voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post October]

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A New Platform [Intro Post October]

On the Train

"Good morning passengers, it is day sixteen of the month of Horsehoe. Points have been updated on the system and new stock is available."

They have indeed and everyone can spend the morning shopping. Those who have been on the train a while 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 they are soon surrounded by the fog that means they are at a platform. The first thing they may notice is that this platform is inside a basic shelter, making it warmer than the last couple at least.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing as they walk silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. Adora, Alex Hashimoto, Catra, Cloud Strife, Elizabeth Midford, Feanor, Gerome, Gladiolus Amicitia, Glimmer, Ifrit, Isabella D’Oro, Maru, Nari Reno, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum, Scorpia, Siobahn Chereshei, SXT-2, Tamamo-no-Mae, Tony Stark, Uta, Zidane Tribal

But on the platform itself there are many 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. The second thing they will notice is it is gloomy, even without the steam and fog. They are in a wooden building, open to the tracks on one side. It in a creaky shelter, cobwebs hang from the rafters and there is a peculiar whistle as wind finds its way through the cracks.

They are standing, in clothes that are not their own, styles they might not even recognise. They are carrying a rucksack on their back. For a moment it seems to just be them, alone in the white haze but then the steam begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

The platform is not large and it holds nineteen figures all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. Both left and right the tracks disappear into the mist. 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 into the gloom step a selection of people. 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.

The Train

The doors hiss open. Those from the train may encourage those on the platform to board. It’s not like there is 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 not be a good thing. If that is not enough, there are plenty of people on the platform now, to encourage them onto the train.

Indeed whereas usually there is plenty time for people to be met and brought slowly onto the train, the whistles blow a lot quicker this time, as if hurrying the passengers along.

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. The store rooms have been restocked, with… teddy bear shaped luncheon meat being the main ingredient to be found. There are plenty of other staples.

A new carriage has been added, those that go to investigate will find a room full of lockers, designated as the Armoury. Even for passengers without weapons it is somewhere to secure possessions. There are instructions on how to use the lockers and enough for everyone to claim one.

New passengers will find their tickets allow them into their cabins. They may need to negotiate for beds, especially if they want a top bunk!

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 and you will hopefully find a pillow for your bed if it has not been nabbed by a roommate, there are also spare blankets for if it gets cold.

Departure

A second horn sounds over the noise of the hail stones to encourage any stragglers braving the snow and the doors slide shut. Veteran passengers know what will happen next, they may wish to brief their new companions.

The train sets off, the fog obscuring the view 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. The fog from the windows is gone now, replaced with a kaleidoscope of ever changing colours.

Welcome to the Void!

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There's emotions not his cycling through him. Noticeable by the strength, and how conflicting they are with the stirring of anxiety that's come from being at a platform stop. He's never felt this way about the platforms before. And he doesn't know what gets to him the most: The idea of seeing any he knows (Yuna-), or the reminder of what he tried to do the last time. A guy he isn't sure he knows now; a way of thinking that's been lost to him, that - does it scare him, to think about? The platform? Or is it purely shame?

Whatever it is, Tidus doesn't want to acknowledge it. Not yet. And having no energy for the newcomers sure to arrive, he keeps to himself as best he can on a cramped ride, and his cabin the safest best.

It doesn't stop a knock from coming to the door.

For once, Tidus doesn't have his music up loud, though his earpieces are currently set in while he reads a random book picked from the library. At least until the interruption. He thinks it must be Inigo for a second before the voice comes through, and puzzlement takes a hold of him as he gets up from the bed. He goes over to open it, only delayed by the second he takes to brush a hand down his face.

He hasn't been crying, but there's some urge there in him; evident in the light colour in his eyes when he greets Roland with an otherwise curious look.

"What's up?"

He's glad to see him. Roland's always been glad to see him, but moreso now for reasons that don't need to be spoken out loud anymore. His eyes narrow in subtle delight, nodding in response. The thrumming in his chest has yet to slow down.

"Tidus." He greets him warmly. "Just here to fulfill a promise. I wanted to give you some things. Mind if I...?"

