Sherry did her best to be the following: a good student (no problem), a good daughter (...well, she was working on it), and a good person (most of the time, when she wasn't dealing with stupid people). Naturally, like the painful growth spurt she'd been going through, it was a long process. At least she was trying, right?

Today found Sherry in the Sensoriums, on a track field in full sunshine. Summers in Raccoon had been warm, but bearable thanks to the low humidity. The sunlight beat down on her as she ran and ran and ran. It was hard to keep herself at a steady speed, she realized, but it was what Kelly wanted. Not too fast, not too slow, just enough to keep her out of the way of whomever, or whatever, might be behind her.

It seemed to be going well, until her foot slipped on a stray stone that had found its way to the track. All of the sudden, Sherry was going in one direction, her feet in another, and she ungracefully rolled across the track. When she stopped, she laid there for a while, arms and legs akimbo and scraped.

"...Ow."

[OOC: Mostly for Kelly and Sherry, but if you want in, just send me an IM. :>]

Stacy was never truly silent. There was the slightly audible hum of the systems, and the others in the Sensorium, to create a rather pleasing sound within the audible range of most species. But Cortana wasn't adding to that; rather she was sitting on her own created boulder, deep in thought. She'd learned quite a bit from Chief's video logs, and more still from the Library once he'd uploaded her back into Stacy's systems. It was a lot of data to process, and so she'd adopted the thinking pose some humans used. Legs pulled up to her chest, and her head resting on her knees. She looked, and felt, almost normal.

...well, normal as an AI passing as a human could get. Oh, the plant suit she'd chosen to appear to wear went a long way to making her blend in compared to her normal holographic form, but the violet tinted blue hair and bright blue eyes didn't help her to blend in. And she honestly didn't know why she'd chosen those. Nostalgia, perhaps? No, she could return to her simple AI form at any time she wanted. And it wasn't as if Stacy didn't carry some different looking people, so it wasn't to stand out. Maybe it was becuase it just felt right to look this way. A mix between a human and the AI she was.

But it didn't really matter. Even with all her processing power, sorting all the information she had taken in over the past few days would still take some time, and that time would be much better spent on figuring out just what the hell had happened then moping about why she had chosen to take this form.

Sherry couldn't remember who she shared her room with. It had to have been someone. She didn't really like sleeping by herself, after all, and her father worked all the time now, so who had it been? Maybe it was Boon and she was just being crazy, but it felt like it was just on the tip of her fingers. Puzzled, and a bit annoyed, Sherry rubbed her thumb over the smooth face of her locket and watched as Boon sat and whined at the door.

Did he have to go out again already? Well, that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she'd run into her father, or Vega or someone. Sherry put on her shoes and adjusted her clothes so they lay right. "Come on, Boon, let's go for a walk."

Which very quickly turned into less of a "walk" and more of a "chase Boon through the halls of the crew quarters."

"Boon! Wait! Stop! HEEL!"

To say that Kelly was having trouble relaxing would have been an understatement. Perched on the tallest, rocky outcrop she could find, the waves crashing against the smooth stone far below her, she was throwing stones across the water almost absently. The way her eyes refused to remain still however, attested to the fact that she was alert and wary as ever. Unlike the other members of the crew, who seemed to have taken the shore leave well enough, the Spartan had never been comfortable with inaction. Zokez II may have been a rest stop, a play-planet as it were, but to be on a strange planet, disallowed weapons and worst of all, her armor put her slightly on edge. Of course, a Spartan didn't need weapons to be deadly, but they sure as hell helped when it came down to it. In stark contrast to other members of the crew who had happily shed the majority of their clothing in favour of beachwear, Kelly's attire had hardly changed.

Dressed in cargo pants, combat boots, and a tight singlet with 'U.N.S.C.' stamped across the chest (something she had undoubtedly done herself sometime) she was the picture of discomfort. Her too-pale skin seemed to gleam in the sunlight as she sat, ignoring the gleeful cries of the people surrounding her. She kept a watchful eye on any member of Stacy's crew who was within sight, all the while lobbing rock after rock into the sea. At the rate she was going, it was surprising that she hadn't run out of them yet.

