Even captains need their moments of rest and relaxation. Kirk had retreated to the Sensoriums to try and catch his breath and ease some of the tension from the past few months. This ship was draining, sometimes in the extreme. Not for the first time he missed Enterprise. She had been his ship, for better or for worse and now that she was gone, he found he missed her more then ever. That didn't even account for the crew. Sulu, McCoy, Uhura, Scotty, Chekov - he wished he had them here right now. Their advice and support would meant quite a lot. As it was, Spock had recently arrived, but he seemed different somehow. Something he hadn't been able to put his finger on yet.

Kirk sighed to himself and finished saddling his (virtual) horse. The whole affair with Roxie Schreiber had gotten too far out of control. He'd reacted instead of letting himself think. He'd overstepped his boundaries. In one smooth motion, he slip up onto the horse, settling himself in the saddle. An apology to the crew at large was probably in order. They had a trust in him that he'd violated to a certain degree. He just wished that some of them returned that trust.

Giving up was out of the question, though. There was no such thing as a no-win situation. With a click of his tongue, Kirk flicked the reins and set the horse out into a steady trot. Ahead of him were rolling hills and blue skies. A beautiful day for a ride.

His face feels like a raw steak. From what he'd seen in his reflection, 'hamburger' might be a better description. It's not the worst of the pain in his body, compared to the broken ribs that feel like ground glass whenever he breathes, but it's the most visible. If it were just the pain, he could handle it, but he's drained, physically and mentally. He knows what he needs, a quick jaunt near a sun, but getting this airlock door to open is easier said than done.

He pounds on it again, weakly. "Just need a bit of sun. Open up."

||You must report to medical. Your condition is-||

"I know my condition." He turns around and slumps against the wall, sliding down until he's sitting. "And I'm telling you, all I need is some sunlight."

||You must report to medical.||

"You're as bad as the Midnighter." He scowls at a wall, then lets his head droop a bit. "I don't need medical."

Deadly phantoms are attacking the ship, nightmares are turning into daymares, and people are being caught by the Nightmare King's traps even when they're awake. The captain has put the ship on red alert and called together the Magical Department, the Security teams, and the bridge crew.

The Daligig have directed the crew towards two archives that have information that could help them--but will it be enough to stop the Nightmare King before it's full onslaught.

||These two Sensoriums have been configured to allow you visual navigation of my information archives. I have highlighted the path to the archives. However, navigation could be dangerous as in this state, safety protocols are not active due to security measures in my systems. Please take caution as you obtain the information.||

[ooc: One thread for each team, folks. After everyone has posted in, post in the same order to stay organized.]

Ahava had spent a lot of time preparing for this, even going so far as to get to the sensoriums early, despite her sore ankle, to make sure everything was exactly how she wanted it to be. Querl’s nightmare had painted an extremely vivid image in her mind and suggested a deep longing that she wondered if he was even really aware of. But even if the nightmare hadn’t made that clear, their conversation over the omnicoms would have. He saw her as something of a mother figure, and considering what his last mother had apparently been like... well. She had plenty of reasons to want to make sure his experience was entirely different this time around.

That was why she was being so thorough now. The sensorium had been set up surprisingly simply: a park on Earth on a nice, pleasant spring day. It was quiet, though there were faint sounds that might have been a city somewhere in the distance, and while the sun was shining brightly, it wasn’t too hot either. A large, leafy tree offered plenty of shade, and under that Ahava had set out everything for a quiet picnic. A simple wooden bench decorated with a plain white cloth, a holographic Tri-D chess set, and even a picnic basket.

Now everything was ready, she settled back to relax in the shade and wait for Querl to arrive.

The crew will see them slinking off, disappearing around hallways--shifting shadow shapes and the backs of heads ducking around corners. They're always people they think they know. Dead loved ones, perhaps, or loved ones they're not sure are dead or alive. They lead crew members into dangerous places, sudden drops, parts of Stacy where things can go wrong.

