codenamelegs: (pic#6276753)
amelia jessica pond; ([personal profile] codenamelegs) wrote in [community profile] asgardmeridiem2013-06-20 10:52 pm

(s...emi closed?) deep in the cell of my heart I will feel so glad to go

Who: The Who cast & invitees, and anyone who would be working at The Roadhouse
What: Post Battle slump wears on everyone as they mourn their losses
When: Night of day 283 to early morning 284
Where: The Roadhouse
Rating: PG-13? Will update as needed.


Tired, injured and dejected, it's not a happy lot that filter into the bar that evening. The search for Freya had taken it's toll already, but coming back to chaos had been confronting, to say the least.

And the loss just kept coming, of course. Heaven's forbid fate gives anyone just a day to mourn, just an evening to get home and process the loss of Rose. No, they came back to battle, and in the mess lost another too. It's been a taxing trip, a long couple of days, and now that there's half a second to take a breather, they have to do something.

Nothing soothes the soul like a good drink though, right?
fantastix: (long shot)

[personal profile] fantastix 2013-06-20 05:00 pm (UTC)(link)
"Drinking us under the table?"

This Doctor looks at her with pained eyes, bloodshot. He's trying to hang onto some semblance of his usual carefree personality, but he's clearly nursing this drink for a reason.

"Feels like we've got a long way to go 'til bottom. Yet we're already there."

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hullo_sweetie: (Default)

[personal profile] hullo_sweetie 2013-06-20 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)
River seemed to be handling herself only marginally better than Amy. Probably because she, sadly enough, had seen this happened a handful of times before. Berlin. The shores of the lake twice over. She knew better then to believe he was fully gone.

Didn't stop her from drinking her weight in hard liquor though. And when she noticed Amy, she ordered a double shot of whiskey for her. Just in case.

She didn't have to say anything. Neither of them were alright. Amy had lost a best friend and River Song had lost a husband.
Edited 2013-06-20 20:46 (UTC)

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sorry it took so long!

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beforethewar: (pic#6319678)

[personal profile] beforethewar 2013-06-20 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"That isn't going to be enough bottles."

Eight slides onto the nearest barstool and leans heavily on the bar, looking fairly ashen and far more ragged than his normally dapper self has any right to look.

He quietly orders another bottle of whatever Amy's ordered, not really caring what kind of alcohol it is, and fills up the glass that was set in front of him.

He takes a long gulp of it before turning to Amy again. "This isn't my usual method of coping, but as that saying goes...needs must when the devil drives."

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toldastory: (hope)

[personal profile] toldastory 2013-06-21 06:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Seeing a spot of ginger hair, Martha can't help but make a bit of a beeline towards it. It was a sense of the familiar in the unfamiliar, and Martha was missing Donna among the group of people who were present. The sense of familiar is tapered a bit by the recognition that the woman drinking that whole bottle might be a bit bad for her.

So, Martha pulls up a chair and a shot glass and offers it to Amy. "Mind sharing a bit?"

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swedge: (neutral ⇏ at the bar)

I'M THE WORST BUT I LOVE YOU

[personal profile] swedge 2013-06-29 03:50 pm (UTC)(link)
After Jo has gone and taken care of all that needs taking care of (finding her family, making sure they're safe) she does her best to get back to the bar. Battles and fights are all the same - even in Asgard, where the dead usually aren't really dead and the pain can be healed away. War is war, and when there's war there's heat-ache and that means people will be looking to the bottle. And it's all she can do to keep her doors open and the cups full.

Which is where she's at with most of...well, they seem to be a part of the same group, but she can't be sure. She doesn't ask because chances are talking about it is the last thing they want to do (until it's the only thing they can do), and just does her job. She notices the red hair early enough, and even though Amy's got herself a bottle and probably doesn't need anything else, Jo heads over just to make sure.

"Can I get you anything else?"

