It's all about the coat.

Host ,'Conviction (1)'


Sang Sacré

The fictional Buffista City. With a variety of neighborhoods, climates, and an Evil Genius or two, Sang Sacre is where we'd all live if it were real. Jump in -- find a neighborhood, start a parade, become a superhero. It's what you make it.

History. Map.


Seska (the Watcher-in-Training) - Apr 21, 2011 1:40:53 am PDT #1084 of 1100
"We're all stories, in the end. Just make it a good one, eh?"

There's a challenge. I now intend to go back to the beginning and also read other threads. When I next have a day when I need to lie down for ten hours!


Liese S. - Apr 21, 2011 11:03:07 am PDT #1085 of 1100
"Faded like the lilac, he thought."

There is a sort of rumbling sound with intermittent gunfire coming down the road. Oh, no, not gunfire, it's just the tour bus backfiring. Grooveyard is home!

As the various band members fall out of the bus and stumble in sundry directions, (and isn't that a different drummer than the one they left with?) a quick inquiry reveals that someone (some *unspecified* one) thought that if modifying the diesel engine to use biofuel was good, modifying it to use octarine was better. And it turns out that making a tour bus run on magical particles surprisingly has the effect of making it, well, unstable through time. Thus extending the tour run rather further than expected.

On the plus side, there are some really nice vintage wines that are going to be available at Milo's shortly. And there are a few muttered apologies; apparently the shoulder pads trend in the eighties is the fault of someone on the bus. Details do not seem to be forthcoming, something to do with Taylor Kitsch wearing nothing but hockey pads.

Anyway, the band is back! And it seems that since the population is low upon their return, the only possible thing to do is to play. Play, and see if they come.

So the band will take a little time to get clean, in more ways than one, and then there will be a concert under the stars. A come home concert.


Beverly - Apr 21, 2011 2:41:49 pm PDT #1086 of 1100
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

different drummer than the one they left with

Was there a bizarre gardening accident?

Oh, Grooveyard's back! That's what I hear. Nice to wake up to. I feel like I've slept for more than a winter. Now where's the cat got to?


Connie Neil - Apr 21, 2011 4:10:57 pm PDT #1087 of 1100
brillig

"Sitt."

Reluctantly I remove the ice pack from my forehead. "Yes, Achmed?"

Achmed the Clever, my faithful houseboy, is standing at the foot of the recliner I've been occupying for I don't know how long. He has a mug in his hand and is frowning. Slowly he tips the mug over to show me the interior. At the bottom of the mug is a dried reddish-brown stain. "He said he would put them in the sink to soak when he was done, sitt. He is not doing that."

I plop the ice pack back on my face. "I'm sorry, Achmed. Has he stopped leaving them under the couch?"

"Yes, sitt, he is at least doing that. Though I didn't find this one until I moved the cat."

"Oh, dear."

"It's not the dirty dishes I mind so much, sitt, but his special coffee-blood blend is very difficult to clean once it's had a chance to--"

"Clot is the word you're looking for."

"Yes, sitt."

"I will start rinsing them out myself, Achmed. It's my fault Bob's here, and you didn't agree to look after him."

"Thank you, sitt. Tetta Fatima reminded me you were a reasonable employer."

I yanked the ice pack off. "You brought your Grandma Fatima into this?"

Achmed was getting too good at evil grins. "Merely for advice, sitt."

I hid behind my ice pack again.


WindSparrow - Apr 21, 2011 7:23:47 pm PDT #1088 of 1100
Love is stronger than death and harder than sorrow. Those who practice it are fierce like the light of stars traveling eons to pierce the night.

Oh.

Wow, yeah, that's disorienting, popping up in Dogtown, when I was aiming at Tangley Mews.

Ridiculous training conference at the Home Office, went far too long. Something tells me this one went on long enough for the temporal disparity to actually make some serious dimensional lag. Didn't learn anything, really, except that They still can't spell my name for name tags, and that They won't spring for an iPad but if I throw down the cash for it, They will reimburse for apps relevant to the work. Also, there wasn't nearly enough wine at the banquets to make me able to properly appreciate any of the after dinner speeches. Or the sight of D'Hoffryn's father dancing with a small crystal chandelier on his head. It wasn't even during the Fire Ball. The best that can be said, is at least I'm such a petty Petty Vengeance Demon that I was well out of reach of the old grabby hands.

Still, I'm back to Sang Sacre for Spring, and the scents of gentle rain merging with hyacinths and lilies is, you should excuse the expression, heavenly.


Frankenbuddha - Apr 22, 2011 4:15:00 am PDT #1089 of 1100
"We are the Goon Squad and we're coming to town...Beep! Beep!" - David Bowie, "Fashion"

Wow, yeah, that's disorienting, popping up in Dogtown, when I was aiming at Tangley Mews.

You should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque.


WindSparrow - Apr 22, 2011 5:52:48 am PDT #1090 of 1100
Love is stronger than death and harder than sorrow. Those who practice it are fierce like the light of stars traveling eons to pierce the night.

I try to avoid going down rabbit holes. They don't have much use for me, and I'd rather not tick them off by cussing at the travel delays. But it's worth keeping the lines of communication open, because they are excellent inspiration when one's own imagination runs dry.


DavidS - Apr 22, 2011 6:10:23 am PDT #1091 of 1100
"Look, son, if it's good enough for Shirley Bassey, it's good enough for you."

The curtains are drawn at Goblin Market. There's a small hand lettered sign in the window written in an elegant hand: "Closed due to a death in the family."

Somebody's left white lillies on the doorstep. Nestled against them are small sachets wrapped in black lace. I pick one up and give it a sniff: catnip.


Beverly - Apr 22, 2011 9:55:57 am PDT #1092 of 1100
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

(made me sniffle)


Atropa - Apr 22, 2011 10:31:23 am PDT #1093 of 1100
The artist formerly associated with cupcakes.

(brb, crying. Thank you, Hec.)