Clark walks along the shore thoughtlessly. Lazily, he carries one foot before the other in an off beat manner. This careless walking is the best Clark can do in such a time of boredom. A wave crashes in and wraps it’s water around Clark’s feet, unphased by this Clark continues on. As he walks his mind drifts from place to place. He misses magic school dearly and sorrowfully regrets leaving so quickly after graduating. But he knew it was necessary, if he hadn’t left then he may have stayed forever. At least in the real world he was inspired to do something, to fight evil, to live up to his mother’s name. (Right cause that’s possible.) His mother had been an outstanding witch, better than Clark could ever hope to be.

Clark moves up the beach, away from the water which is still cold in the morning chill. He drops to the ground with a thud and sits there looking out over the vast Pacific laid out before him. Natural beauty always take Clark back, things so beautiful are often the most disregarded. As he sits boredom slowly creeps and lingers in the corners of his mind, ready to attack at any moment. Clark searches his mind in search of any form of entertainment, finally he finds it. It was an old trick he had use to use in middle school, when the class had grown dull. He stands and walks over to one of the many sandbars that jut randomly into the water, he leans over and picks up a decently sized rocks. He holds it in both had tightly. (I’m sure you have seen plenty of interesting things.) Clark focuses, using his power of psychometry on the rock in his hands. (Show me what you've seen.)

As Clark's taps into his power of psychometry, a black and white scene appears within his mind's eyes giving him insight into the past...

Clark snaps back to reality looking down at the rock. (Well it's better than nothing.) He lays the stone back were he found it and then turns walking away from the ocean and father up the snady beach. He lays back down and looks out over the vast strech of water laid out before him. (Beutiful)

He relaxes and falls onto his back, looking up into the sky above. It is early and the sun is yet to have reached high enough to harm Clark's gaze. His mind drifts to his brother, (I wonder how college is going for him?) Clark closes his eyes as he sinks deeper into his thoughts, listenign to the rhythmic flow of the water close by.

Looking suitably overdressed, Venus makes her entrance onto the beach. Dressed head to toe in deep crimson and black, she takes elegant steps down to the beach front. The wind catches her pitch black hair, and the tightly styled waves move slightly around her face. Pale, and not exactly clad in beach attire, Venus stands out horrifically against the pale sand and blue expanse of water. She hardly seems the type for a daily walk on the beach.

She moves with a purpose, however, ignorant to all others sharing the space. Her corset binds her tightly, and her movements are graceful and feminine, but though she carries herself with all the lady like elegance of a real woman, there seems to be something forceful about her. She seems to radiate a slight powerful aura, and she does so like to be noticed.

Clark looks down the beach. Being early in the day it is rather vacant. However now he sees a woman who was not there minutes before, she stands overly dressed by the water, her sleek dress bending to every curve of her elegant body. Around her flows an aura that demands attention. Clark was sure that if his preference ever shifted to women, this one would be his top pick.

Clark stands and walks towards her. He feels awkward doing so but is to enticed to resist. He stops just next to her and looks to the water. "Beautiful isn't it? The water I mean." Clark blushes, intimidated by the woman's pressence.

Edging on abnormally tall for a woman, Venus looks down her nose at the male now speaking to her. "I suppose so." She says, a cold and harsh tone in her voice. Her eyes pierce him with a dangerous stare. (Who does this child think he is, to speak to me?) Sure, he was handsome, with beautiful eyes... but how dare he approach her and speak without invitation. Barely resisting the urge to hiss and grimmace at this individual, Venus turns back to the sea.

She had come here for a purpose, and surely he wouldn't stop her. Disregarding the fact that she may look slightly odd, Venus retrives a small crystal bottle from the bottom of her bag, and bends her lythe form down to collect some of the foaming sea water. Straightening up again, she clamps the bottle shut and holds it to the light. (Water of the sea. The embodiment of the element.)

