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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He inhales deeply, fills his lungs with air, before he releases that breath stuck in his chest. Relaxed, almost. In a manner akin to Tidus recognizing the end of his tale before anyone else could even mourn such a fate. An acceptance, a recognition born from irrevocable loss.

"I don't know." It's the most candid he can put it. Roland's never been one to lie, or sugarcoat the truth for someone else's benefit, including his own. "That's not something I've got any control over, it seems. Never has been. Getting sent to the second world wasn't my choice, either."

Roland became an aide to the king in the second world - not a role where one expects to return to the first. Tidus is quiet, but cognizant to the meanings that come with it. A life left behind; a people. Who knows what else? Family, friends...

"Sorry. Even if you're okay with being in the kingdom..." Even if Roland has come to accept his fate. It's still a life lost, and the more he thinks about it, the more his curiosity can't help to pry.

"Do you know why it happened? What sent you there?"

"I do. I know."

A tale for a tale. Roland doesn't mind anymore, can't find any friction in telling Tidus what he's asking for. The spaces in between Roland's story that has never truly been filled, even when his actual memories were right there in the open for all to see. It's never been important; it's never been relevant for the task at hand. Too long, too many details. That's what he's always said. The usual spiel.

That was before, now is now. And at least this time, Roland's retained his agency by actually wanting to answer, without magic or strange islands forcing it out of him. So he goes.

"The first world and the second world are connected." Roland regales, and for this he does take his time to say it right. Make sure nothing is left too closed or open, establish the foundation before building up. "I can't explain why, but I've been told it's an ancient magic, too old for even some in the second world to remember. People in my world don't know about it. Regardless, that connection exists, and sometimes people who are born in one world, share a soul with someone else in the other." His head leans back against the wall, eyes slowly closing as if seeing images from the back of his lids.

"Soulmates, essentially. And good 'ol me won the lucky draw. Heh." Roland creaks one eye open, glancing at Tidus almost wryly, a dry joke. "And what that means is, whatever happens to me? Happens to my soulmate too. It's part of the package."

Edited 2020-10-13 17:41 (UTC)

Connected worlds. Tidus listens without knowing where the story may go, or what it means, without a guess. It didn't sound anything like Zanarkand and Spira; two separate worlds in a sense, but not to the extent of actually being real on both sides. Watching Roland as he speaks, leans back his head and closes his eyes; meets his glace with a perplexed and puzzled face.

"Then... what happened to your soulmate? Did he get flung to your world?"

What happens to one, happens to the other. What else is there, that that could mean? Did they just trade places? Was that it? There's a lot missing, whether Roland knows the actual story himself or not.

"More of what happened to me, first."

He opens his eyes again, resolve like steel, and decides that he will return the trust granted to him that day in Irivar today, on Tidus's bed, in the quiet of his room. No better place to say it out loud; in the company of someone like him, a friend, someone who's been through the pain.

For this, Roland removes his arm around Tidus's shoulders, resuming his hold with one over the other pressed firmly against his chest, crossed like a defense when really it's more for his own comfort. Gaze straight ahead, staring at the wall opposite the bunker bed.

"At the time that I was president, the world was close to a global war. One nation against the other, ready to invade each other's borders for power. I did my best, did all I could to protect our country from it. Drafted laws that put the people first, made sure we didn't look like we we wanted to be a part of that mess." Roland swallows thickly, the arms crossed growing tighter, ever so. Tongue like lead, unexpectedly feeling a memory as if he's still there. "But it wasn't really enough to stop the tides. When the waves come, you won't be able to swim away no matter how hard you try."

A pause, only for a breath and nothing more.

"I was on the way to an international summit for peace. We were going to propose to unite all countries under one banner before it was too late. That's when it came. The end." His voice lulls into a striking low melody, nostalgic but melancholic. Dulled pain, not as sharp as it used to be. "I saw it from the car, the missile. It happened fast. Short of stopping time itself, it was going to hit its mark. It did, and in seconds everything was leveled. Everyone. I was going to die with them...but when I came to..."