R&R simply wasn't her thing. She could appreciate rack time as much as the next person. A good soldier knew when their body needed rest. But this, relaxing, not doing anything. Unarmed and completely open to enemy attack. She didn't like it. The Ohm were out there. Who was to say they wouldn't hit this planet next? And without weapons, completely unprepared for such an attack, how would a single member survive. Her entire life had been a battlefield. Honestly, she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been fighting, recuperating from a fight, or preparing to fight. This sort of relaxation simply wasn't for her. At the moment however, all she could do was keep a watchful eye out for anything that may have signaled trouble. Leave the others to enjoy the water and the sun. She would make sure they were safe.

Kelly opened her eyes slowly, looking up at the ceiling. Her head was pounding, but at least she was back. She barely remembered running those mazes or puzzles, or whatever the hell it was GLaDoS had had her do. And all for what? Cake? She didn't even particularly like cake. Vaguely, she recalled being released from the pod and stumbling back to the room she shared with John. She must have taken a shower seeing as she was clean. But other than that, she'd simply dropped into bed and fallen asleep. Sitting up, she ran a hand across her face glancing slowly around. Not much had changed, but she had no idea how long she'd been out for. Though there really was only one way to find that out.

Sliding into her clothes, she threw her jacket over her shoulders, strapped her sidearm on under it, and stepped out of the room. The first thing she noticed was that she was hungry. Incredibly hungry. Frowning, the Spartan set off toward the mess hall to fix that. From what she could gather through overheard snippets of conversation and the small changes in those crew members she recognised, she'd been out for a month, or close to it. A whole month? If GLaDoS were a person, she'd have had it by the throat right about now, headache or no. Pulling her out of action for a month! She wanted to smash the goddamned thing.

Eating the slop that Stacy provided quickly, (and she ate a lot of it) she rose to her feet again. It was difficult to get a Spartan on edge, that was a fact; but anyone watching the tall, pale woman would be able to tell that she was almost fidgety. Simply the thought of that entire time out of action, and what cold have happened to her team and her friends in her absence was enough to make her want to run the whole ship looking for each of them. Instead, she simply set off down the hallways, keeping her speed low. She needed to run. To move. To do something to get rid of the growing tension she felt.

She hated the thought that she'd been taken out of play for so long. How had the Nightmare King problem worked out? Most of the crew didn't look dead tired like they had the last she remembered. But some members weren't in their usual places. Had they lost anyone? She needed to know these things. Needed to find out. But for now what she needed to do was run. Clear her head. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the city and upped her pace, blurring along the streets and past the buildings. She needed to soothe her nerves.

Spartans didn't get jumpy.

Kelly was in her armor. The olive drab plates were polished to a glossy sheen, something that wasn't exactly practical if a soldier was trying to infiltrate...anything. But here on the ship, it hardly mattered. She could always dull the shine if the mission called for it. Behind her visor, her eyes were red and she knew her movements were sluggish. Or at least, what counted as sluggish for her. But she couldn't bring herself to sleep. The things she saw weren't things she would have willingly exposed herself to at any time. Chief Mendez had always said that a soldier's greatest weapon was their mind and that the most effective way to attack any enemy was to screw with that first. Apparently the Nightmare King agreed with that hypothesis, and she wasn't about to let him have the satisfaction of breaking her.

Still, even in wakefulness, she didn't feel safe. She's wandered in those 'waking dreams' that had been spreading, and it was beginning to get to the point where she didn't want to leave her armor. Here, inside the suit, she felt safe. She'd spent more than half her life behind the armor plate, and though she'd been trying to integrate with the crew outside it, for now she needed it. She felt at home. Still, her mind was foggy as she wandered aimlessly through the city. Her weapons were with her, loaded and ready, not that there was anything that would attack her here, but it was her routine. It was habit. She felt safer with then close by.

