middleofsomewhere | Event: Healing Waters

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Event: Healing Waters

"Good morning passengers, it is day twenty three of the month of Grasshopper. All passengers of the Voidtrecker Express require rest. Next stop Jema’grethy Island. All passengers prepare to disembark."

It is a very strange morning message that rings through the train on the morning of day twenty three but as the passengers of the Voidtrecker Express wake their screens glow with the colour of the void and a holographic screen pops up for them to read.

World #2554098133741: A world once inhabited by an ancient civilisation and now preserved as a historical site, nature reserve and well-being retreat. It is famous for its relaxing hot springs, calming atmosphere and beautiful beaches.

It is a popular void-traveller destination, particularly among void missionaries as a place to rest and recuperate after difficult missions.

The Voidtrecker Express will spend three days here, arriving today and leaving on day twenty six of the month of Grasshopper. The dressing carriage is open for your convenience.

It is time for a holiday it seems!

Preparation

For those who go to explore the dressing carriage they will find a variety of beachwear and wetsuits. One cupboard has a pile of tents and groundsheets in all four team colours.

One cabinet is exclusively filled with beach towels, in a kaleidoscope of colours, designs and patterns. Another is filled with different shapes and sizes of plain towel dressing gowns. There is even a cabinet with buckets, spades and small rock-pooling nets.

It seems they are in for quite an adventure.

Arrival

"Shortly arriving on World #2554098133741. Exit from void in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

The train lurches and rattles as it leaves the void they will get a glimpse of silver-purple sky and a beautiful ocean below.

However some passengers might be a little more than distracted, one staring at that table for a second too long, another seeming lost in thought for a couple of seconds, a longer than normal pause in a sentence. They see a vision, a glimpse of a life that is not their own. Not all at once, but here and there as the train descends to the island.

But then it is gone and things are back to normal. Just in time, as they come to land.

Jema’grethy Island

The train has landed on a grassy ridge, overlooking a beautiful beach of white sand and the ocean beyond. It is warm, but not too hot, a cool ocean breeze cutting through the heat making it pleasant. Behind them is a grassy plain, changing to forest in the distance. There is the sound of birdsong in the purple sky. To the west the land is more craggy, the silhouette of a fortress in the distance. In a word, it is idylic. A sense of peace permeates the island.

A little more worrying is the volcano-like structure in the north. But even a quick glance will show it is not a typical volcano. There is no smoke and the liquid slowly running down it in rivulets is pink and blue.

Exploring the passengers will find beautiful beaches, ragged cliffs to walk and caves to explore. Where it is more craggy the beaches are made of pebbles- perfect for rock pooling.

The place has no people, but it is clearly maintained. The eastern beaches have racks of shallow boats, both canoes and one- or two-person sailing dinghies. There is also a small building in which scuba gear is stored, along with several waterproofed manuals and instructional literature.

Ruins of ancient houses are scattered across the island, but the main settlement is built into a rocky section in the north-west that has been secured with ropes and stairways cut into the cliffs, perfect for scrambles and hikes.

There are no living quarters, but there are sheltered sections with basic toilet facilities marked as camping grounds in five different sections of the island - by the hot springs, within the ruined fortress, beside the harbour, on the eastern beaches, and on the northern face of the mountain.

Hot Springs

To the west are the hot springs. They have both outdoor and indoor areas; the indoor areas being wooden loghouse saunas, changing rooms and storage sheds, whilst the outdoor areas are a tiered series of pools spilling down the side of the mountain and shaded by brightly flowering trees. The waters are hot, mineral-rich and soothing.

Perfect for overly stressed, world weary Void heroes...

(OOC: More setting information is here, please feel free to go wild with the setting and have a fun and relaxing time. You can use this post as a catch all for your holiday or make your own posts on

middleofsomewhere. More information about how the memory event is structured is here!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I didn't buy those jars for you to stuff paper in," he says with a narrowed brow, an disapproving frown. For a guy so serious about doing all sorts of work for a Team Lead, he's sure's happy to go around wasting his bottles, isn't he?

