Worf, in an effort to get a little downtime, had taken up one of the small rooms in the media library for a bit of personal use. After making sure the door was closed and (he thought) locked, he turned on the selection he had picked. The raucous sounds of a Klingon opera, particularly that by the name of Gav'ot toH'va. Content that he would not be disturbed, Worf launched into the vocals, singing along with the music. Ah, some peace and quiet where he wouldn't be disturbed and could enjoy himself in peace.

Right?

If one were to go down to the vehicle bay, there was a large shape that your eyes seemed to slide across when you tried to focus on it. After all, the actual appearance of the vehicle was more or less keyed to only a few people. It was here that Matt journeyed down to the vehicle bay in order to look at the various ships and subsequently geek out over them, when he noticed the "Notice-Me-Not" space. Or rather he didn't. He did however notice a large space that his eyes tried to focus on and his sight seemed to slip to the Impala parked beside it. Trying again, he looked again, and his view slid to the other car next to the large shape.

Frowning, he walked over and reached out to touch the large shape he had trouble focusing on. In an instant, a large pink bus appeared and he jumped back in shock. "No way!" he breathed, reaching for the door and opening it. "Kandor? KANDOR!"

Running up into the vehicle, he found himself in the rounded corridors of the WITCH Bus. "KANDOR!" he yelled again for the driver, but his friend didn't reply. "Huh, I guess he's not here. WE? WEEEEEEEE! WE!"

No answer came in the form of a hyperactive ball of fur and Matt sighed. "Well I suppose it was too much to ask."

Walking into the main lounge, he grinned. "My jacket! Awesome! I thought I wouldn't find it here!"

Picking up his brown jacket, he started to poke around. Some of the doors refused to budge, a sign that their owners were in cold sleep or... Matt shook off the thought that the rest of the Guardians couldn't be here. Pressing forward, he located the door for Will's wing and pressed the button. Obediently the door chirped and opened up, revealing the Guardian of Energy's training facility.

"Now this is more like it," said Matt, walking into the room. As usual it was filled with training equipment, balance beams, gymnastic equipment of all kinds. He stepped forward and yelped, lifting his foot and finding a sharp piece of wood stuck in the big toe. With a wince he pulled it out and bent down, picking up a pair of sticks, both of them broken. "It's still here," he murmured, remembering his fight with Liam.

Carefully, he picked up several pieces and swept up the rest before placing the broken double-headed staff in the rack. Magic played across the shaft and mended itself, and Matt grinned. "This is going to be great. I'd better get my guitar and move in asap."

Then a thought came to him and Matt headed for Kandor's room. Luckily he found it unlocked and there was a keycard resting on the table. "Gonna have to borrow your keys Kandor," murmured Matt as he returned to a door and slotted hit in. Instantly, the door opened and he stepped into the glowing blue light. The inside of the engine room was humming with power and Matt followed the path to the globe of energy where five ribbons of energy was twisting around in unending patterns. "Good, the Lumia seems strong," murmured the young man, watching the magic spin around the globe. He tapped the end of it and all five ribbons jerked towards him. Matt chuckled and withdrew his hand, and the ribbons retreated. "Still recognize your magic huh?"

Stepping out of the engine room, Matt locked up the engine room and stuck the keycard into his jacket's pocket. The Magic School was all ready, and showed previous signs of life. Stepping into his own room, he sat down heavily and started to sing softly to himself.

In his haste to explore, he hadn't noticed that the Notice-Me-Not field had dropped, and the bus was visible to anyone who wanted to poke their heads into the vast interior of the Learn 2 B WITCH Bus.

Since the big reveal Eddie has been...depressed. It was fun to hang out and meet new people back when he was pod popped, but now he was feeling the weight of it all. Eddie was beginning to realize just how small he was in this huge and expanding multiverse, and his enthusiasm shrunk.

Now Eddie finds himself here, in the engineering sector. He's stumbled across a room full of spare parts and odd bits of machinery that don't seem to have much use. Eddie reminisces of the time he used to spend building his Kid Devil suit back in Dan Cassidy's special effects workshop. He didn't just idolize Blue Devil as a hero. Before that, Eddie already idolized Dan for all the ways he made his Aunt Marla's movie so awesome, and it was Eddie's dream to be a special effects artist, just like Dan.

Eddie hadn't flexed that skill in a long time. He hadn't had the resources, until now. Scrapping together several bits of machinery, Eddie lays them out on a table and gets to work. He's not quite sure what it is he's doing, so he just improvises. He soon discovers that, being a fire demon, his fingers make for good welders.

In a little less than an hour, Eddie has finished his invention; a remote control toaster.

"Now if I could only invent bread."

Blink. Blink. Blinkity-blink.

Why are there three blue lights blinking from a small corner of Obs Deck? The blond kid in the simple blue polo and khaki pants might have an answer for you.

He's surrounded by small blue boxes and various inventions on the table and chairs around him, and if not for the fact that he's fiddling away on yet another invention and acting as if nothing's wrong, he would look just like an ex who'd been thrown out of his former significant other's house.

In between tasks, he lowers the tools and gazes around the deck, almost as if he's looking for something (or someoone) else. Hey, maybe he and his big mess ended up out here for a reason.

Research was always more of Sam's deal. He'd had been stopping by the Media library to check on things, but for the most part, Dean was preparing. Keeping abreast of the news on the comms, and keeping an ear to the ground about the nightmares. In the meantime, leads about this nightmare dude were still scarce, and he was feeling itchy for a real hunt. So he had been taking to drumming up some ghosts to fire full of rock salt in the Sensoriums, or demons to exorcise. Had to keep his hunter instincts sharp after all.

