The light of the yellow sun that warmed Balisair shone brightly into Obs Deck. It was almost cheerful, like they weren't on a creepy ship made of meat, like they were somewhere that could have had wheat fields under a bright Kansas sky.

It felt like morning.

For a moment, Kon's hand pressed against the surface of the funeral pod, and those that had viewed the Tapestry would suddenly see what they'd seen once before--a hand on a funeral pod, a portent of a death of one of their own, now come to pass.

Inside the pod, barely visible through the clear membrane, Superman's cape covered his body. Superboy had found that he just couldn't keep the original, sewn by Ma Kent herself. No, it belonged with him. Kon planned to have another made out of the cloak given to him by Rory.

It was time to send the Councilor off into the bright light of that sun, to his final rest.

After learning from Allenby herself that Zetta was outside on the ship, Lash hadn't wasted time going to the armory and getting Thorn Armor so she'd be able to survive outside, cursing the dumb people (Allenby) who threw team members like it was going out of style. What kind of plan was that? That sounded like something SHE should be doing! Just probably not with Zetta or people she cared--HAD FUN WITH.

It hadn't taken too long for her to converse with Stacy (arguing about her own safety and saying she'd be fine) about the ship's estimate as to the floating book's whereabouts. Thankfully close to the hanger, she was adjusting to using the armor as she continued to run there - still testing out its capacity, unused to it as often as her normal one due to how easily it reacted with her nervous system. No need to covering her head until she got to the hanger either - least someone pass by and not realize who it was. Her pace was slowed down by the wound on her side and the pain in her entire body. Still patched up, she hadn't returned to the ward yet, but the the suit that was quickly covering her body would soon make it hard to see that there seemed to be a bit of new blood seeping through...so she bit her lip and just continued. Black Hole Commanding Officers did not flinch in the face of stupid flesh wounds, after all.

The faster she got the big red demonic book out of space and into the spaceship, the better.

[OOC - The first part is open to those who want to stop her and/or encourage her. The 2nd part is those that want to join her, but it's limited to a few people (Allenby, Starfire, Hit Girl and Ruffnut if they want so far, PM me if you're interested) they'll also probably need Thorn Armor unless they can go into space normally]

Ugh. Eventually, the tide of patients he'd had to deal with had decreased, leaving Soren finally able to take a moment to breathe. He was rather uncharacteristically slouching in his seat on the Obs Deck, staring balefully out at the view outside.

He hadn't realized what a chore it was to have to pick up healing duties. Where he came from, every army had a contingent of clerics to supplement the use of vulneraries by the common infantryman. That he'd seen none in use by the forces fighting on the ground was dismaying. He'd attempted to save what lives he was able to during the events on that moon or planet or whatever (Soren was not great with the proper scientific classifications of celestial bodies), but without adequate support, he knew a number had simply fallen through the cracks. There was only so much a single unit could do, especially with the tools at his disposal.

Healing wasn't even his specialty; he'd studied the use of staves mainly to better fill gaps in the Mercenaries' pool of abilities. Better than learning knives, at any rate. If he'd only had a Fortify staff...