It seems an odd day indeed when Yoshimi is as buoyant as she is, floating into the room on wings made of success, mind spinning with schematics and potentially helpful devices and maybe the desire to try her hand at building an aircraft, except for the limited on-ship supplies. A data pad is clutched in one hand, as per usual, but she tosses it onto the bed with nary a thought, tripping over to the shared desk merrily.

Humming--atonally, as is her unfortunate habit--she pulls out one of the few pieces of paper they have, and a pencil she found in the Mess--with an eraser!--and starts sketching that aircraft.

"We-ell, isn't this interesting?"

Axel has just discovered the Sensoriums, immediately reminded of the Holo-Missions. Still, it takes him a second to get over the mild shock of finding himself standing in The Grey Area, weird, way too perfectly situated holograms of Larxene and Demyx and Roxas sprawled on various couches. Vaguely out-of-tune sitar attacks his ears, and though he is grinning that really probably terrifying, cheeky-as-hell grin of his, he blinks and asks the room to not have anything to do with The Castle That Never Was. He supposes it was his own fault for having his favorite sofa on his mind when he walked in, but Nobody or not, the place always gave him the creeps.

In a brief second, he finds himself in Twilight Town, on top of the clock tower. He assumes his usual posture, one knee bent, other leg dangling towards the ground. Sea-salt ice cream makes itself known in his hand, and he sighs as he bites at it, trying not to think about how unused to being alone up here he is.

Stupid brat, running off like that...

Shinn palmed Destiny’s cockpit open and slipped inside. If the mobile suit had been in storage for a while, there wasn’t any sign of it. There wasn’t dust on the screens or corrosion on the panels, and the machine’s diagnostics showed that all systems were as functional as they’d been on its first sortie -- not that the fight was much to remember, he recalled, grimacing.

He leaned back in the familiar seat. He felt, surreally, like he was fourteen again. His home was gone, he was in a strange new place… Shouldn’t he be more upset? He’d been a wreck after Onogoro, but – the thought vanished. He shook his head, blinking, and stared at the control panels. Right. He’d known what he had to do then, and he knew what he had to do now.

He punched a short message into the communicator, then powered down most of the suit’s systems and pulled out a battered pink mobile phone, flipping it open and shut mechanically. He hadn’t been able to stop the Alliance and he hadn’t been able to stop the Ohm, but he would be ready next time.

Mei-Xing stares at her slop listlessly, stirring it around with her finger. Another slightly unpleasant meal to round out the day, huh? No matter how much she ate, even giving the tray a try (she'd been horribly surprised to find out that it was edible), it never improved the taste. "Like lint flavored pudding." She pauses, bringing her finger up to her face and examining it.

"Lint... flavored... pudding. Hm." She scoots to the side, dipping her finer into her tray again, and draws it across the surface of the table. More dipping follows, and she sketches out several equations, mathematical and mystical in nature. After about fifteen minutes and one refill, she has a good half of the table covered in a sloppy formula. "Right. Okay. Here we go." She stares hard at her tray, a new load of slop on there, and settles down in front of it. Dipping a finger in, she licks it and beams. "From lint pudding, to melon pudding. Spirits above, I'm a hell of a genius."

It only took her three or four months to figure out she could do it instead of bitching.

Nanoha had agreed to let Satori read her mind to best learn the secrets of bind magic - and to have a rematch to test their functional application. As much as she tried, she couldn't quite get over the uncomfortable tingle that ran down her spine at the thought of someone invading her mind and thoughts, but a promise was a promise, and the stronger they all were, the better for fighting the Ohm.

So she waited in the Sensoriums, hovering over a craggy, jagged mountain range with towering peaks and spires that would be perfect for an aerial duel.

(ooc: Closed to Satori and Nanoha for now. If you'd like to get in or observe the match, poke one of us on AIM.)

His hands itched. So did the backs of his ankles. And his head hurt.

It was rather annoying to not be able to scratch the itch. The headache was more troubling. It was going to get worse, but for the moment it was just an ache behind his eyes, aggravating more for the reminder than the actual physical pain.

He was helpless.

He let his head lull forward, resting his chin on his chest and testing the bindings on his hands. They were solid, and it didn't give in the least. They didn't even have the decency to scratch the damned itch.

He was hungry, and that would get worse as well. He had a feeling the current small portions of food would continue until he starved. He would get the added pleasure of his host's hunger making his own worse.

< They're going to kill you. > Tom's voice was soft, invasive, and annoying.

< That should make you happy. You're getting everything you wanted, aren't you Tommy-boy? >

The host was silent, considering.

Iniss kept his head down, soon, perhaps, one of his jailers would decide to lecture him, and who knew what might happen then?

If he pretended to be asleep, maybe they would just leave him alone.

((Occ: Give me what day you're on when you tag in, and we'll just do it sorta day by day? I guess? Maybe? Suggestions?)

Tycho had gotten his memories restored. It had been every bit as bad as he'd feared it would be, but just because it was bad, didn't mean he could turn away. All those beings (so many beings) deserved to be remembered, deserved to have someone carry the weight of their deaths, to have someone fight for them. As well, there was also that the more information they had on the Ohm, the better. He'd also just watched the recordings of the information session Aang and Cargan had given, but nothing compared to actually witnessing it with his own eyes.

The force they were up against seemed impossible to beat.

But Tycho could not let it overwhelm him, would not. So here he was, sitting in the sensoriums, trying to find his center again, trying to find a place of peace and calm within him from which he could act with confidence. The sensoriums had flawlessly recreated the Alderaani peace gardens, from Aldera City, and now Tycho sat on a bench along one of their soothing paths, eyes shut as he just breathed in the air of his home. He breathed deeply and tried to center himself, tried to push all that fear and doubt and anger out of him.

He'd sent out a couple com messages to a few people on the ship letting them know where he was, and the sensorium door was unlocked, in case anyone needed to talk to him.

In the city, there is the police precinct. In the precinct, there is a meeting room. In the meeting room is one bristling former captain of the ship, turned commander, turned lieutenant, turned--oh who the hell knows her rank now. Whatever her rank is, she wants updates, explanations, and to find out how the crew has fared in her absence. Hence why she told a few people to come see her, post-haste.

"So. What the A#%& have I missed?"

A pause.

"And forewarning, if any one of you even mentions cake, I'm shooting you in the @#%&ing face. Just putting that out there."

[ooc: one thread, new subthreads for new topics and such]

Once things had settled down somewhat from the pod pop, once she had been assigned to a cabin and once she'd had a few days to relax and shove all her sudden anxieties about the world ending to somewhere else in the back of her mind, Sylia took her hardsuit for a test drive around the many vast hallways of the ship. The digital readouts had one hell of a time trying to give her data about the ship's layout and the composition of the walls, but most importantly it seemed to be running well and however long she'd spent in podsleep hadn't affected her performance. It felt good to wear it again.

Even if Nigel and Henderson's warnings about her condition were echoing in the back of her mind the whole time.

Once she was finished she set her suit on a table in engineering and set to work performing basic maintenance on it as best she could with the advanced tools set before her. It was a shame this place was so humid-- she worried about the suit's long-term performance and wished more than ever that Nigel was here. Sylia may have looked a little clueless there, examining each tool carefully before testing it out.

Oh well. At least the skinsuit gave her something else to wear besides the creepy plantsuits. It was so much more visually appealing. And there was no good reason why the plantsuits couldn't provide the luxury of cleavage. Honestly.