But that's not the point that Tidus wants to focus on (but maybe he can come back to it later, if Roland tries eyeing more of his jars--he'll have to count what he's got left once they get back on the train). "What are you talking about anyway? Cut off? I thought they didn't have a clue what we were doing and were suffering from voidsickness. That's what I heard."

Because he sure never did see that message for himself. He was busy!

Roland hums. "I guess you're right about that. Supplies don't come easy or cheap, after all." And he knows that he spent a lot for his things this round, even though they were nowhere near any answers on how to even get points to the number that it did. "Sorry. I'll pay you back for these two."

He stands, and shakes sand off of his shorts, his legs. The two bottles are still in his hands as he takes a few steps towards the shoreline. He thinks about something, ponders something quick before one bottle is left held in his hand and the other is promptly thrown into the waves of an ocean now resembling melted watercolors pooling by his feet. The water is still warm as his toes wiggle in the shallows. He crosses his arms, watching the bottle float away, the one with a shell inside along with the letter.

He walks back, but doesn't send the remaining bottle in the same direction. Instead he taps it against his cheek as he scans the harbor. "They don't have a clue what exactly we're doing, yes. And they do think we're all relatively void sick too, that's true." Roland walks as he talks, peering around for...something. But he doesn't wander too far that Tidus won't hear him.

"But they also think we're part of some void criminal organization, and that if anyone were to spot us, we'd be reported immediately to the void ministry. The transmission ended with a warning not to engage, and that we might be in danger. Or that we are the danger." He looks back, bottle still in hand. "Doesn't exactly spell friendly to me."

Edited 2020-08-21 18:55 (UTC)

Tidus watches him, the throw of Roland's arm and the bottle being sent out into the seeing, the plop it makes when hitting the water: distant, but audible still. His legs draw in to let him rest his arms over his knees, and he switches the view from the man to back out, only looking in turn when Roland regards him where he ambles.

"And what's happening to us does?" It's where his mind goes to before Roland's point, but even then--it sounds cautious. And he can get that. Who even were they? They didn't know. Voidtreckers, sure, but were they playthings, or what?

"I'd be suspicious too. I mean, some weird train with a bunch of people saying they don't know what's going on. But that's gotta sound like a problem to someone in a job like that." Like, come on. If they actually spoke to them, had more than five seconds with them. They'd be able to believe what was really going on.

"I wouldn't mind spooking the train. This," he knocks up his chin in gesture, to the island, the vacation, "doesn't make up for the fact it's taking people from their lives and then dumping them without a word. Is the Void Ministry really any worse?"

"..."

He makes his way back to Tidus's side but doesn't take a seat on the sand or the towel he had set out. Roland suddenly makes for a serious figure, standing on the beach with his arms crossed, the darkening skies tattooed in his mind. As much as he hates to admit it, Jema'grethy is beautiful even if this was all for a loan.

"No, you're right." Roland speaks up, his hand holding the letter to Evermore throwing the bottle up and down gently, catching it without fail every time. "About the train. The void ministry. Who's to say we're actually fighting for the wrong side here?" Up, down, up down, the bottle goes. "But that's the thing, isn't it? Why is this phony Voidtrecker Express rebelling against the ministry, why are they running away so well? What's the play? You don't just stage an elaborate coup like this because everything was fine and dandy with your government. Something's up with both of them, and we're unfortunately caught in the middle."

When the bottle falls into his hand this time, he stills himself. He glances down at Tidus, an eyebrow quirked up in curiosity.

"Given the chance, what would you leave behind for the ministry, then? What would you want them to find here?"

"And people think I don't trust politics." It's an aside, not really the truth; one comment made a long time ago, but maybe it's funny that out of the both of them, it's the government man expressing suspicion for an official organisation.

