A New Platform [Intro Post December]

[voidtreckermods]

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!

Comments

[its_dad_sanzo]

"Well, it was Kouryuu, of course."

Of course it was. Who else would it be if not the drowning baby?

[subcircuits]

He opens his mouth, once again thinks twice, and then shuts it again. Of course. There's magic in Koumyou's world, why couldn't a drowning baby call out to an incredibly powerful priest?

He reaches over and lays his hand on Koumyou's wrist. "How lucky you were, to have found each other," he says.

[its_dad_sanzo]

"Ears aren't all a person can hear with, you know," Koumyou says in response to that opening, silence, and then closing of Devero's mouth. "Mouths aren't all that can scream."

He covers the hand on his wrist, with his other hand. "Yeah."

[subcircuits]

Devero looks at him, considering that for a moment. "...You'd know more about that kind of thing than me, I would think," he says quietly.

[its_dad_sanzo]

"...Or I could be completely full of shit," Koumyou adds cheerfully, "you never know!"

It's only a joke, of course, he knows what happened was exactly as he just told it. But the mood might drop a bit too far if he lets it, so it's time for some humor.

His own ice cream's done, so the priest reaches for his comb again, intent on tidying up the mess that is his hair. It's about half combed out now, all sleek and straight.

"So, what is a creche? Do all kids go to one, where you're from?"

[subcircuits]

His sally has precisely the intended effect. Devero chuckles, and lets the topic pass.

He does reach out to intercept Koumyou's hand, though, covering the comb with his own bigger one first. "May I?" he asks, before he starts to think about how to answer that big question.

[its_dad_sanzo]

"Of course," Koumyou pats Devero's hand, then reaches instead for his tea.

[subcircuits]

Delighted, Devero turns to face him and draws Koumyou's hair over towards him. As he works on combing it out, he talks.

"Where I come from, creche is pretty much everything when you're a kid. You're born there, safe in the maternity ward. If you make it through your first year or so-- and most kids do these days-- then you get your natal name there. You grow up there, you learn how to play and share and recover from being hurt. You make your first friends there, prepare to be a good citizen of the World Government there, learn how to care care of yourself there.

"And once you're old enough, and you're ready, you graduate and you get your full citizenship."

[its_dad_sanzo]

Koumyou hums thoughtfully, "That sounds... to be honest, that sounds very strange, to me."

Different worlds had different ways of doing things, of course, but communal child-rearing on such a scale was almost as far removed from the culture of Koumyou's world as you could get.

"Does this 'world government' literally encompass the world?"

[subcircuits]

"I'm getting the impression that it's... an unusual system," he says thoughtfully. "I can't imagine growing up any other way, though."

He nods, though he pauses a moment to concentrate on using one or two teeth on the outside edge of the comb to pick out a snag. "Of course it does," he says when he's done. "--Well, except for a few outsider communities, but. They hardly count."

[its_dad_sanzo]

"Are they not part of the world?" Koumyou, of course, has to ask.

[subcircuits]

His lip curls. "They choose not to be."

[its_dad_sanzo]

"I wonder if they might say the same about the government? Or something like it...?" Koumyou, of course, is just speculating for the sake of speculation.

"Why do they choose what they choose?"

[subcircuits]

"Because they're luddite fundamentalists who want to suffer and die pointleslly instead of contributing to the global community?" His voice is sharp and... pretty judgemental, actually. A far cry from his usual more phlegmatic personality. "Which would be their prerogative, except they steal from the community they refuse to contribute to!"

[its_dad_sanzo]

"Ah," Koumyou glances over, "you're very passionate about this. How much of a problem have they been?"

And then he adds, almost as an afterthought, "I'm just trying to understand your world, not to upset you."

[subcircuits]

Devero nods his understanding, but he doesn't respond right away. His hands pause as he thinks back to part of their conversation in the spa car.

Finally: "It was members of an outsider group that attacked the camp my squad and I were guarding, that last assignment before I got discharged."

[its_dad_sanzo]

"I see," Koumyou reaches a hand to settle on one of Devero's, for a moment, "so they're not just thieves."

The bigger man's passion on the subject is suddenly much more clear. Hostile threats, saboteurs... danger. That's something Koumyou can actually understand.

"...I still think you did the right thing," he adds quietly, since the specter of that mission has been raised again. It can't hurt to reinforce his stance on the matter, can it?

[subcircuits]

"They're the worst kind of thieves. They steal lives," he snarls, still agitated despite the hand settling on his. "They steal experience and knowledge that may not be replaceable."

And they stole his career, didn't they? In a way, his very identity.

He sort of-- wavers for a moment, poised at the peak of a familiar precipice. How easy, how comfortingly painful it would be to fling himself off, to fall into his habitual self-loathing. But there's a hand on his own and a man with beautiful hair beside him and--

And Koumyou thinks he did the right thing.

He closes his eyes, and bends to press his forehead against Koumyou's shoulder for a moment. "Thank you," he says finally, straightening back up.

Taking his hand back, he resumes combing.

[its_dad_sanzo]

"I like to think I would have done the same, in your shoes," Koumyou offers, once things are a little calmer. "I never hesitated to break the rules in the past, if someone needed my help. Though it feels like a lifetime ago, now."

[subcircuits]

"A lifetime ago...?" Devero asks, his voice quiet and his eyes focused on the silk-fine hair in his hands. "Did you... stop helping people...?"

[its_dad_sanzo]

"I..."

Koumyou trails off immediately. He has to think about that, for a moment. And when that moment doesn't make it any clearer, he finishes, "...I don't know. I suppose I must have."

Hiding away and not seeing that anyone needed help to begin with... that was still the same end result, right? Physically hidden away in Kinzan, yes, but also spiritually. As deeply as he'd tried to burrow into muichimotsu, he could have looked right at someone in need and not actually seen it.

His expression is downcast as he thinks about this, solemn. Perhaps it really had been for the best, that he'd died. He'd told his son that he wasn't fit to teach anyone anything, so without him there, maybe...

Koumyou doesn't realize how tightly he's holding his tea mug until it suddenly shatters in his hand.

[subcircuits]

Devero is quiet, giving him space to sort through his thoughts. His eyes are mostly focused on his hands as he continues to slowly, methodically comb that long, pale hair, but he's watching Koumyou sidelong even as he works at it.

Watching the priest's face, that is, not his hands. The sound of ceramic shattering startles him badly; he jerks his hands up and shies back like a colt. He has to arrest himself, reminding himself firmly that this is Koumyou. Not Madame in a fit of pique or one of her cruel friends, Kouymou.

His eyes dart from Koumyou to the broken cup and back. "Sanzo?" he asks. He reaches out, hesitates, draws his own hands back again anxiously. "Are you all right?"

[its_dad_sanzo]

The way Devero flinched back like that, full-body. It snatches Koumyou's focus, and he stares over at the bigger man through his long bangs, slightly wide-eyed.

"--I could... I could ask the same!"

[subcircuits]

"Just startled," he demurs quickly, shaking his head. This time his hands actually make contact, grabbing up Koumyou's and turning them to see if the shattered cup hurt him at all.

"What was that? What happened?"

minor injury warning

[its_dad_sanzo]

"I..."

Only one hand had done the squeezing, and it had still been squeezing for an instant after the cup had shattered. There are nicks and cuts, and a shard of ceramic has been stabbed into the meaty base of Koumyou's thumb. The remnants of his tea is starting to mix with red as the cuts and stab start to well with blood, the latter around the piece of mug still in him.

And the priest just... stares at it.

"...I squeezed too hard, it happens."

He's a lot stronger than he looks.