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The Amber Lantern Sunday, December 1, 2024 The repurposed beer mug-turned-light fixture that served as its primary signage was the bar’s only real distinguishing feature. Not old enough to be historical, no novel gimmick or theming, The Amber Lantern was nothing more nor less than a place to get an anonymous drink in Freedom City’s west side. Being a few blocks out of the West End proper and into Lantern Hill was another point in its favour in this case, so far as Erik Espadas was concerned. A bit petty, perhaps but he felt justified as he stepped inside the dimly lit watering hole. He wore a weathered jacket with a wool lining over a plain white shirt, dusty brown hair a little longer in the colder months, blending into a neat beard. He took in the other people in the room with a carefully casual glance before heading to a booth in the far corner and silently sat down across from the man waiting for him.

Silbermann's Books. Tuesday, January 15th 2024. 1:05 pm The snow just kept coming down! With 12 inches reported at 8 am and no signs of slowing down, Lynn Epstein decided to send her staff home while they could still see; no one was crazy enough to face a winter storm for a muffin and newspaper anyway. So Lynn took the opportunity to do a little bookkeeping in the store for a few hours before deciding to take a break. She left her cozy office to make herself a cinnamon chai latte behind the counter. As the milk steamed, she turned on the store's stereo system to play an old playlist, with a lot of her early 2000s faves. She didn't realize how loudly she was singing Gwen Stefani's "The Sweet Escape." "Woo hoo. Yee hoo!" "Woo hoo. Yee hoo!"

Wednesday, June 19th, 2019, 10:30 pm The abode of Mona Teymourian, near the Waterfront "She was adorable, Viktor," drifted from the kitchen area. "I know she wouldn't want to be described as such, but she was. The third heroine to wear the name Rossignol! A very sweet young woman, obviously quite skilled, but still finding her bearings. I wished her the very best and gave her my contact information." Mona was unusually chatty, even gregarious. Viktor's arrival seemed to complete her day, and she was eager to recount the highlights. So after a quick kiss, she regaled him with the latest happenings while unpacking groceries. "Do you want something to drink? I picked up some of that white tea you seemed to like." One mock glare later and she started an electric kettle. "Also some Black Death coffee, pomegranate kombucha, and a lovely micro-brew stout. A bit light on snacks at the moment. Some brie?" The sounds of activity reverberated through the high-ceiling building. The space was big, certainly, with metal beams and rows of high, paneled windows above exposed brick. Perhaps, oh, a quarter had been converted into an open living space with a kitchen, adjacent seating area, curtained-off bedroom, and bath. The rest was devoted to her studio. Ghostly shapes of dust-clothed sculptures floated in the dim lights. Her workstation, an explosion of bright colors, seemed to glow through the murk. Even after months away, the place smelled of oil paint and stone dust. Mona had been very proud of her handiwork. From a tour now many years ago, the fixtures and furnishings were secondhand or recycled, and Mona had bartered or DIY-ed much of the renovation. The original purpose, an ice warehouse, was abundantly clear from the Linden's Ice sign on the wall. The foundation and roof work were her doing, and superhuman strength proved a great boon in that regard. The crumbling antique had been picked up for a song. She had rather sheepishly admitted to being quite broke at the time. The way her eyes lit up here, in this place, spoke volumes. The expression was much the same when seeing Viktor after a long absence. As for now though, Mona deposited a tray of goodies on the coffee table. The little table was surrounded by a sofa and two armchairs. One chair stood out a bit: high-backed, Mona-sized, and eye-searingly pink. This one she drifted into tea cup in hand. "Damn, it's good to be home. How was your trip?"

The OOC thread for here.

Date: June 17th, 2011 (Friday), later afternoon/early evening Continued from ArchEvil: Omnia Mutantur, Nihil Interit and ArchEvil: Gestalt Theory. The foe was abominable, and the battle long, but the heroes prevailed. A great pseudonatural beast from beyond time and space, something which had apparently been slumbering in and influencing the science hero Doktor Viktor Archeville, had been banished, but at a terrible price. Archeville, reborn to a new (now fully human) body, stared at the spot where the fight had been, wrapped in his lover Fulcrum's cape, the only thing of her that remained on the battlefield in North Bay. She was gone, swallowed up by the explosion of Terminus energy that expelled the beat; chances were even of them either being atomized, or tossed into some other dimension. Archeville's mouth hung agape. He stared, bleary eyed, hands still reaching out where Fulcrum had last held them. Mona...

Date: a few days before February 8th, 2010 Earlier at an Undisclosed Location: Grim sat in her chair, legs dangling; the room was small, lit by a single recessed ceiling fixture, and contained nothing more than a table and four chairs, all cold metal and hard plastic. Her sensitive ears could tell the room was soundproofed, and her amazing nose detected little more than stainless steel and traces of Endust. A single sliding door allowed access to the lifeless chamber. Sure, she was restless, but when the boss tells you to wait, you wait; luckily, the young faeling had numerous ways to amuse herself. She conjured forth an oddly-shaped set of wooden blocks that she precariously balanced on the table in various positions, testing her reflexes, control and the lightness of her touch. And she waited some more...