[Welcome to the beach. A beach with a clear, beautiful ocean and white sand. The kind of beach one might expect in pictures of a vacation resort. In the distance behind it is stands a grand city, her home and legacy. But the sun does not shine upon the beach. Night has taken over and the stars above are free to shine without a cloud to hinder them. Anyone who gazes up at the night sky might find another smaller and oddly shaped moon alongside it.

Seth is there, walking into the water until it reaches her knees. After which she proceeds to walk around in that depth with a faint smile on her face. Unlike most who’d go to the beach in a swimsuit she’s doing this in one of her short dresses. It is just water. No reason to fret over if it gets wet. After all who is going to care about a little wet clothing? ]

[Welcome to the Grid. The entire world is outfitted in dark colors. Blues. Greens. Blacks. Nothing too bright, except for the lines of light that seem to cover every surface. Circuitry. In some places, it's a bright, steady glow, while in others it seems to flicker, like a light bulb on the verge of burning out. The Grid's been damaged. Badly, in those places where the flickering is particularly harsh. The portal off in the distance seems to cover up the fact that the glow of the circuits is at it's dimmest there.

Off in another direction, there is what appears to be a crumbling city. It's own glow is still strong, though. Tron City won't go down so easily. Whether or not there are still Programs wandering the streets, though, is still pretty up in the air. Speaking of air, overhead there's a perpetual electrical storm. Electrical surges are probably closer to accurate though.

Sam's back on the Grid. He didn't think he'd ever go back there after Clu's re-integration and... what happened, but here he is. He's sitting alone in the Outlands, near where the house Flynn and Quorra lived used to sit. It's gone now. Like a lot of things.

Maybe he just needed confirmation of what happened to his father. He never got that before, after all]

[Buffy is wandering through the Sunnydale graveyard, still wearing the clothes she died in. Her pants are torn at the knees and thigh, shirt ripped up the side. She has a minor head wound, but none of that seems to matter as she sluices through the fog, stake at the ready.]

Oh, come on. Don't make me say it. [She rolls her eyes.] Olly olly oxen free.

[Just like that, there's a slew of vampires. Human but for their ridged faces, fingers still torn from clawing out of their own graves. She stakes one, turning and dipping like butter to the next. She never pauses, an unwavering force until they're all gone.

And then it's only you and Buffy, and she sees you across the astroturf, swinging her stake like the Lone Ranger before placing it at her back pocket.]

Don't worry, [she assures you.] You're safe now.

[New York City is all around him, a mixture of loud noise and constant movement. He's standing in the middle of the sidewalk, holding a piece of paper and scanning the crowd.

And there she is.]

Kate! [He starts running after her, pushing people aside as he goes.] Kate, wait!

[He runs faster and faster, following her through the streets, darting into alleys and making sharp turns but he can never quite reach her, no matter how fast he goes.

His lungs are burning, his legs ache but he keeps moving, taking another quick turn and nearly crashing into a brick wall.

A wall. A wall with no other exits in immediate view and too high to climb.]

...Kate?

[He looks around, expression momentarily helpless.]

[The stage is set. What stage? The stage in a club/pub thingie, where bands like Sex Bob-Omb would have played in Toronto. Scott's standing out on said stage by himself, his head bowed, and the most awesome bass guitar in existance in his hands. Oddly enough, he was alone to play, no band or anything.]
Uh, hey! We're Sex Bob-omb -- well, I am, and we're here to play for all our fans! And if you're one of the new guys? Well, I hope you like my show. And stuff.
[Scott knew he could do this, even if he never wanted to see the rest of the band again. And he could do it well. His fingers started to strum at the strings of his bass guitar, and music started to pour out. Visually. Like, the whole notes and stuff? Coming on out. And it wasn't just bass -- the music was full, like everything was being played! The singing was all Scott, but who cares about small details like that.

As for the songs? Well... here, here and here. (If you can't tell, I suck at choosing music.)

And as he finishes up? He jumps off of the stage -- throwing his bass to the side -- and into the crowd. Hopefully, you're one of the people there! Scott himself is unaware he's asleep right now -- he fell to sleep on the job. Again.]

Slowly but surely, the blackness one first steps into begins to lighten. There's the sound of footsteps, the the view of a woman walking down a dirt path. The further she moves, the more things come into view as the darkness recedes away. The thick grass to the sides of the path, the weathered rock of low-sitting stone walls and the merging of her single dirt road into more.
And it's there at those crossroads that the blond pauses beneath a light pole that has now appeared, it's bulb crackling as it blinks out now and then. The surroundings soon become familiar to her; it's Doolin, with it's tired little homes and their darkened windows. Now she can make out the light of the stars overhead, flooding the midnight canopy of the sky, as well as the dots of fireflies restless in the night air.

To her left stands only one building illuminated. It's a ramshackle affair, worn with age and slowly breaking apart. Across the front, in worn gold paint, there's it's name - Bridge House Pub.
It's the only building though with lights brightly illuminating it and because of that, it gives off a warm and peaceful glow. Vistors may get the sense that it even gives off something of an otherworldly sense too.

For tonight though, the Pub is populated only with a few normal citizens. The blond seems almost surprised by this when she does make her way up the path, dropping a greeting to the lazy white cat outside before she makes her way into the pub itself.