Roland unfolds his arms, stares at his hands as if seeing them again for the first time. Smooth, without wrinkles or marks. "...when I came to, I was saved, made young again. I was brought to the second world, Tidus, because someone was looking out for my soulmate. If I had died, they would have too."

Without the arm around him, nearly forgotten after a point, Tidus draws himself to sit up while Roland leans back; resting his weight on his arms secured either side of him, his head turned to give Roland all his attention.

And it's a tale that starts with war -- isn't that a familiar one. Except this time, a war lived through, a war known - a war not yet lost to time. Tidus doesn't know what that's like; when it's not set a thousand years in the past, with all that's recalled is the consequence. And there's another kind of bizarre fascination to hear about it. To know for once the details, what a life was like in that time.

Until- The end. It's a silence of its own, a drop in the story. Tidus imagines an empty canvas before Roland even goes on, but as he does--it becomes more severe, more real. What exactly the end means, and it twists at Tidus's gut, his expression uncomfortable with the rest of him.

He's not really quiet, once Roland stops. A small sputter, before-

"Why?" He chokes the word out, stumbling over his inability to understand -- how none of Roland's story makes sense. Not now about the second world, but- "Why would anyone wanna go and start a giant war like that? Were things really going that bad where you're from?"

Roland isn't one to laugh out loud but such a reaction earns one, though it lacks any semblance of joy or mirth. How does one even begin to say it, describe it? The kind of world he inherited, voted into office too soon...Earth's tapestry tearing at the seams before he ever got a fighting chance to fix a thing.

"Yeah, that's one way to describe. Things were really bad." Roland chances a look at Tidus, meets his gaze halfway. "There was a lot of heat on my country from the start. We were a relatively young nation, but we grew to be one of the biggest superpowers in a short span of time. The fact that it was our initiative to bring everyone else together under one alliance...You can imagine it rubbed some people off the wrong way. And that was that."

Or, in other words, power has never been pretty. And the unspoken truth is heavier than what he makes it out to be; he knows that one nuclear strike would have started a domino effect worldwide. It was effectively the end for all of them; every country, every citizen on that globe. He realizes the gravity of his collective loss quite late, reminded of how much was taken from him in that instant only when he sees the same thing happen in the second world.

And that was that.

There was a familiarity to those words. One that leads into another, a man standing upon an edge, looking down at the end of the world. And Tidus isn't sure if the similarity is apt, but in that moment - without anything he knows he can say, no words of comfort meaningful when you're looking at a closed story - he can't help but find himself there again, listening to Auron.

'I wanted to change the world, too. But I changed nothing. That is my story.'

"Roland..." His head bows, realising the weight that Roland carries. More than his; and more than his has ever been. And what was it like, coming from that ending and having people like him saying he should try and jump into power here - make a difference?

It makes sense, Tidus figures, why Roland had wanted him to do it instead. Thoughts rolling, struggling to turn into anything significant. He wants to apologise, but the gesture is weak on his tongue.

When his name is called, Roland turns to look at Tidus through his profile, watches him stare at his lap while the pieces fall into place. He allows a beat to pass before Roland touches Tidus's shoulder with a heavy hand, a recognition; a piece of comfort. "Hey, now. Why the long face?" he says first, not exactly an attempt to break the silence, heavy like fog. But as Tidus himself is so used to the feeling, the truth behind his own story, so too is Roland used to the ache. The shadow following him like an old companion, welcomed every time they come through the door.

But this isn't what he wishes Tidus to feel. So he retracts that sentiment quickly. He can be honest with Tidus, most of all.

"It's okay." Roland says dazedly, remembering. "It's not as simple as going back to the first world. That's just how it is." The heaviest burden of all is what he overcame the moment he wakes up in Evan's room, wondering if he might be dreaming or just a part of the living dead, existing but not really alive. Discovering what he has about his own fate, shared by another tormented by the weight of the crown.