Clark's brow furrows, caught of guard by the woman’s abrupt bitchy-ness. Her arrogant condescension was totally unjustified; they looked of the same age and he had done nothing to place himself beneath her in any way. ( Great, try to make nice and catch a bitch.) He looks over the woman again, this time assessing her as apposed to praising her. She was out of place and stuck out; she didn’t belong on the beach. ( She’s here for something.)

As she leans over a collects water into her vial confusion grows within Clark. ( All the way to the beach for a vial? Clark already doesn’t like this woman, but if he were to leave her now he would be bending to her will, and Clark wished not to provide this woman with any kind of sense of victory. He adjusted his footing and then spoke, as if unphased by the woman’s snide demeanor. He gestures to the vial of water, “That for something sentimental, or is it a little more practical than that?”

"What exactly does that have to do with you?" Looking at Clark with distaste, she cannot quite believe the audacity to pose her with questions. Questions where the answers had nothing at all do to with him. (So curious. Humans. Vile creatures.)

Luckily, he can't hear her thought, but he wouldn't really need to inorder to register her degree of distain. Looking down, Venus places the vial of water into her black back, fastening the clasp after she places her deposit. (Where to next? Perhaps home to attempt more sorcery...)

Mirella makes her way across the sand from the snack stand, a coffee in one hand and a banana nut muffin in the other. Her eyes watch the strange looking couple a few feet from where she walks. Can't be together. She's too ... Odd looking to be with him. Finding a pic nic table rather easily considering it was nine AM, Mirella takes a seat on top of the table, rather than on the seat. She sits facing the ocean and munches on her breakfast wondering what to do that day. She was getting bored sitting around her apartment. She could only clean and rearrange it so much. Maybe some kind of volunteer gig doing something she liked. Or maybe a job to bring in a little extra pocket money. There had to be something in this town for her t odo.

The irritation in Clark grows, this woman breathes arrogance, the ting Clark hates most. (You know, up close she isn't that good looking.) Clark silently wishes that the woman could hear this thought."Nothing in particular." Acting as thought he is still unoffended by her rude demeanor.

"It's just a little out of the ordinary to collect sea water into a vial." Clark looks away from the woman and out to the water. It was beautiful, more so than this woman. "And now that I have asked you about it, you seem to be hiding something." Clark looks back, straight into her dark eyes. "And now, I'm especially intrigued."

(Be intrigued all you like, you pathetic mortal.)

Oh, how she'd love to lash out. But she doesn't. Instead she simply turns on her heel and walks away from the irritation that is Clark. (Parhaps a trip toward the woods would be useful to collect some more tools.) Her stilletto heels carry her elegantly across the sand, despite their unsuitableness. With no regard for the man she'd just left, and not even a casual glance at the plain looking woman sitting on a bench nearby like some common hippy, Venus carries on her merry way, slinking over toward the parking lot.

As the woman walks away Clark fights to supress a strong urge to laugh. Her undignified arogance had begun to grow in hilarity. Clark stands and watches as the woman moves farther and farther away. It was obvious she had been at the beach only to collect ocean water. But why? Clark watches as the woman enters teh parking lot.

(Oh like you're acatually going to let her just walk away like that?)

Clark slowly walks towards the parking lot determined to see her leave.

Mirella finishes off her muffin, wiping her fingers on the napkin that had been held between two of her fingers. She shakes her head as she watches Clark go after the woman who had clearly not been interested in talking to him. (Gonna get yourself into trouble, little man.) She warns him silently. Her eyes follow the young man to the parking lot. She thinks about all the things that could be lurking in this city that they boy probably had no idea about. She shakes her head again and finishes off her latte and hops off the table, tossing the empty paper cup into one of the nearby trash bins. She looks out at the ocean again, once again wondering what she should do that day. She decides that the best thing to do is to let her ancestors guide her. They usually did a good job of that. She heads in the same direction that Clark had gone; the parking lot where she had left her car earlier.

[Dream Plane]

Dreams demons Orin and London appear upon the sands of Baker Beach. Even though they are located within the Dream Plane, their senses pick up on the realness of the place. The aroma of the ocean assaults their noses, a slight breeze ripples by and other such break-like things. It all comes across as very real.

