[Supply Run] Don't Bring a Gun to a Wandfight [closed to Sherlock, John, Patsy, and Sirius]

[on_your_nerves]

When Stacy had stopped at a planet to allow for a short run for supplies, Sherlock had jumped at the opportunity to get off the ship. It wasn't so much that he hated the ship--he was still utterly fascinated with it, in fact, and exploring everything he could about it--but it was an opportunity to see an entirely different world. Getting a feel for all the kinds of possibilities that could be out there would help him adjust to the surprises he might find on actual missions.

He wasn't the only one that had wanted to stretch his legs. John had tagged along, of course, and so had Sirius, who Sherlock sincerely hoped would keep the flirting to a minimum this time. There also was a stranger, a woman that had introduced herself as Patsy, who apparently had a habit of wearing a cat mask. Sherlock had thought it absolutely ridiculous--until they got down to the planet, where it turned out that garish clothing was rather commonplace, meaning that she fit in with the locals. (Even then, it was still a little ridiculous.)

It was, incredibly, unbelievably, a world with actual magic. Not horribly different than he and John's own, but with everything powered by magic and an untold number of magical species, like trolls, goblins, dwarves, elves, and fairies. Skyscrapers existed but were sprawling structures that seemed to defy the laws of physics, cars drove through the streets--but they hovered off the ground and left behind sparkly exhaust, and right now, it seemed very fashionable for them to be in the stylized shapes of pumpkins.

At the moment, they were all walking through a magical marketplace, where individuals in colorful clothes of a variety of species were hawking rather incredible wares like magic mirrors and foods that apparently prepared themselves for dinner. Behind them, they were carting along a hovering cart for the supplies they were getting--apparently the ship's supplies of magical ingredients and implements needed to be replenished so that there were some for those who were magically-inclined to have them on hand if they were needed.

"This is..." He wasn't going to say it was incredible. He had a whole unimpressed facade to maintain. "Improbable."

And yes, very interesting.

A drunken pixie flew over their heads in wobbly circles and threw up fairy dust all over a very grim-faced troll, who immediately started shaking a fist at her and cursing.

"Oh, the whimsy," he added sarcastically, although he did look amused.

You ever get the feeling you were being watched?

[youvegotsuckersluck]

Maybe it's just a product of living under the all seeing eye of Stacy...but it sure feels like there's someone lurking just out of sight.

And that's because there is. The adjustment period for Doug had not been easy since he had woken up. Between not having his pills and knowing that GLADoS was still alive he had already been on edge. But as tensions among the crew rose due to the day to day life of plotting rebellions, fighting for survival attending funerals. It became a bit much.

So sticking to the shadows he creeps, and stalks, and studies the crew. Who can be trusted? Who is dangerous and threatening? Even a man so intimidated by science can't deny the merit behind studying a subject from afar to better understand them.

Creeping about the ship you'd think a disheveled and bearded man with a large box on his back with hearts on it would be easier to spot. But Doug spent years hiding from GLADoS so it's become second nature to the aptly named "Rattmann."

((OOC: Go ahead about your business, you can either notice Doug stalking you or eventually maybe...possibly, he'll reveal himself willingly. Bit Doug is a timid creature so that may take some doing.))

If I should die before I wake [Closed]

[birthmural]

When he had been sedated and placed into the pods, Daimon Hellstrom's heart felt as though it were on fire. When he woke the pain had spread to his entire body. He had been released into one of the halls but he couldn't stand again. He didn't even have the strength to stay on his hands and knees and collapsed onto the floor.

"No." He whispered.

Daimon heard Stacy's gentle, encouraging voice in his head but not listening. He couldn't make out the words.

It was impossible to focus on anything but the pain. He couldn't remember where he'd been before now. He tried to clear his mind and focus but it was useless.

"Months," the word kept running through his mind. Why?

You're dying. And with the realization came other memories. His weakness, his chest pains, all symptoms he had ignored for as long as he could until he saw Dr. Hussain. Somehow, he knew he was dying. He could feel it but until she said "less than six months" he hadn't realized how quickly it was all happening.

Now that time was gone. He had spent it in the pods as Stacy tried in vain to heal him.

Daimon clawed at the floor but even his attempts to crawl failed.

Not yet. God, please not yet. Patsy. Let me see Patsy one more time.