middleofsomewhere | Conclusion

Thank you.

For those inside the system the voices of the Great-Seasons ring out around them once the red mass has vanished and the blue plinth it was smothering is freed once more. They don't have all that much time to reflect on that before they find themselves waking up once more in their bodies around the tree trunks.

Or at least, around the tube that is the Great-Season they entered through. All illusions have vanished now, all that is left are pipes and metal.

The Great-Seasons allow them passage out from the centre, no sentries or pipes attack them this time. Everything seems to have been put to rights, the walls in the Autumn sector have stopped moving, there is no strange weather effects in the Summer Sector, no engineering problems in Winter and all the camaloid creatures in Spring are calm. Any Helpmates they come across are doing their jobs and no longer malfunctioning.

After a small amount of time, enough to check that all is well, their SCA's light up. All Passengers are to return to the Voidtrecker Express.

Considering the vast distances involved it is probably best that they use the evacuation function to return to the Luggage carriage.

Once all Voidtreckers have returned the train returns to the Void once more.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The wings are getting a definite sidelong look of sleepy-eyed interest. The bat, once she's registered, gets a smile. Awwwwww.

They find themselves missing their little haunted ghost figurine.

They lean against the counter, accepting the plate with no qualms. Free food they didn't have to spend time and energy making: sore. After two bites, they ask, "Does she have a name."

"Yeah, her name is Cottonball. I'm Xander." Not that he'd been asked, and especially when he'd answer to 'hey, you', but why not? "She's my familiar. And small enough that she needs to eat a lot, so she's usually hanging around."

Especially if he's in the kitchen, like now. "Meanwhile, I'm refueling. At least avocado BLTs are good for that, right?"

Right, exchanging personal names. Probably ought to do that, too. "Soldat," they offer. "Avocado is good for a lot of things. Much more than the things in the ICP recipes." They're not super fond of those things, though they've tried them all. Other, simpler recipes seem to make better use of the fruits.

Also, food. They have a big bite, still leaning heavily on the counter. It's solid enough for good support. "Cottonball is very cute," they add.

"Nice to meet you!" Though with what they say about the train recipes, Xander has to nod, while making a face. "I'm not sure where the train gets it, but sometimes it seems like if you have a little experience, you do better than just by following the recipes." A pause. "At least it's not bear meat--I mean the processed stuff that looks like a bear face." That had been a month.

"Thanks! She's my familiar, but I mean, she's my friend too. She helps. Even though she can't talk." Really, Cottonball is a lot of things to Xander, including 'emotional support bat'.

"Meat that. Looks like a bear face." What the hell. "That sounds pointless. When you put it into things. You wouldn't even see the face." Meat gets ground or cut or put between things, making it in shapes just sounds like a waste of time.

"It was weird, but it mostly tasted like bologna, so it was okay." Xander had eaten worse, after all. Much worse, in his time. Not that he had any plans to go into that into detail.

"I guess it'd make some kids be more inclined to eat it." Never mind he'd pulled a few stunts with making the bear talk while it'd been on the train, mostly to cut up and be silly. He paused for a moment. "Actually, I know it'd make some of the kids I knew back home inclined, so I guess that works out, huh?"

So has Soldat, frankly. They're not going to get into that. They're moderately sure that anything the train gives them will be safe for consumption and not horrible, so it was really just the shape that threw them. "And there are a lot of kids on this train." Which bothers them, in a distantly sad kind of way.

Xander would agree with that--both the train bit and the kids part, too--at least if he could read the former. But a telepath he's not. (And really, he's actually quite okay with that. Being an empath is a pain in the ass in and of itself. Though Soldat seems comfortingly neutral, as that goes...)

"Yeah, there are. But we gotta do our best to look out for them, right?" What would one expect from him? He's got a bunch of adopted younger siblings back home, even if they're not blood sibs. Xander would very much protect them all, as often as he could.

Be glad they're in the middle of post-mission recovery, or there'd be a lot more anxiety roiling around in the background there, maybe some echoes of other voices. Xander will probably not enjoy Soldat's company so much in a couple days. "Yes," they agree. "Though some of them keep trying to look after me, instead."

Which is very not right. Kids should not be worrying about an adult's mental problems, dammit.

Conclusion

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