as he always saved her. She remembered being wired into The Library's hard drive, her beloved handcuffed to prevent him from stopping her. Handcuffs and the Doctor- now that was a whole new set of memories! Forcing herself to focus, River tried to remember exactly what else had happened. She had felt the rush of electricity for a split second and then...
( Well, then she was here. )
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| Public Announcement |
[03 Oct 2012|02:15pm] |
We are now accepting holds!
Almost Paradise will open on February 15th. If your character has already received its invites, please feel free to start discussing plot ideas in the OOC journal.
~The Management
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