If anyone could see Sasami at the moment? They'd be utterly jealous of her. Thanks to the unprecedented event of having two sets of memories, ranging in over 700 years worth of events, Sasami was a rich little 708-year-old girl. Her mind ran rampant at all the stuff she could get with her money, but stopped as something else took priority - she needed equipment and food for her store in the City.

About an hour or so later, Sasami's main mission was complete - dishes, utensils, special stoves and enough food to fully stock both her store and her recently-discovered home. But, even with all this, Sasami still had plenty of money to burn.

"Now, what do I do?"

Choosing two memories wasn't that hard. He made an effort, before the procedure, not to think of Sha're at all, Abydos, his parents or the SGC, and if weren't for the fact that he had time to prepare beforehand, it would've been a lot harder than it looked. Daniel focused on something safe, purely physical or emotional. Something that wasn't too personal or specific about their missions or the Stargate.

Guide said anything would do, so, he was getting... anything.

The first was how it felt just to touch a hundred years old manuscript, mostly the texture and smell. Daniel felt bad about pulling that one. Talk about a cop out. Even if he had to be careful, that was cheap. The archaeologist tried to make it up on the second one. He gave him the memory of how he'd felt on his first time entering a tomb, how the air had felt (cold) , how it had smelled (musty and dank), just how utterly black it had been (very black), the excitement and tension that had run through him, and more importantly the sense that there was something down there just waiting to be uncovered.

It seemed to do the trick, because Guide cheerfully shuffled away with two copied memories. Although not before he tried to sell him tours to the best restaurants.

Daniel found himself inside the library and already short of a chunk of credits. They'd charged admission, then charged him just to use a tiny pad of paper, the kind that would've been free back home, then for the stub of what was their version of a pencil (he wasn't even going to keep it!), and then charged him just to point out where the subject catalogs were. Oh, and then he'd been charged just to use the desk.

He was surprised they didn't try to charge him for the air he breathed. Maybe that was going to show up when he tried to leave.

Despite this, Daniel trundled happily around the shelves, feeling more at home than he had in awhile. Nothing shooting at them, no pressure to find technology for military use, just this. Books, as far as he could see. He'd been on a number of planets already, seen so much, but still, nothing quite beat a good library.

It even had that old yellowed book smell.

It was one of those cheap one hour hotels, the kind that had a rather seedy reputation. However, it was obvious that these two star crossed lovers needed a private place to discuss certain things. First of all, they needed to catch up on where exactly they were within each other's perspective time line. Second of all, she felt sure the Doctor was going to be cross with her for bundling their little 'inspector' routine at the clock shop. To be honest, River had known that it would only be a matter of time before they crossed paths. What confused her was the fact that there was already another version of the Doctor walking around the ship. That should have been impossible. So it was possible that the one she'd met during her podpop was an imposter.

Either way, she stood by his side as they made arrangements for the hotel room. It was all good fun, running her fingertips along his arm, giggling and winking flirtatiously like they were a perfectly normal couple about to put the hotel bed to good use. The funnest part? Listening to the Doctor's voice rise higher in pitch as she let her fingertips trace some rather raunchy words in Old High Gallifreyan over his arm and knuckles where her hand grasped his. Trust River Song to abuse such a powerful, ancient language.

"Thanks ever so much."

With a saucy little wink, River blew a kiss to the bellhop and they were soon on their merry way to their room.

As soon as the door slid shut behind them, however, her little game moved to an abrupt end. Before he could even blink, she had her familiar blue diary out and was already flipping through the pages leisurely, like she'd done this a hundred times before. "Now, where are we? You've got that baby-face so early days still?"

For those looking hard enough, the black market on XaXing shouldn't be too incredibly difficult to find - just look for the section of town where people don't look excited to be trading. Everyone in this little section of the market either looks like they just got away with a murder and need to keep glancing over their shoulders, or like they're about to get lined up for an execution. The more experienced traders here are clearly more at ease and looking as casual as possible, but there's still a distinct tension in the air.

An alien clearly designated as a police officer gazes down the street but, after a shopkeeper passes him and discretely slips some contraband into his hand, keeps walking.

An Iskoort and a human man dressed in black are relaxing outside the door to a store titled "Merchandiser, Brother of Hood Ornament Seller, Offers Exotic and Tantalizing Goods from the Far Corners of the Galaxy!". Under that sign, a few more signs detail how no background checks, down payments, identifications or collaterals are necessary. From inside the building, the sounds of a scuffle are audible, followed by the sound of someone choking.

The man in the doorway taps his cane against the window. "Keep it down in there!"

The Iskoort, Merchandiser, looks around a bit skittishly. {If you would allow me to purchase a sample of your superpowers, I could incinerate the body. I would pay a very reasonable price.}

"And leave nothing for your Mortician's Guild to clean up? Hardly."

