A New Platform [Intro Post September]

[voidtreckermods]

On the Train

"Good morning Voidtreckers, it is day one of the month of Nebula. Points have been updated on the system."

With points updated, everyone can spend the morning shopping. Most people will be expecting the second announcement that comes a few hours later.

"Shortly arriving into a designated void platform. Exit from void in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one." A lurch and a jolt and the windows fill with the fog that means they are at a platform.

The doors open. As usual, those who leave first notice nothing, walking silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. A-Qing, Atem, Beauregard Lionett, Casper LeBlanc Jr, Donatello Versus, Frankie Bacon, Ichiban Kasuga, Kumoko, Lena Sabrewing, Mami Tomoe, Mono, Peter Parker, Reno, Shi Qingxuan, Tobari, Wen Ning; all pass across the platform, not looking back. And then they're gone, disappeared through the barriers and into the fog beyond.

But on the platform itself there are new faces. Wearing hoodies in all four colours, in various states of confusion.

For New Passengers

At first all they can see is steam billowing around them as they come to their senses. As their eyes adjust, they find themselves on a platform. The platform is open to a bright blue sky, speckled with a couple of clouds. It's very warm, enough that they will not want to stay in those hoodies for long. Behind them through the fogs is a set of barriers, set in a brick wall and in front of them is a single set of tracks extending both ways into that same thick fog.

They are standing, in clothes that are not their own and a style they might not even recognise. They are carrying a rucksack on their back. For a moment it seems to just be them, alone on the foggy, blistering hot platform; then the fog begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform isn't large, but it is enough to hold the figures scattered around, all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. Then there is a roaring sound and out of the fog arrives a train. Jet black with gold writing on the side. The Voidtrecker Express. There is a hiss as the doors slide open and out pours a strange assortment of people, over a hundred at least. Some are human, some are less so. Most are wearing the same hoodie in one of the four colours, red, orange, blue and purple, though some are sporting different clothes in a variety of styles.

Behind them, the doors close, and the train is cloaked in the same fog that hides the world beyond the platform.

The Train

After a short time, perhaps ten minutes or so, the fog clears and the doors hiss open again. Those from the train may encourage those on the platform to board. It’s not like there's anywhere else to go and even if there was, you feel a pull. A need to board, a feeling that staying on the platform would lead to something terrible. If that is not enough, there are plenty of people on the platform now, to encourage them onto the train.

Each ICP shows the same message and next to the screens there are stacks of leaflets written by those on the train, with further information (see
'Publications'). They will also find a bunch of posters around the train and might notice the new clock in the standard coach.

The store rooms have been restocked with fresh ingredients, the ingredient this month is a strange meat, yaddon tail.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags. There is a box labelled for purple team containing a stick of rock for each member of purple team, including those who are new. Join in your teams success!

New passengers will find their ticket allows them into their cabins. In most rooms, the occupied beds are obvious, leaving the spotless, empty spaces for the newcomers. Room is tight but there are storage cubbies at the head of each bed, beds fold up and the bottom bunks double as benches for the small table. There is storage under those benches full of spare blankets and pillows.

Departure

A second horn sounds to encourage any stragglers taking advantage of the fresh air, and the doors slide shut. Veteran passengers know what will happen next, but they may wish to brief their new companions.

The train sets off, the fog obscuring the view again as it picks up speed.

"Welcome aboard, passengers of the Voidtrecker Express." A female-coded artificial sounding voice echoes throughout the train. "Please take the time to read the passenger information displayed on the Information and Communication points and familiarise yourself with the layout and emergency exits."

The train begins to tilt, leaving the ground and rising up into the fog-filled sky.

"Entrance into Voidspace imminent. New passengers are advised to remain seated. Entry into Voidspace in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

A shudder, a jolt, a lurch to the left. A flash of light, colourful and blinding. As quick as it happens it is done. The train seems to steady itself. The fog from the windows is gone now, replaced with a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colours.

Welcome to the Void!

Comments

[mustknow]

He hasn't actually seen the pages inside yet, so determining whether or not it's crude remained to be seen! But calling a coloring book a device was a little strange, surely even Ascians had books!

"We don't call them devices, we just call them books. A small book but a book nonetheless. Don't Ascians have books?" He sets HIS book and the tablet to one side and hauls himself to his feet, tugging his obnoxiously orange shirt back into proper place and heading over to see exactly what sort it might be. "Sometimes simple is the best part, it leaves room for innovation. Now, I don't know how much you enjoy things like art for the sake of art and nothing else, but there's much said by many philosophers about art's worth only being in the eyes that view it. Make it worth something."

[wewillwewill]

"Of course we have books." Or at least make use of them. He does appear a touch exasperated at first but calms down. He really is more curious than he is irritated.

