[This dream is much different than the last. That’s easy enough to see by the state of the Grid. Yes, you’re on the Grid again. But it’s not desolate like it was last time. It’s actually a pretty lively place. There are Programs and Users, alike, walking around, as well as a mix of ISOs and Basics. Tron City is still a bustling place fully in it’s prime, and there’s another separate city this time. Arjia City. Built by ISO hands. A beautiful place where ISOs and Basics live together. It’s also the city that Sam calls home.

Sam still communicates with the outside - with his father in particular. He hasn’t cut off ties completely. He even still technically works for his father. He plays guide for the Users who are new to the Grid. But there were no messages from Flynn about new Users. So there’s no need for him to wait at the replica of the arcade. Instead, he’s sitting at the bar in the End of Line Club. There are different Programs with different designations all around, as well as a number of Users. There are Sentries about, but no one seems too worried by them. They’re just security Programs. Tron’s men. They’re there to keep the peace. So relax. Have a drink of what passes for alcohol on the Grid. A glowing blue liquid. Enjoy the music. It never stops.

If you're up to it, Sam would be happy to take you to the Game Grid. And if you're feeling particularly gutsy, they're always looking for new entrants]




ooc;; Flynn didn't disappear when Sam was a kid, which lead to Sam visiting the Grid at a young age and getting attached to it. Which eventually lead to him... not wanting to leave. Dream explanation over!

[Buffy is sitting on an unweildy tower, looking out over the edge. This is where she died, and where Dawn almost had. It's a cloudy day and she wishes the rain would just fall and get it over with instead of taunting her with its heavy cumulus. She knows, logically, she could probably make the Sun come out, or even make the rain come, if it was what she wanted-- but she's sick of being in control. She wants the world back with its unpredictable and even sometimes cruel ways. She wants the real Earth beneath her and the real sky over her and all the messed up stuff in between. She wants to feel love and hate and trust and hurt. She wants her life back.

But she doesn't, all the same. Spike, her mom's death, Dawn.... So many things held a giant question mark, and things were good here. Great, even. She could be with Angel without fear, and she had made friends she could visit whenever she wanted. The only question she had left at the end of her long think-y process was simply, Was it more selfish to stay, or to go?]

Just go away. Get your own tower of feel-bad. [she murmurs when you approach, curling around herself.]

This night for dreamers starts in blackness. Without form or shape, it may seem as though one is everywhere and nowhere at once. There are whispers rising from the dark from many voices, strange voices, more feelings than words. They speak of birth, life, and the inevitable death. They speak of something between death and birth, as well. Some are peaceful, others haunting. A chorus of the voices scream -- and a train whistles.

Flickering lights filter through the darkness, as well as the chatter of people, a conductor tiredly ushering them off and on. There are piles of discarded material around the train station, as though the whole city were half-scrapyard. The air is stifled and dirty, packed with noise. It drowns the whispers out until they are just white noise. And although the openness of the area suggests the outdoors, looking up will reveal no sky to be seen but a wide expanse of metal.

A young woman shifts a basket full of yellow flowers over her elbow as she looks over the people. The green of her eyes settle and with a soft smile, she approaches, her voice carrying ahead of her.

"Excuse me. Would you like to buy a flower? They only cost one gil."

And those who rummage pockets for change may find one. This is a dream, after all.

Ignore this!!

[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.

[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]