Title: Spaceball Blues: Revisited
Location: The Hallways






Curiosity.

Despite the familiar-turning-more-disturbing nightmares during times of sleep, his waking hours fill themselves with little else except intense curiosity. True, he'd been flung to a wide range of places, times and anything in between but moments of exploration without entirely having to worry if or when a predator might come after you are rare gems. And he takes advantage of said shining moments.
The problem is, that it often gets him utterly disoriented.

It doesn't help a damn bit knowing you have only your own ears, scent-trail and emotional runoff to go on.

Memorising this place....comes later. Much later with much more experience.

Chittering at himself, the odd little bluething Tarzan-crawls up and down a length of hallway, essentially pacing like an agitated animal in a closed space. Right, so. Logical thinking here. Flung through space-time, landed on that ship-undeserving-of-a-name, met the equally undeserving captain. Ship dropped him off on some gods-forsaken planet like a cask of beef gone off -- and then what?
He almost laugh-cries then, recalling that second James T. Second. Well. His agenda still has that task to perform, once he gets un-lost.

In the meantime, what could he do but get himself to sit down for a minute, cool off, then...? Of course. Out come the tailored-to-fit captain's coat and his miles-too-huge, absurdly gaudy (More feathery plume than hat?) pirate hat.

May's well beat down some imaginary pirates while he's here, no?

"Awrrr!"

After his most recent round of nightmares, Tim is really in no mood to try to sleep.  He sets himself up in the Sensorium with a program he's used before to try to relieve stress--which he's privately dubbed "No Man's Land."  The program isn't really what it was like, but there's the same feeling that it's just going to go on and on, and never end.

Of course, Tim programmed it that way, for nights (days?  It's hard to tell time on the ship) when he feels just like this--like he'd rather do anything but lie down and try to sleep.  Before, it was because he didn't want to think.  Now--he doesn't want to dream.

Still.  If he won't can't sleep, he might as well do something useful with his time.  Wave after wave of thugs and ninjas come at him, all trying to take him down.

Maybe eventually he'll get tired enough to sleep...

There are uncharacteristically dark crescents under Luna's protuberant eyes, their usual twinkle a little dimmer than it's been of late. She seems to be drooping in an odd way, shoulders curled forwards in a hunch, hair unnoticed in her face, fingers dull and slow.

Still, even exhaustion and nightmares can't stop Luna Lovegood from being Luna Lovegood - no matter how much they make her worry that Katara was right about... - and, as such, she has settled herself in the library, not particularly uncommon for her. Today, however, she isn't reading.

Today, she is juggling book tablets with her wand, a vague look of interest fixed on her pale face as Hogwarts: A History spins past the 1960 edition of The Oxford English Dictionary, The Encyclopaedia Brittanica bumping corners with Lolita.

"And Odo the hero, they bore him back home
To the place he had known as a lad,
They laid him to rest with his hat inside out
And his wand snapped in two, which was sad," she sings quietly, chin resting in the palm of her free hand as she twirls the four books into a counter-clockwise formation, screens glinting in the light, a sigh escaping.

"I miss normal books."