She couldn't tell how long she'd wandered here, among the buildings. It could have been hours, it could have been days, she simply kept walking, not caring where her feet brought her. Simply needing to stay awake. So it was that she found herself walking up toward the peak of a hill, the ruins of a familiar temple looming up ahead. Behind her visor, her lips curled in a wry smile as she ascended the cracked, weather-beaten marble steps and stepped onto the floor. She simply stood there for a long while, staring up at the broken statue of Athena that still stood on its pedestal. There was a sort of peace here. She didn't believe in gods, or fate, or destiny or any of that other crap, but in this place, she couldn't deny that there was...something that seemed to soothe her soul, a sort of calm that cut right through the exhaustion. She'd wondered of course. Magic existed, this Nightmare King was powerful beyond anything she'd faced yet. She'd seen things on the ship that she'd never believed existed. Who knew. Maybe in some far corner of some universe, the gods really did exist.

Shaking her head slowly at the thought, she reached up to pull off her helmet, leaning back against a wall and slowly lowering herself to the floor to sit. The armor plates clinked quietly against the floor as she set her helmet down, looking up at the statue of the goddess. Wisdom and war. Leaning back comfortably, she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Maybe...just a few minutes. Maybe...

"Thank you." She whispered to the air.

( ...who, without hesitation, crams a few points up Slytherin's bum with an effortless play. )


[OOC: This is mostly going to be Rogue Squadron scrimmaging but other characters are welcome to watch]

Kelly was in the sensoriums again. This time, not to train or run battle simulations, but to let her frustrations out. The room had morphed into what would, under normal circumstances, have been a peaceful panorama. A large lake took up the center of a clearing in a forest. A stream fed it at one end, with others flowing out from all around the vaguely oval shaped body of water. Kelly remembered coming here as a child on Reach. They hadn't had much time to simply enjoy themselves back then, but she'd always wanted to go back. It had looked like such a serene spot. That was, before the Covenant had glassed the planet. This room was probably the only place the lake even existed anymore.

At the edge of the lake, was an old, tin sign that warned any potential swimmers of the dangerous undercurrents that had swept several unwary soldiers on rec time to their deaths. Kelly wasn't here to swim though. Standing on the pebbly shore, the water lapping at her bare feet, she had a handful of stones and was skipping them (with far more force than necessary) across the water. She'd always been a dead shot with a weapon, but then, that could have been said of any of her brothers and sisters. Brothers and sisters who were all dead now. Those who the Covenant hadn't gotten to, wiped out by those bastards the Ohm. All except John. But it wasn't as if the Chief was around, even when Stacy wasn't sending him on secret missions. She didn't mind it, he had to do what he had to do. She understood. Lately though, the dreams, no, the nightmares she'd been having. They made her want...someone around. John had been one of the pillars of her life for as long as she could remember.

Now though, she had found new comrades on the ship. People she cared about, people she would have laid down her life to protect. Sherry, Brenda, Katara, Sokka, Lafiel. Lafiel. The little Abh was one of the first she'd met on the ship, one of the ones she would admit that she cared about probably more than was advisable. But she hadn't been able to protect her, had she? The Empress had been hit in the face, and what had the big strong Spartan done? Nothing except sputter. She didn't even know who the culprit was. She hated feeling useless, redundant, helpless. And the whole situation with the Nightmare King made her feel so. How could she fight what she couldn't even touch. Someone who could hurt her in her dreams. How could she protect anyone? Spartans never failed, but hadn't she failed?

Hefting another rock, she threw it again, drowning out the thoughts with action. Gritting her teeth, she hefted another rock and this time, turned and threw it at the sign. The pebble hit the metal with a loud crash, breaking into a million tiny fragments. Dropping the pebbles that remained in her hand, she stepped back and sat down on the shore, curling her legs up in front of her and wrapping her arms around them as the weather shifted. It seemed to reflect her mood, the sky turned dark, and a cold wind swept across the water. She stared out moodily over the vaguely shimmering liquid.