"I was ready to stay in the second. Maybe the work to save my world was there all along, if they're really connected. Who knows? And if life's got different plans for me, and I do get to come back...Evan taught me you can start again. Even if all I'll come home to is an empty country." Roland will never admit his fear out loud, too much for him to hear coming from his own lips, but he will remind himself of his mettle instead. In the waking world, at least, he is stronger than this. He won't let the darkness escape the cage of sleep, of silence.

Edited 2020-10-14 09:20 (UTC)

It was one of those times where one had to accept the inevitable. Where hope fails, where the hard work and desperation to make everything right doesn't come together, and there's nothing but an emptiness left behind. No-- that isn't true. There's more. But it's a feeling there in the gut, knowing you can't turn back time. You can't fix or change anything, even if you were to go back to that single day. Repeat it over and over...

Tidus lifts his chin to the touch, the pull of his mouth sympathetic, lost, all he can offer - no less of a long face than Roland already sees. Hibber-Gibbers is a warm reminder in his heart, a presence in his thoughts. 'From one end comes a new beginning. You know this too - hiig!'

There's no knowing what waits for Roland, if anything does in his first world. If there's a way back to it, if he ever finds it. There's always a wish for a more definite answer, but Tidus knows he can't give one. He knows he can't offer what ifs?, that it isn't his place.

But looking at the man now, Tidus pinches together his lips.

"...You did everything you could. I know you did." Whether Roland's heart has answers for that already, that his best wasn't good enough, that he needed to be more. "...All we can do is try. As long as we tried..."

And it's hard, not to think of Zanarkand himself. Did I try hard enough? Squeezing his hands on his lap, the pulsing moment of emotion in his heart, reaching his throat. But this feeling of grief isn't one that he wants to let out, to linger out. To let it try and drag him back down.

So, with some kind of mirth on his lips: "Sucks when your last game isn't as great as you wanted it to be."

But it was what it was.

But I can do more. I have to.

He nods at Tidus in gratitude, mouth slightly upturned as he grips his shoulder one last time before he too, rests them back on the cover of the book on his lap. Unable to put it back in his Arms, just because it feels better to have something there to look at when he thinks, when he finds the words. Even his own story is foreign to him, Roland never quite having the interest in telling people the details of the lives he's lived before. Hearing that affirmation is...strange, not in a bad way, just alien to Roland who refuses to stop. Tidus telling him, believing him to have done all he could for his home, is inviting and warm. Reminiscent of a time when their roles were reversed.

And what a perspective to offer! It resonates such that Roland doesn't stop the laugher, however short it comes, a burst of dark humor that lightens his mood. "Hear, hear. I'll cheers to that." A pause, before he shakes his head, as if trying not to say something but eventually does. "...There's always the next one, champ. On a another playing field, with a different goal."

That a new kingdom can rise from soot and ash, fire and brimstone; it's the only thing he's got left to hold on to anyway. It's the same determination that allowed Roland to send messages across the sea of a another planet, through the void, to reach two worlds in faith that they will make the journey.

"You're an advisor now, a new world to help." Hope it goes better than the last one, he has the forethought to not let out. But it's a good future to look to, and he doesn't begrudge Roland. That he got another, real second chance. "You really can't keep away from doing everything you can for everyone, can you."

A joke, or a tease, because does he even need to add the rest of what that includes? A team lead now, his own efforts on the train. He'll always gravitate to the work that can make him extend aid as far as it can reach. He'll always want to help as many people that the powers of government will grant him to.

And maybe with that lighter note, the clearer shine of hope in a future, in life and their efforts, Tidus can smile warmer, more sincere.

"I hope you find out more. I know you won't give up."

