middleofsomewhere | So Familiar a Gleam: Conclusion

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So Familiar a Gleam: Conclusion

Time to leave!

There is not much of the city left, but the park is holding together as those anchoring help those who are not voidtreckers through back to where they belong. Monsters continue to attack and a little further out there is a battle of hearts and minds being fought with the mass of colours and chaos.

Eventually, after the bulk of citizens had been evacuated everyone with SCA's on would hear Jin-Roh's voice after a few frantic beeps, as Chiff aligned everyone's SCA's. "We are almost done here, if you are with anyone not tethered to a voidcraft get them to the evacuation point, as quickly as possible."

Anan pulls out of the anchoring point to call out to any defenders in the park. "Come on! Anyone who isn't a voidtrecker! It's time to go."

Luckily those off fighting the entity headed the message and made their way to the park as Jin Roh spoke again.

"Everyone else get ready. When we call it you need to leave. If you don't have your SCA on then get to someone who does."

As the last people rushed to the park Anan calls out again, through her SCA and outloud to the park. "You need to unanchor, before you can evacuate. Everyone be ready."

She goes in again though, because there are some last people, those from the large battle, getting through as another message was called.

"Almost there. Be ready. On my command..."

Anan unanchored again. "Quick everyone unanchor."

"NOW" Jin Roh's voice came through strong on their SCA's. Hopefully those with SCA's would grab those without.

There is some outside help as well, the train pulls anyone who is unconscious or still under the entity's control, forcibly evacuating them. This includes Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and Zagreus.

Luggage Carriage

There has been a mass evacuation before and that was crazy enough but since then the population of the train has almost doubled and now it is an extremely tight squeeze as everyone crashes into the luggage carriage at the same time.

The train jerks and rolls as they enter into the void at breakneck speed and again as they seem to slow, rather than speeding off though the void.

There's a crackling from their SCA's. "Voidtreckers? Voidtreckers come in!" Anan's voice. "Please tell me you made it..."

There's only a few moments of signal and soon they are flying though the void again, away from the strange non-world, the entity sealed for now. To new adventures, but first hopefully some time to recover from all that has happened.

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"Admittedly I hadn't thought about it 'cause I got fuck all for magic, but that ain't bad. Most of the point for keepin' people talkin' is to give other people time to get their plans up. So what experience ya got?"

Okay, there's a little bit of his energy back, just because he so rarely gets to hear a good heist story anymore. Or a break-out story.

Just, please. Give him a good scenario of being a pest at any point. He'd love to hear it. Even if he is adding 'using your own illusions' to the list of possibilities.

Crowley could stop Yondu in his tracks with the snap of his fingers, put him to sleep, make him tell him his dirtiest secrets... but in the end that wouldn't demonstrate anything. He wouldn't remember, and it may only make him scared. This gives the demon pause.

He exhales loudly, looking around them. There's very little people about the halls, most of them sleeping off the last mission, so Crowley waits until the last person leaves the hall to make a display. Something a little more mundane (for him) and less frightening.

There's a sound, crackling like a healthy fire on wood, and Crowley suddenly seems to be sinking into the ground, at least, that is, at first. A moment later and all that's left is a very large snake, one that slithers forward at the same pace the demon had been walking. It turns it's head back at Yondu, and it's very clear that it would wink in that moment if only snakes had eyelids.

Those likely would (except putting him to sleep, that'd probably impress him, so long as he didn't do anything to him). But the snake thing? Well... shit, he hadn't expected that.

And Yondu's fin lights up and, indeed? Feels like a snake there. Not a person.

"You'd make Skrulls jealous," he says, 'cause damn. "That's a compliment, by the way. An' you're right, that opens up a hell of a lot of options..." He sighs with a heavy, tired smile as he follows. "God I miss just breakin' into shit as a way of livin'." With that level of squirm Crowley could have gotten anywhere. "Sometimes it's the little things."

The crackling begins again, Crowley wishing to transform back to his favorite shape before he forgets how. He shakes one of his legs before walking on it, reacclimating himself with limbs.

"Wouldn’t know what that is." he shrugs, "But I trust your word. I realize not everyone can turn into an animal, but that doesn't mean we couldn't make them look like something else... or make the train look like something else."