Brenda hasn't slept a whole night in three days.

She gets a few hours of rest here and there, but it's interspersed with nightmares like she hasn't had since her father died. They are vivid, stressful, leave her brain plowing along at a mile a minute and nothing seems to stop it.

She wonders if Jeka is sleeping well, if snake-aliens even dream, but never remembers to ask her. Instead she gets up in the wee hours and wanders the ship just to keep herself moving and to not give in to that chill that keeps crawling down her spine whenever she stands still too long.

Tonight she ends up in the queer little art gallery room, with the statue at the center that shifts according to her thoughts. Tonight none of her ideas are pleasant on their own so she tries to force something a little nicer.

She's watching her mother make pancakes, long hair down her back and a smile on her face, when she realizes she's not by herself anymore.

Sokka had found himself an open spot in the city that seemed it would do perfectly for what he needed it for, and then set to work. He laid his weapons out in the grass and sat, considering them. Sword, spear, knife, war club, boomerang, shotgun, and a newly acquired semi-automatic handgun. He let his hands drift over them a moment before he picked up the spear. It had been a bit too long since he'd really practiced with that, best to stay sharp and focused. He raised the weapon into a guard and set off into a series of lunges, thrusts, parries, and ripostes; advances and retreats against an imaginary opponent. The young man ended with a final thrust, then dropped the weapon back onto the grass, taking in a few deep breaths before picking up his boomerang and jamming it into his belt, then drew his sword. This was good.

When he practiced he didn't have to think about anything. Not Katara and her willing submergence into a strange and foreign culture. Not Aang and the Nightmare King. Not Kelly and...whatever was going on with her. Just the sword and the footwork. He slid forwards into a neat lunge, dropped and turned it into a down downwards slash before it merged into a rising jab with the point, mind focused solely on remembering everything he had been taught. Probably why he didn't hear anyone who approached.

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 ]]

Gwen hadn't slept much at all since waking up on the ship. Two days straight was enough, or Stacy had told her, though the red head could have kept right on sleeping if the ship hadn't kept waking her. Not that it made much of a difference now that she kept herself from trying to sleep much at all. Nightmares still came regardless of when she closed her eyes. The previous nights hadn't been the best of the worst either- images of being stuck in the Alliance prisoner of war camp filtered in mixed with battles that would have been fit for a horror movie. So packing up her pistol belt the woman made her way up to the observation deck knowing the tables were big enough for what she had in mind.

Which was why the Browncoat had one fully assembled pistol sitting to her left, her KA-Bar beside of it, and one pistol in front of her disassembled down to the very last spring and screw. It had been a while since she had cleaned the things let alone taken them entirely apart and checking every little piece for signs of rust. Maybe she was being a little to over the top with the cleaning and how detailed oriented she was being but, well, someone had to be right?

Squinting down at the piece in her hand the woman didn't even seem to notice she even had her tongue sticking out as she scrubbed away at the piece with an oiled rag. By the time she finished with the pistol, it was probably going to be the cleanest if not the shiniest weapon on the ship.

Nighttime.

Or, at least, what passed for nighttime on the meatship.

A time when most of the crew was already fast asleep, dreaming away pleasantly throughout the night.

...Or, perhaps not. For you see, tonight, something particularly strange is happening.

Now it is not all that unusual for someone to have a nightmare, especially not on the ship.

Yet tonight, no one will sleep easily, for the Nightmare King deems it so.

Everyone's dreams will have a tinge of horror to them. Nothing so out of the ordinary to rouse one's suspicions, but at the same time, no one is left out.

Pleasant nightmares, meatship.

[ooc: And thus begins the start of the Nightmare King's spree of insanity. He's starting out subtle, of course. The nightmares won't be anything more than your run of the mill bad dream, but he is giving them to everyone. Posting in isn't mandatory, but if you want to have fun with your character's nightmare, go right ahead.]

