voidtreckerexpress | Catchall log for mid-Merriment, OTA!

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Catchall log for mid-Merriment, OTA!

Who: Devero and YOU
Where: All over the train
When: Merriment 17 through 21
What: Devero potters around the train, catching up on things and pretending he's not still really, really worn out from the mission.
Warnings: Recreational drug use in the luggage car prompt.

In the days following the platform, Devero is relieved to find that he's recovered enough energy to be able to stay awake for most of a day, and even to concentrate on projects again! The lassitude is hanging on to him longer than most, so he's still not quite is robust self, but he's present and working again. Between Merriment 17 and 21, he can be encountered all over the train.

Where does your character find him?

In the lab car?
Wait, since when is Devero glowing purple and semi-transparent? Come into the lab car on the right day at the right time and you'll find this specter moving about. Perhaps he's fiddling with a door latch, or you find him in one of the labs, picking things up and putting them back down again. There is absolutely neutral, lifeless expression on his face if you happen to catch sight of it, and-- Wait, is that some kind of glowing core in the middle of the shape?

In the training car?
Devero knows how to shoot a gun. Really. He swears. But if you happen in on him practicing his marksmanship with a sleek, futuristic rifle in his hands, it sure doesn't seem like it. He's visibly frustrated as he misses another shot, dropping the gun down from his shoulder and turning his back on his target. (Claudette tilts her head and chirrups. Does this mean the game is over?)

"Rust and ruin," he swears, shoving his wrap-around tactical Interface up on his forehead. "I'm never going to get the hang of this thing. I'm sorry, Entrapta."

In the library car:
Several weeks ago, Devero had snatched down the slip of paper that he'd tacked up in the standard car, the one advertising lessons in GSL-- Global Sign Language. The day of the platform, he'd tacked it back up again. Find him at the advertised time in the library, staring into the screen of his usual Interface. While he waits to see if anyone's going to show up, he's talking to himself.

You know, with his hands. How else? This is meant to be a sign-language lesson, after all!

In the music car:
As crowded as the train's been getting, the second floor of the music carriage is still a good place to slip away to if you're looking for (relative) privacy. Today, however, Devero's beaten you to it. If you don't notice right away that he's in here, though, that's understandable-- there's no music, no sound save for the whisper of his feet on the stage, the rustle of his clothes, and the occasional audible breath.

Despite the apparent silence, Devero is dancing. He's practicing alone an energetic routine for two, but there's no mistaking the precision and grace in his movements as he performs them, even without the partner.

Do you stay and watch, or leave him to dance in solitude?

In the luggage car?
If you've been on the train for longer than a few weeks, you may already be acquainted with this particular odor: it's savory, herby, as if someone's over-toasted spices in a pan prior to cooking with them. Were it a strong odor, it'd probably be sour and unpleasant; as mild as it is, it's mostly unobjectionable.

The source of it can be easily traced to the obviously hand-rolled cigarette smoldering between Devero's lips. That's right, it's future-weed hours here in the luggage car, folks. And if you look at him twice, you'll find him holding his joint out in your direction. "Want a hit?" he asks amiably.

Somewhere else?
Devero can feasibly be found all over the train: prepping vegetables or washing dishes in the kitchen; soaking or doing yoga in the spa car; working out in either of the gyms; sleeping through a movie in the cinema; or even just traveling up and down the train. Yeah, they have transgates now, but walking (or hoverskating) the length of the train is an easy way to keep his condition up while he's still recovering from the last mission. He's not nearly as exhausted as he was before, which means it's working. Really. He swears! He didn't fall asleep here, he was just resting his eyes!

Feel free to find him wherever you want, if one of the prompts above doesn't tickle your fancy.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yondu spends a lot of time in the music car, usually trying to find music for Peter. In the off chance (the very unlikely chance) that he'll ever see Quill again. Though the music up his alley has been getting more and more sparse in his search.

He's in here often, so if Devero is he's probably used to Yondu just going to his station by the ICP screens, meaning to grab earbuds to listen to something. He heads that direction as usual, getting ready to do another search through odd musical choices.

But he finally notes that Devero's just dancing, lingering near the stairs. He sort of remembers Sanzo's story about how they met. Seems sweet, honestly. He'll probably never come across any version of that kinda thing, but he sort of half-ass has memories of things like it. Borrowed ones. He'll hold onto those. He doesn't say anything to interrupt, rather than look strange and intrusive he turns his back to go on his way and give the man his privacy (or at least that's his intention).