If he was only giving one little thing, as impersonal as it might have been, Roland wouldn't have minded handing it off with a quick chat by the doorway. Leave Tidus to his thoughts, his musings, whatever he was doing to relax. But the most recent thing he bought from the shop probably needed him - and Tidus - some space, so he makes a gesture with his head, to the side at first, maybe to sit by the standard car so his gift delivery was more comfortable?

Edited 2020-10-02 19:51 (UTC)

A promise? That earns the twitch of his brow, a question unspoken in the look despite not being waited for. He understands the permission asked for and steps aside, an uncertain "Sure" being given along with it. Waiting for Roland to get in, so he can close the door.

It's a space as unremarkable as most, though the bathtub on one side gives it some originality (that no one asked for). "My bed's the bottom one," Tidus says, like it'll matter for sitting-- but it's another permission implied, and all Roland will need to watch out is for the book on the pillow - See Every Sunrise - and little else.

And whether Roland sits or stays standing, Tidus keeps on his feet; not really knowing where to put himself immediately (and in his own room!). Asking, once he thinks Roland is settled, his arms folding over his stomach, "What's this about promises?"

"Yeah. I told you I'd come find you, right? After the mission."

Roland enters innocuously, and it's a lucky sight that they'd be alone for now. He supposes it makes sense. Platform days are usually the busiest times of these short intervals in between missions. And the bathtub does draw some interest in Roland - reminded of the first time they ever met, in a corridor where his points didn't quite add up and Tidus was taking note of prices. Wanting to tell the train off for giving his roommate, who was a whale, the improper living arrangements. A lifetime and a half ago. He smiles at it, but he doesn't linger there. When he is prompted, Roland nods in gratitude and sits by the edge of his bed, carefully sliding the book behind him. The title of the book isn't lost on him either, but at this point he was stalling, staring at the nest Tidus has made for himself with some form of genuine curiosity of his own. Beds often spoke volumes for someone's personality, after all.

But this isn't what he came here for. He grows tired of his own distractions and decides to pat the space remaining beside him, twice, a soft patter against the linens. "Come on. Get comfy for a sec. They're in my Arms."

Edited 2020-10-02 20:33 (UTC)

...he did? The mission was a lifetime or two ago in his head, emotionally exhausting, and while he hasn't forgotten some details of their encounter--their last in particular--Tidus apparently forgot that one. It's a reminder that sparks some stirring emotion in him; thankfully, too quiet to become embarrassment or anything stronger.

But from an observation of Tidus's bed, the sheets are mostly crumpled; largely spread over the bed, but in dire need of an iron. A more colourful, cotton blanket sits folded in the corner near the tiny store-holes in the wall, kept out of the way, unused. His Arms Band was in one of those holes too, along with his notebook, pen, and his washkit in another.

Other than that, therewasn't much else--not in the way of personal souvenirs anyway.

Tidus moves to sit by Roland easily enough; hands on either side, and he pushes himself in, what little way that is. A leg coming to fold under the other, and Tidus leans forward, arms crossed over one another.

"This something for the supplies? You don't have to go through me..."

It's a guess. Unless there's something else Tidus is forgetting, and he's thinking right then, evident if Roland were to look at his face. Perplexed, 'cause what would the guy have for him? He couldn't say he got him a sword and chide him for never having one on him.

Roland's initial survey of his beddings only leads him to quietly think to himself - 'Has he put this in the wash? Purple's got laundry duty. Maybe I can volunteer?' Thankfully, he doesn't voice this out; just stares at the wrinkles, and leaves that for another time. Sooner than later, maybe. Wonders if his pillowcases are being cleaned routinely, too...

The older man chuckles and settles in as comfortably as he can upon Tidus joining him, tucked under the bottom bunk, knees not quite touching but could if he crossed his legs the other way. "No, it's got nothing to do with supplies." Roland hesitates. Feels his tongue grow a bit heavy. Gift-giving isn't his specialty, he'll be the first to admit it, but what else could he do when their hands were all tied with limited resources, in more ways than one? He's been thinking about them since Irivar anyway - both of them - so he wouldn't have been able to rest until he did something for them. Something. Anything. What made sense? He thought about it, until he finally arrived at what was natural.

He doesn't clear his throat. That's definitely not nervous energy.

"I got you some gifts."