Sokka had been thrilled that Kelly was willing to teach him more about how to use the strange things they called guns, especially if it meant being more useful to the crew on missions. Besides the fact that he got to spend some time with a fun new friend, guns were just a lot of fun to shoot. Noisy, dangerous and absolutely thrilling. He paused outside of Kelly's room, than pressed the small button that acted as a doorbell. He rocked back on his heels for a moment as he waited for her to open the door. Kelly had better be in there, or he just hoofed it over here for nothing!

The new people will find themselves ushered out of Obs Deck, so it can be shot down to the planet again, to pick the crew up. Eventually, the crew members on the mission are brought back up, and the doors open to let the two groups meet.

The newbies are likely not expecting their new crew-mates to come back bearing presents--which some of them are.

[ooc: This time anyone can post in. REMEMBER TO TAG OTHER PEOPLE, THO. This is set after the mission so mission peoples can meet the newbies. Latecomer newbies, if you want, you can just tag your guys into this one to make things easier.]

There is a whole world out there to spread holiday joy to. A world of flying cars, and massive towering skyscrapers, of quiet, cold deserts, of snow-covered cities. Everyone in it is either holed up in their homes, hooked into the Links, the network run by Macrohard, abstaining from human contact, or they're poor and destitute, in the streets, and in parts of the world that are ailing right now.

Some of them are due to stop in on specific parts of the world during their journeys. Others are just going to be show generosity to anyone they meet. Every angle has to be covered, every holiday that celebrates generosity and unity, to help stoke the fires and revive the Holiday Spirit.

Pick a place, Meatcrew. Grab some crewmates to help. Make some noise and entice people to leave their VR sets and come outside with their fellow man.

With the magical sacks, containing last of the Spirit's power, they can give anything that's wanted OR needed to the people of this world, and with the enchanted flying cars, they can get anywhere in the world to do it, in no time.

[ooc: Special holiday groups, tag your assigned subthreads (and keeping them in one thread would likely be best, since those groups are small). Whoever feels creative can pick an exact location and set up details--we wanted to give you some freedom to have your characters find where to go. Anyone else, doing Christmas or general gift-giving, tag and make new subthreads for each situation of gift-giving. These can stand alone as vignettes, but we encourage everyone to thread-hop and tag in to random threads. Don't worry about the organization of groups, they'll probably be switching groups all over the place throughout the night.]

Kelly stood in the center of the Sensorium in a form-fitting black suit that looked like a far lighter form of armor than the suit she usually wore, her helmet was held under one arm as she checked the load on an imaginary gun that Stacy had created. She'd opted for the suit she'd been given, along with all the other Spartans on their first mission, rather than her armor. Partially because she wanted those who hadn't seen her in action not to know he full capabilities just yet, and partially because it simply wouldn't fit with the scenario she had planned for them. Next to her, on the floor, was a large duffel bag full of imaginary ammo. Sure it was a training session, but she was going to make this as close to reality as possible.

Casting an eye back to her rifle, she pulled on her helmet for a moment, checking the display on her HUD. The ammo and health counters flashed in the top left, her motion tracker in the top right, and her targeting reticle synced with her HUD. Smiling to herself she pulled the helmet off and held it under her arm again. The counter to her rifle had read a full clip of thirty-two rounds. It wasn't quite as high capacity as its predecessor, but the aim was far better, so she compromised. Firing a test round, she frowned. Too loud for the scenario she had planned. Calling up a silencer, she affixed that to the end and fired again. Finally, she seemed satisfied with it and slung it across her back by its strap. Pulling her sidearm she checked the load and attachments on that as well, before sliding it back into the holster that hung easily along her ribs. A hand went to the back of her waist to touch the long combat knives holstered there and run along the belt of grenades she'd thrown around her slim hips. Finally, she pulled the gun that she'd holstered along her thigh. It was  backup in case things got too hairy. But then, if she needed that much firepower, her team would probably have been screwed and she'd have needed to cut the simulation anyway.

