voidtreckerexpress | A NEW PLATFORM [INTRO POST JANUARY]

A NEW PLATFORM [INTRO POST JANUARY]

On the Train

Despite whatever Voidtreckers may have learned or how they feel about those revelations - or reminders - of the precariousness of their situation, the train flies ever onward.

"Good morning Voidtreckers, it is day one of the month of Poi. 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. The weather is dry but there is a chill to the air and a strong breeze." 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. Dairine, Okada Izō, Rapunzel, Satoru and Siebren; 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 thirteen new faces. Wearing hoodies in all four colours and 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 long with a grassy mound behind them. It is blustery and the air is cold, they will be glad of those hoodies.

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, windy platform; then the fog begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

Thirteen figures, 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'). The store rooms have been restocked with fresh ingredients, with cans of corned beef lining the shelves.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags. Those from purple who go to find their prize will find a large box containing a gingerbread train for them to share. Plenty enough to go around, even for the largest team.

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.

Snow Time: Rock Garden

Winter seems to have followed from Osiga and nested in the rock garden. There's a chill that nips in the air and a light snow (real snow) fills the air. A thin cloudy haze at the top of the carriage seems the source. Yet the kaleidoscope of the void will assure that this is no timely world stop.

People might have seen it occurring the night before. Snow falling heavy before tapering off with an odd precision, leaving a heavy blanket over the carriage 'ground'. By morning of Platform Day, a miniature winter has descended, ripe for snowforts, snowballs, angels and snowmen.

It's not just the climate that's changed. Many statues and rock features are missing or moved. Digging below the snow reveals soil now frozen but providing a barrier between the bare floor of the carriage. Keen eyes will see changes are made with safety and available space in mind. The fountain has been emptied but the pond and streams are frozen solid, allowing intrepid spirits to try slide-skating over the surfaces without the risk of breaking through. The mosaics are still around, and enchantments are in place to protect paintings and paper decorations from damp. Any plants have been sent to sleep or taken to safety.

The benches are still around. Paths and bridges are covered with fresh snow, but, as the day goes on, it's trampled down and or scattered. Najaran's woodfolk may be glimpsed near Jingyi's shrine or hiding in the shadows of rocks and statues still present, perhaps even buried in the snow and peeking out. Shy around humans, though those with pointed ears or Hylian lineage may find an easier time interacting.

There are signs on both doors of the carriage warning of the change and mentioning the dressing carriage will have winter gear, and it does: with hats, scarves, gloves and ice skates in a variety of sizes. Dispensers with warm drinks such as coffee, hot chocolate and hot water for tea are available in the Games Carriage.

Early the next day, the snow will be gone and the gardens returned to how they once were.

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!

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She points at him, when he speaks the word, nodding in agreement. He's got that one down exactly.

As for his question...

Not terribly much. Mountains did, though. Always beautiful.

The first question had been light enough; something easy that he hadn't thought more than a second about. But it does make him realize he doesn't actually know anything about Amaya's world, and now he is curious, eyes round and watching her as he, once again, asks his questions.

"What was it like? Where y' lived? Yer a soldier, right?--" because he can see this, if even just from her stance and the fact that Amaya carries her sword everywhere. She'd also sent a message this morning, through the-- oh, the I...CP? if he remembers correctly-- but he hadn't been able to respond to it back then; he should ask if she still has room to train some people before he forgets.

She tilts her head, sliding the blade softly into its scabbard, considering his question. It's a good one, if complex. She looks away, brows knitting as she thinks.

Well, where would you want me to start? There's a lot to it, as I'm sure there's a lot to your world.

That is true~

The redhead perks up with a quick grin as she agrees to his badgering, even if it was only implied. He'll take what he can, and the other worlds fascinate him-- everyone here has such different, wild concept of things, and Esteban has always been a bit greedy over learning about his friends.

"Well; let's start with where y' lived?" Expand the scope afterwards? Esteban briefly pauses to point at Amaya, followed by {house}. He's fairly sure that it's not what he wants to ask; there has to be a sign for "home," right?