Edited 2021-08-08 18:57 (UTC)

If it had been anyone but Yondu, Devero probably would have just kept to his practice once he noticed he was being watched. As it is, only a moment or so after Yondu turns away, he'll hear thumping footsteps behind him, and Dev's out of breath voice: "Hey! Yondu-- wait!"

Yondu stalls on the steps then, glancing over, not really sure of what to say, considering everything he'd heard and seen. Or if he should even acknowledge it. Hard to say whether he was welcome to know all that or it was incidental. He generally assumes it was circumstances that led him to be trusted with it.

There's also the fact he's exhausted. That world-weariness catching up to him. "Yeah, what can I do ya for?" He leans on the railing.

Edited 2021-08-13 19:50 (UTC)

A little uncertain, Devero stops several steps above him, wavering a little before taking a seat on a step that puts him at about eye-level. This is the first time he's really seen Yondu since... all that, so he's not sure exactly how to approach, but--

He remembers the Centaurian listing a couple of names in gold when they'd been talking in the dining car, and he knows they walked off the train at the platform.

"I just-- I wanted to check in," he says, surprised at how shy he feels suddenly. "See how you're holding up after-- you know. The last stop."

Yondu's briefly not sure what to do with himself, going quiet. Trying to decide whether to be honest or to brush it off. He was brutally honest before, soaked up whatever comfort he could find, and he's caught in some purgatory of wondering if that sensitive side was okay to bear or if he should be aloof again. If he needs to protect that giant hole inside of him.

Good for bodies to fall into during a fight, horrible for holding any kind of sentiment.

But he's always been open with Koumyou. Almost since showing, because he saw the man at his most vulnerable. Sure he wasn't introduced to Devero in so safe a way, but he can still recall warm breath gathering at his neck, thick strands of hair passing between his fingers, faint shudders of vulnerability against him.

"Just waitin' for the train to decide to get rid of me," he decides honesty. "Tryin' to make sure everyone would be alright." Self-destructive thoughts, preparing for both an uncertain and inevitable end as he loses more people that he's earned.

Devero nods, dropping his eyes to the toes of his dancing shoes. "Worrying about other people instead of yourself," he says with a faint, melancholy quirk of his lips. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

He looks up again. "That's just what you're doing, though," he presses, "not how you are."

He doesn't know how to react to that first observation and his face echoes that. Maybe because nothing good has come of wanting things for himself, or he's gotten used to taking care of people.

Or that he just doesn't want to see a good hunk of a crew fall again.

He's got this handful of thoughts slipping between his fingers when the conversation changes and it's gone from what he's doing to how he's doing. He'd told Rocket once that he had a hole inside him, that they both did, and that even a little bit of love reminded him of how big it was.

"I feel a little bit emptier, but I ain't good with words so I cain't put a good name to it. But I wasn't the only one to have people go." He redirects, because how he feels shouldn't matter.

Edited 2021-08-19 05:38 (UTC)

"No," Devero agrees, "you weren't. But that's going to be true any platform. Quarters as close as these, everyone on this train has at least one person who'll miss them if they leave."

You know what that means? Means you're still on the hook, Udonta.

"Other folks are hurting right now, yeah. Doesn't mean you aren't or can't as well."

He can't think of a way to explain. He's never had the words for it. Just rambly outpourings of emotions sometimes when he's permitted them. He told Kitty, and he knew it was true. He just loses.

He loses, and he loses, and he loses. To the point that gaining feels almost pointless because it means he'll lose again, and he can feel those callouses reform around his heart. But how does a man like him, full of anger and frustration and sadness and a happenstance education even put those into words.

"I'm used to it."

That's what comes out instead of anything else. But losses are hard to accept. That's why he still goes and looks for music for a young man he's pretty sure he'll never see again. He can't bring himself to explain how terrified he is of giving a shit just because of the pain that comes after. So what he says instead is, "What was that song you was dancin' to?"

"You shouldn't have to be." Simple as that. No one should have to be used to pain.

But he knows well enough that sometimes you push and sometimes you don't, and despite everything, he still doesn't actually know Yondu that well. For right now, he lets up.

He plucks his Interface off his ear and flips it deftly to handheld mode. Restarting the song from the beginning, he holds the device out as the music starts to play. Yondu's possibly scrolled past it on the ICP, since Devero got it from the train; it's an alien sounding song (at least to human sensibilities), but there's something compelling about the shivery fluting vocals and the driving backbeat behind them.