"Ah, here we are... and there he is." Orin motions to a man that is currently screaming in agony. The tall dark-haired man is strapped to a large stake as an intense fire burns around him. Yet, his body is continuously regenerating itself, causing him to never experience the sweet release of death.

"This is Ryan Claybourne. His greatest fear is death by fire. A punishment for attempting to protect the witches - or possibly for failing to protect them."

[Dream Plane]

London's body seems nearly flawless next to her master's as the two stand on the beach. Her hair blows slightly with the wind, and her smile shows her interest in the man on the stake. Oh what she wouldn't give to have been alive during the Witch Hunts. Watching those silly mortals burn would have been a blast. Sadly, she was born a bit too late, and now was alive in the swirling winds of the dream plane.

"Sucks to be him..." she mutters, showing a sign of humanity in her voice. While she knows better than to make her blood obvious to Orin, she couldn't help what escaped her lips. Granted her voice holds a tone of sarcasm and annoyance, her words still bare a bit of empathy. "And a deserved one," she adds, commenting on the punishment for protecting witches.

"So what do we do to him?" she asks, moving away from her teacher's side, and toward the screaming human torch. The clothing on her body quickly changes, leaving her standing in nothing more than a nightgown. The sight is a rather odd one. A young woman in a silky nightgown watching a man burn to his death. "Damn..." she quietly mumbles to herself in embarassment. She wouldn't be surprised if Orin finds it fit to get a royal laugh out of this one.

[Dream Plane]

"I did not think that I would need to explain..." At this point, London's appearance shifts. Although he expected this sort of thing, he is still caught off guard. He had been optimistic that London had more control. Though if he were anything but a demon then he would probably find humor in the situation. However, he isn't therefore he doesn't. "London, do try and keep your emotions in check. Things more dangerous than a wardrobe change can occur if you allow your thoughts and emotions run wild."

Moving on from the mishap, Orin turns back to Ryan on the stake. He begins to concentrate on ending the nightmare sequence, but stops. There was no better way for one to learn how to swim then to be thrown into the ocean. Swim or die. Same here.

"I want you to end this nightmare sequence." He looks over at London, no emotion evident on his demonic face. "Just concentrate on breaking down the nightmare and dissipate it. You think you can do that?"

[Dream Plane]

Embarassment flies over London's face as he insults her lack of control. While he knows little about being a half demon, he's more than right. London knows she needs to gain more control, and focuses on her clothing, finding it returning to the outfit she had been wearing only moments before. Continuing to prevent her imagination from taking over, her eyes return to Orin.

The demonic figure always seems to cast her into both doubt and awe. Why he doesn't make himself infamous in the magickal world is far beyond her. If she was as powerful as him, every demon, even the ones who live under rocks, would know exactly who she is. Then again, Orin always comments on her desires and how she lets them get in the way of true power. (Maybe he's right...) she comments, not really doing more than implanting the idea in her mind.

His order excites the young demon as she looks toward the burning man. London's eyes look him over, analyzing all the dream elements of the fire. If she removes all the oxygen around him, the fire will stop but so will his life. If she removes the wood, there will be nothing to burn, but the fire might be magickal in nature. All the other options left one choice for the demon; remove the fire itself. "Not a problem." Her confindent answer leads her to focus on the fire, extinguishing it with her ability to manipulate the dream plane.

Clark walks onto the beach and is hit with the beautiful salty scent that flies off the water with every ocean breeze. His mood is positively brightened at the site of the water and the sand. (I'm gonna live on a beach one day.) It had always been a dream of his, to live everyday in a nice beach house and spend every night by the water with all his friends. His mother used to take Clark here when she wasn't off fighting evil, they would just sits at the edge of the sea and let teh water fall over their feet.

Clark moves halfway down to the water. He sits down letting his bottom sink into the white sand. He streches his legs infront of him, he kicks off his shoes and slides off his socks, then crosses his ankles over one another. He interrlocks his finger behind his head and falls back, laying in the sand with his elbows sticking out on either side. He closes his eyes and lets his breathimg fall into a slow droning rythm. All he is aware of are smells and sounds of the ocen before him. Eventually, he falls asleep.

