voidtreckerexpress | A New Platform [Intro Post December]

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A New Platform [Intro Post December]

On the Train

It's only been a couple of days since the Voidtrecker Express took to the void once more, and many of the passengers are still recovering and recuperating after a very hectic end to their latest mission. Nevertheless, they are awoken by a familiar message.

"Good morning passengers, it is day sixteen of the month of Imagination. Points have been updated on the system."

They have indeed, and everyone can spend the morning shopping. Those who have been on the train for 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 the windows fill with the fog that means they are at a platform. It is warm outside with a pleasant breeze that flows down the platform, rustling the light spread of leaves that litter the floor.

As usual the first to leave the train notice nothing, walking silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. Akemi Homura, Alfred the Poisoner, Donatello Versus, Chie Satonaka, Joscelin Fitzthomas, Ronan Lynch, Rose Tyler, Tangle the Lemur, Trowa Barton, Wester Mazaki and Whisper the Wolf all pass through the platform, not looking back before they disappear 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. The second thing they will notice is the swirling leaves at their feet, moving in flurries and rattling against each other softly. As their eyes adjust, they will see they are on a platform, cement and packed earth forming a very practical, plain-looking shelter. Behind them is a set of barriers, and in front of them is a single track extending both ways into 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 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 eight 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'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 more jars of honey, the ingredient of the month of Imagination, as well as sundries.

A new carriage has been added right next to the luggage carriage. It is a second medical carriage, or triage carriage. Downstairs is more open with beds and chairs, upstairs are two surgical bays for those that need immediate attention.

For those intrigued by the claim of a parcel for every passenger they will find several large boxes filled with small blue bags. Inside each bag is ten dark blue coins imprinted on each side with a silver snowflake. Each bag has a small label with a passengers name. On the other side of the label it reads: Keep these safe for now.

Of course for any passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage as well.

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 to encourage any stragglers taking advantage of the pleasant weather 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. 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

xxxxx 🌙 I - vice

xxxxx(16th of Imagination, platform day)

Freshly showered and changed into his proper uniform, Koumyou Sanzo found a quiet(ish) part of the train, and broke the seal on a brand new pack of cigarettes.

His fingers actually shook a little, pulling a stick from the pack. Koumyou stuck the filter between his lips, and lit the tip with a snap of his fingers, not in the mood to fight with a cheap lighter.

The priest leaned back against a wall and took a long drag, his eyes slipping shut, head tipped back. A full-body shiver rolled through him at the first hit of nicotine in weeks.

Just... just having himself a moment here, thanks.

There. That wasn't so bad, now, was it?

xxxxx 🌙 II - virtue

xxxxx(ICly any time between platform and the first event of Dec)

Really, Koumyou hadn't had to wield a broom since before he'd become a Sanzo, but he had no particular aversion to the idea. It was just that at his rank, on his world, things tended to get done long before he could even think to do them himself.

Here? Not so much. Spotting some dirt on the floor of one of the sleeper cars, Koumyou fetched a broom and a dustpan, and got to work. Just going to sweep anything into little piles, like clumping the fallen leaves into a heap in a temple courtyard.

It was a pretty peaceful chore. Quite nostalgic, really.

He crouched down with the dust pan and started herding his current pile of detritus into it with the broom.

xxxxx(OOC prompts: Literally run into him while he's crouched down? Accidentally walk through a pile? Or just come to bug him while he works? Any other idea...? Go for it!)

xxxxx 🌙 Wildcard?

xxxxx(Wildcard.)

It's been a long week. It's been such a long week that the only reason Devero's sure it's been a week is because of his Interface, reliably tracking the time for him. His days so far on the train have been a jarring juxtaposition of incredibly full-- full of exploring, of introductions, of reading, of trying to figure all this shit out-- and aimless, absent the rigid structure of his work at Techstead. And that doesn't even begin to touch on the mental strain of so many introductions, all of them navigated outside of the social structure he's used to. Not to mention just being around so many people, constantly crammed into such a small space. He feels as crowded as if someone had taken the whole populace of Techstead and-- well, confined them to this train.

He's been spending a lot of time working out. He had a regimen, at home, and he knows he should develop a regimen here as well, but he hasn't yet. He just finds himself drawn to the gym or the training coach whenever there's a gap in his day, because the exercise is better than being alone with his thoughts (or so surrounded he can't hear his thoughts.)