And they do go wrong. Floors drop out. Ducts become damaged somehow, invisibly, and suddenly spew hot steam. Around the children, items slam into walls--poltergeist activity.

Whether these are really those lost souls, or just illusions, is hard to tell. Either way, those that are part-ghost or have supernatural powers will have a helluva workout. The upside is the presence of the ghosts might disrupt the Waking Dreams to allow people to escape them more easily.

Which is good because the dreams will start to cause injuries now. Real ones.

And refusing to go to sleep doesn't save you when the dreams can happen while you're awake.

[ooc: Waking dreams will continue--and start causing injuries. Furthermore, ghostly apparitions will start to cause poltergeist activity and lead the crew into danger. Start to raise the alarm, meatship. It's starting.]

Leaning back in his chair, Apollo stretches while giving out a loud yawn. He'd holed himself up in the Sensoriums, leaving the entrance open in case someone really wanted to use them, for a few hours. A large stack of paper was in front of him, and the table and floor around him was littered with various bits of crumpled... No, folded paper. Paper crabs, paper cranes, paper frogs, paper bugs... He's obviously been busy. In his hand, held between two fingers, is the start of another folded paper project.

He looks at the paper and sets it down, leaning over the back of his chair and letting his arms hang loosely for a bit. He's been at this for too long, but somehow the whole 'wait for a crewmember to stop by the most popular part of the ship for a bit of conversation' plan failed. "Maybe I should have tried the cafeteria?"

Getting around the ship, well, that's doable for a mouse. A bit of a trek, maybe, even on the small scale that is the ship's living quarters level (he hasn't even tried to go elsewhere), but Caelestine can manage it. He is one of the Guard, after all. But there's one difficulty—

Here, in the Mess Hall, all the equipment is scaled for humans—or, at least, for things rather larger than mice. Caelestine's clambered his way up onto one of the tables and is staring over at the food dispensers. Even if he got it to spit up one of those trays, it would be far larger than he could carry... And so he's stuck here, a little mouse in an ochre cloak with a mouse-scale greatsword slung across his back, trying to figure out what to do. His feet hang forlornly off the edge of the table.

An angel in the sensoriums?  Not a sight one will ever likely see again. 

Castiel had, of course, explored every inch of the ship that he could, committing each location to memory.  Every corridor, every room that was capable of being entered, had been.  Every building in the city had been searched.  Even down to the last centimeter of the pod-caverns, Castiel had been to it all.  The visits had served dual purposes.  The first was little more than familiarizing himself with the environment.  If he was going to ensure the Winchesters remained safe, Castiel needed to be able to transport them to the safest location on the ship at any given time.  The second was, it seemed, to rob the place blind.  At least, that is how it might appear to an outsider looking in.

Sitting in a pile in one corner of the sensorium was every silver item Castiel had been able to find.  Some came from the pile that Sawyer had started down in St. Peter's before the zombie battle.  Some of it was taken from the palaces and museums within Vatican City.  More of it came from the various other abandoned buildings.   All of it sat on the floor of the blacksmith workshop that the sensorium had produced upon Castiel's request.

There was smoke and soot in the air.  Immense heat emanated from the massive furnace that stood at one end of the room.  At the angel's request, the safety protocols had been turned off.  This wasn't just a mere illusion of a smith's shop...it was, for all intents and purposes, a smith's shop. At a work bench, the angel poured melted silver into one end of a mould, reciting what sounded like an incantation as he did.

Each bullet was made the same way.  Each from a fresh mould.  Each mould carved by hand.  Each mould was blessed before the silver was added to it. The incantation was spoken each time the silver was poured in. When each bullet was removed from its mould, it was cooled in a tub of holy water--brought up from the Vatican-- then dipped into a basin of holy oil--also from the Vatican--and then set aside on an immaculate, white linen cloth to dry.  Designs were then etched into each bullet by Castiel's steady hand before it was finally allowed to join its brothers and ready to be used in the Colt.   