I got you some gifts. Tidus pause, or so his person does. The straight admittance, the clearing of the throat--the lack of a gift to give over, yet the fact there was a gift in the first place to receive. It's a surprise, if awkward; only awkward in the way Roland seems to be approaching this. Awkward in the way Roland's being.

"A guy cries on you-" he straightens his back some, arms coming up his legs in the motion, "-and you buy him presents?"

A joke, but not heavily given, and a level of personal that Tidus doesn't really want to linger on, leave in the open either. "What is it?"

He'd make guesses, but he doesn't want to--would rather give Roland the opening or nudge he seems to be waiting for.

Now, that gets him to loosen up a little bit, unused to the action but more receptive to Tidus's casual jest.

"Hey now, go easy on me. Didn't know there was a rulebook for these things." He answers lightly, nudging the arm nearest his. "And in my defense, only one of these are new. I got it even before Irivar." He takes a breath and out of his Arms Band comes a circular package, wrapped in paper and twine. He holds it in his lap for a moment, remembering exactly what was behind the packaging. If things turned out differently for both of them, he wouldn't have to second-guess things so hard. But now, knowing what he knows, what they spoke of underneath the cover of an alien twilight...He hopes he will still like it, regardless. Roland glances to the side, smiles and offers it to him at last.

"Here." He says, lowly. "Consider it a small victory against the train."

Should he choose to open it now, Roland will watch with sharp eyes and a trepidation lurking just below the surface. Tidus will find something he may not have expected, but is the closest to the real thing as they would ever get. A circular disk - a clock that can be attached to a wall. Instead of numbers however, there are colors in gradient transition. It's already active, and though it arrived in a light hue of red, the clock is now slowly turning deeper and deeper into its spectrum - red, to orange.

Tied with an other piece of string to hold it up; a letter folded into fours. Instructions in block letters; steps that Roland was able to decipher after days of study and deliberation about how it works, timed by the hour if they used their SCA's. At the bottom, another scribble: If you want to order more. 'A fully functional wall clock that can tell the time on the Voidtrecker Express.'

He feels better now that he's given it to him. Folding his arms back against his chest, his gaze now leveled with the ceiling of their tiny accommodation. He smirks, allowing some mirth to color his tone.

"...should I have gotten you flowers and chocolate, too? Heh." A return to Tidus's joke, just to break the mood if there ever was one.

A victory against the train. What could that even mean? More than anything, Tidus is perplexed, his mind coming with zero ideas as the packaging - the wrapping thin, its contents weightier - is handed to thing, put on the lap Tidus makes with his folded leg coming to join the other off the bed. He looks at it for a moment in this hidden state before opening it up, and seeing...

...

a.... colour wheel?

The confusion washes over him, inner and out. A frown of mouth and brow, and he picks up the folded letter with it, which he picks up, asking, "--Do I got to read it when you're right there?", his tilted brow more humoured when he asks it, looking at Roland.

"I wouldn't say no to chocolates - Inigo'll appreciate the flowers more."

Roland makes a face of amusement; a cross between trying to hold back a genuine chortle and trying to downplay an embarrassing chuckle. "It's a clock." He says, helpfully, though he can't blame Tidus for not getting that right away. Roland wouldn't have known that either, if he wasn't the one who placed the order.

"And sure, I'll give you privacy while you read my top secret love letter. The chocolates are to follow." Roland jabs, not missing a beat as he looks away just for emphasis. It doesn't last of course; he'll offer side glances from time to time, finally feeling a bit more like himself regardless of the initial confusion. "I tried to assign it numerical values on my own, but I'll be honest with you. Even that's gotten me stumped. Someone else on this train will probably have the brain power for it, but for now, may the first ever void clock serve you well."

"A clock?" Tidus echoes, 'cause it really needs to be repeated as he takes another look at the.... no, it's a colour wheel. It's definitely a colour wheel.

And he would have a lot more rebuttals to speak against the contraception if he couldn't believe what he was looking at. Unfolding the letter without more than a scoff at Roland's jokes, reading through it - "You got better writing," murmured out - with the quizzical eyebrow not shifting its spot on his face.

Colour goes from one to two and then goes back? For once it's not Roland's writing he's having to decipher but who in the void thought this clock was a good idea. For a clock.