Crowley cackles as Yondu reminisces, tipping his head to one side. "Oh, we would have definitely gotten along."

"I think you woulda loved bein' out there. Not necessarily doin' our kinda thing, you're definitely your own guy, but you coulda had peers that were outside y'all's system." On the good side and the bad side of god. It'd be nice to have folks on your skill level that aren't tied into the magnificent fates they gotta put up with.

"Train' lookin' like somethin' else would be difficult but would help. Maybe puttin' some kinda illusion around it."

He really should have discussed it more with magical types, but he also had been trying to be careful putting his ideas out there. There was sometimes an issue with idealists where they'd make mistakes jumping in to do something obscenely noble or brash and just escalating things too quickly.

Happens with cynics, too.

"Come on, tell me somethin' like it you done. You got me all curious now."

Crowley shrugs, "Another lifetime, maybe." he muses. He could have enjoyed the odd job or two on Yondu's team. Crowley himself isn't much of a leader, but it could have been fun.

"Not necessarily..." he thinks. "It doesn't have to be drastic. I mean, the existence of one train like this suggests the existence of others... right? And this one's gone rogue, but the others aren't considered dangerous?" He's guessing here, not quite up to date on the lore of this vehicle. "Anyway, couldn't we make it look legitimate? I dunno. Whatever wouldn't make the authorities bat an eyelash."

Something like it he's done... Crowley hisses under his breath. He'd done something rather significant that not only saved his life, but kept him and Aziraphale protected. If anyone ever found out...

He's quiet for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets. Inside of them is the little piece of metal that Yondu had given him, and his finger slides over it to remind himself that this is a person he can trust, no matter what.

"Yeah... It's a long story, but I guess we have a bit of a walk." he replies finally. "So... back home, Aziraphale and I were blamed by our respective home offices for things not... uh, going as planned. We could have anticipated retaliation, of course, but there was this propecy that sort of, I dunno, suggested we get a bit creative. Aziraphale figured it out... obsessed with prophets, that one, and he's very clever." Crowley tries not to look too wistful when speaking about the angel. "Anyway, we disguised ourselves as one another. That way, our known weaknesses were quite the opposite, scaring them off."

With all the lifetimes they see here, he sometimes wishes that he could have seen one. He also knows knowing people isn't completely unlikely.

He knows that there are transgates now, but he's in that state where he's in one of those places where he's mentally tired. Taking the stairs is less energy-consuming than the elevator sort of mindset. And he generally likes the conversation.

"And they knew ya had this ability but were pretty convinced by it?" Maybe they just hadn't realized how good a terms the two were on? "Not that I'm doubtin' ya, just real impressed ya slide that one under their radar." And just the two of 'em behind it, huh?

Makes the whole illusion thing a much more viable option in a sticky situation. "So they just think y'all suddenly had gotten over your weaknesses an' was beyond punishin'?"

"Right, but that's not the point." He shakes his head, a hand resurfacing to emphasize it, "The point is, if we're really being chased, fighting isn't the only option. Uhhhh... okay, here's another example."

Crowley could probably be called a connoisseur of certain types of film. Anything with heists, secret agents, cool characters that oozed charm. He'd only filled the gas tank of his car once in all the time he'd owned it, and it was just to get his hands on the James Bond gunshot stickers that came free with purchase. Yondu probably wouldn't understand any of this, but it's worth a try.

"We just need diversions. Like... in a car chase in the movies, when it speeds out of view and returns to the road with a fresh paint job." he tries, "It might do nothing but stall but it'll at least give us more time to think of something better."

"I completely agree. We... unfortunately, got a lotta people that will choose 'fight' first. Not that they're bad folks. But yeah, I think hidin' an' runnin' is a valid strategy."

Which sounds cowardly, but there's value in fighting another day, or acknowledging what fights aren't worth it. "Probably better if we don't look like threats for as long as possible."

But then he adds a, "I've done shit like that, you know. Trade-offs, switchin' ships, hidin' in plain sight. Of course when it came I'm a little unique so I was usually the guy that was the distraction while the other folks did their thing."

"It's not just hiding and running. It's a game of chess. It's working smarter, not harder." he shrugs. "They'll still get their fights... patience."

