After dealing with the mess that was waking up on this strange ship of sorts, Thrall has found it very hard to fit in at all, especially when there were so many human looking creatures on this ship - as well as other oddities. Yet, strangely, no other orcs.

It took him time to orient himself with his sense of direction, being too stubborn and stoic to ask for help to find anything, and it lead him to the mess hall. It was crowded and there were many others there, but he slowly gained his bearings - very slowly. It took Thrall a few times of standing there and watching others go through the process of being scanned by that large eye before they receive any nutrients, if you could call it that.

The orc was leery of proceeding and allowing that thing to scan him, if it was even doing that. The hesitation was quite obvious in both his motions and on his face. For a creature that is as large as him, he certainly did jump when the slop was offered upon his tray. There was a sharp inhalation of whatever was offered. Is this poisonous, he wondered? Thrall then proceeded towards one of the tables to sit and stare at whatever was on his tray. Unfortunately, it was not pork. Nor was it bear meat, lion, or any other red blooded beast that he could tear his tusks into. Instead, he lifted a utensil, and poked at the slop a few times. Maybe he lost his appetite already?

Erwin found himself on the observation deck again. He'd wandered the ship, seen the city, seen different places. It still took him time to adjust. It still took him time to fathom all of this. He'd ended up on the observation deck again - and luckily he had clothes now. A pair of jeans (relatively familiar to him - Americans wore them, not quite as popular in Germany) and a plain t-shirt. He kept his field cap on, though. It reminded him of home and where he came from. It kept him in the mindset that he was still a soldier and he would act like one as best he could, until he could go home. Or until everything here was resolved.

He frowned to himself, sweeping the field cap off as he walked inside (instinct, he supposed - there technically wasn't an 'inside' or 'outside' any more) and tucked it under one arm, staring out of the window at the strangeness outside. He couldn't contemplate all of it yet. It was too much. Well, he could, but it was still overwhelming. He sighed, speaking more to himself then anyone else around, "What do we do now?"

After his brief communication with Nanoha the day before, it's a rather nervous Sheikah (with add-on Hylian) who's made his way to Nanoha's office in the Temple.

Is this the right thing to do? He does trust Nanoha, for what it's worth, and if she's involved with subduing the Nightmare King, she does need to know - both about Zelda and about something a little more dangerous. And he's asked Roxie to meet them there as well, at least - not only is she involved as well, but she already knows about Zelda. If nothing else, she's moral support.

Fidgeting very slightly, he lingers outside the office, waiting for Nanoha and Roxie - and really hoping this doesn't backfire.

The news that his 'world'--or universe, rather--had been destroyed seemed to have little effect on a certain nineteen year-old member of the crew. Eerily so. But as far as Cale was concerned, his world had been destroyed long before by another 'all-powerful' alien species...the Drej. Earth was gone, blown apart by a species of pure energy. There was no 'home' for Cale. There was no 'world.' It was already gone. What remained of humanity had scattered amongst the stars, living in squalor and enduring the cruelty of racism from the other species they were forced to live among. They weren't people anymore but had become little more than beggars, living out of old rusted-out ship hulls that had been melded together to form drifter colonies.

Poverty-stricken and with no planet to call their own, the human race--at least that of Cale's universe--was dying. It was going to extinct. They were destined for history books and museums. So, the sting of his whole universe being wiped out seemed to have little effect on him. He showed no signs of sadness, betrayed not tears or anger. He, for all intents and purposes, was going about his business as usual.

Making his way through the ship, he wandered the halls, checking out the newly opened areas with an almost childlike curiosity and excitement. Each new area seemed to hold even more technological wonders behind its doors, wonders that Cale couldn't wait to get his hands and study to figure out how they worked.

He seemed to be distracted, for the moment, from the task of tracking down Leela and making sure she was all right, that she was still alive. Surely, if something had happened to her, someone would have said something to him by now.

Things hadn't changed back yet. He didn't consider himself an expert on all things Tarmon Gai'dan, no matter what the memories of the men in his head seemed to think about it, but he would have been willing to lay coin down on the fact that the ripples it caused didn't last this long. This couldn't have been an Aes Sedai trick--not directly, at least. He wouldn't put it past them to try something else--he might have woken up here without his medallion at first, but he clearly remembered the feel of it on his skin when he was approaching the purple wagon.

But if this wasn't a direct trick, and it wasn't some sort of portent of Tarmon Gai'dan, Mat didn't know what it was. For once, his memories gave him no information at all about what this could be.

They certainly didn't give him any bloody idea why it had to be him, Matrim bloody Cauthon, who woke up in another alternate world in another life. Was this another flaming gift of being ta'veren?

Burn me, but nothing good's ever come of being this bloody ta'veren. Someone could've asked me if I wanted any of it before deciding they ought to start...weaving the flaming threads of the world around me. They might've found someone more interested in the 'adventure' of it.

Of course, no one had made one mention of ta'veren or the pattern or...very much of anything familiar since he'd found himself here. There'd been the Aiel woman who spoke like a Seanchan, and he could have sworn he'd watched Aes Sedai glide by down distant corridors, but nothing was quite right. It was like a living fever dream.

Perhaps this was a sign of Tarmon Gai'dan after all? Yet, even when his thoughts had turned to Rand or even to Perrin, there had been no swirl of colors in his mind.