Right now it was target practice with cans out in the back of the Singer Salvage Yard. Felt like old times, when it was him and Sam and the open road, helping people. Not like now, or even recently when they were last home. World was screwed but he could feel some small peace. No more meatsuits. Armageddon's been cancelled permanently. Still part of him wondered what was it worth. All those years of hunting, for what? To save people who ended up vaporized anyway?

He frowned, and loaded his gun to fire at the targets again. The cans held several holes in the metal already now.

Sandwiched in between a temple Rhiow hadn't recognized and a cathedral she thought she had was the gleaming facade of Grand Central Station, with its clock ticking away, Mercury above it with his sandal-wings outspread. The door to the main concourse was unlocked of course - it never stopped moving, after all.

Or it hadn't, when it was where it was supposed to be, in the middle of midtown Manhattan. Rhiow had never seen the terminal so silent. Even in the early hours of the morning, before any of the restaurants and bars were open, the maintenance workers were always there doing work on the tracks or the trains. But Rhiow had been to every inch of the terminal and hadn't seen a soul, not even a rat. No trains lay in the underground storage yards. Even downside in the sub-basement, no life stirred except the hyperstrings and Stacy's ever-present hum.

She sat in the middle of the main concourse, staring up at the four-faced clock, her eyes half-closed. She had claimed this spot as her own, even if she hadn't said as much to the crew. No-one seemed to come here, another oddity with the way Rhiow had seen this place last. And here, with the backward ceiling above her and the four-faced clock at her front, she did her meditation.

When she was on Earth, in comfort in the city, she would say small sections of it, and say it silently. Here on Stacy, when her life had been turned backward and upside-down, she said it in full, and aloud, the way it had been taught to her.

Rhiow came to the last paragraph and her voice grew a fraction louder. "For my own part, I know my job; my commission comes from Those Who Are. I will meet some today who think that day is blind and that night lies with its eyes closed; that the Gaze doesn't see them, or doesn't care. Their certainty of blindness, though, need not mean anything to me. My paw raised is Their paw on the neck of the Serpent, now and always. I shall walk through Their worlds as do the Powers that Be, seeing and knowing with Them and for Them, tending Their worlds as if they were mine: for so indeed they are. Silently shall I strive to go my way, as They do, doing my work unseen; the light needs no reminding by me of good deeds done by night. And in this long progress through all that is, though I will know doubt and fear in the strange places where I must walk, I will put these both aside, as the Oath requires, and hold myself to my work... for if They and I together cannot mend what is marred, who can—? And having done my work aright, though I may know weariness at day's end, come awakening I shall rise up and say again, with Them, as if surprised, 'behold, the world is made new!'"

If she knew anyone was there, she gave no indication.

Night-time.

Or, at least, what passes for night-time on the meatship.

Tonight, though, there is something strange happening.

Throughout the ship, an odd tinge creeps into the dreams of the shipmates. A flash of red, perhaps, or the soft chiming of bells—but what follows it are good dreams, in sharp contrast to the darker ones of before.

Pleasant dreams, meatship.

[Good dreams for everyone! Nobody is required to post, but if you, have fun with it!]

Kon's feet are kicked up on the interrogation table, his arms are folded behind his head, and he's leaning back in his chair. He looks immensely bored, and pretty much unrepentant. Not really a good sign from someone that can break a car in half for shits and giggles.

But mostly he seems lost in his own little world of thought. It's a bad place for him to be in--getting trapped in his head like that. It's a place he was in for a while after he found out he was cloned from Luthor, that had him sitting up alone at night reading books about sociopathy and genetics, trying to figure out if there was a genetic predisposition towards being evil.

He seems to be stuck there again.

Regardless, he sits, the chair teeters precariously, never quite falling over due to him balancing--and occasionally his TTK rooting it to the floor--and he waits for the inevitable lectures. (Lectures, plural. He knows someone from Command or Security will want to talk to him and 'Wing's probably going to talk to him just on his own).

But he'd wanted to look into things on his own and hopefully it all worked out the way he'd planned it. He wouldn't know until he got out. Lectures are worth that. Even finding nothing is finding something.

When the door finally opens, he doesn't bother seeing who it is, and just keeps staring at the ceiling. "You know, last I checked, you couldn't really hold somebody in prison unless there were laws for them to break. You should maybe get on that."

The scent of fresh water caught her by surprise, invading her nose as she inadvertently sucked a lungful of water in, choked, and hacked as she flailed.  So much water.  Water and fear.  Because something was wrong (her head hurt, it hurt, it hurt).  There was water, she knew that in the same way that she knew she had to try and stay above the waterline.

She wanted Obi-Wan.

Arha spat out water and tried to move, but she was wet and heavy and she knew it was a losing battle.  The water was cold.  Colder than she could keep up with.  The dread set in a moment later as she found herself underwater, staring down into the depths, her hair a cloud of muted red.

There was someone down there.

Someone staring up at her.

Arha woke with a sharp gasp, her fingers on her lightsaber as the hood of her cloak slipped backward and fell around her shoulders.  For a long moment, she stared across the observation deck uneasily, shoving the bright burst of panic down as far as she could.  There was something terribly urgent about it, something wrong.  Something.

Something frighteningly real.

Arha blinked again and shuddered.  Too much water.

Diana hadn't really seen much of Cassie since she'd gotten here and that had to be corrected. Diana had heard of the Sensorums being able to create any place, including a training grounds, which was pretty much her intent. Getting rusty was a bad thing.

From Stacy, Diana learned of where Cassie was staying and she headed towards her room, knocking on the hard door. "Cassie? Are you home?"