"What kinda place was it?" He has the brief idea to sign "small and small" instead of step-by-step, but he's fairly, fairly sure this would not translate At. All.

It's a barrage, really. She shakes her head, though.

I spent the last few years of my life mostly living out of a field tent. 'Home' is a bit of a distant concept. My family had a few residences, not least the royal palace - but mostly home was wherever my family was.

"So y' travel a lot?" This he can appreciate, and Esteban's sunny smile is easy as he leads the conversation once more. With a bit of a delay, he manages to sign {you, go-to, you}. It's clumsy, but most of his attempts are at this stage.

"D'you mind talkin' 'bout them? Yer family, I mean." If she'd rather spin the conversation that way, he's not against it; but he figures a lot of people might not want to have the nostalgia that comes with thinking of home. Even he, a wanderer at heart, is finding it hard not to miss the people left behind. He's excited and eager on the train, barring most recent finds, but there is something about not being able to go back that... well.

It's up to her. He can ask other questions-- He's always curious after all, and each little sliver of information he learns from his companions help build a better picture, a better understanding of who they are.

Patrolled the border, put out brushfires, showed the flag, she signed, by way of agreement. As for the rest...

My nephews are all that's left. The rest have...passed on. It's been rough going for them, poor dears. And now they've got the future of a whole kingdom in their hands.

Esteban's smile is gentle as she recalls her family, even if the subject doesn't seem to be the easiest on her. She would tell him if it hurts too much, right? He's not entirely sure, so he tries his best to keep track of her expressions and mannerism, looking for any clue that she might not be comfortable with the subject.

"What are their names?" He doesn't know the gesture for nephew, nor even for brother or sister yet, so he has to improvise a bit. {Family-son-name-what?}

She works slowly, first using their name-sign, then spelling them out for him.

My nephews. Callum, the older. Ezran, the younger - and the new King of Katolis.

He is diligent in his effort to match her spelling, slowly going through them with a still-clumsy hand. The SCA matches him with its flat, robotic voice, and somehow, the entire experience is all the more surreal from the snow that falls lightly about them. He wants to say something clever, or encouraging, after learning their names, but there's also a hesitation, unsure that there is anything he can say.

She must miss them.

So he changes the subject a bit, trying not to let her fall into too much nostalgia. He can see her family is important to her-- he doubts there is a single conversation he's had where they haven't discussed it at some point or another-- but then that might be his fault too.

"I grew up 'n only child." His hands flutter through simple motions, {my-mother-one-son-me}. (He's kind of proud of that sentence.)

"So I grew up pretty spoiled." It makes him snicker at himself, nose scrunching lightly in his mischief. "She took me all over the world, bit by bit. Guess my wanderin' didn't fall outta nowhere."

There's still places he has no idea where they'd been; a desert near the sea, among other things. Or the land without moons at all-- that one had freaked him out, and they'd moved on pretty fast, because he'd been too young to reconcile a world where he couldn't see the moons at the time.

It all does draw a friendly sort of smile from her. She signs back, slowly.

Travel broadens the mind, so they say. I wish more people would engage in it, as a result.

"So long's you don't get lost~" He snickers a bit at this, amused at the hundreds of times he'd taken a wrong turn, found himself wandering between areas with little more than a 'that-ish way' idea of his destination.

He is particularly keen to learn the "travel" sign, and he imitates her without a second thought, first alone, then in a simple sentence, as he usually did. {me-excited-travel-me!}. Success made him smile so widely that his face might have cracked in the process.

She shook her head at that, arching an eyebrow.

Are you just very into languages?

Hun, that's actually a good question. Esteban had never considered himself as 'academic-oriented' as his father, or another person with knowledge as their tether. But there is some benefits to learning as many languages as possible, not the least of which are communication, and Esteban does love to just... be with others. Share in their words and culture, learn from their ways.

His brief pause has him watch the snow falling from the clear glass overhead, pondering it for a bit. He almost forgets to turn to his companion, but reminds himself that she needs to see his lips properly; the same way she is careful to sign slowly for his own sake, he too wants to make the effort to help her understand him.