"Train translates the title as Intergalactic," he explains, "but I think this might be the voice of the artist, so who knows what it's actually called."

"I never really had the option not to be." He's had to remain prepared to hurt. Even here, where it feels like a transition at this point. No sense of permanence. No place to go after that he knows of.

But he takes the device and holds next to his ear and listens. It sounds familiar enough that he whistles to it, remembering the tune, getting it mostly right before handing the device back.

"Heard it in a port bar before but don't remember which world made it."

Or at least he heard something similar. Some of these songs seem to exist in a lot of worlds.

"I like it," he says. "Doesn't sound like anything we have where I come from."

He flips his Interface back to eye mode and hooks it on again. "This whole place isn't anything like where I come from," he continues, his voice absurdly thoughtful for such an obvious statement.

He braces his arms against his knees and looks up at those red eyes. "I said something to Koumyou once," he continues, "that I think... maybe you need to hear too? This place, this whole-- Voidtrecker thing, it's. It's an opportunity. It's an opportunity to be the man you want to be, not the one you had to be where you came from.

"Everything that held you back, every-- every choice that you had to make because all of the options were awful but at least that option was less awful than the others, every raw edge of shitty fucking reality that you-- that you had to develop a callus to protect yourself from, it--" He's running to the ends of his eloquence and his hands and arms move restlessly, flickering through meaningless gestures as he searches for the words to continue.

Then they open before him, catching his breath for an instant before they tumble out of him: "Those things don't have to bind you here."

Just like he doesn't have to be bound into the shape Valdana designed for him, here on the train.

He leans against the railing, trying to think of how to put it.

"I can be a lotta things that I cain't back home, but I don't know how long that'll last. Not anymore." And to be what he wants to be, he requires people to fight by. "I'm tryin' to be better. I really hated that man I was. Still hate 'im."

But that's beside the point. He has a lot going on with his head right now. Enough that he finally even told Raven that he had to get rid of the nightmares.

"One of the girls that left? Cherry... she was real sweet. She didn't understand why people wouldn't ask for help. Thought we was protectin' our pain like treasures. But I told her it was more like we're filled with shards of glass, some of 'em we cain't reach. We pick an' we pick, an' it's nice if someone tries to help. But all too often they come up an' just pat 'em in, whether they realize it or not."

Like a poor well-natured man who tells someone that his parents were terrible, and unknowingly reminds that someone that he was weak enough to even let that out.

"Guess I'm just more prickly than usual lately." Keenly aware of all that glass sticking out of him.

"You're not the only one here I know who hates the man that he was," Devero says quietly. And he's fairly certain he doesn't have to specify who he's talking about, either.

He crosses his arms atop his knees and leans on them while he listens.

"As many shards of glass as you've got in you, it's no wonder you're prickly," he says. Does he realize he's one of those people who patted glass deeper into Yondu with his outrage over what the man's parents had done?

He might just, because this time, trying to help, he asks: "Is there anything I can do? You don't deserve to be miserable any more than Koumyou does."

He knows, has even bonded with, more than a few people like that. It's an unfortunate commonality among a lot of them. He's not special. Even now, even knowing that he comforted Devero, he almost asks why he'd care to help him. But he knows. Even if he hadn't done that, he'd still make the offer because he's that kind of man.

After all, Yondu had his own nasty habit of not only accidentally patting those glasses deeper, but being too rough as he pried them out. Only rarely could he actually help.

"None of us should be miserable, just makes for bad behavior even if we hate a bastard." Even the shittier members of their lot, like the recently departed Jack. But he chooses a step just down from Devero to sit. "Here, lemme listen to what else you got."

It's a gentle offer to let Devero try and not be a dick about it.

Ironically, now that Yondu's invited his advice, Devero finds himself at a loss for words...so he says as much.

"Sometimes I don't know what to say to you, or-- or to Koumyou, or-- a lot of other folks on the train," he admits. "You've lived through hells I can't even imagine. Who do I think I am, to tell you how to-- how to feel about it now, or how to recover, or--"

He gestures helplessly. "What do I know?" he asks. The question's rhetorical, though, because he answers himself almost immediately: "I do know one thing, though, and it's how long this here will last? Doesn't have to matter.

"There's no way we can know whether our tethering to the train is stable or not. No way to control who long we stay or when we leave. So why not make the most of this opportunity while we have it?"