The bullets were made one-by-one.  The next was never started until the first one was finished.  It was a long, arduous process, one that would have long ago bored and frustrated a human.  Which was why Castiel was doing it.  The Winchesters, especially Dean, did not have the patience for it.  He did.  And they were going to need every single one of these bullets now that Dean had recovered the Colt.

Reaching their destination, Ahava made sure to settle Muraki on one of the weirdly organic beds before stepping back and waving her hand loosely to indicate the rest of the room. "And this," she said calmly, "is the Medical Bay."

Considering the sheer size of the room and the technology within it, the name almost didn't seem to do it justice, but she continued regardless. "I haven't been here often since it's not really my area and I imagine you'll get more use out of it than I will, but I do know enough to at least make sure you're really feeling alright after that incident." It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to downplay how badly they were effected.

"Not to mention I'm sure someone will come along soon enough to see what's going on," she added. "Maybe you'll get to meet Jean Grey as well. She's head of Medical, though I don't know if you've spoken already."

[ooc: Both Ahava and Muraki are available for threading here! They'll probably be hanging around together, but Ava may leave and let Muraki talk to people a bit or can equally be dragged off to talk to someone by herself, so if you only want one of them, feel free to say so in the subject line.]

Wolfwood had made the call over the omnicomm. However, he received a far larger audience than expected. He had no idea of how people were even possibly looking for faith after Daimon's admonishions, so the crowd disturbed him a bit. He pushed ahead anyway.

"Well, here I go." He started, picking and chosing his word carefully. "In these harsh times, it's easy for all of us to look outward for salvation. We all come from different worlds, with different religions. Now, more than ever, clinging to those beliefs seems natural. And it is, because you aren't wrong. We all believe in the same thing, in the end, don't we?" He paused for a moment, to let it sit. "We all believe in a higher power. Now, I am going to tell you a truth I have normally only shared with my close friends: I... am a cynic." He paused again, letting it sink in. "I know, right? Horrible quality in a priest. But it's how I have been. One of my favorite expressions was that man is nothing like God. Not only are our powers limited, but sometimes we are forced to become the devil himself. You, every one of you here today, has proven me wrong, regardless of belief or religion, or lack thereof. Every single one of you have shown a devotion, a faith, a strength that I have always lacked."  The ertswhile priest paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"I was raised with my faith from childhood, and until being on this ship, I had no concept of divinity. It hasn't come from your abilities, skills or powers. It has come from your faith. In yourselves, or in others. And truly , truly, I understand that now.  Every one of you has shown divinity in your own way, from the lowest to the highest."  He pause again, yet more collecting of his thoughts, before moving on.

"In my time on this vessel, I have seen you all perform everyday feats that you may take for granted. I have seen sinners forgiven their past. I've seen evil men turn their backs on evil to benefit the greater good. I've seen people being kind to eachother for no reason other than being kind. These things, at best, are a luxury where I come from. And yet everyone here displays it fervently, with the kind of faith and strength most saints wish they could have. That is my proof, as a man of God, not just in my own holy power, but in all of them. Yours, mine, his, hers, they're all the same, and they all show themselves in your actions." Now was not only a pause, but a deep breath, as he had been ranting for a little bit. "In short, it is easy for any of us to look for our gods in the heavens. Hell, it seems a natural reaction. But maybe, just maybe, that proof of God you are looking for in these desperate times lies, truly, in the kindness of a neighbor. In the support of a friend. In the strength of an admired comrade." He stopped, this time to let it all sink in.

"So, the next time you want to look outwards to see divinity, I would rather inspire you to look to your friends and allies, and ask them and accept them for their beliefs. Because their strength is your strength, and yours theirs. Maybe, just maybe, all of the gods want us to work together." Another pause, another prayer, another moment.