"You're not kiddin'." Tidus checks the back, then returns his attention on the clock. Checking what the 'time' was meant to be on the sheet, and then currently set on the device. "I guess Webmind? Maybe Senku? Or- Kaiba's got something to do with machines." Not that he'd know if to ask him about it or not, but...

This was actually a clock. Tidus lets out a breath, taking it in--the one thing he's been complaining about since forever, and it's this.

"No wonder everything about the void is a pain in the ass, huh."

"Hey. My handwriting's been printed on money." As if that proves Tidus wrong. But he still offers that opening regardless, a challenging quirk of his eyebrow thrown Tidus's way too. Besides that, Roland can't disagree with anything else the teen reacts to. He makes a sound, something akin to what-can-you-do-right? before he takes a gander at the clock face, checks his SCA for a few seconds, then peers back at the device again.

"It's quarter-past...dark red. I think." He shakes his head with only a hint of exasperation. "Yeah, go to anyone of them. Please. And let me know what they can decipher. Then we can call it a total victory against the train. And the pain in the A void." ~~BAD WORD.~~

Roland leans back on the bed, his palms extended from behind until he can rest against the mattress a bit more relaxed. "It's around twenty-five points. As soon as we can master how to tell colored void time, we can ask for volunteers to buy a clock themselves. Put one in cars with a lot of foot traffic." He smiles, a hint of fondness, controlled but present. Still joking, a way to release a bit of that tension pooling in his shoulders.

'My handwriting's been printed on money' OK Roland.

Without thinking about it, watching the clock and its dumb way of deciphering time, Tidus leans back too along with Roland, finding the wall to rest against. This small time-teller. Looking at it, being in this quiet of the cabin that-- he isn't sure he appreciates, but lets his mind think maybe more than it should-

"It's a small thing to care about in the long run, right? Time... we should be worrying about other things."

He doesn't voice it as a chide, or as self-deprecating; more of a thought drifting in, some kind of half-hearted reflection. Here they were stuck on a kidnapping train, and he worried about the time. When either way their time was limited, they only had as much of it as the train allowed.

But he doesn't even remember much about caring about time either. Two weeks has felt like an eternity, and everything he knew - it's out of place with the now, with reality. He's not even sure how he feels, looking at this device now.

He looks at Tidus as he muses, just listening and letting the words drift, coming into their own sense of meaning. Tidus most of all, would have a lot to say about the subject of time, now that Roland thinks about it. And it's precisely why he didn't know if he should be gifting it for him to begin with - especially now, of all moments. But there's little regret in Roland's eyes, just that things have shifted now, for better or for worse. He wouldn't have known. Tidus wouldn't have been able to predict it either.

He keeps quiet, just hums deeply, a rumble against his chest. Eventually, he does answer, shifting in his spot on Tidus's bed, a lot cozier than he gave it credit for. "It's yours, regardless." He eventually says, voice still warm and low. "Just thought to try putting in an order, in case the train takes it against you for complaining about clocks for so long." Another gentle nudge, a poke in the direction of humor but he's still thinking, still wondering how they had gotten from throwing footballs and asking Tidus for an exhibition, to sitting in bed pondering about the nature of time and the void they're prisoners to. Or in this case, the irony that the same void is the one that keeps Tidus anchored to them.

When it feels like there is a lull between them, not uncomfortable in the least, Roland will sit further back in, allowing his legs to straighten just enough so that he doesn't accidentally let his boots touch his clean sheets. His mood doesn't quite change, the nervous energy not as heightened as before since the hardest part is over, but there's an uncertainty there. Or a softness that isn't usual of him.

You wouldn't hear it, though. "I've...got something else for you. One last thing. Do you mind looking away, or closing your eyes for just a sec?"

Tidus doesn't mind when Roland speaks, doesn't mind the silence. It's manageable in here in this space, and with the clock before them - the 'clock', designed to shift by colour, it's as if they have plenty of it. Time. Plenty of time to muse in silence, be unmoving. Doing nothing.

A state his mind maybe shouldn't get in, but it's easy to, nonetheless. Tius huffs in acknowledgement to the joke, a noise lost to the silence. Disturbed only by Roland when he speaks again, and Tidus doesn't look at him right away- but certainly does at the request to look away from him. An unintentional contradiction.