None of it made any sense!

Mat scowled in frustration, and slumped against a wall, watching the milling crowd of almost-familiar faces. Where under the Light was he?

After her time on the ship, she thought she was beginning to understand the voice of Stacy, humming her songs through her structure. She was becoming familiar to her, and a comfort in her own rite, especially after traveling to the planet (Earth, they called it) and feeling the difference.

But now...it felt different. Something felt off, but she could not place how. Perhaps she was simply off-balance from the disquieting dreams as of late. They had done well in chipping away at her peace, but she maintained an outward calm despite it. Panic and discomfort spread easily, and the crew of this ship had all their own troubles to deal with. If she was to help them or Stacy, spreading panic would not do it.

And yet, she could not help a faint frown, as she looked down at her meal. She chose to continue to feed herself with Stacy's offered sustinance, but then...she knew very little of much of the other food Stacy offered. She would not take away the limited supplies from those who had difficulty eating what Stacy offered in surplus.

Why would she dream of ShinRa now?

She'd been met by silence. Silence so loud that it hurt.

That's all there seemed to be.

It was eerie walking around Serenity and not running into Zöe or Wash, strange not seeing Simon in the infirmary, and it felt wrong not seeing Shepard Book studying his bible at the table. It was even strange not running into a leering Jayne.

Inara was finding that she missed them all. Missed the cheeriness that at most times could not only be found, but felt aboard Serenity.

That's part of the reason she found herself standing beside the ship, her hand resting lightly on the hull and staring up at it - her eyes wide and dark. Her fingers brush slowly against the cool metal and she shook her head. It wasn't right not having the whole crew there.

Reconnaissance was both a duty to her captain, and a way for Mulan to satisfy her burning curiosity about the new world that fate had brought her to. And so the young Chinese soldier skittered through Stacy's halls, quietly, purposefully, and above all, curiously.

She was glad she'd found her armor, along with her sword, her bow, and her quiver, in the Possessions locker. Her armor would be hot and heavy to wear in this humid environment, but at least it concealed the embarrassingly form-fitting suit the ship had given her. It was much preferable to be slightly uncomfortable at all hours of the day then to be walking around in what would have qualified in her time as nothing but the barest of underclothing. With her armor on and her hair tied back, she looked more like the boy she had become used to pretending to be, the boy she had just been growing accustomed to not having to be back home.

As she explored, she kept her bow, arrow notched and at the ready. She'd heard enough about the dangers that had already beset the crew, though she had the sense not to pull back on the string at the first signs of movement. The people here were abductees, like her, dragged from their strange foreign worlds into an equally strange and foreign one. It would not do to shoot any of them for no reason.

When he first saw it weeks ago, shortly after the crew had finally caught up him, he thought for certain that he was hallucinating. But there it was, nestled among several other castles. The Luthor Mansion, in all it's glory.

Lex was never a superstitious man, but even he believed that there was more to heaven and earth than what could be proven on paper. The appearance of his home, a reward no other crew member had received (to his knowledge), certainly made him think. He wondered if this was some sort of sign that his decisions so far had indeed been right, or that he was on the right path. Perhaps it was put there as a distraction of sorts, as well, as there were many unpleasant memories that haunted those walls. For the time being, he decided to take it as a reward, however relocating there initially proved to be problematic.

The Mansion wasn't in disarray, but it was clear that no one had walked its halls in quite some time. Not only that, but the last people who had clearly had little regard for the property. There was a layer of dirt and dust everywhere, expensive and priceless paintings had been torn off the walls and trashed, priceless artifacts were just broken pieces of clay or stone, pieces of antique furniture had been smashed, and every vault was empty. Not a single green meteor rock to be found. He counted himself lucky that his pool table, piano, and a handful of family photos managed to survive.

Rather than be dejected, Lex looked at it as project to occupy his time. Since he only worked in Neuropathy whenever he felt like it, and manned the bar in the lounge at his discretion, he did have plenty of time to devote to this project. Which was good, because cleaning up and fixing up a 40 room mansion-- replete with its own library (with real books), well supplied medieval armory and modern armory, pool, wine cellar, gym, and grand ballroom-- took a lot of work.

Work which still hadn't been completed, but he had progressed far enough to not only make it livable, but also presentable. The master bedroom, Lex's office, and most of the common areas had been cleaned up. All the rest was blocked off for the moment, but were in locations that were fairly out of the way.

So, he put out a message on the omnicomms, and invited a few people to check the place out. The ones who weren't already spying on him, at any rate. He laid out a few drinks, and a sampling of some of the fresh fruit and food he picked up while during their last mission to earth. He didn't expect many guests, after all, he had never been the most well liked person, even back when he was a relatively kindhearted kid. Most parties he hosted as an adult, he was usually surrounded by obsequious employees desperate to move up the food chain, business partners who wanted a more favorable deal, business rivals who were trying to find out something about the competition, charity representatives who wanted money, and sycophants who wanted the notoriety of being in the same room as Lex Luthor and access to the connections that alone can bring. Friends were simply a foreign concept, if he ever truly had any to begin with, and he certainly hadn't gone out of his way to make any on the ship. He was curious as to what category his guests, if he had any, would fit in.

((ooc: This is something of a party style post, so feel free to talk to Lex, Lois, or talk to each other while your character looks around.))