He lets his hands fall between his knees and lets his thigh on that side press against Yondu's arm. "I could-- I could walk unresponsive out those doors at the next stop," he says. His throat wants to close on the unpalatable horror of that possibility; he forces himself to talk through it. "I could end up back at Val-- Valdana's side in less than two weeks--"

Nope. He chokes to a stop there, gripping his hands together tight as if that will help keep the fear risen in him at bay. "Do you know what she's going to do to me when she finds out about this? About Koumyou?"

"Sayin' somethin' is better than sayin' nothin' at all. He's so used to bein' abandoned that just knowin' your willin' to try is something he needs."

And maybe Yondu wants that too. Someone willing to try, despite knowing how prickly he is. Someone that sees his hackles raise and still stays crouched with their hand extended, waiting for him to calm. It's a rare thing, that kind of person. He puffs a breath at that.

"I ain't no good at talkin' either." He just... rambles. He's old. He rambles. And sometimes reaching out means nothing to someone. "I got some ideas of what a woman like that might do." He has them from grim experience. Like that comfort slave. Yondu might have been lucky, valuable but only in the way of the death he could create. "I also know that man you got wouldn't let the train stop 'im from crossin' worlds to get to you, so if you did go back you best just run an' wait for 'im. He'd find his way to you."

Yondu folds his arm over his knees. "The man wears the word of god so put your faith in him. If he had one prayer left in that skinny corpse of his, it'd be for you. Trust that he's stronger than some bitch who can only think she's strong by makin' you weak."

Fought back by Yondu's words, the fear that's seized Devero relaxes its grip. Devero's been envisioning a future either on the train and with Koumyou, or off the train and without, and never allowed himself to blend the two. But he knows that there are ways to move between the dimensions that have nothing to do with Void travel and the Voidtrecker Express; hell, hadn't he and Kaiba talked just days before about developing the technology to be able to do just that, so that they can go after the people they lose?

And he knows how much power Koumyou's capable of wielding. He knows how formidable the priest can be when he invests his willpower into something.

He laughs, a wet sound. "You're not as bad at talking as you think," he says. He sits up a little and dashes one hand across his eyes. "He would come, wouldn't he? He'll come for me." Virtues, that makes him feel better.

He takes a deep breath and then releases it, reaching across to squeeze Yondu's shoulder. "Thanks," he says. He brushes his fringe off his forehead. "Got, er, got distracted from what I was trying to say there, huh?"

"Maybe you needed somethin' said to ya."

He ducks his head a little as he notices Dev near teary-eyed over it, reaching over to put a hand on his forearm, and he realizes how badly Devero's wanted this. Not just Koumyou, or the love that he gives him, but to be rescued. "I needed someone to save me once, too. No room to judge."

But he finds himself talking about him. Mentioning Stakar has never been a sore spot here. But he's only recently said the extent of his feelings about him as he'd been fresh in his mind before his arrival to the train, his want for his team stronger than ever.

"I had someone save me, a long time ago. He welcomed me into his family for a real long time. I know you won't make the same mistakes I did, I lost 'im an' all the friends I made along the way. Never felt right again after that. But I know Koumyou is a more forgivin' soul than Stakar, even if you think you cain't forgive your own sins. Which as far as I can tell is shit you had someone make up for ya."

God, he misses Stakar.

Forget 'near' teary-eyed. When Yondu puts it as plainly as that, that Devero had needed to be saved, his eyes well over. Not out of shame, but pure relief and gratitude to hear it said so simply. He covers Yondu's hand with his own and squeezes.

He's known something was wrong about his relationship with Valdana for a long time, but all of the people and systems that should have alerted on his abuse... hadn't. The safety nets that should have saved him failed, time and again, and left him floundering in a sea of gaslighting and second guesses. And the longer it went on, the deeper she was able to drag him, until the part of him that knew what was happening was wrong had been walled away inside of him and all that was left was her obedient little "submissive".

Yondu's observation validates not only that his position under her had been untenable, but that he couldn't have gotten away from her alone.

Tears fall silently as he listens, lifting his other hand occasionally to wipe them away. "Stakar?" he repeats softly, when the other man's done. "Is that his name, who saved you?"

This place sure as shit can yank the tears out of the hardest of heads. Then again, Devero is as soft as they come, despite being built like he could easily throw someone. Model body and great metabolism like the thinnest shell over a cotton center.