At least there have been some bright spots to go with all the stress and strain. And at least there's the spa car.

It's empty when he enters today, after a particularly exhausting gym session. Devero knows that won't last long; he'll have to make the most of it before the next person enters. He spends a moment at the ICP, selecting some music and turning it up just loud enough to keep his head from filling up with fresh thoughts. Another moment sees him changing into swim trunks-- purple, of course-- and tucking his Interface somewhere out of the way.

He sinks down into hot water of the pool so fast that it makes him hiss in discomfort, but after that he seems to just melt. He plants himself on the lowest tier, the water just coming up to his chin. Closing his eyes, Devero lolls against the edge of the pool; he's going to enjoy the hell out of this moment while he has it to himself.

Koumyou's usually quite good at figuring out when the spa car might be empty, in general, and it's rare that his predictions overlap with anyone else's attempts to do the same.

Today, it seems, is going to be one of those rare times.

Devero has the car to himself for long enough to get really, really comfortable, and then the door opens and Koumyou Sanzo slips in, shutting it quietly behind himself. He's wearing his sleeping robe instead of his uniform, the white cloth tied loosely at his hips.

When he turns back from the door, Koumyou's a bit startled to see that the pool has an occupant. He pauses and blinks for a moment, maybe just a touch blearily. Chances were very good that he'd been asleep, at least until waking up and feeling cold enough to make the walk to the spa car.

"...Oh! Hello, dance partner!"

Devero is really, really comfortable enough to be lingering in that hazy liminal place between waking and sleep. He doesn't hear the door open, is unaware that anyone's entered until a voice jerks him out of his pleasant reverie. He splashes upright in the pool, a little bleary himself-- and his heart stops when he sees Koumyou.

Speaking of bright spots. Speaking of stressors.

"S-sanzo," he says, and slides back down into the water, all the way to his chin and a little under. "Hello."

"Oh! I didn't mean to startle you like that, sorry!"

He did Devero the favor of at least turning away to change his clothes. Robe shed and folded over something, then his blue, train-issued boxers. A pair of swim trunks pulled on in their place, no fuss, no hassle. This sort of thing was common, where he was from!

Koumyou looked much as the tight clothing under his Sanzo uniform had suggested. But perhaps not quite as nice. Wiry, some might say, all sharp bones and dense muscle. No real fat to speak of, not even a healthy amount. It was more than possible that he looked far better with clothes on, than he did with them off.

And what else the Sanzo uniform hadn't shown? Except maybe faintly across his bony shoulders? That was the scars. There were a lot, all over, back and front and even over his sides. Bullets, burns, shrapnel, slices, stabs, teeth, claws...

More than a few looked to have been very nearly lethal, both in severity and in placement. They spanned from decades old and nearly faded away, to more recent and prominent, pulling at the skin around them.

Even fresher, the priest had several new bullet grazes along his sides and across the back of one thigh. The deeper ones, he'd simply cleaned and cauterized in the field. Some of his previous kaleidoscope of bruising was still around, too. Faded, now; the mission had been something like a week ago, after all. The worst of it centered around the rib that he'd fractured while defending Station 29.

None of this was noteworthy to the priest. Tucking the sutra into the waistband of his trunks by his hip, he moved to approach and step down into the water. Across from Devero, at least, not that there was a ton of space, even so.

"Not your fault," he mutters, looking away as well even though Koumyou's turned his back. "Pretty sure I'd drifted off."

He is profoundly tempted to lever himself up out of the pool and leave it to the other man. In fact, he's been low-key avoiding him, which is certainly easier said than done given the limited quarters of the train. Koumyou's presence is too compelling, and Devero remembers-- wet and giddy in the aftermath of the sprinkler incident-- how close he had come to doing something rash in the garden car. He has to be more careful.

Anxiety flutters in his throat, a constricting reminder that he has Rules and he has to follow them. He can't lose control of himself like that around Koumyou again. He can't-- he can't--

He can't help but look as the water sloshes gently against him. What he sees as Koumyou steps down into the pool is distraction enough to ease the choking pressure building in his chest.