Not that Tidus has strong opinions for or against the Ministry. He drops his only recently folded arms back to his sides, just to angle himself better to regard Roland.

"No one thinks what we're doing is bad. Saving worlds, lives? No one's going to argue about that." Tidus wouldn't. No matter their circumstances, those are people that need help, and he won't stand aside and do nothing. "But the rest--it sucks. The train takes who it wants. People do things they say's for the best all the time. What's wrong risking our lives for those planets, right? A few of us for all of them? It's good in the end."

There's something else that he wants to express, not sure exactly how to, but it might not be the time for it. They're stuck in the middle. He's silent for a second, just to gather how to continue.

"If we're gonna leave anything...we need to figure a way of getting them to contact us again. Know we can hear them. We got that one message on the train--then it shut off the translators." Cut them off from seeing the message. He leans forward, eyes settled on Roland. A fire spilling into his words: a conspiracy in its infancy. "It's like you said. We don't matter, we're stuck in the middle. The train wants us to do its work. If the other guys are any better or not, does it better for us? The train's got stuff to answer for, and we should make it. If the ministry's its enemy, then lets shake the train tracks!"

"There's a lot that goes on, when you peel off the surface." The weight of his words is not lost on Roland. Such a turn of conversation leads him to the path of a former life - or maybe better put, a life he believes he will return to, one day, someday. "I know politics can get rough because I've seen how ugly and dirty it can get. One minute, you're signing peace treaties and promising to recall troops, and in the next, ambassadors are pulling out of your borders and calling for war." The smile on his face is sardonic. "I was in the belly of the beast, remember? I trust leadership, but people's agendas are an entirely different matter. It's never as simple as what you see in the surface. There's always something..."

He trails off there, and chances upon the glass bottle he has yet to send off into the purple sea. A letter addressed to a second life, where the worst of his fears were assuaged by a king no older than ten. Where hope and faith won the day, united peoples of all races to a common cause. Difficult, but not impossible, and he was taught that lesson well. His gaze turns fond, even as he listens to the rest of Tidus's words, hearing his impassioned plea to 'shake the train tracks.' Roland actually has to chuckle at that, meeting his gaze head-on.

"It's not that we don't matter, Tidus. Maybe we might be the ones who matter most of all. We just...don't know enough, right now. Information is being kept from us, deliberately, like you said." He fills his lungs with a deep breath of air, chest expanding and eyes closing for a brief moment.

"Alright, what are you proposing then? Humor me. Do you want us to write a letter addressing the void ministry - that we're the Voidtrecker Express phonies they've been trying to find? And that we were here on this island for three days?"

He's genuinely curious where this is going, not opposed to it (yet) and sees no harm in the gesture. There was nothing to hide, anyway. They were already being branded as dangerous regardless.

"Tell them where we're been, that we got the message they sent out. We get a list of numbers for each place we go--even here. Give them them, see if they can figure out where the train's gonna go next. Tell them what we've been doing."

It's all Tidus can think from what they have. What else did they have? Little--too little information, too little way of getting information. All they can do is throw out scraps and see if someone starts noticing the mess.

"That message too.. we should check it. See if it said anything." He pauses, a brief tug of his brow before he looks back at Roland with a finger pointing at him. "A number! You know, dash-four-eight-two-five-three-- documents have that sometimes. Or a name."

There might be, there might not. It wouldn't hurt to check either way.

"Whatever happens then..." He raises his shoulders, giving a shrug. "Maybe nothing! Maybe we got nowhere, maybe we do. Maybe they find us, but the train runs off. But you know what? I don't care. At least we're trying."

Roland doesn't speak right away, he listens again, though his brow furrows and he's taken to throwing the bottle up and down in his hand again. There's some sense in what Tidus is saying; the action versus inaction, doing versus just laying there and accepting things as they are. Fanfare aside, what were they at the end of the day? Refugees? Victims? Kidnapped citizens from every far flung corner of the universe?