"I... hm, mayhap I used the wrong phrase." He gestures at the coloring book in question. When Xehanort approaches to get a better look, it is given a small push, indicating the young man is free to look through its pages.

"I meant do you have these type of activity books? Are there other resources you are accustomed to using?"

As the Ascian's attention is drawn back to the book. There's a frown again, tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yet it seems Elidibus is focused more on his inner thoughts.

"I've not had time for such things as art for art's sake for as long as I can remember." The creation of something new. Someone's uniquely refreshing perspective. The admiration of a master's great work. Surely he had, once upon a time, enjoyed simple pastimes?

Elidibus's fingers begin to clench but before it can fully become a fist he seems to realize and relaxes them again. "If nothing more," he answers slowly, "I would not want to waste the points it cost to obtain this book." It was five, but that was still a lot when he had Convocation stones to get still and no set way to determine how many points were going to be given before each platform.

The Ascian looks at Xehanort. "Thank you for your opinion. I shall look into this book carefully."

[mustknow]

"The parts of Radiant Garden I frequented were not... for leisure and casual activities." He was interested in the science parts! "Nor were their purposes beauty for beauty's sake, or art simply because it is art. But I am not unfamiliar with such things, even if they didn't occupy much of my day."

He had other things to be doing! But he could appreciate their purpose all the same, for those who had the time or interest in indulging.

Did Elidibus never have any time? Or did he simply never have interest in making time? Immortals had plenty of that one thing on hand - time - and to think none was available in the passage of eons to color in a book was simply ridiculous.

"I think it'll do you some good. There's a time for seriousness and there is a time for levity, knowing the difference and applying it will help quite a bit I think." Can't be seriousface all the time!

[wewillwewill]

Memory was also a relative term here. Elidibus spends a bit of time thinking over the matter before offering while Xehanort answers him. His response reflects the results of the Ascian's recollection, "In passing, I might have admired some works wrought by mortals. And Emet-Selch was gifted in building civilizations. Lahabrea..."

Once when the subject came up between himself and Emet-Selch he could not remember. But now there was some clarity. For half a second the Ascian forgets his current self enough to let a brief smile touch his lips. "His creations were marvelous to behold."

Though Elidibus sobers up again, he does appear to have a new resolve. Pencils are taken out of their case and lined up. The cover of the book is opened. The Ascian flips through the pages of the activity book again, in search of something to begin with and in this way Xehanort can see what's within if he chooses to look over.

Though eventually Elidibus does turn back to the blank inner cover and begins to swatch out the various pencils that came with the kit. It's best knowing what he has to work with before beginning, after all.

For all his words earlier, the resolution might have been a long way from inspiration, but it seems he plans to take the exploration of the book more seriously than he might have before.

[mustknow]

"I'm not sure you should set that sort of thing as a bar to reach for a coloring book," Xehanort says mildly. How much of it he believes - most of it - isn't said, but comparing an activity book to 'building civilizations' on a creative level just was asking for disappointment!

He's not going to pry overmuch, art is kind of subjective and not something he actually deals with much, but he's keeping an eye out regardless. "But if it causes you to do something, then it certainly counts as an 'activity book' at least." And has left him certain he should never ask for any such activity book himself.

It really is a bit of a waste of points. But it also might absolutely thrill some of the people working on making an art car..

[wewillwewill]

"An intriguing idea," Elidibus answers. That a coloring-book could hope to reach a bar set by the likes of Emet-Selch and Lahabrea's works. "I almost think they would be able to find a means to return and have words for my actions if I'd put enough effort into such a facade." Of course he does not have faith in such a miracle. His tone is mild and is followed by a shake of his head.

"No, it had occurred to me that I'd taken a moment to admire art for its sake. Perhaps even when I believed more in its function toward our goals. I only thought to mention examples." Pretty grand examples, but examples nonetheless.

Elidibus won't be likely to spend points on another activity book. Other art supplies, on the other hand? Well that's for future plans. For now he'll fiddle with the book that's in front of him and at least, if for nothing else than the sake of the points spent, make sure it is useful.

"What I don't make use of I may barter." A few pages won't make the whole worthless and there's probably no few people who could make copies of the pages to spread around.

[mustknow]

There's a faint sigh from where Xehanort sits. "Then don't make it a facade, if that's the issue. If your friends are the sort to mock any kind of art in any form simply because it isn't grandiose enough, they need a swift kick in the pants, not encouragement or agreement."

His tone is a little sour, something in there touched a nerve even a little bit. Life, especially stolen life such as what they did, was to be lived - or insult that which was taken. "And if I might be so bold, this.. disdain you keep demonstrating for anything un-Ascian doesn't speak well for your position as an Emissary or our people."

'Our people'. What an odd thought, even now.