The room around her was a stark white, floor, walls and ceiling; giving the impression of a huge space. Along one end was row upon row of shelves, lined in weapons, ammo and all manner of nasty looking accessories a body could think of, just in case her team members didn't bring their own. Taking a last, cursory glance around her 'load screen,' she gave herself a satisfied nod before crossing her arms and turning to face the door again, waiting for her team and anyone else who wanted to show.

This was going to be fun.

((Feel free to just tag in each other to meet. Subthreads will open when I comment on them :D))

There is a resounding mental alarum that sounds through the ship. Nearly "deafening." Lights flash from places for extra emphasis, making it impossible to ignore.

||Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention, all personnel...||

It's entirely likely that she won't stop repeating the announcement until, well, everyone reports to Obs Deck. Outside the windows, a very Earth-like planet is visible, hanging in space. The mouth in the huge statue opens, revealing a screen. On it, the dossier for the mission flickers into display, understandable to every person there. Smaller copies of the dossier appear in holographic form in front of everyone.

The planet's stats, right next to a rotating holographic picture of it, marbled blue and green, are as follows:

Planet Designation: Earth-78734XM45
Status: Terrestrial, H-class.
Non-sentient life: Extensive flora and fauna.
Semi-Sentient Life: Yes.
Sentient Life: Homo Sapiens. [Various translations of "human" appear here so everyone understands it]
Water: 69.5% of the planet's surface.

Climate: Earth-like, in the throes of a mild nuclear winter [Click here for cultural equivalents for non-Earth cultures.]
Landscape: Varied.
Air: Normoxic concentration. Slightly elevated levels of carbon dioxide.

Air Pressure: 101.3 kPa (kilopascals) = 14.7 psi (pounds per square inch)
Sky: Blue. Often overcast.
Sun: A class G2V, yellow star.

Warnings: Wildlife and plant-life can be hazardous. Humans can be hazardous. A human cultural and legal database is available. [click here]

Mission: Revive the spiritual entity at the North Pole.

--

Following that, there are various maps and things visible. The version of Earth this world is may be very recognizable to some, but vast cities dot its surface.

||Attention, podmates. Attention.||

Apparently Stacy wants their attention.

||It is critical that you pay attention at this time.||

A few people will be able to avoid the call by being in the right place at the right time, but most will be gathered up on Obs Deck.

[ooc: Organization Post | You can post into the gathering thread. I'll add more subthreads with explanations of aspects of the mission as we go. Note: If you don't have time to post to this mission briefing but still want to have your character in the plot, that's fine. You can just pretend they were there the whole time. If you DON'T want your characters to be in this plot altogether, however, don't have them in the briefing--Stacy could have missed snagging them.]

Somewhere in the ship's city level, there is a nice little outdoor auditorium. Though empty, it has its folding chairs all laid out neatly for an audience that will never come. Under the half-dome someone's laid out a few of those plastic-wrapped food trays. Someone... who is there, somewhere, lurking about. There's a black utility belt discarded there, too, studded with pockets, and a folded bundle of red cloth.

Maybe if you look closer, you'll find whoever it is.

Kelly had finally made it back to her room. What with being trapped under that mistletoe, and helping that belligerent teenager, and all this after her daily workout. Well, she was about ready for some relaxation time. That being said, she stepped into the shower, turning the setting up to as hot as she could take and stepped into the stall, shutting the door. Mmm... that felt like heaven. Sure, it wasn't quite as good as feeling real water on her skin, but it was a reasonable facsimile.

With the shower feeling as good as it was on her skin, it was a good hour before she stepped out again. Pushing her limp hair away from her eyes, she grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself, too lazy to bother dressing, it wasn't as if she was going anywhere. Now with some semblance of modesty returned, she slid onto her bunk, leaning her back against the wall and pulling a book over. The Art of War. Déjà had taught them about it of course. And she'd read it before. But she liked it.

So when John came back, whenever that would be. That was how he would find her.