" I will be taking confessionals and offering counseling in this church's offices after this service. All who want to talk are welcome to have their discussions with me, or be guided to a proper minister of their own faith, if I know of one." He then walked to the office, thinking one solitary thought.

Sermons are hard.

As many of the tech brigade had learned at some point or other, there was only so long that Stacy was willing to let them work before forcing a compulsory break, and Ahava was no exception. Even trying to reason that sleeping, considering the current circumstances, wasn't exactly restful any more didn't make a difference, so the senior scientist headed down to the Mess Hall, deciding she may as well grab something to eat while she was free. It was just too bad about what was the only food on offer there, but with the number of people on board already and their supply of real food having a finite limit, it was practical to keep the food that wasn't sludge for things other than someone's enforced lunch break.

So, tray in hand, Ahava pulled up a chair close to the entrance of the room and settled down with a sigh. Hmm, maybe a break wasn't such a bad idea judging from how her feet felt. Now if only she had some decent company to pass the time with as well...

Somebody's busy in Weapons & Possessions.

Jack's Super Secret Evil Project that he's been slowly working on, with much interruption, for a while now has finally come to fruition. At least, so he hopes. It all depends on what happens right now.

He activates the small, box-shaped device he's holding. It starts clicking softly. Jack grins.

Something's here.

He steps sloooowly further into the room and starts ranging along the stacks. As he approaches the end of one row, the clicking starts picking up.

He laughs.

"Jack," he tells himself, already gloating, "you really are a genius."

Luis was a rare sight out of the contagion lab (the big nerd), but today it was actually possible to find him sitting on the obs deck for an extended period of time, looking quite shaken up.

Turned out Stacy didn't appreciate people trying to take tissue samples from her walls, even if it was for the good of science.

But why hadn't anybody told Luis that she enforced those violation things with tentacles that came out of the wall and hit you? Talk about post-traumatic stress. He tried to tell himself that it was silly to let something like that panic him so badly, but he couldn't help those particularly vivid memories he had about tentacles that made him understandably uneasy around them. As if the nightmares weren't enough, Jesus.

So one violation richer and with no sample to show for it, he figured it would be a good idea to step away from work for a while to clear his head. And possibly (gasp) socialize.

Some cheer was definitely needed on this ship. Whatever chance meeting had brought Kaylee and Claudia together in mechanical mischief had also set their minds to turning over what they could possibly do to get some smiles back on the faces of those onboard.

A costume party.

Claudia had come up with the idea, really. She knew a bit more about it than Kaylee did, but she explained it all in such a way that Kaylee really couldn’t resist wanting to throw one. It’d be a good chance for everyone to let loose and have a good time in the midst of the nightmare madness. Who could resist that?

The sensorium had been melded to an image from Kaylee’s mind, though. A grand ballroom, with marble floors and painted ceiling. A large buffet table stood against one of the walls, covered mostly in fruit, but in some other hors d’oeuvres as well.

[[ OoC: Party style!! Costumes aren't a requirement, but they are fun. If you've got questions about anything, ask Cheryle or Holly. :D ]]

Miku was a fairly religious young woman; you didn't go through life seeing the dead on a constant basis without needing, no, wanting, to put your faith in something. Unfortunately, Miku knew she'd been a little remiss in her duties to her family members. She sat in a small, created room in the sensoriums, a 10-mat tatami room with wood-barred windows and a single, sliding door. There were many, many small black mortuary tablets around her, some of the kanji so old that it'd warn away with age more than anything else.

She sat on her knees before the small family altar, where her mother and brother's iei portraits faced out at her. Mafuyu's smile was faint, but apparent in the way it lit up his eyes. Her mother's look much the same.

Miku cleared her throat and put the offering of rice up for them, then lit a stick of incense. "Good morning, Mom, nii-chan. It's been a few weeks since I properly spoke to you. I'm very sorry about that. I'm doing fine, as usual, so there isn't any reason to worry about me." It probably sounded crazy, talking to herself in the middle of such a dreary room, but Miku didn't mind. She knew she was already probably three steps closer to crazy than she'd like to admit, some days. "I've made a few new friends, aren't you proud of me? They don't even mind that I'm a strange, even if I do."