What he sees is a man lean beyond the point of wellness, muscles defined with that almost-grotesque sharpness he'd sometimes seen in professional bodybuilders-- and in the bodies of desperate, scrabbling ludds out in the wild country, too stubborn or misguided to accept Gov's care. He sees a man whose skin is a testament to a life he can't even imagine. No one he's ever met has scars like this, even the ones with 'bad' scarring following accidents or extreme procedures. The level of medical technology available to citizens of the World Government is too high. And the nature of some of those scars, ragged and organic when he's used to neat surgical lines-- he couldn't begin to guess at what might have caused them.

It does not escape him that some of this damage he sees is fresh. In fact, he lurches half up out of the water, hand outstretched as if he's worried Koumyou might collapse right there.

"Are you all right??"

The outstretched hand gets taken by one of Koumyou's, the priest standing just barely in the water, staring down at the bigger man in obvious puzzlement.

"I... yes?"

Maybe what Dev's seeing isn't what's really there? Maybe? Maybe not. But Koumyou legitimately doesn't know what the issue is, glancing down to follow Devero's stare. What...?

Back up to Devero himself, Koumyou's eyebrows knitting.

"Are you alright?"

Whoop, Devero wasn't expecting the contact, and his hand is caught in Koumyou's before he can retract it. He freezes, awkwardly half-crouched.

"I'm not the one who's beat all to shit," Devero says blankly, meeting his eyes. "You look like you got trampled..."

"Oh?" Koumyou glanced down again, honestly wondering if he'd missed something about his own state. No, everything seemed to still be in one piece.

"Oh! Well, I kind of did!" Super reassuring. "...During the mission, you know? Big metal robots versus meat and bone and all of that!"

He lets go of Devero's hand, now that the puzzle is definitely solved, and moves to sink into the water properly with a contented sigh that has just a little bit of a shudder to it. Nothing beats hot water, some of the chill already starting to seep out of his bones.

"It's all healing fine, I promise."

Devero is quick to pull back to his seat, tucking himself against a corner of the pool with far less ease than he was exhibiting when before he knew Koumyou was there. "Right," he says. "The mission." He hasn't really liked much of what he's heard about this mission that half the train seems to be still recovering from.

"I think your definition of 'fine' and mine are very far apart," he adds. Quieter, almost defensively: "No one where I come from would have scars like yours."

Koumyou's polite enough to not take up more space than he needs to in order to get properly deep in the water, at least. His legs stay politely close to his torso, knees bent sharply, one hand holding his ankle to keep it all in place.

The end of his braid has come undone at some point, probably during his earlier sleep. The loose strands where it's unraveled float on the water's surface near him. Chin-deep in the water, the ends of his long bangs do much the same. His eyes close against the steam, expression peaceful.

Most people on his world didn't have scars like Koumyou, either. They tended to just die, instead, if they attracted anywhere near the kind of attention a Sanzo priest did. But the explanation he offers is simple, "Many people want the power of the sutra for their own use. I protected two of them."

Take him out, and there was twice the prize! What was better than one fifth of that which had made everything? Two fifths of that which had made everything. Same risk, double the reward.

He cracks one eye open to watch Devero, quietly curious, "Surely, your world isn't that peaceful. You took a sky scraper across the shoulders?"

Now that Koumyou's submerged, Devero's able to drag his eyes away from him-- Devero has to drag his eyes away from him, and the inviting drift of his hair in the water. Think of your Madame, he chides himself, but thinking of her just makes the anxiety rise again. ~~When had thinking about the woman he loved and served started to give him so much anxiety?~~

"You were targeted," he says, his voice a little strained. "Of course. I should have realized."

Devero shakes his head. "That was an accident. The building was a derelict from Before and I wasn't paying enough attention. I should've known better: the ruins will eat you alive if you don't respect them." The hours he'd spent pinned under steel and concrete with biofeedback shrilling along his nerves, unable to disconnect from his exo lest it trigger a dangerous shift in the rubble, had really driven that lesson home for him.

"No, my world is peaceful. The only conflict we have is with ludds-- with Outsider communities that refuse to play nice."

"Was before, will be again," Koumyou says it with absolute, peaceful certainty, shifting how he's sitting so that he can rest the back of his head on the edge of the pool. That's a lot of pale, slender throat suddenly on display, a few strands of that hair of his curling against it.

"Where there is power, there will be people who want it."