Clark gasps extermely loud as he suddenly awakens. He twitches violently as his dream ends. He Sits up slowly, still slightly dazed. He hadn;t been aware he had fallen asleep until he had been woken up so suddenly. It takes him several moments for him to recall the dream he had just experienced. It wasn;t often Clark had such powerful dreams. It doesn't take much thought for Clark to decipher the dreams derivation. But he abstains from thinking about it, not wanting to deal with his personal issues.

Clark stands slowly, still a little shaky from his nap. He puts his socks and shoes back on, but as he stands up straight again he notices something. Something in his mind knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the witch trials had miraculously ended. His brow furrows in confusion, not knowing how or why he knew this. BUt even more perplexing, how had it happened. How had the hell ravashing teh magick society for so long just ended. However or whatever had done it was cetainly very powerful.

The prospect of no longer living with constant dwelling fear lifts Clark's mood substantially. He smiles as he turns back towards the car. He reaches the parking lot.

And out steps a handsome - no, a gorgeous - young gypsy by the name of Aidan Scott. A perfectly chiseled with perfectly dreamy green eyes gaze out at the ocean before him. The majesty of the sight is not lost on the gypsy, nor are the many significant improvements that this time frame has over the one he just left. (Yes, definitely am back to the future.)

The gypsy's biceps bulge against the tight black t-shirt he was sporting. Whatever else his past life: Clarke Ryder had been, as the shirt proves, the intangible gypsy knew how to dress gay. The shirt is stretched tight over Aidan's chest, showing off his pecs quite visibly. All in all, the gravitonic gypsy is quite a yummy sight.

Not that he's thinking about any of that at the moment. In his left arm, pressed against his upper leg, Aidan holds Clarke Ryder's gypsy tome - his one artefact that proved that the portal-assisted tripping had not simply been a wild hallucination. The veins on Aidan's arm show in clear relief as it strains against the weight of the heavy tome. Looking out over the ocean, back in year 2028, Aidan Scott is reminded how insignificant he is in this timeline. In the past, he had been someone. Well, a shadow of something, but still: he had that connection. People actually paid attention to him.

Who was he here? Just another hooker, hotter than most, but no-one truly special. But as Aidan looks out over the sea - he realizes that this wasn't completely true. He, Aidan Scott, is the future self of Clarke Ryder, a noble and brave gypsy. He is Clarke, in essence. And for that reason only: to honour the gypsy that had lived and died 24 years ago, Aidan renews his vow to uncover the mysteries of the gypsy heritage locked within. (Like, for instance, why the fuck I don't have any real powers.)

But thinking that thought, a memory comes back to Aidan of something that had happened a long time. But, to the gypsy, a very recent memory.

Assuming that means that Aidan shouldn't simply be standing around waiting for interaction. This is fair enough, and the gypsy figures he needs a drink anyways. And perhaps an apartment - though the gods know he doesn't have any money.

(Also need a quiet place to go through this Tome. Looks like Clarke wrote his journal in here too, right at the end. Might be an interesting read. Unless it's just a big old "I love Tristan" with rainbows and hearts bordering it.)

Thinking about the whitelighter and his past self boinking makes Aidan shudder. I mean, Tristan was hot, granted - but just thought of the whitelighter in a sexual way seems wrong. Especially considering the guy was old enough to have fathered Aidan...

He continues musing over this as he walks over to the parking lot.

[Dream Plane]

Ryan continues to struggle against his restraints in an attempt to free himself from this nightmare. Though the flames have been lessened by London's attempt to end the nightmare, they still burn his flesh. He hollers in pain and continues to squirm as his flesh sizzles and burns, peeling off only to be replaced by fresh skin.

"For God sakes, let me go!" The plea is a yelling whimper, full of agony. To consumed by the pain, he doesn't notice London and Orin standing close by. Leaning his head back, the lawyer lets out a howl skyward as tears run down his cheeks.