She smiled at the pictures, "I hope that you're living comfortably in Paradise. Please continue to watch over me, even if there isn't anything to worry about, okay?"

It is that time again, meatship.

Once again, the King of Nightmares has deigned to spread his touch to all of your dreams.

This time, however, he has decided to give them a much more personal touch, sending his very own children to visit each and every one of you, slowly sowing the seeds of madness within all of you.

Such a kind and loving king he is, isn't he?

[ooc: Alright folks, Nightmare King is ramping things up a bit. These nightmares are a good bit more dangerous now, and he's sending in his minions to make things a little more real. The nightmares will be of a much more serious nature this time, designed to start driving the crew slowly insane. Characters are more likely to run into nightmare minions in the guise of someone or something that will tug at the edges of their sanity. Also, this time, the characters can have joint dreams, as these nightmares are of a more mystical nature this time. Once again, tagging in isn't mandatory, but if you want to, go crazy (literally)!]

[Additional Note: Any injuries won't be carrying over to real life at this point in the plot but don't worry, we'll get there eventually!]

It's hard to keep track of time on the ship, which makes it harder for Lyle to tell when he's overworking himself. He seems to have overdone it a bit at the moment, and he's escaped to a Sensorium to relax.

Normally, he looks for people to chat with to regain his strength, but a recent dream has put him in more of a nostalgic and thoughtful mood. Still, it's almost a surprise to him when he enters the room and switches it to a rocky, barren landscape. His strongest memories of this place were a long, long time ago.

It does make sense. Being sent to Durla after everything that'd happened had turned out to be a blessing. He had people to talk to and new philosophies to learn, and he also had the surface. It was barren of any buildings and completely open to the sky--the clearest sky he'd seen on any planet.

He lies back and stargazes, but it's not long before he begins to feel that it's too easy to think here. Lyle sits up and begins to dust himself off, debating where else to go.

Blink. Blink. Blinkity-blink.

Why are there three blue lights blinking from a small corner of Obs Deck? The blond kid in the simple blue polo and khaki pants might have an answer for you.

He's surrounded by small blue boxes and various inventions on the table and chairs around him, and if not for the fact that he's fiddling away on yet another invention and acting as if nothing's wrong, he would look just like an ex who'd been thrown out of his former significant other's house.

In between tasks, he lowers the tools and gazes around the deck, almost as if he's looking for something (or someoone) else. Hey, maybe he and his big mess ended up out here for a reason.

Katara normally was a bundle of energy, or at least willing to try to look on the bright side of things, and greeted the day with a burst of energy. But when she woke up, there was no relief there, no calm demeanor. Right now Katara felt restless, and not being able to help Roxie like Katara had hoped made her unable to go back to sleep. Even if the Nightmare King wouldn't be meddling this time, she would never be able to get certain images out of his head. Hama crawling after them, Aang and the Seer stopping her, Hama losing her head, learning that it was just a part of the Nightmare King. She'd knew now that the danger she'd faced was only slight compared to what was in store, and that despite all of her training and preparation, she'd failed. If the Nightmare King could do this, he could do worse.

So she found herself in the Sensorium, and now she was met with the Northern water Tribe, where she had faced Master Pakku when he refused to teach her waterbending because he was a girl. There was no Master Pakku to face this time: instead, she had recreated the pirates from when they were trying to take the ship. She faced them down, but she didn't have her normal clothing on: she had decided to emulate some of the modern wear she'd seen some of the other girls on the ship wear. She had on a loose cotton blue shirt, her hair tied back, with long flowing slacks. She breathed in, and brought her hands up. She closed her eyes, hearing the scoffing of the pirates. They didn't take her seriously: why should they? She was just a little girl, and there were several of them, with long, powerful weapons and tentacles and sharp teeth.