He plays devil's advocate, nevertheless. "And if the void ministry tracks us down? What then? We ask for help getting home?" His voice is steady, as if he's thinking out loud, weighing out the options. The clink of the bottle in his hand is loud against the soft waves.

"Usually what happens in situations like this is even though we're obviously the injured party here, the ruling body might still brand us complicit in illegal activity. We have been going around saving worlds outside of the void ministry's approval. That makes us conspirators. It makes us guilty."

He throws a side glance at Tidus, eyes shining with intrigue. The grip on the bottle tightens. "What then? Do we live with that consequence? That chance?"

They don't know the future--that's the message Tidus takes from Roland's words better than what he gives, since the threat of what ifs. And he already knows that, knows the uncertainty in trying and not.

"Yes," he says, the flinch of his gaze at the weight of the question only small, not even hesitant in its dip. Voice bold and firm. Sure. "You always try. If you don't, then you have to live with that too. And I know what the train's doing, not what the ministry might."

But he doesn't care. He wants action, he wants something. A chance. A hope.

"I'm not gonna give this train an easy ride as long as it keeps doing what it wants with us."

That's all the conviction Roland needs to hear. It was the same feeling when he saw how much it meant for Nita to attack the train - even though he knew it wouldn't do a thing. That wasn't the point either, was it? Even though the rebuttal was quick to come in the back of his mind: The same logic can be said for the train. We don't know their inner workings, either. Who's to say, in this mystery?

But hope. The feeling of hope is clear, and Roland knows this well. You always try. It was like listening to Evan again, the king of never giving up. The one who tries, even in failure. Who rises, even in weakness. Were they not all just citizens of their own worlds, just trying to find their way back home?

Roland nods once, and walks back to the same spot of the beach where he threw the first bottle. The letter to Evermore is sent in a different direction, but this time, he doesn't throw it. He kneels against the sand and sets it adrift, gently, cradled by the waves. And off it goes, disappearing little by little into the last of the dying sunlight.

He turns back to Tidus, his mouth a firm line and his gaze resolute. "Alright then. On your lead, captain. Let's do it." Roland stands and rests one arm over his hip. "Let's shake the train tracks."

Edited 2020-08-22 18:37 (UTC)

There would no going back once they began. A beginning that may lead nowhere, that may have opportunities to end after they started--but they wouldn't know, and there would always be a risk. That the risk they were taking wasn't worth the consequence, that the result would be as worse--or more--as Roland voiced.

Tidus stands without pause, faces Roland in acknowledgement and gives one look back out to the sea, but then turns for the train. Everything they had to get started was there: the paper, the few details they wanted. World numbers on the sheets of the mission guides, the copy of the ministry report somewhere in the library...

They could hatch out the details off-board once they got it together. But whatever came, whatever happened... at least they tried.

He doesn't dally when Tidus heads off back to the Voidtrecker. Roland follows suit with an urgent gait, but not before grabbing his book settled against the sandy towel. He catches up to the younger man in no time at all, walking side by side as Jema'grethy's scenic views now pass them by in a blur.

Roland spots the train in the distance, parked dutifully in wait for its captives. Captives - the nicest way to put it, he supposes. Heroes on-demand. World savers, when convenient.

I hope we don't regret this.

"Let's split up and meet back outside the train when we're done," he says, quietly. "Where do you want me?"

"Just meet me out there," Tidus points, along the same grassy ridge that the train's stationed on, but along the west where the fortress can be seen farther on. "We don't need to move far out. If anyone approaches us, we'll just say we're talking about the upcoming mission."

He swings it out of his head, sounds like it makes sense, and doesn't care for how believable it'll be in the moment--he'll make it believable, trusts Roland to, too. Fortunately, the other passengers have scattered around the island, no reason to stick close to the landing point. There's the burnt remnants of a few campfires here and there, but otherwise, it's late enough in the day and the beach is right there: a far better place to put together dinner, to gather and socialise than higher up on the terrain.

