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

"Well, I've never kissed a dead man before," Devero says, but his attempt at levity falls flat.

He tightens his arm around Koumyou, and leans his cheek against the other man's pale hair. "...You said you got ripped apart." That's the part that bothers him, not that Koumyou was-- is?-- dead. It's the violence of that death.

"Yes," Koumyou's had some time to process what had happened, enough to have pieced it together somewhat. "While there were hostile youkai in the room, the attack that actually fell me was similar to how Goudai's students, and Goudai himself, died."

Ukoku. The heretical Sanzo must not have been in the room, which was probably why he'd 'missed' Kouryuu and hit the larger body shielding him, instead.

"...Ukoku never liked how much of my time and attention went to my son," Koumyou continues quietly, feeling rather detached from it all. "I believe the intention was for Kouryuu to die, and for the youkai to provide plausible deniability."

And then, in theory, he'd have been all Ukoku's.

Edited 2020-12-15 17:46 (UTC)

"Ukoku," Devero repeats quietly. He doesn't like the taste of this name in his mouth. "This is the person whose soul you said shriveled? The one who killed your friend? He's the one who tried to kill your son?"

Koumyou nods, and then reaches up with a hand to try to de-gunk his own eyes from all the earlier crying.

"That's what I suspect."

To say that Koumyou and Ukoku's dynamic is complicated... is an understatement. But, they're Sanzos. Some of that just comes with the territory.

"Goudai was slowly dying anyway," he feels the need to clarify, "he called me to him to act as witness. Any of his students who could have become the next protector of the Muten, would have had to kill him to do it."

That hadn't made it any less horrific to watch.

"Ukoku wasn't invited to that final trial, but came anyway. I think Goudai knew that he would."

That didn't really make it any easier to hear, either. In fact, he slides off the bed and paces away from Koumyou, rubbing a hand across his own eyes as well. His thoughtful silence is interrupted briefly by the sound of water running, and he returns to Koumyou's side with a damp cloth for the priest's eyes.

"You said the Muten sutra is the one that-- that destroys, right?" He sits again beside Koumyou. "Is that why your friend's students had to kill him to take it over?"

Koumyou takes the cloth with a murmured thanks, and uses it to clean his face.

"All Sanzos inherit their sutra over the dead body of their predecessor. One way or another."

They weren't always the one to kill their predecessor, but it wasn't unheard of.

"Goudai was wasting away... collapsing sometimes, coughing up blood. I sometimes think Muten was eating him from the inside, like an acid. I think he just wanted it to be done quickly."

"No peaceful retirement clause in your contract with the gods?" Devero asks, his voice perhaps sharper than is really warranted. He looks at Koumyou sitting beside him, and-- he doesn't want to ask this, but he realizes that he has to.

"How did your predecessor die?"

"There's no retiring from Sanzo, no," Koumyou reaches back with his bandaged hand and pulls the sutra from where it's sticking out of the back pocket of his jeans. "Apparently even death doesn't always free one of their duty."

Because Seiten is here, in his hand, even though he absolutely died.

He meets Devero's gaze for the first time since he'd started crying. Steady, not even offended, looking up and over at the bigger man. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you mean."

That was one reason why he'd asked. But there's another: "Did his sutra eat him alive, like the Muten did your friend?" Will it eat you? is what he really wants to know.

"I don't know."

Sorry, Devero, but that's the only answer Koumyou has for you.

Devero nods, and drops his gaze from the priest to the sutra in his hand. He reaches out and cups his hand around Koumyou's, drawing it up as he looks at the deceptively innocuous scroll.

"...This is a lot," he admits quietly. "The choices you've made, the things you've had to do, this responsibility you still have to bear even though you're here..." He presses his lips together and gives his head a little shake. "I can barely comprehend it. I feel kind of like a child talking to a cybersurgeon, nodding along and pretending I understand something that's entirely out of my grasp."

Koumyou's hand actually opens around the scroll, letting it just sit there in his palm. "You can look at it, if you want to. It won't hurt you."

The offer is... rather huge, actually. That's a lot of trust.

"...I will understand if 'a lot' is 'too much'," he adds, gently.

Devero glances up at him, as if to double-check that Koumyou's sure about that, then takes the scroll delicately into his hands. It's such an innocent looking thing in this form; it's still hard for him to imagine how this slip of paper could be an artifact of such power--

And the author of such misery, in its way.

Transferring it to just one hand, he catches up Koumyou's with the other. "I'm-- I'm worried I won't be enough for you," he admits, though it's hard to force the words out. "You're so much, and I'm nothing. You deserve someone who... who can understand your pain and reflect your brilliance." He laughs once, breathy and humorless. "Someone better than some nobody World Guard washout, that's for sure."

"And who is that, I wonder?" Koumyou goes so far as to lace their fingers together, and squeezes gently.

"You can't see yourself. No one can. But you, in particular, have been taught to see yourself as less than you are."

The smaller Devero is made within his own mind, the easier he would be to control. Koumyou still doesn't know the depth of the abuse the other man has suffered, but that much is at least clear to him.

"No, I--" The protest starts automatically, the assertion ready and waiting to leap free. No, I really am this worthless, the words Madame had so patiently ground through his thick skull. Worthless because the Guard threw him out, worthless without something to contribute, worthless because the only worth he had came from her generosity.

He shuts his mouth on the words, so hard his teeth clack audibly, and draws in a deep breath through his nose. The returning squeeze of his fingers on Koumyou's is far from gentle as he wrestles with himself.

"Everyone here is so... so special," he says finally. "People with incredible powers, people with incredible responsibilities. Geniuses, leaders. Self-actualized, fully sapient AI." He glances over at Koumyou, and away again. "You, Sanzo."