That gets the most out of Roland, the thought that regardless of how many worlds he ends up in now, the work for him never ends. That he'll never give up, even if it looks like he's settled in. He matches that smile too, shedding his defenses completely. Tidus feels like a kindred spirit in a way, a connection that Roland recognizes between the two of them, born from sorrow, similar where it counts.

He won't give up. Not now, not for the people of this train. For his new friends, or for the ones he's left behind. Not for his nation, or for his son who he'll never stop fighting for. Yeah, Tidus has got that right off the bat. Despair be damned.

Roland nudges him, matching that effort too. "Heh. What can I say? Old habits in old men don't just disappear overnight. Be scared if I stop."

"I don't want you to stop," he grins, nudging the man back. "Just don't forget about teamwork. One guy can't change a world - or a train. Put one of your votes to it. Someone else to help you and Glor. You're too willing to do the work of a hundred."

He may be jesting, and is this the time and place to chide Roland on his work ethics? Why not. Never let these overworkers get their way. Of overworking!

"Speaking of. Did we get fifty new Purples this stop?"

"So that's a 'no' from you on my early retirement plan? Heh." Roland replies lightly, clouds passing them by now. "But I hear you. I'll do right by everyone. You included." And he'll keep asserting that even if Tidus will dismiss him; it's part of the charm now, he thinks. It's enjoyable at this point.

He crosses one leg over the other before replying, a bit more casual now. Recalling the platform that had just passed them by, meeting a couple of new folks along the way to collecting and distributing his gifts.

"There were a lot of Purples in the crowd, you're not wrong. Though there were plenty in Orange, too. Par the usual, I suppose." He leaves that there, a lilt that trails into another idea, another conjecture. "Say, we've logged some hypotheses on what the team colors mean apart from mimicking the previous Voidtrecker group, right?"

"Well, we know what they do," Tidus replies. "Or the usual jobs they get. You mean like that?"

He'll continue how he understands with some confirmation, a nod or otherwise.

"A little bit more. Deeper."

It was a passing thing but now that its latched on...A finger on his chin indicates Roland's starting to take it seriously.

"I was wondering about the why of our colors. Are those in Red grouped as such because they get hot-blooded jobs, like frontline fighting all the time?" He poses the question, tilting his head to the side towards his companion.

"Uh..." He frowns, his brow tilting with it. "I think Red's pretty consistent. It's always, find the thing and attack it, right? Even the Terra job was like that in the end."

Even if it was originally 'analyse the orbs'. "But since you mention that," since he's had this confusion before, "Blue and Purple... they're really the same, if you ask me. I don't really get what the difference is. First mission I did with Blue, we had to protect an island, right? And then Purples had to lead some spiritual leaders underground. But this mission, you guys had to protect the villages from getting attacked, while Blue had to walk all that way to the dragon."

The jobs were similar enough that it stood out to Tidus.

"Hm. And Orange usually has information gathering and recon. Terra seemed an exception, but I don't think they were meant to fight. They just got caught up in collateral."

Maybe he's reading too much into it, but who even - or what even - groups them into the colors before they arrive cognizant on the platform anyway? It can't be arbitrary. It can't be by chance; that it just so happens the strong are always in Red while those with inclinations to protect end up either in Blue or Purple the way Tidus points out. Orange made up of those inclined to being mentally astute, Nita and Senku coming to mind right away.

"In the memory from before...Blue was protecting some sort of king in his throne room, while Purple evacuated kids from a collapsing mountainside. They do run parallel, now that you mention it."

"I don't really know the difference," Tidus admits with a shrug. "Light uses two words..." He thinks, staring off as he tries to recall them. "Something like... defence... ah..."

--Aha. "Blue's defend a core group, while Purple defend the walls? Uh." ...actually, he's not sure if that works without a bigger picture. "So- Red search out the main target, Purple protect the city walls, Blue defends the interior, and Orange are fixing things. Orange can end up attacked," he adds, since Roland brought it up, "but fighting's not the point with them."