Crowley smiles, because he knew Yondu would get it. He's bright and crafty, it's why they get along. "Or you were the only one who could pull it off." he shrugs. "I just wonder, if they only thing our 'enemies' have to fight us with are illusions and memories, maybe they're a lot weaker than we think. Either way we need to know a lot more about them than we do now. They know too much about us."

"Sometimes I figure its harder to talk 'em out of one."

The worst part is one day that might need to be the distraction. "I should tell you how I got freed sometime."

But, still, it's nice to reminisce. "I honestly think we made up ever'thin' ourselves. I don't reckon it fully knew. It just gave us the power to build it out of what we knew, if that made sense. 'Cause some folks at the end could actually change the settin' themselves, if they was inclined to do it. It might not know as much as we've been figurin'."

"I guess." he shrugs, sighing. "Mmh-- we're almost there." Just a few more cars.

"If you're comfortable. Love a good story." he responds. Crowley is genuinely curious about Yondu's past, but knows as much as the next person how it can be troublesome to recount old memories. "Ahh- Could be. Alice started a bit toward the end, too." he notes, "But I think they were memories."

"There was a team of Ravager captains doin' a heist. Used a battle between Xandar an' Kree as cover, slipped in durin' the fight. I caught 'em doin' it, an' instead of pickin' a fight their leader took off my inhibitor so I didn't have to listen to nobody no more."

He grins at the memory. "Best distraction I ever played." Whether or not the battle was in Xandar's favor at the beginning? It was by the end.

"I lit out with 'em when they finished the job. Stuck with 'em for a real long time. I know it wasn't much, but it was nice doin' what I did with y'all, back on Diagad. Had that 'homey' notion to it. Felt right. Hit that same spot that bein' with them did."

Half of the words in Yondu's story don't make much sense to Crowley, but he listens anyway. There are enough context clues for him to assemble it together in his head.

"I wouldn't lie to you..." he muses, "I do love stirring up a bit of trouble. I'm just not used to these big fights... a heist, sure, playing hero... not so much."

He pushes open another door to the next car, sighing as they come to tbe home stretch. Why the walk across the train has to be so exceptionally long, he has no idea.

"Oh don't get me wrong. Stakar would save somebody what really needed it. But we made sure we'd come out on top. We weren't heroes by a mile. We were just bad people what did decent things occasionally."

And he'd loved every moment of it. Even if the greed that came with it, the desire to be as wealthy as the people who used to own him, made him easy to manipulate.

"Not so sure I love the idea of bein' a 'hero' here, anyway. Mostly I see it as lookin' out for what little I got left." His friends and his life that he's barely held onto. "Given you're a person with a predisposition for lookin' out for his own an' watching for number one? You'd understand where that comes from."

It's fine for a demon's generosity to come from a place of self-interest, right?

Crowley shakes his head, "I think I realized some time ago that there's really no such thing as good and bad. Just people."

Maybe that's easy for a demon to say, but he feels it. The things that he'd seen done in the name of good were repulsive. And here he is, supposedly evil, concerned over the safety of those around him.

"I do." he replies as Yondu continues, "More than you realize."

Now on the other side of the train, Crowley points out his room as they approach it. "This is the one." he mutters, gesturing to the door with an elegant curtain obscuring the view inside. From the outside, this is the only thing that sets it apart from the others, but as Crowley opens the door, the interior is impossibly large, the size of the entire train car. It's decorated elegantly with wood paneling and red velvet drapes, all of the furniture equally ornate. There are lofts inside, each of which having a closed off room beneath them, but the floorplan is otherwise open. It smells distinctly of fresh baked goods, a tray of assorted items sitting on the counter of a small kitchenette.

"Make yourself at home."

He wants to believe that's true. But sometimes he really hates what he's done as a person. Sometimes. It depends on which shitty thing he's been a part of. Somehow there are other shitty things he's right proud of.

But he'll accept it because, fuck it, he needs someone to think the best of him.

He follows him into the room and... yup, has to look outside and back inside and back outside of it again. Once he's satisfied that, yup, that is strange, he goes fully in to start investigating all this finery that should not fit in here yet does.

