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

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.

(Speaking of, Bambosh is actually dancing around the fire...Was it happy?)

The twig in his hand grows still as he nods at Tidus. "That makes sense. There's technology from the second world that could help with that too. I'll try ordering it once I get enough points replenished. They're called Memoliths and they record events for you to play back whenever you want. The inventor of it is a president too, Zip Vector. We have to make it look like we're buying these things for ourselves first, though. Build it up so it's natural. Since..."

When he trails off, Roland furrows his brow and kicks the dirt around him, flattens it so it's a clean slate again with the bottom of his heel. He places a finger under his chin and he's there again, in that place in his mind where the plans unfold and he is in his element. The twig starts drawing two things: on one side, closer to the fire, a rectangle with small wheels; on the other, closer to Tidus's side of the pit, a triangle with its apex facing the other figure.

The triangle is the void ministry. The poorly drawn rectangle with circles, the Voidtrecker Express.

"...Since we're still dependent on the train for our daily needs, we have to be careful not to draw their attention too. So everything we do has to look like it's just us trying to make the most of what we have. If the train finds out we're leaving hints to the ministry for them to follow, we might get punished just as badly. We don't know what kind of void magic our captors can do, after all." The line from the rectangle starts moving to the center.

"We have to play them both for fools. See who breaks first, who gives information that can help us figure out who we're actually fighting for. Or what this all means, saving worlds and not getting answers." The line is drawn from the triangle this time, and both intersect at the middle with an X to mark the spot.

"Play the victim for the void ministry. Play the merry little voidtrecker for the train." He stops drawing now, and just hands Tidus the twig absentmindedly, voice trailing off as he rethinks everything he's just said. There was no other way, was there? Not that he could see...

Tidus takes it because it's handed, not knowing what to do with it, but not really puzzled either. He turns it on its side between thumb and forefinger, letting it roll between the pads, spinning quick.

"I spoke to one of the Team Leads about taking photos. Gladio, from Blue. Just as a way of documenting things, doing it for ourselves too, you know? The scenery, the people we meet. It wouldn't be weird if we took extra." Photos of them, the children, each other, proving they weren't making it up.

He stops twisting the twig and points it towards the fire, idly circling the tip in the air.

"So what do we want to say? 'For five or six months we've been travelling on the Voidtrecker Express, it's been taking us from different worlds without our permission and dropping us onto planets we don't know to investigate some disaster happening'?"

"Yeah, Gladio I've met briefly too. You know. When you suddenly forgot how to explain the Black Squad to him?" The look he throws Tidus isn't one that's new; he should be used to it by now. But it's more of a kind prod, a reminder that he wasn't alone on all of this. That even if they had to do this together, at least they had each other to fall back on. They could ask no one else, it was too dangerous already.

"Hm. Remember all the times you left messages on the Feedback terminal? From not being able to tell time to not even getting food, drinks, or decent weapons?" He smirks softly. "That. We need to include all of that, too. Make the narrative sound like we're being taken advantage of; that we don't even know why we're being taken at all. To what standard do they hold heroism that they have to kidnap talking cats and children who can't fight giant monsters."

Bambosh walks over to him and he offers his finger as a greeting. The higgledy shakes it and reappears on his shoulder.

"Heh. I can't believe we're doing the 'ol bait and bleed. Forcing two other sides to meet each other while we get to watch them fight it out."

Oh, right. That time. Tidus just throws him a look back, somewhere between puzzled and flippant, 'cause who are you making faces at, man? Use words. But Roland doesn't want to (figures; this is the guy who likes to try and leave mysteriously any chance he can get!), and so Tidus leans back, throwing the twig into the flames.

"Sounds fun, doesn't it?" For all the risk going into it, it's nice to grab moments where you don't have to think of the ways it can go wrong. "But this train - it's trying to do something, some kind of goal. If it's playing hero, then it's doing it with our lives. But if it's something else -"

Because now, some people think the train is a combination of previous lives, an amalgamation of individuals who travelled the void to protect worlds. Looking to go back, save the lives of their own.

"-- we don't know the cost. Who's gonna pay a price for it getting what it wants. So far, all we know is that it's risking us for itself."

Or them--the voidtreckers they lost.

"I know."

The words feel heavy on his tongue. What they know now about the train compelled him to maybe share just a little bit more with someone he can trust. He takes Bambosh on the back of his hand, tiny, powerful thing that it was, and peers at it closely, studies the way it moves as he speaks.

"Before I came here," he starts off. "There was a lot of trouble around Evermore. Someone - someone started harvesting souls of innocent people from every corner of every kingdom to help revive something that he lost. His kingdom that fell to ruin, a long time ago. It felt like a living nightmare, the way people were just fainting on the street, not waking up. But no, it was all too real. This guy was going to actually sacrifice everyone else so he could have his kingdom again, and the woman that he loved with it."

He lets Bambosh wander off, away from him, as the higgledy walks to Tidus next, peering up at him and his headpiece bobbing about against its flame shaped head.

"He wanted me to join him, you know. To help him rule so I could regain what I lost. And let me tell you, I was tempted at some point, to take his offer." Roland slows, memories still fresh, the violation to his person resonating even now, even as they plan behind the train's back. "A part of me understands the appeal, if that's what the voidtrecker is trying to do. If it's really trying to recover something that was taken from them. Lives, loved ones...What you wouldn't do for them, right? What you wouldn't give?"

He warms his hands against the fire, gaze low.

"But if you have to risk innocents just to get what you want, then how could you call that an act of love? If the train has to take us against our will to do what it wants, to pay the price they won't..." He shakes his head, his smile is absent of any joy or mirth. But there's a wisdom there Tidus might recognize.

"Well, here's to hoping we'll find out the truth, one bottled message at a time."

Tidus meets the higgledy's gaze, small as it is, bright nonetheless. His curiosity there for whether it's searching for anything, but then taken away as Roland's story continues; his attention on a tale that's almost hard to believe, but then--not. What's the more of a surprise is to hear that Roland for any second thought about taking up an offer that required the sacrifice that came before. His mouth twitching in its line, his gaze unsteadying the same.

Lives, loved ones...What you wouldn't do for them, right? What you wouldn't give?

Tidus looks down at the ground between himself and the fire, a chill breathing on the back of his neck. He's been asking himself that, lately.

"You wanna write a letter tonight?" It's not a question that comes in a hurry, slow and undisturbed. Tidus regarding the higgledy again, reminded of something else. A group of them, dreamers; those that supported them beyond the end of their human lives, trapped forever into dreaming.

"Or we can leave it 'til the morning. We should have time 'til the train leaves. We can't do much else than a letter for now."

A letter in a bottle, if perhaps the only one they'll tuck away like that.

"Yeah. Tonight sounds good."

He materializes his empty book for notes and his pen from his Arms Band, where he stored them upon vacating the beach for safekeeping. He tears into the page, ripping it away from the spine. He reaches for the record of the mission log next to him, now a little creased, but still readable and intact.

"You wanted me to draft this, right? What do you want me to say, in a gist? I'll do the rest."

His serious edge returns and it's all business again. He was ready. They both were, it seems. Come what may.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Event: Healing Waters

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