He motions up a hand. "But I don't know if that makes any sense. Not without reading the other mission objectives." A pause, and he looks at Roland.

"Do you have one of the mission guides?"

He acknowledges it with a slight nod, and closes his eyes for a second. A second or two longer, now. He's thinking a bit hard, searching that space between where his Arms Band goes to store things and where his memory has to recall it in perfect sync. Does he still have those papers with him...?

Roland's brows are furrowed in concentration for a good chunk of time, humming under his breath. When nothing comes out, he tries one last time - think singular, singular printed paper a file containing this information...

POOF. Out it comes, usual glow in his hand as the paper covered in plastic folder appears before them. He rubs the back of his neck before he hands it to Tidus. It's the mission brief for the month of Catfish. Printed in advance for their little side project which Roland hasn't yet given up on or forgotten, but that's for later.

"Sorry. That's...not usual. Here."

"Performance issues at your age, huh."

It's muttered under Tidus's breath as he takes the plastic file, slipping out the paper and reading outloud, just to mask what he definitely didn't just say.

"So, Blue's protect, Purple's evacuate scientists... Blue was on protect in Gyueran, and Blue was...I dunno - they were sent to talk to those Grey people in Terra, right? And then to see the dragon in Irivar."

So, there's some more of what Blue's jobs has been.

"Hey!" Can't a guy occasionally forget what he puts inside his magic tech? His hearing is still sharp, sharp enough to catch that little jab at him and honestly at his age, he's just about to reach fifty! That's nowhere near as old as some of the people or otherwise on this tra--

--Right. The paper. He clears his throat and looks over at what Tidus is reading. Pretty standard stuff and nothing he's not read before. After the teen makes some distinctions out loud, Roland thinks about why he brought this up in the first place. Returns to the floating idea that's not yet taken shape or form.

"We can tell the patterns of what jobs we'll get by now, sure. But if you think about it by utility, anyone could do everyone else's job. That's why we lend talented folks like you to go help Red, Blue. Conversely, warriors like Lightning would be just as effective in protecting villages and heading rescues if they had to." He sits back against the wall. Finally seeing a clearer image from where he began. "More than that, I wonder if the colors represent...a meaning. Like a sigil. A banner that represents the members it houses."

Roland makes a gesture to Tidus with a free hand. "Ever thought about it?"

The idea presented gets Tidus to squint as he thinks, wondering about it, mouth slanting the longer he takes.

"I mean... I guess. They do a job, and they're in that team for some reason." By some kind of factor. But even as he speaks and mulls over the thought, the tight-knitted draw of his face doesn't loosen with understanding. "But what? I don't get what it means. Taiki's in Red, but Taiki can't do anything that Red does. I've fought way more than him - and Inigo's fought way longer than me."

He looks at the paper, less to read it and more a place to turn to. "So- what is it?"

And he asks it out loud, but ponders it too as he does.

"I...don't know. I've been thinking about it in increments. But there's almost nothing overtly tying membership together apart from the tasks assigned on a mission." It's enough to get him to shake his head, running a hand through the loose strands of his hair until his ponytail settles nicely over his shoulder. His points are strong, giving room for thought. Maybe Taiki's in Red because Gyousou is there too, kirin and king intertwined inevitably? But that doesn't explain the children in Blue, does it? A giant concern that always lingers on missions.

"It can't just be that. There's always more."

Especially when you stop to consider the history behind it - teams and colors. What happened, presumably?, in the past and where they're on now. What were their options, anyway? Ordering books on Voidtrecker history? Or, even more hardworking -

Roland turns to Tidus again, eyes expressive. "Did you happen to see the last poll? Leading up to the new Library? It had 'clocks' as an option. I refuse to believe that was coincidence." The train got that suggestion from somewhere. Someone. Is that how it wants to communicate with its passengers, perhaps?

A New Platform [Intro Post October]

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