She closed her eyes, and felt the wind change: first attack. Her hands moved of their own accord and pushed against the pirate. The shift in balance made him fall to the floor and Katara used him as leverage to give a flying leap in the air, and hammer down on the other pirates. Before her training with Sheeana, she wouldn't have attacked without waterbending, but now she was moving with fury, taking the pirates confusion as an advantage to shift their weight and incapacitate them. She moved with purpose, and hardly used offense: instead, she moved in her dance, but quicker, smoother, balancing herself and making her enemies fall. She knew that Toph was much better at this, but it didn't hurt to use her speed and defense against them.

When she had gotten to the last few pirates she froze them all together, then sat down in cross legged position. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and closed her eyes again. One, two. One two. One two- one-two.

She remembered Aang's instructions, and knew that this would be another test. The last time she'd gotten limited sleep she got pretty cranky and started to lash out. Now though, she would know better. She wouldn't be screaming at anyone, she would stay calm, she would stay centered, and then, when she felt relaxed, she would continue her training.

Tess had to train without her suit, so Katara would hold off on her waterbending.

She WOULD strengthen her will. She would not bend to the Nightmare King again.

When he first saw it weeks ago, shortly after the crew had finally caught up him, he thought for certain that he was hallucinating. But there it was, nestled among several other castles. The Luthor Mansion, in all it's glory.

Lex was never a superstitious man, but even he believed that there was more to heaven and earth than what could be proven on paper. The appearance of his home, a reward no other crew member had received (to his knowledge), certainly made him think. He wondered if this was some sort of sign that his decisions so far had indeed been right, or that he was on the right path. Perhaps it was put there as a distraction of sorts, as well, as there were many unpleasant memories that haunted those walls. For the time being, he decided to take it as a reward, however relocating there initially proved to be problematic.

The Mansion wasn't in disarray, but it was clear that no one had walked its halls in quite some time. Not only that, but the last people who had clearly had little regard for the property. There was a layer of dirt and dust everywhere, expensive and priceless paintings had been torn off the walls and trashed, priceless artifacts were just broken pieces of clay or stone, pieces of antique furniture had been smashed, and every vault was empty. Not a single green meteor rock to be found. He counted himself lucky that his pool table, piano, and a handful of family photos managed to survive.

Rather than be dejected, Lex looked at it as project to occupy his time. Since he only worked in Neuropathy whenever he felt like it, and manned the bar in the lounge at his discretion, he did have plenty of time to devote to this project. Which was good, because cleaning up and fixing up a 40 room mansion-- replete with its own library (with real books), well supplied medieval armory and modern armory, pool, wine cellar, gym, and grand ballroom-- took a lot of work.

Work which still hadn't been completed, but he had progressed far enough to not only make it livable, but also presentable. The master bedroom, Lex's office, and most of the common areas had been cleaned up. All the rest was blocked off for the moment, but were in locations that were fairly out of the way.

So, he put out a message on the omnicomms, and invited a few people to check the place out. The ones who weren't already spying on him, at any rate. He laid out a few drinks, and a sampling of some of the fresh fruit and food he picked up while during their last mission to earth. He didn't expect many guests, after all, he had never been the most well liked person, even back when he was a relatively kindhearted kid. Most parties he hosted as an adult, he was usually surrounded by obsequious employees desperate to move up the food chain, business partners who wanted a more favorable deal, business rivals who were trying to find out something about the competition, charity representatives who wanted money, and sycophants who wanted the notoriety of being in the same room as Lex Luthor and access to the connections that alone can bring. Friends were simply a foreign concept, if he ever truly had any to begin with, and he certainly hadn't gone out of his way to make any on the ship. He was curious as to what category his guests, if he had any, would fit in.

((ooc: This is something of a party style post, so feel free to talk to Lex, Lois, or talk to each other while your character looks around.))