I LOVE YOU

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goesagainst_thegrain: (A moment of calm reflection)

[personal profile] goesagainst_thegrain 2013-06-20 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Six straggles in a little later than the rest of them. Sleeping for a few hours has done him a lot of good, though he still looks much more worn down and a good deal more serious than usual; add to that the clothes he's managed to scrounge up to replace his torn and bloody ones are a good deal less colorful than normal. In fact, they're rather somber, though he didn't quite mean them to be. But it seems right. One of his selves has died, possibly permanently, not to mention Rose... it seems proper to wear dark colors and visit a pub. Bar. Whatever. He didn't have the motivation to clean himself up much more than that, but at least he doesn't reek of blood anymore and what few injuries haven't completely healed themselves by now have been seen to.

Opening the door of the building he pauses a moment to take in the scene, then makes a beeline for the bar itself. That seems to be where everyone else is; he does a quick mental tally, and feels momentary relief that no one else is missing. No one that he knows of, anyway... he'll just hope everyone else is fine. There's been enough death already, and he's sick of it.

When asked what he wants to drink he murmurs something to the effect of 'whatever everyone else is drinking'--and then eyes the glass of liquor he's served cautiously, bordering on dubiously. This... really isn't what he does, that one time at Bianca's aside. Still...

Lifting the glass he takes a determined sip. Not bad, really. If you liked that sort of thing.
Edited 2013-06-20 23:16 (UTC)
fantastix: (Cage)

[personal profile] fantastix 2013-06-20 11:22 pm (UTC)(link)
This Doctor had finally been coerced into giving up his blood-stained clothes, and after an angry raid of Loki's hall, he finally managed to reacquire his original jacket. But it was no comfort at all to him that night---it hung over his frame loosely, like he'd shrunk. But the real problem was his posture. He sat there defeated, alone, curled in a back corner of the pub.

Some traces of anger remained, enough for him to grip the cups to the point of nearly breaking them and to say his tense thanks for every refill, but he hadn't felt this thoroughly beaten in a while. Not since the end of the Time War, anyway.

"I owed her one thing. Just one..."
beforethewar: (pic#6319678)

[personal profile] beforethewar 2013-06-21 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
Before he's at the point of ordering the row of shots, Eight makes a point of dodging around the crowd to sit quietly next to Nine, rolling his glass a little between his palms. He says nothing for a while, both from trying to be simply a comforting presence, and because finding the right thing to say is a bit more difficult through the alcohol haze.

Then again, maybe this was the right time to just let go of that "dignified" filter for now.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, "I do...know how it feels, you know. To feel that way. And, well, if you can't talk to yourself, who can you talk to?"

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sexyoldgirl: (So Very Sad)

[personal profile] sexyoldgirl 2013-06-21 05:03 am (UTC)(link)
Eight had told her - told her that Nine needed her. It had been evident that they all needed her from the fact that they were making themselves comfortable at a bar. So when she spotted him, there was no hesitation to cross the room and slide into the seat next to him. They didn't get to meet before she vanished, he might not recognize her new appearance. But there's something in her face that says she knows him, and not just some passing sort of knowing but really, truly knows every bit of him.

No surprise is evident in her eyes, no pity. Simply genuine concern and love, complete understanding. She doesn't say anything. Words were never necessary, not after the destruction of everything. The TARDIS simply laid a hand over his.

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beforethewar: (pic#6319677)

[personal profile] beforethewar 2013-06-21 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
Eight is being rather sedate at the moment. In fact, he's fighting off that maudlin stage of drinking people sometimes get into. He's quietly humming to himself and setting up a line of shotglasses, filling them with what looks like a fairly decent silver tequila and looking across the table at whoever is willing to brave the line of shots with him.

"Stupid...stupid bloody war," he mutters to himself.

oh lord

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:3

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hullo_sweetie: (Default)

[personal profile] hullo_sweetie 2013-06-21 01:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Between Amy dancing with Six and the other drunken shenanigans going on amongst the other Doctors, River Song had actually been quiet and tame in comparison. Out of everyone here, she knew the Doctor always appreciated a good party and that went double for her. While it wasn't easy for her to become drunk, massive amounts of alcohol would eventually do the trick.

Watching the remaining Doctors flit about the Roadhouse gave her a thought. That thought sparked a memory.