"I'll be out there quick." And unless there's anything else that Roland wants to say, that's it for Tidus. He hops in around the standard coach, knows what he's going for: the transcript of the Void Ministry report, and a copy of the mission guide. He wonders if to pop over to his own cabin for his pens and notebook, but decides not to waste the time and takes a few sheets of paper near to the printer.

It's all he needs, but he loiters, just to take in the empty space of the train this way. Quiet, unassuming. Wondering. It's a way he never gets to see it, but he leaves before he gets any ideas. But what ideas is there to get? He's not worried for the train.

Just everyone else.

When Roland comes over, Tidus sits cross-legged, back to the forest and facing the far sea, the beach a far, low incline away. Reading over the report, slouched, his elbow propping up his head by a fist.

He nods and watches Tidus jog back into the train. Left to his own thoughts, Roland's mind runs with ideas. In the silence of the early night, the spaces around him grow dimmer; a sense of foreboding thick and full of tension, even if he's the only one who can taste it in the air. Maybe Tidus isn't thinking of the consequences, but Roland knows only that - the contingencies, the what if's and what could be's. It was part of the job, and regardless, it's not like he wasn't used to working beneath the surface. He knows more than anyone that sometimes you have to do something unconventional to get anywhere, especially when other people's safety was involved.

It doesn't take long for Tidus to return with the materials he promised he'd dig up; the reports, the mission guides. But before then, Roland has already committed to take it all. The fallout, the blame, whatever comes their way. He was prepared for it when he infiltrated Ding Dong Dell to get Evan his Mark of Kings, and he's just as ready for whatever comes next if and when the void ministry discovers their little ploy. No one was getting hurt here but Roland, if need be. Not even Tidus, who only wanted answers. Who only wanted to save, just as much as Roland does.

Nobody said the game was going to be easy, and they're upping the ante from an international stage to an interdimensional one. So be it.

Roland walks over and peers over Tidus's shoulder with a finger to his chin in contemplation, an eyebrow quirked up too, eager to know what to do next.

"Well? We ready or not? You've read that before, I'm sure."

"We wanna bring it up in the letter, don't we? Look." Tidus points, holding it out, needing to adjust his hand when the breeze rustles it around. "There's a string of numbers there. Maybe we can include. Plus, look."

This time he offers it to Roland to take.

"Down at the bottom. It says that sure, we might be criminals, but they don't know. There's no real threat in this report--it's just telling everyone to be careful." That they might be dangerous, might not be. To be on alert. On the surface of that notice alone, there wasn't any real to be overly suspicious of the ministry. Not unless they received any reason to be later. For now, was the message that alarming?

"We need to convince them that we're what we say we are. See if they can follow our tracks. Make them leave us messages back. Find some way to sound like we're not making this up."

What started out as a gamble is slowly turning into machinations that may have some merit after all. Not that Roland didn't completely trust Tidus - he did, at least, instinctively. But the gears start to really turn when he hums and reads the offered letter, twice again to be sure. He's read it already, multiple times, studied it up and down as if his life depended on its contents. As if all the answers were in between the lines and letters.

However, Tidus was suggesting an idea that shed a new light unto an old perspective, in a way that Roland didn't think of before. If they needed answers, then they had to put themselves in the eye of the storm. Dangerous, but effective.

"You're suggesting guilt by design." He says, a hint of realization in his voice. The letter is lowered until it no longer obscures his vision, as he stares at Tidus with a new sense of purpose. "We may or may not be considered criminals liable for prosecution on void ministry regulations, but because they left this clause unclear, we have grounds to explore if we're being set up to fail, or if their intentions are actually right and true."

He makes a weird gesture in the air, as if emphasizing a thought that exists only in his mind. But he's quick to voice it out, pacing around Tidus with one arm behind his back. It's coming together, by god.