[Dream Plane]

Orin stands by, not interfering with London's attempt at disarming the nightmare he created. She had to learn enough to at least execute the basics. Not that he could not pull this off alone, but she was his protege. He had an obligation to teach her, and a failure to learn on her part showed a failure to teach. That is unacceptable.

"Try again..." Orin speaks after giving her ample time to cancel out the nightmare. He had noticed what she was doing - trying to take the nightmare apart by element. It was a common first step, but Orin did not have the luxury of babying her through this. The Source was creating the window of opportunity tonight. They had no choice but to be ready.

"This time, do not focus on removing pieces of the nightmare as you attempted with the flames." Orin motions to the area around the lawyer, which upon a closer look will appear different from the rest of the environment - set off somehow. It's almost as though the area of the nightmare exists within a bubble. "Push yourself past your limits. Extinguish the entire nightmare. It is going to be difficult and exhausting but it can be done."

[Dream Plane]

London watches as the flames lower down a bit, and for a moment she gets excited. Sadly for her, the flames slowly stop fading, and continue to lick at the skin of the man screaming to be relased. His cries don't go unnoticed as the human side of London pressures her to try harder. Perhaps sympathy would be enough to end the poor man's hell.

The voice behind her provides the greatest help though. Orin isn't there to just watch, he wants something else. Normally he isn't in any kind of hurry, but for some reason he seems to be...waiting for something. London closes her eyes and opens them again, ready to end the hell. Focusing on everything she could see and imagine in the Dream Plane where they were, she attempts to end it all, with the exception of the three living minds in the area.

[Dream Plane]

"Good." Orin states simply as the nightmare scenario he had trapped the lawyer in earlier dissipates beneath London's power. He steps forward, next to his student, but continues to look forward to where the nightmare once was and where Ryan is currently located, hunched over on the ground. "Very good."

"Next lesson: The Dream Plane runs on imagination. If you can dream it, it can happen." The dream demon focuses on Ryan imagining the man shackled, which occurs immediately. Once Orin is sure that the mortal will not be escaping anytime soon, he turns towards London. "Objects and such are easy to create and change. They only require a thought. Anyone present within the Dream Plane is capable of that. But..." Orin holds up a finger, accentuating the fact that he is making a very important point and that it was time for London to focus. "The creation of nightmares within the Dream Plane is much more difficult, though it is built on the same foundation of imagination. It simply takes more focus and more power."

Lowering his hand, Orin walks away from London and towards Ryan. He stands behind the human but does not touch him. For the time being, he continues to ignore him while speaking to London. "I won't ask you to create nightmares - that is far beyond your power right now - but you should be able to manipulate them to a degree. I will need you to do this because drawing people into the Dream Plane and then trapping them within a nightmare will drain me of much of my energy. Do you understand so far?"

[Dream Plane]

A wave of relaxation overcomes London as the nightmare scene vanishes. She's proud that she's managed to make it vanish, but knows that Orin never lets things stay simple. No, and his words about her next lesson only prove her point. Orin almost always has another reason for doing something. The shackles around Ryan almost annoy her, but she refuses to allow any sign of it show up on her face. She can deal with it. Surely there's some point to her freeing him only to have him be trapped again.

Nodding at his review of the basics of the Dream Plane, London listens to her teacher speak. The old demon knows everything there is to know about dreams, and and if he didn't she wouldn't waste her time listening to him. As he walks away, she moves slightly closer to the trapped man, but keeps her distance from him and Orin. She watches and listens, waiting for some hint of his plans.

After a few seconds of listening, she hears his plan. He's going to go on a mass killing, or at least try for one. Well, at least those are the thoughts of London on his plan. Why else would he draw people into the Dream Plane? It isn't like the place is a vacation, especially with two demons ready to pounce. "Yes," she answers simply. So far nothing he's said is too confusing.

"Good. There's just one more thing..." Orin reaches down, clasping his clawed demonic hands around the throat Ryan Claybourne. A quick twist and there is a sickening *pop* indicating that the lawyer's neck has been snapped. The size of the demon's hands makes this feat easy enough. Effortless even.