"This must be like a vacation for you," he remarks. Koumyou certainly looks like a man on holiday, so peaceful ease with which he's relaxing into the water. (Yeah, he's peeked. Yeah, he regrets it instantly, actually catching his breath at the sight of the Sanzo's inviting throat--)

He looks away again, so sharply that the water slops against the lip of the pool in his corner. "--Right," he says, recapturing the thread of what Koumyou had said. "Isn't that a universal truism?"

Someone on the train will eventually go for the sutra, maybe even more than one someone. It's inevitable.

Or, maybe he'll get swept up by reincarnation before that point. He's still pretty convinced this is just some kind of death waiting room, after all.

Either way. There's no use worrying about it. At least if someone tries to take the Seiten, things will be very interesting for a bit.

And the luggage car will be busy. Part of him is eager to see how it might unfold.

"I suppose it must be," Koumyou lifts his head just enough to look at Devero, at that sudden movement. Is something wrong?

Hm. He lifts his free hand out of the water to brush some of his own hair out of his eyes, and then sits up.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

And a few small puzzle pieces click into place.

"...You know, I haven't seen you so much as in passing these last few days," he adds, "and you've been tense since I walked in. Did I offend you the other day?"

One of the real downfalls to being so tall is that Devero can't sink into the pool and have it swallow him up, no matter how much he'd like to dissipate into the water right now. He hadn't realized how openly he was choreographing his discomfort, and being called on it is not making him feel more at ease.

He really should have listened to that instinct to flee.

Shoulders hunched defensively, Devero sits up in the water too. "No!" he says. "No, not at all, Sanzo. I really enjoyed the time we spent together. I just--"

He just what? Even he's not really sure what he just, except that he really wants to be around Koumyou and he knows Madame wouldn't approve. But he can't exactly dump that on someone he's only known for a few cumulative hours. 'Being around you the other day made me feel like a hormonal teenager in the best way, but I'm in a kinky relationship with the Big Boss back home and my junk belongs exclusively to her' was not the kind of thing you shared with a casual acquaintance.

Still, he owes the other man some kind of explanation, if only so Sanzo doesn't think too badly of him for acting like an idiot. "You make me nervous," he says finally. "I've never met anyone like you before."

Koumyou sinks down instead while he ponders that. Not all the way, of course, the water coming up to just below his eyes so that he can continue to watch Devero closely, his long bangs fanning out across the surface around him.

He blows a thoughtful bubble, then another, before pushing himself back up again enough to speak above the water.

"Because I'm a priest? Or..." his mind scanning quickly over their past interaction, he recalls Devero's reaction to that which Koumyou guards with his life, protects with every drop of blood in his body.

"...Because I guard the Seiten sutra?"

It wouldn't be an unreasonable thing, to be nervous of him for that. To one degree or another, neither are exactly bad guesses.

While Sanzo's mulling that over, Devero pushes himself up to sit on the edge of the pool, leaving his legs dangling in the water. The air is a shock against his overheated skin and he appreciates it. Closing his eyes, he just breathes for a moment, trying to work through one of the grounding exercises he knows.

He feels a little more even when Koumyou speaks, a little more in-control. "Mostly the second one," he says. He's not self-conscious about admitting that much, at least. "I don't... really know many religious folks, though. It's considered something very private, where I come from."

"Ah," Koumyou sighs, and leans his head back again, shutting his eyes. "...I suppose it can't be helped, then. The sutra and I are bound until my death. Or longer, as it turns out."

'Sanzo' is not a job one retires from, and to be around Koumyou Sanzo, is to be around that which he protects.

It stings a little, and he immediately pins the feeling down in his own mind, examining it, his expression flattening as he thinks. He hasn't known Devero long enough for this to be a problem, surely? People come and people go, and often they go in a spray of blood and tragedy. Why should this be any different? Peaceful, for once, but otherwise... no different?

But he also hasn't met many people who can keep up with his antics, here or at home. Or rather, people who are willing to keep up with his antics.

It was nice, he realizes dimly, to feel a little more than merely tolerated, for once. He sighs heavily, turning the feeling over in his mind a few times, picking at it like a sore tooth, and then... releases it.

Hold nothing.