CW: Lots of FFXIV Spoilers/ShB Spoilers

[wewillwewill]

Friends. Yes, they were dear friends, comrades and family. "Pray forgive me. It was a poor jest on a vain desire. Both Lahabrea and Emet-Selch are gone." There is a finality present in the last word. Immortal, yes. But they could be killed. Whatever negative Darkness there is to grief Xehanort might feel, it is present here.

"No facade, no... reality would return the ones I knew to the present." When their souls returned, they would be different people. Mighty, perhaps, if they survived their encounter with the Warrior of Light intact. Yet the thought of attempting to rise them up with the Convocation's stones now in his keeping left a bad taste in the Ascian's mouth. And Emet-Selch's final actions. To help the Warrior of Light perhaps. But could it not have also been a message to Elidibus as well? He had time and presence of mind to consider such matters, now.

He could turn back the hands of the clock if he prepared and timed things right. But that plan is carefully kept locked inside. The train was not private; it didn't matter if he could or could not trust Xehanort with the plan. Other people could overhear it.

Elidibus is alert to the researcher's tone. And while it doesn't immediately suggest the conversation they had on the obligation owed to the vessels they now possess, as Xehanort speaks up in regards to the Ascian's attitude, the memory is recalled.

Having his position as Emissary questioned cuts deep and also reminds him of recent thoughts on what he would be if he were not Elidibus. The restoration of many precious memories hasn't entirely erased those fears completely.

Xehanort has made a point though. The answer is slow to come but not simply because the Ascian is reluctant on some level. There was some time spent thinking as well.

"...I wonder when I changed. Was it after the sacrifice to create our God? Or before, when the Final Days changed our lives so fundamentally?" Or just the pile of years watching shattered fragments of their people wander unknowing of their fate, calling themselves mortals and seeing how much they are diminished. It could not have taken long, since Elidibus had agreed the best course was their ultimate sacrifice.

He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. You're bold, but you speak the truth. I can't find fault in your words."

He's fairly sure, now, he wouldn't have been so disdainful of the coloring book once upon a time. Before the Final Days, when some new outlook was to be admired and explored even if (or perhaps because of) its simplicity. He wouldn't have needed suggestions or prompting to do so.

"I've recently wondered what would have happened if we had pursued another way to save our world and people." In the midst of grief and regret, true. But it and many more were running high when he was pulled to the train rather than absorbed into the Crystal Tower. "Though even then, I think I had more regret for the dear friends I'd lost than the plight of the mortals."

Elidibus looks at Xehanort directly. Whether it may or may not be discerned, the open nature of the conversation accepts the dark-skinned man's implication that they are of the same species. A willingness to accept the idea this is somehow a far-flung soul of his people. "I do watch these mortals on the train. They are different. Though many repeat the same patterns I'm familiar with it's... helpful they aren't the shattered souls of my people." Most of them aren't. There is one currently. "I can look at them and seek out their worth and not see a poor soul whose light has dimmed and I must save."

The Ascian stops himself. Inhaling and releasing the breath, he simply finishes. "It's shameful to admit you're correct about my behavior and I'll be more watchful. If nothing more, I sincerely wish to better understand them."

no spoilers really. except a few

[mustknow]

The silence on the matter of other people's cultures and worlds isn't interrupted. Hearts were a weighty matter as far as he's concerned, and that deserved as much musing as wondering what, precisely, changed in the passage of time.

Trauma is a terrible thing. The loss of so much, none of which he could understand save the clawing horror of his own actions in the future, that would result in the Final Days for so many other worlds...

"..As I understand it, cataclysms don't really give a lot of time to sit around exploring alternatives." Whatever God resulted, it had worked, hadn't it? And then something went wrong.. "..I wonder if in the process of all of this, your heart too was damaged, as mine is. Hearts are also the seat of memory. With them, emotions. Damage a heart and damage the memories, cripple the emotions.. but hearts too can heal, it seems. In time. With enough encouragement. I haven't observed it yet but I am told it is where my research heads eventually." As a tangent, at any rate, what happens to Nobodies was never part of the goal.. "Your heart, the hearts of those broken and dimmed.. they can heal, and become whole once more. I'm sure if I asked, I could have the research papers I'm certain to have written on it delivered to me, time troubles notwithstanding. Maybe salvation is still possible for all of us.. and we're just going about it in the wrong way right now."

Which in fact they are, but Kingdom Hearts' methods don't really apply to the Source. "I don't.. know as yet what can be done to encourage a heart to regenerate, reforge its chains of memory, and restore itself to wholeness. I can find out."

Either through outright asking, or the power of Science.

[wewillwewill]

Elidibus is listening. Xehanort has already proven to provide something worth listening to by calmly pointing out the Ascian's disdain. But now: 'Cataclysms don't really give a lot of time to sit around exploring alternatives.' It is a very concise summary of the Final Days and also what followed.