"When someone dies within the Dream Plane..." Orin releases his hold on Ryan, the only thing keeping the man upright. Immediately, the dream corpse drops to the ground in a heap where it remains, unmoving. "They die for real."

For the first time, Orin looks upon the man who lays at his feet. Using his massive power and control over the Dream Plane, Orin returns Ryan to his dreamscape. Once that is done, the Soma Demon returns his gaze to London, his protegé. "It will be your task to create nightmare scenarios in order to kill those I bring into the dreamworld."

[Dream Plane]

"Good. There's just one more thing..."

A rather twisted, perhaps sickened, smile creaps along the lips of the young demon. The demon can't lie, she enjoys watching death. Something about the escaping soul to whatever fate awaits it entrances the woman. The smile on her lips makes it rather obvious that she is enjoying the simple display of Orin's power. His power is what she worships, what she obeys. He himself would be nothing without it. Let's just say he doesn't have the needed personal skills.

"When someone dies within the Dream Plane...They die for real."

The masculine demon before her had mentioned this fact before. It is the basics on how Soma Demons kill. Magick has it's little surprises for those silly beings of light, the greatest being the fact that they aren't safe in their own dreams. Her face still holds the twisted smile that was brought on by the death of her burning man. As the man disappears, so does London's smile. Without any 'physical' reminder of what Orin could do, she's bored. In the mood to kill and perhaps driven by desire, Lonodn eagerly awaits his next comment, which doesn't take long at all.

"It will be your task to create nightmare scenarios in order to kill those I bring into the dreamworld."

The look on her face is one that has never before been upon the beautiful features. It's a look of confusion. Only moments before he was telling her that she was too weak to create nightmares, but if he says she can do it, then she can. She keeps her focus on him and ponders the idea of opening her lips to express concern. She knows better than to question him, but curosity was one of her mortal weaknesses. She wants to know who they'll be killing, but perhaps it's best she doesn't know. "Who exactly are we going to be killing, if I can know..." Obviously the better choice isn't her choice.

Character Relocations:

If perfection could be made into a woman, there is an off chance that it would look like Jenna. The petite blond stands in front of Rhys, currently under his hypnotic charm. While it isn't full hypnosis, it was enough to sway her decision in the nightclub to chose Rhys over Sebastian. The confident warlock looks at Jenna, his face one of calm yet concentrated.

If he was going to maintain this connection with his conquest, then he would have to stay focused. He starts to walk a small circle around her, allowing his hands to roam freely alongside her shoulders as he bends his head forward to kiss her along her neck. She was going to be his this evening, and it was going to be oh so great.

Daria is thrown into a vision of the future...

Daria had locked eyes with the goddess on the ship, waiting for the woman to do something foolish in front of Chase. But instead, she finds herself on the shores of Baker Beach. She looks around, a little confused. (What the hell just happened?) She had expected to see the captain, Chase, someone who could tell her that their journey had ended and they were free of the curse of Calypso. But she doens't have a chance to question it because she is suddenly pulled into yet another vision of the future. She gasps and reaches for Jade's hand. As the vision fades, Daria opens her eyes slowly.

"Well," She whispers. "I guess that's the end of that adventure." Her head turns towards her friend. "And it looks like we're in for another." She smiles. Neverh ad she had such powerful visions. Or so many at once. But then, the last one had been forced. And they'd survived.

The wiccan professor takes a deep, cleansing breath and exhales slowly. "Okay, first things first," She mumbles half to herself. She turns to Clark, whose name she still didn't know. "It seems as if my friend and I are being called away to another innocent." Daria smiles. It was good to be back in the game, so to speak. It had been fairly quiet for the last little while so Daria had come to accept that perhaps her dudties as a witch had come to an end. That she was only now destined to instruct her daughter. "You may join us if you wish." She offers. "But I must warn you the road will not be an easy one. We are dealing with more than you could imagine." She glances at Jade, thinking of her plight.