Nightmare becomes reality....

_{[roster: Leader - Angie / The Engineer, Irma, Jaime Reyes, Rose Wilson / Ravager, Wendy Watson]}

After being released from stasis, having the slime removed from their bodies and clothed in the creepy, pulsing leaf-suit that everyone wore, and being taken to the Weapons & Possessions lockers to collect their belongings, the new arrivals would find themselves standing in the Observation Deck. Round windows lined the fleshy walls, revealing the bright display of lights that was inter-dimensional travel. They would also discover that there were people--members of the command staff and crew that had woken earlier--waiting for them.

Wendy Watson had been lucky enough to find canvas, an easel, and some paints in the weapons and possessions locker earlier. She hadn't thought to look for them earlier, but after having gotten curious...well, the surprise was definitely a pleasant one. Especially since the few times she'd tried to paint something in the Sensorium, she hadn't been able to leave with her art. Such was the nature of holograms and the like, you know.

Currently, Wendy was seated in a corner of the Obs Deck, her back to everyone, painting. It was clear she was nearly finished with her work, and it was clear that the work of art - if one could call it that - that she was working on a was a close approximation of a yeerk. There was a half-smile on her face - more from the fact that she was painting again than from the fact that she was proud of her painting, although the pop-arty nature of her latest work certainly wasn't bad. Granted, Wendy wasn't sure how many people would appreciate a painting of a Yeerk.

In the corner of one of the sensoriums, the meatship's resident Cajun stood at a table rotating a glass of half-drunk bourbon with his fingers. The loud thump of bass echoed throughout the room and even, perhaps, beyond into the hallway where it might attract passersby. When Gambit, bored out of his mind with nothing to do, had asked for a nightclub, he hadn't expected it to be so complete. The room was dark, the bar and lounge area lighted with low blue lights, while strobes flashed violently over the dance floor which was full of gyrating bodies. Hell, it even came with it's own cigarette smoke-filled air--although it, like the 'alcoholic' drinks--wasn't the slightest bit harmful.

It was the epitome of 'just a good time', complete with the lack of consequences that were likely to kick some in the butt in the morning if it'd all been real.

"Now dis what Gambit call a good time," he noted aloud, lifting his drink to his lips.


[OOC: That's right. It's a club. Don't feel that you have to reply to Gamibt. Treat this kinda like the meet-n-greets. Just throw up a subthread--or tag into one--with your character dancing, drinking, playing pool, darts, whatever and have fun with them. Just look at this as one big CR opportunity!!]

Picard, McCoy, Middle Man, Wendy Watson, Jean, Spock, and Tobias all set off in another direction. Trees and rocks battled for supremacy in this direction, they would have to walk carefully so as not to sprain any ankles. The terrain was of the rather rocky scrub-filled variety.

He hasn't wanted to sleep since he arrived.  And technically, he doesn't need to, not for long periods.

He CHOSE to in his everyday existence.  He does need to dream from time to time.   But since he arrived on board, he's been trying to memorize every detail he can.

Which isn't much.  He was trying to conserve some of the more physically strenuous uses of his powers...it occurred to him that he was cut off from the sun, meaning that he wasn't getting a regular solar recharge.  Meaning what he did had a finite limit at the moment.  What that WAS is hard to day.

Fortunately, he didn't particularly need to eat as often as normal humans did either.  Which is a good thing with what was being served in the ship.

He hasn't ventured terribly far yet.   Just not...into it, I guess.

Yep, the melancholies have set in.

The Hub spat the newly-clothed crew members out into the Weapons and Possessions Locker one by one. The place looked like a warehouse, and not a particularly well-organized one. Things were everywhere -- on the floor, stacked on top of each other, hanging off of things...

Either someone had ransacked the place, or Stacy had hired a tornado to do her filing and sorting.

||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounded out to all the podmates.

In the Pod Caverns, there were the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There was condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slid out onto the floors, covered in slime.

Pop. Poppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiissss.