It was getting to be a little late at night, but the Obs deck was still occupied.

Seated on one of the meatcouches, looking out through the massive window into the Bleed, sat Cargn. He'd managed to calm himself from his frustration at their loss during the previous battle, and was now spending some time trying to relax himself further.

He had the right sleeve of his robe rolled up, since it kept catching in the joint of his new prosthetic arm. With his now steel and adamantium encased right hand he was writing down something in a fairly weathered looking tome using an old-fashioned feather quill.

In his other hand, he had a small glass tumbler with a thick, heady black liquor that he occasionally took sips from. It was a small pleasure he indulged in very rarely, one he picked up several centuries ago when he worked beside a rather eccentric Ordo Xenos Inquisitor in a several year long joint-operation. Even then, it wasn't as if he could get intoxicated with his enhanced physique.

He seemed to be enjoying the peace and quiet. Still, he seemed like he wouldn't mind some company.

Chaucer had a perhaps excusable fondness for taverns. He'd certainly spent enough time in them to either loathe the places or love them, and Geoffrey rarely found it within himself to loathe anything that was willing to provide him with food and company.

And a tavern, unlike so many things on this strange journey, echoed vaguely of home. He'd even found some dice somewhere.

Rattling them idly in one hand, an itch he wasn't quite allowed to scratch, the writer and herald sat neatly cross-legged on a table, chin in hand, elbow on knee, kilt neatly smoothed around him to avoid unwanted eyefuls. His dice-filled hand moved, clacking and jangling, as he finished up a story to whatever audience would listen.

It was a story of chivalry, of passion, of dedication, a slice of stupidity, and an overpowering need for a full stomach and well-delivered fonging. It was the story of Wat.

Delivered in fond mockery, it ended thus; "Not every wise man can expect to be a good man, and few good men can expect to be wise. The ones, however, who can grasp at life with both hands, breath deeply of it, and declare that it could use more salt are something to be marveled upon. Perhaps not revered or praised, but certainly watched very carefully."

The sound of metal on metal was ringing throughout the Sensorium, as Kamen Rider Decade fought against seemingly endless waves of Dai-Shocker minions. Further back, though, stood a knight-inspired commander in red: Apollo Geist. The battle was not going well for Decade, though: he had ratcheted up the difficulty of the simulation for an increased challenge, but that and the numerical disadvantage were not adding up to victory for the Kamen Rider.

Suddenly three minions jumped up, as rockets in their feet started burning. They flew right into Decade, causing an explosion that threw him into the corridor outside. As the recreations of Apollo Geist and the Dai-Shocker minions gathered around the entrance, Decade muttered, "This is not the kind of training I was seeking," glaring at the open doorway.

After finally being freed from some annoying lengthy diagnostic tests-she isn't convinced they were even necessary-Tex has taken up residence in one of the media library's pods. Her body language practically screams that she still isn't in what could really be called a good mood, but she's kept the door to the pod open, allowing the sound of the music she's listening to to drift out. She nods her head a little in time to the music, tapping one intangible foot along with the beat.

Title: En-Light-enment
Location: Stacy; Engineering




Duty.

To some, it's just a word, an obligation. To others, it's an honour-bound pact and to others still, it combines knowledge with honour with the passion of doing that duty. To Renne, it had for many years, become a reason to keep on breathing, to keep on searching.

Now, Duty gives way to Curiosity as he sits on the floor of Engineering with little bits, bobs and parts surrounding him. Along with this, stands the audio-adaptation Billy had created so that he might utilise books successfully.

And yes. Renne had gushed considerably over that.

With the reader babbling merrily along about circuits and light bulbs in a way that can be understood by one who has never been exposed to such technologies, Renne carefully retrieves some of the bits and pieces around him. Hey look, Einstein. He's trying to build a circuit!

Just don't laugh at the wire "glasses" perched on his nose.