"You said it yourself. We might be criminals, but they don't know. All they have to doubt that statement is because they overheard words like 'kidnapped,' and in a sense, we are." He hands the paper over to Tidus decisively, as if he's seen enough. "At the same time, we don't know if the void ministry is who they say they are only because the Voidtrecker we're riding today seems to imply that there's something bigger than their politics - and that the ministry is unable to help, or might be the problem to begin with."

His gaze turns back, towards the darkening magenta sea.

"In other words, we're the deciding body. Whatever we do today determines who might be against us." Roland chuckles, looks at Tidus again with a smile on his face, maybe one of surprise, maybe one of pride. Maybe both. "I can't believe this."

You're suggesting guilt by design. What a way to start this off, and Tidus waits for an explanation, gets more than that. What's even a clause? Grammar? It's not until Roland continues to go on that Roland is referencing some particular type of jargon. Government jargon.

So he listens as well as he can, hears the awe and disbelief before Roland even voices it, and a smile threatens to tugs the sides of Tidus's mouth.

"Yeah, yeah." It's dismissing, more exaggerated than he needs to, leaning back on his hands just so Roland can better see him--so he can better look up at Roland. Share the smirk he finally pulls. "So what, you want to come up with a plan if we don't like these ministry guys either? We'll need more time to think of that." More weaponry, more ideas. "But I figure a train that rides around in space and avoids these guys already has a few ways of doing that. Or if you think we need to write the least incriminating letter--"

He brings the hand up with the transcript Roland gave back, gives it a wave.

"--then a good thing we have you here, right!"

It sounds flippant, but it's joking, clear by the way he expresses himself. Picking himself back up on his feet, he takes his arms behind his head and stretches in his back.

"What do you want to do? Talk about it here, or go somewhere more private? I can start a fire." Or, he takes a glance over Roland's shoulder. "What about your higgle-hoo friend?"

Wasn't that red and fiery??

He smirks, nodding at Tidus with a confidence that reeks of experience; like Roland's done this before. Not at the scale of void dimensional politics, but the scheme was all the same. Whatever universe he was flung to, wherever life leads him next, the patterns remain and he is still good enough to read them. Or at least, he hopes.

"Higgledy." Roland corrects him with amusement, and at the mention of Bambosh the Brave, the creature emerges in a flash of light, waving with one hand in midair before falling back down on the ground with a squeal - Higgle! Piiigle! It stares at Tidus with a bobbing head before reappearing behind Roland, dutiful and obedient.

He crosses his arms, and looks around them. The Voidtrecker was still quite empty compared to its usual hundred people filing in and out of small rooms every day. People were still milling about, doing their own thing, squeezing as much of their holidays as they could before another long journey without fresh air or the great outdoors. He starts walking, knowing Tidus will follow.

"...We should probably go somewhere else, yeah. Somewhere where people can just causally see us if they come looking, but nowhere too hidden that it can look suspicious." He throws a glance over his shoulder, catching Tidus's gaze; knowing, assuming. "I assume this is a covert heist, correct?"

The little guy gets a "hi" when he appears, just to be polite--and because, hey, he's fun....if it's a he--and he doesn't know if that's a yes on the creature (thing) being useful as a source of light, but Tidus doesn't mind the company. Seems it's just around Roland all the time, whether or not it can be seen. Huh.

"Covert heist means...just between us?" There's a sheepish end to that question, a guessing that doesn't cover itself, but with Tidus figuring he should know already what exactly Roland means. This type of action isn't his forte, in the movies or real life. "We should probably keep it on the down-low for now, yeah? Some people are gonna think its risky, just like you. And it is. But...I'm willing to take that risk. We can't just sit around and hope something happens."