All of the sudden, without warning, she began to laugh loudly.

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sexyoldgirl: (Longing Stare)

[personal profile] sexyoldgirl 2013-06-21 03:25 am (UTC)(link)
By the time of the TARDIS' arrival at the Roadhouse, at least two of the Doctors are pretty drunk. Drowning their sorrows in the bottom of a glass. It's about thirty minutes after her initial re-arrival, long enough for her to get a shirt and pair of pants. Though she is lacking shoes it hadn't stopped her from running full-speed for the coordinates Eight had given her. In her left arm is one of her darkened architectural reconfiguration circuit, cradled as if it was a baby. Her right hand is holding a medium-sized piece of scrap metal. It's jagged, clearly broken from whatever it had been attached to - probably completely useless but the TARDIS hadn't been able to leave it behind. That metal is a part of her, a piece of her engine that she'd so firmly wrapped her "hands" around to keep the explosion at bay.

The only thing that made her hesitate in her mad dash to reach her Doctors is the door the Roadhouse, shifting the metal to her other hand in order to open the door and slip inside. Instantly she's looking for those familiar faces - something had happened. For all of them and for her too. Seeing them in person was the most important thing of all.

So she moved across the sticky floor in her bare feet, not caring in the least. First to see to the Doctors, then she could move on to the companions. She'll slide into the nearest chair, setting the metal down on the flat surface in front of her. Stubbornly and protectively not giving up her genetic material in her arm, not even going to mention it (or it's Gallifreyan writing) without someone pointing it out to her.

"Hello." The simple word is somber.
goesagainst_thegrain: (Oh bother)

[personal profile] goesagainst_thegrain 2013-06-21 03:54 am (UTC)(link)
Six spots her somehow, and manages to make it off his stool, across the room, and into a chair next to hers, all without falling or even weaving too terribly badly. He might be three sheets to the wind, but he can still go over to say hi to his ship... woman.

So he's not going to think about that one too hard. At least not when he's this drunk. "Hello, old girl." He leans against one hand, elbow on the table, and sighs. "It's... really very, very good to see you again."

He's making an effort to not slur too badly, which means he's over-enunciating his words in the telltale drunken way.

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bonnypiperlad: (pensive)

[personal profile] bonnypiperlad 2013-06-21 04:38 am (UTC)(link)
It's some time later before Jamie makes an appearance at the bar. Rather than go back to the flat after running into Six earlier that day, he'd gone back to his room in Thor, spending the majority of the afternoon and evening by himself before getting up the energy to stir from the welcome hall.

At least part of what he's been doing is evident in the change of clothes he has, the shirt and jacket that he had been wearing gone and a different shirt in its place. His kilt is still there, having fared slightly better than everything else, but there's small damp patches on it that are still not quite dry from being washed.

He ignores the dampness, however, and settles into a seat at one of the tables with a bottle of his own. The last time he thought the Doctor had died, he'd settled into a sort of despondent sort of stupor until he was shaken out of it. The only real difference now is that he has some whiskey to ease the pain, and a fair chance that he'll talk to anyone who comes to join him. Until then, he's just going to keep drinking, not bothering with such niceties as a glass. He's got some catching up to do.
sexyoldgirl: (Seems A Bit Mental)

[personal profile] sexyoldgirl 2013-06-21 05:18 am (UTC)(link)
There is a woman moving to sit in a chair across from him and leaning her elbows on the table. One more stray accounted for. She was checking on all of them and seeing the Scot with a entire bottle of whiskey was bad. They didn't have a lot of interaction before she disappeared, but they were having it now. Even it meant drinking.

"Hello again."

A simple greeting, a small distraction. It wouldn't last long but it would be a small break from downing the entire bottle in one go.

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sexyoldgirl: (You're Like A Kid)

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE

[personal profile] sexyoldgirl 2013-06-21 07:20 am (UTC)(link)
[The TARDIS made sure every single one of the group made it back to the condo in Odin district. She left most of them in the living room so unless they managed to pick themselves up and make it into one of the three bedrooms there's probably not a lot of room to move around.]

