voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post September]

A New Platform [Intro Post September]

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"The train offers up a vote sometimes, lists a whole bunch of things. They're different possibilities for carriages. Pool is the one Tidus is after, yeah?"

"Indeed. Some others must have requests of their own, I am not sure a pool is likely to win."

"Ah, not even a Cold Pool?" He grins, flicking his fingers toward the train. "You don't think there are enough Lans here to sway a certain vote?"

"There are three of me, we could all potentially react the same way be it refusal or agreement." He visibly is mulling it over, "I know of my brother. What other Lans would say yes?"

"Both your brothers, Sizhui, Jingyi... I think that's all of you. The cuter Wei Wuxian can count, he married in to the clan as far as I know, it'd have been hilarious if you'd married out—some version of you, at least."

He hummed, considering the thought. Who else would be so encouraged...

"Wen Sizhui would likely vote for it too, as long as you asked."

Wangji blinks, his approximation of surprise.
"A fair number of Lans aboard this train. That would affect the vote in no small way."
He looks a little taken aback at 'cuter Wei Wuxian', "'Married into the clan'?" He manages, then shakes his head. "In only truly exceptional circumstances would I marry out, I cannot speak for my other-selves but it is likely the same."

He brightens up at Shizui's name and then looks even more bewildered at the second.
"I do not think I've met him yet. Does he wear the traditional Wen Clothing?"

"Have you not talked with yourself? The one who never was Chief Cultivator. At this rate, you each took such different life paths... Anyway, he's been married here at least once, and so was my cuter self, but both their other halves have been sent away by the train, so I suspect that... anyway. No one's marrying out or in here, it's functionally improbable and no one back home would know the difference anyway."

He claps his hands.

"Yes, to your question about clothing, Wen Sizhui wears more Dafan Mountain traditional clothing."

"No, I have not spoken to any alternate self of my own. I have spoken to both versions of my brother. Both are familiar but very young, they are already on different paths than mine." He thinks a little, "I have seen what I now know to be a Shizui, in Lan clothing from a distance, hence my question on clothes."

He huffs a laugh at the end of Wei Ying's sentence on marriage here. Nothing here will matter to his world, which is equal parts reassuring and disappointing.

"I have seen a few unfamiliar cultivators, but again from a distance. The Dafan colours are... red?" He looks like he's thinking about quadratic formula, trying to think back several hundred years to when he last saw them. "And black?"

"Red," he says, nodding his head. "Black sometimes, but red's the main theme. Black simply compliments it well."

There'd be some joke in that, but it was more his observation; Wen Sizhui has a whole life he's lived that Wei Wuxian wishes he'd known. Desperately wishes he'd been a part of, just as he feels similarly for Lan Sizhui. Sometimes what you most want is family, the one thing you haven't been able to have for a long, long time.

He shakes his head, shooting Lan Zhan a smile.

"Try talking with your other selves. I think you'll enjoy it more than you might suspect! Jin Ling is here, Jiang Cheng, though unless I'm vastly mistaken, I don't know that any of you feel particularly close to him. Lan Jingyi's here, Xue Yang much to general misfortune, though he's kept his murderous tendencies focussed on mission targets, and... hm. Right now, that may be about all of us?"

Wangji makes a mental note and nods, he would like to talk to his adopted son in any form whenever the chance arises. He will have to try and seek them out and get to see a face he has missed very much, after watching it grow up and then old. At the comment about black matching, he snorts a little.
"I had assumed the black was so that no one knew how messy you were." He teases, trying to not always be such a downer.

"I will talk to my other-selves but I do not know how prolonged it will be. You enjoyed talking to your own counterparts?" He shifts slightly, trying not to flinch at the name Xue Yang. He's only partially successful, but perhaps Wei Ying won't notice. "I have nothing to say to Xue Yang, Jiang Cheng simply will have nothing to say to me either." It was true, even on their best days he would butt heads with Jiang Cheng at a conference but they never continued in private afterwards. "I have never really met Jin Ling."

"What, he was never Sect Leader for you?"

Yes, in the end, it's the never meeting Jin Ling that makes him sound surprised. That and, "Jiang Cheng and you both can talk, I've seen it, you know. Truly!"

Building his fragile bridges back to his brother has been one heartaching stretch of his time on train so far. Little by little, forward they go.

"Talking with myselves has been an education. There was one when I arrived, then they left, and—ah, that was Lan Zhan's husband, that one—then not too long after there was the one with the fox within him, with his own husband, Lan Zhan with the cat—it's at the point of ridiculous, really. Seems like any me I've met who lost his body and, presumably, managed to actually die, has had singular success in marriage that no one else in our generation has managed to survive through other than Mianmian."

If only this were a joke. He delivers it wryly enough, but damn if it isn't true on his world.

"Sect Leader Jiang was a good friend to my brother, and a strong ally to have in the wars. Xue Yang... The one here may not be the one from my time, but I would have difficulty restraining myself if confronted with his face." Unfortunately, if this isn't his Xue Yang he cannot seek justice for crimes uncommitted. And even if he was, Lan Wangji is uncertain how that would affect his own timeline.

"I might talk to either if they decide to chat to me, but I would not seek their company and potentially stir up old wounds. Or wounds that do not exist yet... the train playing with time makes this difficult." He is far more interested in the various Wei Ying forms that have passed through, he looks a little sad at the end. He shakes his head a little in dismay.

"Our generation had a few happy marriages in my time, but most were for convenience. Your brother married, Xichen did too but far later after we had reached immortality. Sect Leader Nie did not marry but had several heirs he claimed as his own. The Juniors did fare much better, eventually."

"... Lan Zhan," he says softly, "I think there are larger divides than you may know between the life you've lived and what Jiang Cheng has lived. Immortality is not... is unlikely to be a goal for any of those I know. And whatever contention the two of you feel, I know at heart it's been over... involving aspects of what I'd done, when I was younger."

He pauses, frowning, not sure what becomes true anymore for Lan Zhan, but knowing in pieces what has been true for his brother. He lifts his eyes toward the sky above, and breathes out, holding his water cup.

"Closing ourselves off from the possibilities... I don't advise it, Lan Zhan. It's so sparing to have a chance to know people in any way different from the pressures that define our knowings back home. Or, for you, what world has flown past, and all of us being what, from the shadows of your youngest years?"

Wangji listens with the beginnings of a frown on his face. He doesn't like it, but he knows Wei Ying has a point.
"It is not that I would not speak to them, if they chose to speak to me. I simply doubt that they would."

He looks a little askance at the idea that the only things he has to disagree with Jiang Cheng is Wei Ying. Even if that is somewhat the case.
"It has been some years, the last time we spoke he was... two hundred or so. He was very capable, but he did not seek immortality. We... managed, in the end to find a place that we could discuss some things."

He laughs at that, shaking his head. He doesn't think anything is as simple as what he's saying, but he also wonders, in all these centuries, what it is Lan Zhan's learned. Loneliness?

"Let's head in, Lan Zhan." Train tugging on them like a tether tied around their stomachs, and enough to gather and bring in. Immortality is nothing he reaches for, and maybe no one in his world will either. One more differences in the sliding scales of them all, and does it really matter, in the end?

Curiosities, all these different lives, and yet as immutably true for existing as anything else.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A New Platform [Intro Post September]

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