Across the street, the shop that supposedly sells cactus extracts, but secretly specializes in drugs and hit contracts, lowers their blinds a few inches.


(( OOC: Here, have a criminal underworld! Feel free to tag in and run into other crew members ("what are you doing looking at faerie slaves?"), or into one of the underworld gurus here. If you want one of my NPCs to tag you, just put it in your post title. NPCs are Merchandiser and Dark Thomas Casey. ))

The journey had been set, and the teams were off, following a path in what appeared to be a disorganized clutter of people through the Enchanted Forest.

The further you go in however, the further you feel like this forest is not quite right. For one thing, it looks far too over budget to be natural. Lots of flowers and trees and stuff everywhere.

Secondly, you get the idea that you're being followed. Or watched or a number of the two.

Wait, was that a rustle in the bushes somewhere?

(ooc: three event threads, you can tag into them at your pleasure. They'll go up over the course of today and such and there's plenty to go around.)

Lion-O was in the armory searching for a very specific weapon; the Sword of Omens. It didn't take him too long, once he figured out how to use the terminal. And the safety protocols. Once he got past those though, the sword was finally back in his possession, along with the sturdy Claw Shield. Lion-O fastened the gauntlet to his hip and examined the sword.

"Good to have you back. Better make sure you're the real one." Lion-O lifts the sword and swings it from side to side.

"Thunder, thunder, thunder! ThunderCats, Ho!"

The sword grows to its full length, and it shines the ThunderCats symbol onto the walls, roaring. Lion-O smiles as the sword shrinks back down and he sheathes it in the Claw Shield.

"Perfect."

The dingy green glow of dusk heralded the arrival of one merchant to his stall, smiling widely at the people passing by as he went about his work. His purple, three eyed beast (possibly distantly related to a camel) settled down onto its knees with a heavy sigh, closing two eyes as his owner burst into song. The third tracked him lazily.

"XaXingian nights, like XaXingian days! More often than not, deals hotter than hot, in a lot of good ways!"

He tied back the curtains to his stall, revealing rows of various flasks and lamps and pots and other metallic odds and ends, along with countless bottles of spices and their artistically labeled fronts. Schubalti Sea was probably a wonderful flavor enhancer, much like Ftla Snot.

"XaXingian nights, on XaXingian streets! A fool off his guard, could fall and fall hard, without making ends me--"

He paused, as if thinking better than to end his song on that note, gesturing for any of the passing crowd to come closer. "Blessings and good evening to you, dear friends! Welcome to XaXing, world of mystery, of enchantment, of the finest merchandise this side of the Gorgon Galaxy."

His hands slammed down on his table, sending a "SALE" sign tumbling over and down the front. "All on sale today, come on down!" He laughed, monocle lens reflecting some light from the street lamps, reaching beneath the counter and bringing some kind of torture device into view. "Look at this, combination electric carving knife and adjustable torch!"

He pulled out a cigar, holding it with his teeth as he adjusted a knob on the side of the contraption he had in hand. Pressing a lever, a foot of flame blasted out the side -- incinerating the cigar.

"Not adjustable."

He frowned, tossing the contraption and cigar to the side.

Superboy was happy about the shore leave for one reason, with everyone on the planet, the ship was more or less deserted. Which meant that was exactly where he was. But not just anywhere on the ship, he had a specific idea in mind.

Because with most people gone the simulators were largely unused, and the only thing better than watching static was being ENTIRELY surrounded by it. So that's what he did. If one were to venture into a certain simulator they would probably go crazy... or maybe have a seizure (epileptics should probably avoid this). Why? Because Superboy is sitting on a couch in a simulator which is otherwise ENTIRELY static. Yes, the ground is static (though you can still stand on it). The sky is static. In fact, all you can SEE is static in all directions.

Aside of the couch with Superboy on it that is. Despite being entirely surrounded by static, he seems to be staring straight forward with a rather blank expression on his face.

Enter if you dare!

There is a point, Sakura decided, Where directions are useless if there's no consistent measurement of distance. She felt she'd reached this point, stepping out of the main walkway and up onto a semi-clear platform lining this part of the road. By what she could figure, she should have arrived at this particular bookseller by now, but she still seemed to be stuck in some bizarre toyland.

Or at least what could pass as a section of it, with stores and merchants displaying all kinds of toys from and for all kinds of species. There were even people dressed in funny costumes wandering around and trying to sell her intestine animals they were tying up on the spot. (They were apparently very popular with Traflimadurian children.)

"You'd think people would want to be easy to find..." She trailed off, sighing in frustration. On a planet of merchants? Ones who probably do everything they can to catch a buyer's attention before their competition? Right. Stepping back off the platform into the crowd, Sakura steeled herself for good old fashioned trial by error exploration -- until either persistence or blind luck paid off.