Once Jamie had learned his Zoid was aboard the ship, he'd wasted no time heading for the hangar. Despite getting a little...waylaid en route and now suffering an inexplicable hankering for cake, of all things, he'd promptly resumed his search, intent on nothing but his mech.

Poised now in the doorway of the hangar, he peers in somewhat hesitantly. He wants his Zoid to be here, more than he's willing to admit, but at the same time he's a little afraid to get his hopes up and be disappointed. He's still not entirely sure he can trust everything Stacy says - but then again, Vega's Zoid is supposedly here, so there's no reason Jamie's shouldn't be...

And then, he spots her. Standing docilely in a dimly-illuminated berth - huge boxy head angled toward the ground, foreclaws limp, optics glowing faintly blue - is the Geno Saurer.

There's a pause, and then Jamie, well...squeals. He utters an utterly un-masculine noise of glee and sprints toward the Zoid, leaving an almost palpable trail of sparkles and glitter and rose petals and shoujo bubbles and fluffy bunnies in his wake. He clears the distance in practically no time and throws himself at the Geno's hindtalon, clinging to it like some kind of depraved howler monkey.

This is one happy nerdboy, right here.

The Geno - though it's hard to tell if it's actually pleased or not - at the very least responds to Jamie's presence, its optics lighting more brightly as the teen nuzzles its claw and chatters mushily at it: "Oh man I missed you so much. How's my girl? Howsmygirl? Did you miss me? 'Cause I missed you, yes I did..."

Psychedelic sand filled an olympic swimming pool under an awning in the city. Little clouds of it kicked up behind Sheeana's heels as she danced. There was no rythm and meter to what she did. It was a natural thing she'd known since she was a child. Hands and arms flew in abstract patterns only she could see.

The big worm, the one Arha had brought stood entranced, swaying like a charmed snake. He was not her target though. It was the sandtrout in the sand. They came bubbling out of it like their earth counterparts after rain. And slowly they aggregated. Something like a sandworm emerged. It lacked the internal fires and the teeth, but it had the same form. Only eight feet long, it was an infant but a motile one. That it would dissolve back into sandtrout in an hour didn't matter. It contained the important part: Leto's consciousness.

She danced to command it and to hold it together. She breathed harder, taking deep breaths to maintain homeostasis, and the new worm sat up. Had she not been Fremen, sweat would have run down the side of her face.

"Come out of your endless dream, God-Emperor. Come out." She spoke to it between breaths and it responded.

She was so absorbed, it took her a few moments to notice when her visitors had arrived.

There were many things that Alessa could have imagined for herself in the Sensoriums, but for those particular touches, she preferred to make it herself. Instead, she decided to use a memory not from the wreck that would be her host, but her last remaining innocent counterpart, Sharon. This particular surrounding was before that girl's caretaker ventured into Silent Hill: it was, in fact, a scene that, for reasons that were her own, she was fascinated with. Not far from where the girl was, she spied Rose and Sharon under the trees, mother looking over the girl's scrawled illustrations. Alessa had imagined herself a swing set: simple, crude and all that she needed right now. She swung slowly, pumping her arms to bring herself higher, looking almost in a trance. She resembled Alessa now, as if she were somehow obligated to for the duration of this simulation.

Why did this scene speak to her so much? Perhaps it was knowing what was to come: that Rose would step willingly into Alessa's darkest nightmares to retrieve her daughter, and in that process help make her stronger once she conquered those fanatics in the church. There had been nowhere to run, and Alessa had finally reached the finale of her revenge. It was sad, she supposed, that even as she let Rose and Sharon go, they were trapped in a halfway dimension between Silent Hill and the real world. But of course, those were the consequences for walking into nightmares.

She pumped harder, almost wishing for the bliss of true flight. What a strange world this was.

If she were to create an entire new department, Nanoha reasoned that they would need a place to meet, to gather, train and to work ... whatever it was that they would be working on. As the Science Department had their laboratories and the Medical Department their medical bay, the girl had been busy searching the ship and the City for a place that felt... spiritual. Nanoha supposed that she could have chosen anywhere and they would have been able to make do, but perhaps the other volunteers would need someplace more conductive to the study and working of magical and mystical arts.

The ziggurat off to the side of the City caught her eye as she soared past it, for it seemed oddly like something she'd seen in the Sensoriums, back when she'd met Luke Skywalker. As she neared it, Nanoha realized it felt the same, too - there was a little tingle in her spine that wasn't quite any magic she was aware of, but it... felt almost familiar, and warm.

She touched down, the wings fading from her heels as she walked toward the structure, a smile appearing on her face. This place... it felt almost perfect.

"Hello! Is anyone here?" She called out - if it were occupied, of course, she'd look somewhere else.

"Dammit. 'I am aware I've been misled…'" Hunter sings quickly, tapping out a chord progression on the keyboard. He's been staring at a piano sitting in the middle of a practice room, racking his brains for the next notes, for about five minutes now. "Oh. It was a B-flat." he mutters, moving through a short section of the song at a much slower pace.

"And... from the top. Again.

I'm on the verge, I'm on the verge
Of unraveling with every word
With every word you say, make me believe
That I won't feel your tires on the street
As I'm finding the words, you're getting away

I come undone, oh yes I do
Just think of all the thoughts wasted on you
And every word you say, say something sweet
Because all I taste is blood between my teeth
As I'm finding the words, you're getting away..."

Hunter doesn't harbor any secret dreams of being a rockstar, and he certainly wouldn't immediately stop playing if someone accidentally walked in on him. Nope, not him.

Javert was waiting patiently in a large, open field. There's an ominous promise of physical activity in the air. This is the sort of area that carries the foreboding feeling of target practice, exercise, physical drills, wall climbing, and other unfortunate things.

Equally ominous is the fact that Javert appears to be smiling.