"What?" A blink, and the request is settling in. A twitch of expression and tone that can be mistaken as humour follows suit, flatly so. "You're really asking me to look the other way."

Look, he will, he just really needs this to be loud and clear so all four walls of the cabin knows it too.

Roland shoots him a look, raises his eyebrows once so that it disappears beneath the bangs of his dark hair. "Uhuh. Why? Nervous?" The president asks, not without a sense of dry humor of his own. And maybe he's doing that just to deflect his own feelings on the matter, unused to the act but desiring to do it right regardless.

"Just checking," his reply more heavy with humour than anything sly or testing. But look, just so Roland knows he isn't looking, Tidus shuts his eyes with a- "Eyes closed - tell me when to open them."

Come on then, Roland. Time for this important surprise.

He trusts Tidus enough to know he won't go against his word, so Roland chuckles and...doesn't prolong it anymore. Truth be told, this wasn't the first thing he wanted to buy for Tidus the moment he got the chance to check the shop; check his points replenished from last month. He recalls a distinct pair of earrings that would have completed his merchandise, the necklace with the emblem of his team on his person constantly. But after Irivar, after everything, Roland's instincts drew back. It wouldn't have been right. He couldn't predict at all what it might have made him think; it might have been an added weight that he couldn't bear to place upon him now.

The partial story of Zanarkand reminded Roland of something else instead, and maybe in the end it was the right move to make. A gift that would remind Tidus not of the ghosts or the fears, or the guilt and trauma; but one completely new. One from a friend who pledged to stay by his side.

Roland faces forward and touches his hand to his chest, eyes drifting shut. The Arms Band begins to thrum as he takes it from the hammerspace, his body glowing with a brilliant blue light, almost like a prism. It is warm, comforting, and at the proximity they're sharing shoulder to shoulder, Tidus may feel it too. His final gift rests now on his lap, and Roland is pleased to see it when the hammerspace closes up again. He gestures his head to the side; a jerking motion, swift and sure. Towards his companion, waiting.

"You can open your eyes now, Tidus."

He'll feel the presence, first. He doesn't have to reach out. When the darkness behind his lids fade, and he adjusts back to the car's overhead light, Tidus will find it staring up at him in wonder. It is made of water, bubbles floating up against the top of his head, its crown made to resemble grand fins, astounding corals, gems of the deep blue sea.

Roland speaks not before long.

"Meet Hibber-Gibber the Hopeful." He says, still smiling, watching it begin to approach, sensing Tidus from its own nexus of ancient magic. "A high higgledy. And it's yours, now. If you'll allow it."

Hiiiig! Piggle!

Tidus feels something beside him, for sure. He knows the use of an Arms Band well by now, but he knows this is--more than that. A more that has him wanting to open his eyes and see, but he does the opposite, scrunching them, doing his best to behave when that's not what he wants to be doing.

Everything darkens slightly on the other side of his eyelids. Then finally, the permission is given, and Tidus opens them up; the haze of colours adjusting into their lines, given definition--

a thing of a crown, attached ... hovering above the head of a creature staring up at him in some kind of awe or wonder. Tidus recognises it as one of those creatures that Roland has, but he's taken aback, surprised. 'It's yours, now. If you'll allow it.' Its tiny cry, Tidus parts his mouth in his search for anything to say.

"I... uh... me?" He doesn't look away from the creature, his surprise not receding. What should he do? What should he say? He's never had a pet before! Is it bad to think about it as a pet?

"What's uh... ...up?" he asks the little guy. ... then, quickly to Roland, voice hushed, "What do I do?"

He folds his hands against his stomach, crossing one ankle over the other. The higgledy is still studying Tidus, but that's only because Roland never intended to ask Hibber-Gibber to follow him. The intention was always for Tidus. And so it attempts to reach out to the teen, reading his heart, eager to ride on his frequency.

Roland smiles at the oceanic spirit, big enough to be picked up with two hands, and whispers back.

"Well, what else do you do when you meet someone new? Introduce yourself so it can attach to you."