It's an almost unconscious gesture when Elidibus raises his hand and rests it against his chest about where the flesh and blood heart would be. But this isn't what Xehanort meant. The Ascian furrows his brow and listens closely to the explanation the researcher gives. A heart can be healed and memories restored? It's not as if Elidibus hadn't been thinking of ways which this might be achieved; time, prompts of the environment perhaps. And distance from the cause of the affliction.

At first, the Ascian muses the flow of thought where it applies to himself. But then Xehanort mentions the others too; the souls of those shattered fragments scattered on fourteen different fragments of Zodiark himself-- thirteen if one does not count the lost Thirteenth. Elidibus's focus becomes particularly intent. "Our work brought the sundered fragments and the reflections of our Star back to the origin through the Ardor. And your research appears to be a parallel. I would very much like to see the research you have. Both present and future."

If there were another way... With care, Elidibus allows himself some hope; not just for what will benefit his people but also himself. Thoughts on the more 'selfish' side bring him back to the subject of his own tattered past.

"I avoided my memories for so long, knowing there would be pain over their constant loss." 'I', Elidibus says. Not 'We'. Whatever affliction constantly scoured at his memories, it may seem it was particularly harsh on the currently present Ascian above the others. And that he could have pursued them in some fashion but made the conscious decision not to.

"The fraction returned are precious and at the same time emphasize what has yet to be recovered." If it can be recovered. It is either with strength or a sense of reassurance to Xehanort that Elidibus continues, focusing his gaze on the other man. "Though I find I've no desire to cast them aside again."

He lets out a noise that's amusement, even if it's not an outright laugh. "This broken Heart concept of the universe you know seems an apt description. The lessening memories of better times surely made it easier to do what had to be done on the path I chose." Most particularly the constant, remorseless cycle of rising the shards of their fellow Convocation members. Were one to fall and be lost to the cycle again, trapped or sealed, it was easy enough to replace them.

[mustknow]

"I would like to see it as well. Apparently I become adept at splitting people into their component parts and keeping them alive and aware while doing so, which is of itself a feat." And one he will have to figure out how to replicate, else how will he ever figure out how to put them back together? "Repairing the damage to a broken being should be simpler than taking them apart and keeping them intelligent.. but getting that information may prove ... difficult. I've no doubt the train will provide it for me if I ask, but those from Radiant Garden will be very much opposed to me gaining any of that knowledge again."

After all, through that work worlds died.

He's been debating of late if it might be worth it anyway. It's not just him at stake anymore.

That was almost more important. It wasn't just for him. "If any question it, and I can restore your heart and your memories, if any complain, tell them it's easier to fight for a cause when you can remember why you started fighting to begin with, and who you're fighting for." His gaze shifts away. It's good advice but he can't apply it himself and he knows it. "I don't know this personally, but I have heard it many times and observed it as well. People fight harder when there's a face in their memory worth fighting for. And I think you and I have more than one face to fight for, if we could... ever recall it."

Xehanort's tone is morose. "I can only guess how you feel about the matter in truth. But I know how I feel, and I'm certain.. if I knew my friends, my family. Their faces, their voices. The world of my origin, the place I belong, then I would have countless new reasons to want it back. Maybe in time I do remember, and somehow the death of entire worlds is part of that goal. Perhaps not knowing simply drives me mad one day. But I like to think in the end, through all of it, these researches and papers and tormented lives and countless vessels, I'm just trying to reclaim what was lost. That.. is more understandable, I think. It's something we can all understand, and want."

[wewillwewill]

There is a long pause after Xehanort speaks. Simply speaking, he's taking the time to weigh the worth of the path the researcher has lay before him. For his duty, for the sake of others, and what ramifications it would have on the delicate balance of peace amongst the passengers of the train.

His own desires are, as should normally the case, a distant last concern. Which is why when he opens his eyes again and voices his thoughts, it's with a careful neutrality.

"We ever strive to place the welfare of the community over an individual." We. His people. Their people. "And because of this I can't in good conscience suggest this pursuit for the risk of the discord it would spread amongst our fellow passengers. Could spread beyond you and yours to engulf others not involved. And I would be hard pressed to deny any reason I could come up with to pursue the matter would not be more to serve a personal desire than any greater good."

And even if it pains him to say it, it seems far more abhorrent to give into the temptation of having not just fragments comitted to stone, but all his cherished memories back.

Elidibus may be keeping a calm expression but it wouldn't be right to say he's entirely pleased either.

"If what I've regained, these precious memories, is all I will have," he says quietly, "then I will be content to hold fast to them. And if a way to obtain the information of your future self's research..." There he pauses, brow furrowed. Elidibus then continues. "If it can be done without creating discord, then I would on a personal level desire the chance to see my memories restored."

He did learn in those fleeting moments after the Warrior of Darkness had bestowed the majority of the stones on to him the precious nature of memories which Xehanort just voiced.