He's never actually seen this kind of thing in practice. He's seen portals lead to larger spaces? But not stretched dimensions, and even if he's heard of them he ends up looking around and muttering a soft 'holy shit'.

Crowley beelines it to a small cart amidst a seating arrangement made of a sofa and a couple plush chairs. The cart has a decanter of scotch, among other things, and a few glasses. He picks two glasses from the shelf, barely turning behind him to talk to Yondu.

"You want a scotch? I'm having one." he says, pouring two before Yondu even answers.

"Help yourself to any of Aziraphale’s baking experiments..." he offers, "They're over in the kitchen."

"Oh... oh right..." He's still taking it all in as he fumbles his way to the kitchen and picks up a muffin. Then comes over to get the scotch, still obviously trying to get his bearings.

After a moment of silence, he abruptly flinches a grin.

"You're probably gettin' a kick outa this, ain't ya?" Because he sure as shit would.

Crowley turns, two glasses in hand. and offers one to Yondu before finding the closest plush chair to sit incorrectly on.

There's a sofa too, should Yondu need to recline a bit. Crowley's also made a spare bedroom behind them where Alice often spends time, but it's empty at the moment in case his guest wants a place to sleep uninterrupted.

"I'm not sure what you mean." he replies deadpan, taking a sip of his drink. If there's anything he's learned how to do over the last several millennia, it's keep a straight face. Honestly though, he's just content to ensure the comfort of someone he cares about. There's nothing flashy about that.

He plops into the chair indicated, the look of bewilderment ebbing to something that he can enjoy. He has to pick at the muffin to eat it, but he doesn't mind. It's a hell of a lot better than what he was eating out of desperation.

"So how much work does somethin' like this take? You just will it to happen or does it tire ya out?"

He knows Crowley might have been too busy for such things, but goddamn if this kinda trick couldn't have been useful in his line of work. He really does miss having a team, he realizes. And he can't be faulted for fantasizing a little.

Crowley shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. "We spent a day or two on it. I'm not sure... I've always just... done it."

He snaps his finger to demonstrate, and there's a plate with a much more appetizing sandwich on the table between them. You know, in case Yondu wants more than a muffin. The sandwich looks gourmet and fresh, Crowley didn't skimp on the details.

He's never used it for anything too major. Fixing a dent in his car or magicing it into running without gas, miracling a lock open, those sorts of things. Of course, there would frequently be drawbacks. With the car, enough magic had been pumped into it over the years that it took on a bit of a personality of its own, and leaving any tape or cd in it for over a fortnight turned it into a Best of Queen album, which frankly, he was tired of hearing.

"I don't know how long it takes Celestials to work themselves out, but they gotta make themselves outa dust 'n' stuff. Y'all had a helpin' hand." And what? He's mid chew on the muffin when he sees the sandwich. So now he realizes he's going to look a little like a classless clod in juggling food items but he manages to put the plucked at muffin on the plate to exchange for the sandwich.

"So y'all can only do a little bit at a time. You couldn't whoosh up somethin' big." And he wants to be a decent soul with the good scotch, he really does, so he gets up to go get some water to wash down the sandwich bites 'cause it feels inappropriate to waste it with a spicy chug.

Crowley doesn't think Yondu is classless in any way, he's very familiar with the concept of different cultures and just because he chooses to confirm to the posh British sort, doesn't mean he's easily offended.

"I guess-- not really tried. If I extend a tremendous amount of energy, I could create a pocket dimension-- but I've only really done that a handful of times when situations were dire."

His eyes follow Yondu across the room, not that he's concerned, just curious. Realizing what he'd gotten up for makes him groan, realizing he's not a tremendous host. "Augh... sorry. Didn't think that one through."

Typical.

"S'fine. I got legs and can cart myself over there. I just didn't wanna waste somethin' good."

Oh, Yondu is thoroughly classless by most universe's standards and he knows it. But for some reason he wants to try a little harder around them. A little harder, not too much harder, though. Not enough to bury the bulk of his shining personality.

"You got somethin' that can help with dreams? Real bad ones?"

Maybe he's pushing his luck, here. It's still worth asking, he figures, as he takes another bite.

So Familiar a Gleam: Conclusion

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