So Yondu just moves to sit right by him, even if they're blocking the stairs, because he's learning. He's learning that his rough voice can lend to comfort someone as well as it can command, and he's learned that leathery, hard presence can provide structural support to something crumbling. So he places himself there as a prop, and as he's already slept in the same bed he doesn't shy from being a literal support, either.

"Yeah," he replies to that alone. "Stakar Ogord... He was married. Respected his wife a lot too. But that did not stop me from lookin'.... maybe thinkin' a little, too." Thinking a lot. Now that he'll never see him again, it's easier to admit.

He realizes, then, something else in what he'd told Devero. Koumyou's last prayer would be for him, but Stakar had made it clear he wouldn't even go to Yondu's funeral if he were to die. It's a stark difference, but one that he came by honest so he shouldn't bitch.

Devero scoots aside as Yondu moves up. It's a tight fit for two solid men in the narrow train stairwell, but not any tighter than two solid men and a scrawny priest in a double bed. And Yondu's got him perfectly figured; Devero slumps against the other man, leaning un-self-consciously into his shoulder.

He's still listening though. And the society he comes from, being married and respecting your wife doesn't necessarily preclude a carnal relationship with someone else. But even if it did: "Nothing wrong with thinking," Devero says. "Goodness knows I've done my fair share of it."

He tucks his arm under Yondu's where they're pressed together, taking that rough blue hand in his own if the Centaurian lets him. "I'm going to guess that 'respected his wife' means he wouldn't have done anything even if he'd been thinking the same thing about you?"

He wonders if there's something more casual in Devero's gestures than his cultural knowledge. The way he easily touches people. If it's more than kindness and more something rooted into his very world, the way that leaning a forehead against another person's can be gently supportive to some, but to a Skrull could be a slow, lingering kiss.

He lets him do it, though, doesn't argue because he seems to need it and he thinks it's helping. Maybe the ease is helping him a little, too, just because over the months those layers of caution have gently been chiseled at.

"She was really good with swords so I woulda probably died so it was a healthy respect. ...But she was real good lookin', I wouldn't have minded an invite. But uh... he hated me real, real bad at the end there. I messed up. But at one time I was worth savin'. He didn't think twice about it. And I put 'im in a position where I broke his heart."

Devero attempts to muffle a bark of laughter in response to Yondu's healthy respect into his fist as cough, not terribly convincingly. But he sobers right back down again as the other man continues.

He hugs Yondu's arm against his side. "What did you do?" he asks, low and diffident. He's careful not to look at Yondu as he asks it, giving the man metaphorical space if nothing else to answer.

"I think if you knew that you wouldn't feel quite so kindly towards me." Even if a few people have said that he deserved to be forgiven for it.

But he mulls it over. Soldat listened to him. Della listened to him. Eva listened to him.

"There was... somethin' like a god. Called a Celestial. His name was 'Ego'. He... he was goin' around from world to world, sowin' his wild outs. Knockin' up a bunch of species. Made a helluvalot of babies. An' one day he decides he wants to find 'em. He knew which one of us to ask. He knew which one of us didn't get how family really worked an'... which one of us just wanted the power that came with bein' wealthy. Bein' truly free. He knew which one of us was the weakest.

"Stakar had this Ravager code. One of the rules... we don't deal in kids. An' I thought I was bein' slick." He says it all distantly, finding some other place in the distance to look at. "If I was just bringin' 'em back to their daddy, that didn't count, right? I was a taxi service. An' he had a whole planet what he could keep 'em on. Nice place, gorgeous even."

He works his jaw. Sighs. "Started gettin' more attached to 'em, more I brought to 'im. Had fun with it. Would tell 'em big adventure stories. Promise their old man was waitin' on 'em. Then I picked up Peter Quill, an there was... I dunno, somethin' that he said when I called 'im. Made me realize none of those other kids'd be waitin' there when I took 'im to Ego's world. His own flesh an' blood, an' he'd just thrown 'em away.

"I ain't a good man by a mile but I'm better than my folks. When I knew what was gonna happen there wasn't no amount of money that'd convince me to take 'im. So I didn't. But when I told Stakar what I'd done, asked for help, that was the end of anything good I really had. Learned a real hard lesson in greed that day that I had to pretend not to know to my dipshit crew. Had to make Quill look like crew, like he wasn't nothin' special. Never had anybody give a real damn about me after that, not unless they was afraid of me."

And there, Devero could make the educated choice as to whether he wanted to sit on that step or not.

Music Car - And a tag with no dialog

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CW: self-destructive thoughts

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