They're throwing more than themselves into the consequences if anything results from this, but already, each of them were at risk. The train wasn't forcing them into action, but wasn't it as close to manipulation to give them the chance at freedom at the cost of putting their lives on the line? No one was trying anything, and it'd already been going on for five or six months. How long were they going to wait, let this go on?

"But," he says as he walks, "we might need more than letter and bottles too...if we can get more. We just need to be careful about what we ask."

"That's right. Just you and me."

He walks without missing a beat, confident gait, smiling at whoever recognizes him as they pass by. Eventually, he leads the two of them to a relatively quiet area of the sheltered grounds, a canopy covered by trees and fires being put out by departing Voidtreckers slowly making their way back to the train. But it was populated enough still that two people making a brand new campfire wouldn't be much of an issue, so Roland plops himself down by a wayside log near the fire pit and waits for Tidus to follow. Bambosh reappears in front of the stone and twigs as Roland throws an arm forward, palm facing out. Bambosh squeals again in affirmation, and five to six smaller versions of itself appear beside the higgledy, only without the elaborate headpiece. They wave their tiny arms in the air, and the smaller creatures thin out as if they had become the fire that is now currently lit in front of the two men. Bambosh just resumes his place next to Roland's boot, quiet and minding its own business yet again.

He picks up another piece of driftwood somewhere nearby and throws it into the fire as he resumes their planning.

"Contingencies. We need backups for every scenario." His serious expression is amplified by the shadows the fire casts over his youthful visage. He's staring into the fire, words flowing easily. "And if we're not planning on telling anyone else on the train...then we have to be extra careful." He breaks his stare and silently gestures for the document again from Tidus.

"Let's officially call this little plan, Project Breadcrumbs. We are leaving things behind for the ministry to find. If they do." He throws Tidus a pointed look. "And before you call me anything for making up a name for this, it's just protocol to have a code name for a mission that only a few people are gonna know about. In case we have to talk about it in the open, then I'll know what you're actually saying."

Edited 2020-08-23 18:48 (UTC)

While Roland works on warming the both of them, Tidus decides to work on warming himself, a flash of sparkles signifying the Arms being used to make his bag appear, the ties pulled and a hand shoved in to bring out his team-assigned hoodie. Tidus has a magical hole in the wall following him at all times, and he isn't afraid to store everything in there.

(But he does keep a small list--an actual written list--to keep track of what he puts in there. Just in case.)

The fire is blooming once he's done that, the emergence of smaller higgle-friends distracting Tidus from actually putting on the hoodie, knotting the arms instead around his waist for now. He finds a place by the fire, just as Roland starts to speak. The document handed over when it's gestured for.

And a brow raised at the name.

"Alright," he says, once Roland has made his point, "but how about Bottles? Or--Sea Bottles. since this started with your story. And it's not as obvious." Since, even he knows what breadcrumbs are meant to be. Way to sound fishy!

"But how do we make contingency plans for this? If this ship gets a hole, I dunno how we're gonna plug it up."

He's glad Tidus is getting the most use out of that Arms Band, at least.

Roland's eyes scan the page again, even though he knows nothing new will come out of it. He's just thinking, and it's best to keep his mind and hands busy while he does so.

"...Something less concrete. Someone can easily make the connection of sending messages in a bottle because it's a physical object, a physical concept. Alright, let's change it to something only you and I can make out of." He looks up, the sky morphing still into darkness and color all at once. Roland's eyes grow wide, and he looks at Tidus with a bright gaze. "Latte. Project Sweet Latte. It could be a cooking project, but we know it's not. Simple enough to remember, without sounding obvious if it was dropped casually in conversation. Hey Tidus, want a cup of sweet latte?" Pretty convincing. Relatively ridiculous, but Roland's come from a world of nicknames and code names anyway. He's heard worse in his own oval office.

He reads the paper, again. He doesn't stop, finger on his chin as his elbows lean on his lap, hunched and forward against the warmth of the fire.