"I love people," he replies instead. The smile curving his lips is gentle, but his eyes are bright and earnest as he speaks. "Meetin' them. Laughin' with them. Sharin' stories with them. Words, writin', language? They're all tools we learn t' say that we are here. We exist." His grin brightens when he continues, teasing a bit more now.

"Art's 'nother one, but I don't speak it well~" A snicker scrunches his nose at the thought of his previous failures, knowing a toddler would have more skills than him in that particular domain.

And just like that, kiddo, you've wormed your way permanently into her heart.

We exist, she repeats, with slow gestures, and a nod. We exist.

She thinks this over, and his words. They're going to stay with her for a long, long time.

And neither of us can do art to save our lives, so there's that.

He is quick to pick up on her gestures, noticing that she is repeating them. It feels a bit odd to parrot them over and over again, but Esteban takes comfort in knowing these words in sign-language as well, knowing that they are important.

It's one of the rare sentences that his SCA picks up immediately, instead of his broken-apart sign-patterns. {We exist.} The smile that he returns is kind again, warm, but gentle, as opposed to his usual sunny grins.

Well, until she mentions she too cannot make art. It gets him chuckling again, bright and chirpy as he shrugs both shoulders.

"Let's never enter an arts-an'-crafts competition, unless 't's against each other then~" They could try a friendly competition between fellow not-arts-and-crafters, maybe? He wouldn't mind trying out, but then, there's little that Esteban wouldn't try his hand at, even knowing he's bad at it.

She holds up a hand to her mouth, indicating her amusement.

Let's just hope we never have to use it as a cover on a mission.

There's mischief in his grin as he goes on, unapologetic as he toys with the scenario.

"Ooooor~ we could say 't's a rare for of Art Romantic fr'm over on the south shores." He chuckles a bit at the idea, but apparently wasn't enough of a con-man to actually consider it, adding an easy "not that anyone'd believe it." He doesn't understand art, but he's fairly sure anyone with eyes would know better. Right?

He snickers again, but the tilt of his head turns curious as he considers it. "Is there a form of art y' like, or that's not somethin' for you either?"

There are people who appreciate art for the beauty of it, after all. To Esteban, it's mostly all the same thing; dabs of colours he can't understand. But he can at least listen to someone if they enjoy the arts for their own sake.

Oh, I love art.

She shrugs.

I just never manage to find the time. Responsibility tends to slow things down. I remember loving poetry, for instance, but...well, time and responsibility, as I said. Painting...well, some kinds of it. I like the realistic stuff. I can't really understand the formalistic stuff? You know, like the technique is everything, not the product?

Oh? That's a bit of a surprise, if Esteban is to be honest, but he does grin at her admittance, excited that he might be of help.

"Oh! I'm not one f'r poems much, but Rain's brother used t' read 'em to her! There's a book-- well, really, a theater play-- that was written in verse, an' the main character was an epic swordman~" Maybe he could track it down? It would be a nice gift, and if they have one thing on this train, it is most definitely time; maybe Amaya could benefit from it after all?

"Sh'ld I get it for you?" Oh, he remembers Romeo offering him the same, and he'd been so stubborn and adamant about not relying onto others... and here he is, just wanting to brighten his companion's day, offering without a second thought. Maybe he should have accepted the kid's generosity when it had been offered. He'd find him again and apologize later.

I'd love to read it. I enjoy the flow it. I like when words aren't just about getting things done.

She smiles, a little more sheepishly.

"Then it's a promise!~ I'll get it for you soon 's I can!" He's happy. Happy to offer this to her, happy to be of help. Hell, he hasn't even read the damn book and remembers it going way over his head, but the cadence of the words and their flow had been lovely the few times he'd listened in.

Well, now he definitely has to track Romeo down later. The snow shifts through the air, delicate and soft, but Esteban feels warm, a bit of captured sunshine snatched into his hands by the simple offer. He's missed this, travelling about-- the companionship of others, sharing things with them.

He's glad. He really is glad to have met them all.

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A NEW PLATFORM [INTRO POST JANUARY]

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Fading to black as mentioned~