He shakes his head. "What am I? The only thing special about me is my hardware-self, and I'm worthl-- that is, I-I'm not going to be able to do much good, without it."

But this isn't supposed to be a referendum on his self-esteem. He offers the sutra back to Koumyou, and then drags the back of that same hand across his eyes. It comes away wet; he ignores that.

"It's not too much for me. I just-- I just need you to tell me what you need, that's all. What can I do for you? How can I help you?"

Koumyou takes the sutra back, and sets it in his lap. He still has the damp cloth from before, so he folds it over so that the clean side is out, and offers it over in return.

"Just be you," the priest says gently, "that's all I need from you. You're so clever and kind, and I don't know the whole of what you've endured, but... I think you're amazing."

Devero's lips quirk when Koumyou offers him that same cloth back. What can he do but take it, and use it to wipe off his own face in turn?

No one has ever wanted Devero just for himself before. Even as far back as creche, despite pediatric mantras otherwise, there have always been expectations on him. Be the child who doesn't need parental involvement, the stoic one that the others can look to as an example when their family-claimed crechemates go off on visiting days. Be the studious one, be the reliable one, be the quiet one, so the caretakers can focus their energy on the needier, more volatile children.

Join the Guard and make your creche proud. Join the Scorpions-- do what the other Guards can't. Pull your weight for your community. What can you contribute?

He's always been the supporting character in someone else's story. Chihyoon's hands, Morraine's assistant, Administrator Valdana's handsome and charming consort. How easy it would be to slip into that role again here: Koumyou's confidant, the Sanzo's doting attendant. How familiar, how comfortable.

And Koumyou doesn't want that. Koumyou thinks he's amazing. ~~He'll learn better soon enough, her voice whispers. He'll see what you're really like. Just you wait.~~

He has to press the cloth against his eyes, holding it in place as if he can't even bear to look, as if this is an illusion that will break apart if he so much as sets eyes on it. "Okay," he whispers. He swallows, and says a little more steadily, "I can do that. Th-thank you."

"Good," Koumyou manages a little smile, even, and squeezes Devero's hand again.

Going back to a previous, not-quite-asked question, the priest palms the sutra in his other hand and eyes it.

"I don't think Seiten is eating me, if that helps. Though it's true that too much light can be equally as brutal as too much darkness. It's not as... caustic, as Muten.

"There is no doubt it has an effect on me, it could even be part of why I'm so... distant, even when I don't want to be."

~~It could also be the trauma.~~

"But I was the youngest to ever make Sanzo, until Ukoku, and until Kouryuu... or rather, Genjo. And I haven't been growing weak, or coughing up blood like Goudai."

~~Por que no los dos?~~

"It would have to change you somehow," he says, looking down at it as well. "Even if it weren't what it is-- that much responsibility changes anyone."

He disentangles his hand from Koumyou's but only to put his arm around him again. "Is that Seiten's, er, aspect, then? Light? And Muten is the dark?"

And Koumyou leans into his side again, too.

"The Seiten's dominion is over yang, or holiness. To put it in the terms I've used with some other passengers, it's the light of creation."

And it's just chilling here in Koumyou's hand. In Devero's, just a minute ago!

"It can create light from nothingness, and has some... restorative abilities, but I admit I'm not as good at using that part. Something has to be extremely serious to justify attempting it. I used it on Halo."

Dimly, he can still hear the screams when he thinks of that little side-quest.

"Muten, meanwhile, is... the emptiness of nonexistence. The void, even more than what the train is ferrying us through right now. An absolute absence of light or matter."

The entire light of creation, in the palm of his hand. If he were a spiritual man, it would mean more, but even atheistic as he is, it's something.

Devero looks down at Koumyou. "And she died anyway...?"

He purses his lips, and stares thoughtfully into the middle distance. "And the other three? If you don't mind telling me, of course."

"Because her ship was destroyed, she faded away instead of dying of blood loss."

He makes a thoughtful hum at that question, and considers it for a second. May as well start with the easiest one, right? "Well, I know Maten quite well too, since it also used to be bound to me. That one's yin, or unholiness, and it banishes the darkness. In the hands of a fully-trained Sanzo, it's the only one that might be able to hold the Muten at bay."

Koumyou Sanzo had single-handedly protected the dual concepts of yin and yang, for over twenty years.

"The last two, I've never laid eyes on. Kouten is supposed to hold dominion over... protection, I think? If Maten can push back the darkness, Kouten could hold it there. And Uten, I know the least about. Logically, I suspect it can push the light back, like Maten can the darkness. Too much of either is bad."

"That's right," he says softly. "You told me that." And he hasn't really had time to process it since.

He doesn't really want to process it now! His brain would much rather fix on esoteric lore from Koumyou's world than the fact that he might die if anything happened to the train.

"I have to admit, I don't really understand," he muses. "There's one for light, and for banishing the darkness? Doesn't the light do that by its very nature?"

"Darkness can also be so thick that it consumes the light," Koumyou says quietly, looking at the far wall without really seeing it.

Which.

Yeah.

"My own teacher, Jikaku, once compared me to the moon, and Ukoku to the night. The two of us made a bet on which would swallow the other. Do you suppose he won?"

Edited 2020-12-16 04:27 (UTC)

"A black hole," he murmurs. "Of course. A well so deep, everything gets pulled into it."

The arm around Koumyou's shoulders tightens, and Devero turns enough to tuck the priest's head under his chin. "No. I think he tried, and when you refused to be consumed he tried to shatter you."

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cw abuse trauma

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