Devero is watching him sidelong through half-lowered eyelids. He can't help himself. There's something magnetic about Koumyou; he'd felt so... so buoyant around him in those few hours they'd spent together, as if he'd been able to put down a burden he hadn't been aware of carrying. ~~(Put a pin in that, Dev, you'll want to revisit that concept.)~~

And so he sees the reserve that comes over Koumyou after his confession. It makes his stomach twist-- not in a Madame-related way, but somewhere deeper. He doesn't want the Sanzo to think poorly of him, to think him so weak as to run from something he doesn't understand.

"It's part of who you are," he says quietly. "And it's part of what makes you so fascinating." Oh, he shouldn't be saying this. He should just be shutting his mouth and creeping away like a good boy. He certainly shouldn't be continuing, the words coming quicker: "It makes me nervous but that's just because I don't understand it at all. The power of your sutra has no equivalent in my world, and it intimidates me. But I want to know more about it-- because it's part of who you are, and I want to know more about you. That's the problem."

Oh fucking hell. Devero crams his fist against his mouth, biting into the knuckles like he needs to physically plug the flow of words. How could he have said that much, why lay himself so open when he can't possibly continue to be around someone who fascinates him so much. It's not fair to Sanzo when Madame won't allow it.

He scrambles inelegantly to his feet. "I'm sorry, I've said too much, and it's not safe--" oh holy shit what. He rushes on as if he didn't even notice that. "I mean I can't, I-- I need to go. I'm so sorry."

Without lifting the back of his head from the side of the pool, Koumyou re-opened his eyes and gazed up at Devero. Since the bigger man was sitting -- no, standing -- by the pool now, it was easy to do.

He'd process the rest in a moment, but first -- "It's not safe?"

Devero's not sure why he even said something like that in the first place, what a fucking absurd thing to say, he's just making himself look like even more ridiculous a fool by the second--

He covers his mouth with both hands, and shakes his head. "I can't," he says between his fingers. "Please don't think too badly of me."

He turns rapidly on his heel, and he breaks for the far end of the car.

Edited 2020-12-04 04:15 (UTC)

There's no burst of light, no splashing of water, just one moment Devero's bolting for the door, and the next, there's something like a wide belt around his hips and he just can't.

Literally, just can't. Forward motion: denied. One tendril of the sutra has looped around his middle, just firmly enough to do the job. The texture still feels like paper, but there's no give to it, not even on a microscopic level. It isn't even damp from being underwater for this whole conversation!

The tendril, of course, leads back to the priest, who only now lifts his head off the side of the pool again. "Devero," Koumyou says gently, actual concern showing on his face, "I can't just let you run off like that. What do you mean, it's not safe? Are you in danger?"

Devero catches up against the sutra with a grunt, not falling on his ass only because it's wrapped all the way around him. He realizes immediately that it's the sutra, but he fights against the restraint regardless. His brain refuses to believe that something that's just paper could be locked so solidly around him.

But it's not just paper, and he can't get it to budge off of his hips. He's trapped, and boy if that doesn't dump just that much more adrenaline and cortisol into his system. (Somewhere at the end of the cabin, his Interface starts to have a little electronic fit.)

He twists around to face Koumyou, and there's naked fear on his face. But despite that, he-- laughs? "No, n-no no no, of course not," he says, unable to control the words falling out of his mouth. "Not as long as I follow the rules!"

Rust and ruin, talking to anyone about this is without her explicit permission is against his rules too. He's going to be in so much trouble.

Koumyou isn't even physically holding onto an end of the sutra; what has ahold of Devero ends in... just a scroll, floating in the air above the heated pool.

The priest gazes at Devero's expression for a second, and makes a choice. This isn't a conversation to have lounging around in the pool. And since the sutra's already 'in play', just the little subconscious thought that he'd like to get out and put his sleeping robe back on, is enough. A second tendril shoots away from the floating scroll, scooping up the robe as Koumyou climbs out of the water.

He accepts it from the holy paper, and shoulders it back on over his wet skin before padding over toward Devero, tying it shut. "You're okay," he tries, "just breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. As slow as you can bear to. Just focus on that for a minute. Anything else can wait."

Edited 2020-12-04 04:57 (UTC)

Koumyou Sanzo | Saiyuki | OTA

Wildcard - Spa car, several days later

plays the jaws theme

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CW: relationship abuse

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two guys in a hot tub sitting six feet so it isn't gay

keep telling yourself that Dev

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