"Let's take it one at a time. What would be your worst case scenario, first? That's always the best place to start." Roland finally drops the page, sets it aside for now, and folds his hands together against his mouth.

Why latte?, Tidus thinks, then remembers that bottled drink Roland had named. The drink he had given him, but it's not as if Tidus bothered to ask Uta what it actually was. What mattered was just that it kept, and it did. Or it didn't, and Roland was going to have a bad night, soon.

"Well, alright," is Tidus's answer regardless, and it makes sense. Some small part of him wanting to change it to another kitchen project, but deciding that it's pointless. He'll get a book sometime later on lattes. Make the talk more credible.

...but also, he should have taken the chance he had to make fun of Roland's incessant need for protocol over naming schemes before. Now, he's kinda liking the seriousness of something so goofy...

But back to the plan. The worst case scenario...

"The ministry finds the train and throws everyone in jail?" It's what Roland's been making out as the worst result. "I don't know how we stop that."

Good start.

He's not going to have a bad night, soon. It was a perfectly delicious, if not overtly sweet coffee drink, thanks very much.

He throws in another piece of wood, a smaller twig snapped in the middle this time, into the fire. Staring at it, the paper with details just sitting there while he thinks on his feet. Roland knows that getting thrown in jail isn't even the worst of it. In fact, that might be a relatively good scenario depending on how things play out, if it means they're one step closer to actually communicating with an actual being versus receiving briefings through holograms every time. Or being asked if they want Art or Music. No, the true worst case scenario is that the train's passengers are compromised beyond saving; if they are made to be the villains because of association to the rebels they assume are kidnapping "heroes" from other universes at every platform.

And Roland knows they've been through this - the void ministry isn't sure, they have doubts and their instructions are deliberately vague on how to proceed.

When in doubt, when there is too many variables that he has no idea what to make of, revert to the facts. Go back to the basics, what do you know versus what's left to discover? Roland grabs another twig, long and thin and damp as it is, but uses it to draw on the soft soil next to his seat. Shapes, lines, circles. Nothing too particular. The only thing he knows is certain and true right now, is...

"We won't be able to. I think the worst case scenario we have to assume is if people get hurt. We can't let anyone get hurt." He draws X marks on the ground, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "And the only way to prepare for that is to prevent it from ever happening in the first place." The way Roland leads up to this is as if he had just realized the answer himself. He glances up at Tidus, hoodie wrapped around him, though the fire continues to crackle steady and sure.

"We have to play the part, Tidus." He hushes now, whispers though his expression is neutral and relaxed, brows still and unmoving. A hand slowly covers his SCA, as if paranoid, as if it would do anything at all, but still...

"The void ministry has doubts about if we're actually associating with criminal activity or not, right? So we have to ham it up. If we get caught up by the ministry, we act the part of the victim. Commit to it. That's our contingency. Even with the things we leave behind for them to 'find', it needs to sound like we're strays asking to be saved. That we're being kept complacent and forced to risk our lives for other worlds. Right?"

Edited 2020-08-24 15:22 (UTC)

...were the little higgle-things feeling those twigs when Roland chucked them in? A sparing thought, there and then gone, but Tidus did think about what the fire was, after the way it came to life.

Otherwise, his thoughts are on their plan. Something bigger than a plan, when plan felt too simple of a word, too small. A course that would take time and thought and more to execute, to have it be anything. He sees Roland cross his hand over to the SCA and remembers his own; dips his arm, as if moving it farther from his face. The flames of the fire lick and crackle between them.

"Right. Not hard," he says, like a joke, but it isn't. "We got kids on here, we share the missions - you think we should include visual proof? Images? We can buy a - camera. Memoris. Picture and video records." He doesn't know which word to use, goes for everything and all. "Keep a record of everything?"

It might get bigger than what bottles can hold, but it wouldn't really matter. Long as they're discreet about how they deposit what they want the ministry to find, don't have anyone else take notice, pay attention.

Event: Healing Waters

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