And by attach, Roland means it to an almost literal level. They read their owners hearts, accompanied by their own disposition since they too, were born from the heart of someone else. But he would save his little rationale for until Tidus feels comfortable, watching keenly on any interaction that may follow now.

Is this what getting a pet is like for other people? Confusing? It's watching - studying? - him intently, and Tidus is wondering if there's something about his face that's particularly new. Where did it come from? Were these things used to being around people?

...He might be overthinking this encounter. Roland is telling him to introduce himself, so-

"Uh... heya! Wassup?" A beat, and the he brings up a hand. "I'm Tidus, how do you do?"

And he offers the hand, or the forefinger of his hand? Still held out, whichever or whatever the higgledy wants to take, 'cause this is the polite way to act, isn't it? It's certainly less boisterous than the fire one. ...maybe because it's fire?

Hibber-Gibber finally gets that opening it needs, latching on to Tidus's hand with its short arms, without fingers, looking more like tiny sticks jutting out from its watery body. Roland doesn't interrupt; knowing full well that indeed, it is quite different from the one he bought for himself. Even he's fascinated at it, seeing how they connect.

And instead of doing what is expected - to shake Tidus's hand, or whatever else might be its equivalent as an ancient magical creature - the high higgledy begins cooing, rubbing its cheek against his new owner's skin like it's trying to soothe a burn. Roland won't know it, but the high higgledy is already attuning to Tidus - his heart, his mood, his disposition. More than that, it is attracted to...something less savory, feeding off whatever negative or unpleasant grief he keeps to himself. Like it's absorbing it, wanting more of it, so it can send back its own energy; cool waves against a hot, sandy shore.

It's bond complete, Hibber-Gibber lets go, appeased and ready to be at his beck and call. It reappears in a flash of light on Tidus's lap, and begins to dance.

Roland snickers under his breath, but done in good nature. He's guessing Hibber-Gibber likes his master. He quietly wonders if its reciprocated. "Wish mine did that."

....it's...kinda cute....

And Tidus has no more of an idea of what to do than he did five seconds ago. The rubbing of it against his fingers, the tiny sounds it makes as it does so; again, cute, and also a feeling strangely...pleasant. Because it is cute? Or is that sensation something else...

And then it's dancing. And then it's dancing. And now here they are, with a higgledy doing a higglejig on his lap and Tidus's hands out so he won't accidently catch the small thing and interrupt it!

Oh look, Roland's still there beside him. He nearly forgot about him.

"H-hey, what do I feed it? What does it do? Isn't this where you're supposed to pull out a manual on me?"

Help Tidus is seventeen and doesn't know the meaning of responsibility!!!

He's too accustomed to the higgledy ways for this to surprise him, but he can't deny that Tidus's reaction is giving him a reason to let out a breath, a sigh of relief almost, hiding behind a chuckle. The nerves finally leaving his system, though he has yet to really tell Tidus the why's of his choice. He's prompted at least, to return to full attention just as he grows settled on this spot by Tidus's bed, at the mention of a manual and what to feed him.

He sits up just a bit straighter, nevermind that Tidus was trying his best to stabilize a being more powerful than he realizes. "Higgledies don't need to eat to survive, but if you want them to be really strong in a fight, then you start feeding them." He extends his hand out somewhat to summon a book - a new one, fresh off the store. 'My First Higgledy Cookbook' is printed in bold, embossed letters on the leatherbound cover, and he skims it right away.

It doesn't occur to him that Tidus might see the title and read it...differently. He's already engrossed in the reading, a finger to his chin, eyes narrowed in interest.

...He knows what he's doing. Don't worry, he'll find the answer to those questions! He never claimed to be the Higgledy expert, okay!

Edited 2020-10-03 18:03 (UTC)

Fortunately, context is a powerful thing, and what had Tidus more baffled was 'you don't need to feed it, but also you should probably feed it' that he received. Like yeah, no kidding, President Obvious!

And look at this guy, making them wait. Both him and the higgledy, of whose name he'll need to ask Roland for again (Higger-be? Hibble-be-Bibble-be? Okay, now he's just confusing himself).

"What do you like to eat?" Tidus decides to ask the higgledy instead. And considering it's all...water-like in appearance. "Fish? ...seaweed?"

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