He appreciated having a room to himself, even if it was clearly designed for a second party as well. For now, it was his alone. He appreciated that.

The room was about all he really appreciated since the attack of the crew-zombies. The idea was far more cool on paper than it was actually sitting on the roof of the Vatican, mowing down potential crewmates. Still, it was better than mowing down familiar ones. He appreciated that, too.

He appreciated the cute, glowy new look for Stacy, too.

He didn't appreciate the idea of his universe destroyed by something they'd never even gotten the chance to see--let alone fight. He didn't like the idea of being one of the last survivors of his own universe. Whether or not Ronon and Jackson counted as his own universe or another. He appreciated the cute voice. He didn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it, even if she showed him the destruction. None of this was necessarily real. He functioned within it as he needed to, but he wasn't about to fall for something SG-1 already fell for before. The zombies didn't exactly make the place more credible, either.

He frowned, studying the food goop in front of him.

His home-his family. Everyone and every thing he cared about was not gone. He wouldn't leave it to chance and hope that some of the people he cared about might have been alive--he wouldn't accept that their survival meant the deaths of an entire universe were acceptable losses. He wasn't about to accept a 'might' for saving all of them, if they did someone else's dirty work for them. That wasn't how he did things. He wouldn't be manipulated, and...he refused to believe that SG-1 failed. That Stargate Command, and all of their allies failed to protect not just their galaxy, but their universe.

He refused to believe he'd failed to do the one thing that mattered. He couldn't. Not now...not ever.

All-in-all, it hadn't been her easiest birth. Her first had been long and drawn out, but there had been warm, loving arms waiting for her at the end. Her second had been painful, but the Lifestream, and all she cared for still waited for her.

Now she found herself taken away from The Planet, but not from her duties. It made sense that she, its guardian, would be chosen to find a way to restore it, and to bring peace. She didn't mind. Aside from the monsters which had attacked her when she first woke, the ship--for she now knew it was a ship--was much more pleasant than other places she'd been.

It was strange, not to hear the voices of her family, and of all of her anscestors in the Lifestream. Yet, for the apparent silence, life was still abundant. The very ground she walked on pulsed with life even more actively than the Planet chose to manifest itself. Stacy was not so different from the Planet. Thus, she was certain Stacy still spoke. Aeris was certain all those who slept, and all those who woke spoke. She merely hadn't learned to decipher their words yet.

Her suspicions were strengthened in the moments when she sensed the life of others in her room. There were never words. Never thoughts. Not yet. But, surely, if she were brought here for a purpose, she would learn.

She smiled softly as she wandered up to the windows, beyond which stars streaked by, and placed a hand on the smooth, living surface shielding the crew from what they traveled through. "I suppose this means I'm finally flying."

Jack is looking for somebody.

Loudly. And rather inefficiently, really.

"FENTON!" he yells, storming around the ship trying to locate Danny.

He has no idea it wasn't Danny sending him bizarre messages, but the ghost dog chewing on Danny's omnicom.

Arha sat with her back against a thick tree trunk in the Sensorium after quietly asking for a place where she could sit in meditation. In the branches of this tree were strung strange metallic tubes (copper from their hue, along with some sort of steel) that caught the wind and made music--such a thing she had never heard before. Not on Arrakis, where such a thing would bring Shai-Hulud in a moment. Sunlight filtered through soft yellow-green leaves (which, she supposed, were the proper color for a tree), giving them an almost golden glow.

She had much to meditate on to be sure. Obi-Wan, their predicament here on this ship, the nature of loss encountered (Universes and people both), what to do with herself now--this was the easiest as she would follow the path given to her by the Force. Around her long blades of grass rustled in dark greens and in the distance the soft rushing of what Arha supposed was free running water, something she had not yet investigated. The air was heavy with moisture and the sharper scent of salted water.

She sank herself into the Force and sifted through questions that would not have their answers.

"It was to be expected, and after awhile she left them be, tipped her face into the wind, and let the filtered sun warm her cheeks. It was not real, but it was nearly as good as being elsewhere on a real world. It, at least, helped her shake some of the queasiness that came with being confined. The wind swirled around her, whipping at her hair and she did not suppress the slight grin that tugged at her lips. As a child, it was on sand she sat and let the wind play with her long hair. Now? Now it was not as long, but it whipped all the same.

It had been a long time since she was that child.

Grif is sprawled out on an Obs Deck couch, this may be one of the biggest signs of the return to normalcy on the ship. He's wearing his armor and... playing with some kind of handheld game system he found.

Occasionally a plume of smoke gusts out of his helmet's air filters.

Yes. He's smoking. In his helmet. It's a talent.

It was both difficult and easy to sleep. Easy, because no matter how much she tried to fight it, Miku's eyes would slide closed any time of the day despite getting plenty of sleep. But, difficult because her sleep wasn't restful at all. Miku thrashed and whimpered, moaned and sighed. Upon waking, she held her breath as the Snake and Holly wound down her torso and her back. Her time was growing shorter with each centimeter the tattoo claimed.

Mafuyu was waiting for her, she wanted to go to him, and see him. Just... one more time. Who wouldn't want that? Who wouldn't want to see loved ones they'd never meet again? The Manor of Sleep drew her further and further in, beckoning with her brother's shade. For now, she avoided that room that was waiting for her. If she had just a little more time, if she could figure out some way...

But not tonight. In the wee hours of the morning, stumbling blindly down the hallways of the ship, the tattoos drove her onward with sheer, unimaginable pain. They burned in her skin, until they were bone-deep, the constant tap-tap-tap of an ancient needle on her skin. Miku covered her mouth to keep her sobs choked and muffled, and hid herself away in a hall. She just... she just needed to wait out the wave without going to sleep. She was sure, so sure that she could do that.

Just a little longer. What would Tess-san think if she just let it overwhelm her? What would Rei?