[Something might smell good and there are glasses of water lined up along with pain killers on the kitchen table. Seems pretty nice, right?]

[Except that is definitely the sound of a pan dropping to the floor, a screeching fire alarm and smoke overtaking the previously good smell.]

[YOU'RE WELCOME. :|]
sexyoldgirl: (Shut Up Just Shut Up Now)

[personal profile] sexyoldgirl 2013-06-21 07:27 am (UTC)(link)
To go along with the other sounds there's someone making some not-so-nice comments in Gallifreyan about primitive stoves and humans with their need to cook everything. Why can't they just get food machines and have it make meals for them. The TARDIS is stamping down on the small fire that's decided to take a liking to the kitchen floor with a towel and her foot.

First batch of pancakes? Ruined. Burned to a crisp on one side. Good thing there's more batter (and flour everywhere) in a mixing bowl nearby.

Not the way she wanted to start the day.
Edited 2013-06-21 07:30 (UTC)

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toldastory: (bowed)

[personal profile] toldastory 2013-06-21 05:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Martha hadn't really ever had to deal with her Doctor being dead. Came close to it a few times, and of course there was the whole year where he shared more than a passing resemblance to Dobby, but this was different. When one added the loss of Rose into the equation, Martha just felt hollowed out. The land of the dead, arriving back in the middle of the battle, not being able to save people, it just made her feel empty inside.

As a doctor herself, Martha knew that drinking wasn't going to be the best way to cope with this sort of bone-numbing sorrow, but it seemed like a good idea anyway. At least it would chase away the coldness that had formed a large log of ice right around her navel.

Coming in a bit late, Martha looked around and was surprised to find people already in various shades of intoxication. It seemed like everyone had the same idea, and that was both comforting and not. Deciding to put her concern on hold for the evening, Martha looked for someone to join, rather than by herself. Drinking alone was never a good sign for her.
eggsterminate: (pic#4717703)

[personal profile] eggsterminate 2013-06-24 12:50 am (UTC)(link)
Oswin is in the corner, nursing an entire bottle of liquor on her own. Her knees are pulled to her chest and she does nothing but stare at the blank wall to her right. Her mind isn't as blank as her face. It's racing with emotion. Anger, loss, sadness that she can't even begin to process. She thought that losing her mother had been painful but this...

This was worse. She'd been to late to help the Doctor. Been completely useless. Not only was she trapped under crushing loss but also guilt. And shame. She didn't dare talk to anyone. She didn't trust herself to keep it together.
sexyoldgirl: (And then you stole me. And I stole you.)

[personal profile] sexyoldgirl 2013-06-24 01:19 am (UTC)(link)
At first there's a bit of huffy dislike growing the moment she spotted the woman in the corner. She had been partially responsible for the predicament they'd been in and now they were going to die. But then she remembered. It wasn't Clara - the impossible girl. It was Oswin - the one who survived the Daleks. That animosity dissipated and she got up from the table she'd been sitting at to make her way over to the curled woman.

Sitting down in a chair across from her, the TARDIS leaned forward. "What are you drinking?"

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bonnypiperlad: (protective2)

[personal profile] bonnypiperlad 2013-06-24 01:37 am (UTC)(link)
Oswin's not alone in feeling the guilt over not being able to help, or even in wanting to escape for a bit into the depths of a bottle. Jamie is feeling it too, and keenly. He may not have known Rose all that well, but the Doctor is still the Doctor, even with that different face of his. And he'd been right there as it happened, stuck with sitting there, helpless, as his friend slipped away.

So it's some time before he surfaces from his table, enough that he's made some inroads into his own bottle of whiskey. While it doesn't really help all that much with the grief, things are a little more numb now, enough that he's finally gotten up out of his seat and is walking about. His brow furrows when he sees Oswin staring at the wall like that, though, and he sets his bottle in a nearby table, reaching out out a hand to try and touch her on the shoulder - both to try and get her attention and to offer her a little bit of comfort. They could all use that tonight.

"Hey, Oswin."

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